#again: only thing those unfamiliar with wildfire plot really need to know for context is he never cut her hair at all. she Did That

[adelaidedrubman]

why does it always have to be wednesday

tagged today my dears @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @inafieldofdaisies today to share a wip! thank you my beloveds

sadly i haven’t had the brain functioning to make progress on anything much besides the sexless kinktober oneshot i won’t inflict on the general masses, so you’re getting some older america’s sweetheart epilogue that was written/occurs before the excerpt i posted last week from the same scene (and which i also posted a small excerpt of before unprompted)

Long, wild cascades of copper dyed deep crimson fluttered in the wind, a too-bold contrast against the rich green of the pines to grant Jestiny any semblance of stealth as she ran.  She made a futile effort at weaving herself into the shadows, darting in the thick of the forest where trees grew denser.  Her own heavy panting drowned out the crunch of footsteps against brittle grass, so that she had to glance quickly over her shoulder to see how close he’d managed to follow her — too close, the glint of a silver blade popping out from the tree trunk behind her. 

She ducked — just in time for sharpened steel to bury itself into bark rather than her skull. But her efforts at bolting further forward were still met with pain splitting along her skull —an ear-splitting shriek burst from Jestiny’s lips as she found her long hair caught and twisted in a low-hanging branch.  “Divine intervention,” the knife-wielding man exclaimed with a demented laugh as he caught the hand reaching to yank hair from the branch. “How many times must it happen before you see God is on my side?”  Tears welled in her eyes as she struggled, thrashing her head back and forth in an effort to pull her hair free. “Just get away from me!”  “Oh, Deputy.” John released her wrist, weaving the fingers of the freed hand in the length of taut-pulled hair to grip and shove her against the tree trunk, guiding the tip of the knife to the throb of her jugular. “Did you really think we wouldn’t meet again? That a gang of sinners with badges blazing in to save the day would be the end of it, simple as that?”  “So you’re going to end it now?” she croaked out, defiant, blinking away her tears. “You’re gonna really kill me, this time?” she asked, darting her eyes between gleaming silver and unblinking blue. “Or — Or just skin me alive?”  “Not today,” he answered, tracing the tip of the knife along her jawline, up to the dip beneath her ear. “Your death and your Atonement are yet to be scheduled,” he purred, dripping with sadistic delight as he raised his arm, pulling the fistful of hair high enough she was lifted off the ground by it. “But…”  His eyes finally left hers, ratcheting upwards to focus on the length of hair he held stretched against the trunk of the tree as he muttered, almost as a recitation to himself, “But I need to cut something up…”  With that, he dragged the blade across the copper flattened along the tree — her hair falling to brush along her jaw as she dropped to the ground with the tether she’d hung suspended by severed.  She curled her finger into the brittle grass, balling into fists as she lifted her head to look up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “My hair!” she cried, throwing a hand up in defeat to rain confetti of crushed brown grass to fall onto her lap. “My beautiful, long hair! How could —”  “And so, the Lord had left —”  “Cut!” Jestiny screamed, stomping onto the set before Andrea could move to block her. “I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, pun intended — cut!”  “That was the fourth wig today…” “That was the fourth shitty fucking take today!” Jestiny shouted in reply to the man shuffling his way back to the wardrobe department, before glaring between the actor playing herself and the man cast as John. “I mean — are y’all trying to fucking bomb? This is my life, people!”  “This is my production,” the director said sternly from off set. “And only I say cut. Why do you keep interrupting perfectly good —”  “Because it’s all fucking wrong!” Jestiny bellowed, waving an arm about wildly before taking a hearty gulp from her venti Starbucks cup, the stench of whiskey soaking heavy into the air as she did. “That’s not how any of it fuckin’ happened!”  “Was the line wrong?” Flynn asked, lowering his prop knife. “Did I misquote, or —”  “No, that’s what he said. Word for word.”  “Then did we do something wrong?” Olivia pressed, taking off her wig. “Get something out of order or —” “No,” Jestiny answered. “That’s exactly how things went down when he chased me through the woods and chopped my hair off the day after the arrest.” “Then what’s wrong?” “The whole fucking tone of it, that’s what’s wrong,” she spat, beginning to frantically pace. “It lacks authenticity. It lacks intimacy. It —” She ran a hand through her hair. “Did you even read my memoir?”

tags out to my beloveds @quickhacked @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @8bitpizzacoupons @strangefable @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @just-another-wasteland-merc @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @belorage @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @nightbloodbix @ladyofedens-blog @miyabilicious @simplegenius042 @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners + opt in for wip day tags here!