#Cold Creek County

[middleland]

Winter Robin (2) (3) by Sarah Throckmorton

Via Flickr:

An American Robin eating berries in the snow. Battelle Darby Creek Metro Park, Ohio, USA. www.sarahthrockmorton.comwww.facebook.com/throckmortonphotos    

#battelle darby creek metro park #galloway ohio #prairie ohio #franklin county #et in americana ego #the cold

[wh0re43van]

Boyfriend (Warren Lipka X Reader)

Summary: you reunite with an old friend while making a delivery for your shitty boyfriend

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: smut, throat fucking, weed, cheating, not proof read

A/n: I have no idea how much weed costed in 2003 bc I was two years old. Also, I apologize if your name is Chelsea bc you will be slandered in this fic. Thank you for reading! <3

Pt 2 , Pt 3

I slam my boyfriends shitty car door, stepping out into the cold November rain, running towards the brick house, an 8th of weed shoved in my bra. I can’t believe my idiot boyfriend is too lazy to get out of his car to make his delivery. I’ve never even met this customer and his dumbass is having me waltz right up this random man’s house, while he’s parked a block away.

I pound on the wooden door before stepping back a bit. I shift back and forth on my feet as I rub my hands up and down on my arms trying to warm myself with the friction. After a couple of minutes, the door swings open, a man with unkempt brown hair and tired eyes steps out, looking a bit surprised. Those eyes. I know them. I cant put my finger on it, but I know him from somewhere.

“Uhm can I help you? Are you alright?” he asks, stepping out onto the porch closing the door behind him, looking me up and down, maybe trying to figure out why some strange girl is stood sopping wet on his doorstep, or maybe he recognizes me as well.

“Of course that dumbass didn’t tell you,” I sigh. “I’m delivering for Dakota,” I explain, pulling the plastic baggie out of my bra.

“Ah, okay,” he opens the door again, ignoring my hand offering the weed. “Why don’t you come in, get out of the cold?” he offers, holding the door open for me. I consider his offer; He seems kind, and he doesn’t appear to have the money on him anyway. I might as well wait inside while he retrieves it before I catch my death out here.

“Thank you,” I smile, stepping into the warm living room, part of me hoping that Dakota can see me going into the random man’s house. He leads me down to the basement, explaining that this is his bedroom.

“Make yourself at home,” he smiles, showing two familiar dimples on either cheek as he gestures to his couch. I smile back, happily taking a seat. He walks into the bathroom, coming back with a towel in his hand.

“Did you go to Tates Creek Highschool by chance?” he asks, offering me the grey bath towel.

“I did,” I smile. “Only for freshman year though, my family moved the next county over after that,” I explain. That must be where I know him from.

“Y/n, I thought that was you,” he smiles taking a seat next to me.

“Yeah,” I smile back. “You look familiar, but I’m sorry I can’t remember your name,” I blush, a bit embarrassed that I don’t remember him.

“Ouch,” He chuckles. “I thought getting detention together for stealing the teachers’ cigarettes would have been a bit more memorable,” he says, leaning back on the couch. Then it dawns on me.

“Warren?” I ask, shocked. “Little Warren Lipka?” I turn on the couch to face him, getting a better look- the best look I can get in the dim yellow lighting. I don’t believe it! He laughs at my reaction.

“I guess if you remember me as little Warren, I can see why you didn’t recognize me,” he says, reaching for his grinder and papers laying on the coffee table. “You got that 8th, beautiful?” he asks casually. I blush at the comment, pulling the weed out of my bra once again. I hand him the warm baggie.

“That’ll be 7 bucks, sir,” I grin. All the memories come flooding back to me when our hands touch as we exchange the substance for the cash. All the classes we skipped together, all the many hours in detention we spent alongside each other, the cigarettes that we would smoke under the bleachers. He was shorter than me then, he always had his hair buzzed and wore oversized clothes to hide his small frame. I guess he was a late bloomer, because the only remnants of that little boy are the deep brown eyes and dimples displayed like artwork on the handsome grown man in front of me.

“You look really good,” he breaks me out of my thoughts, sparking the joint he’s just rolled.

“Thank you,” I smile. He passes me the paper. I take a hit. “You look good yourself,” I exhale through my nose, handing the joint back to warren.

“So you’re a friend of Dakotas?” He asks, after sucking in a breath of smoke as he stretches his arm over the back of the couch and behind my shoulders.

“His girlfriend, actually,” My response catches him off guard, making him choke on the smoke.

“Holy shit,” he laughs in between coughs. “How the hell did that goon bag you?” he asks, flabbergasted. I can’t help but giggle, taking another drag off the joint.

“Sometimes I wonder the same thing,” I answer honestly. Dakota isn’t exactly the best boyfriend in the world. We’ve been dating almost two years and I’ve caught him with other girls multiple times. He doesn’t respect my boundaries or my aspirations, yet somehow, he always convinces me to stay. I guess when you’re as attractive as he is and as insecure as I am, it isn’t hard for him to convince me that he’s the best I’ll ever have.

“So what’s wrong with Dakota? Why couldn’t he make the delivery himself?” Warren asks, looking down at the joint between his lips as it glows crimson. “Not that I’m complaining,” he clarifies.

“He said he was tired and didn’t want to get his shoes wet,” I laugh, feeling the THC start to take effect. “Can you believe that?” I ask, laying a hand on warrens thigh in my fit of giggles. “He’s just sitting in his shit box a block away,” I say, feeling my eyelids begin to get heavy. Warren raises his eyebrows, looking at me with glossy eyes.

“Wow,” he scoffs. “I actually don’t believe that. I couldn’t imagine having your girl make deliveries for you. Thats some serious pussy shit,” he rolls his eyes, holding the joint up to my mouth. I take a hit from the hot paper between his fingers. I look down at the spliff, then back at him to find his eyes already fixed on me. “If I was your boyfriend, I wouldn’t let you make deliveries for me,” he says in a much quieter tone, the moment is almost intimate as I blow the smoke into his face that’s closer to mine than I realized, but I can’t bring myself to back away. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t want you smoking with me,” he adds, bringing the joint to his lips to take the final hit.

“Why’s that?” I ask in a whisper with butterflies in my stomach, breathing in the smoke that’s slowly rolling off his lips.

“Because it gives me the opportunity to do something I’ve wanted to do since freshman year,” he matches my tone, glancing at my lips, bringing his finger and thumb around my chin, tilting my head up towards him. My heart begins to race at his proximity, I know I should pull away from him, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Just as his lips barely brush against mine, my Nokia rings out, sounding like an alarm, making me jump in surprise, scrabbling to find the small cellphone on the couch.

“Hey babe,” Warren answers the phone, winking at me. My stomach drops. Fuck. I reach for the phone, but warren stands up. “Nah man she’s good she’s right here. I just gave her the mon- hey. Hey!” I hear warren begin to shout. I cease my struggle to grab the phone. “Is there a fucking problem man?” Warren seethes into the phone. I hear my boyfriend’s muffled speech. “Yeah, I didn’t fuckin think so,” he hangs up the phone, handing the small plastic brick to me.

“You look pretty stoned,” he says picking up a coat off the couch, wrapping it around my shoulders. “Let me walk you out. You remember where his car is?” he asks, putting his hand on the small of my back, ushering me to the steps. I nod my head yes, staring at him with wide eyes trying to process what just happened.

“Lead the way then, beautiful,” he grins, and just like that, the butterflies are back. I don’t dare respond, not knowing what will come out of my mouth.

The walk to Dakota’s car is silent but comfortable, still pretty baked, I feel the rain coming down in sheets. vibrating calmly in my bones. I stare up at the orange glow of the streetlights in the night sky in awe. Everything looks so beautiful when you’re high.

“Here he is,” Warren says approaching the small rust bucket of a car that my boyfriend drives. He opens the passenger door for me. After I’m seated, he leans in to look at Dakota. “Don’t have your girl make trips for you anymore, man. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he says calmly but it comes across like a threat, before tossing a couple folded bills at Dakota and closing the door. I’m glad he remembered the money. Dakota would have killed me if I had left it down there.

 My boyfriend is quiet. Much more quiet than he normally is when someone threatens his masculinity. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s scarred of Warren.

As Dakota pulls off, his Insane Clown Posse CD playing quietly, I look out the side mirror to see warren standing with his hands in his pockets, getting soaked in the rain in nothing other than his t-shirt and jeans, watching me ride away. As Dakota begins to bitch and complain my ear, all I can think about is when ill see Warren again, then I remember; I have his coat. It would be rude of me to keep it. I’ll just have to return it to him.

•

•

It’s been a week since my interaction with Warren, and I can’t stop thinking about him.

‘Is it so wrong that I want to catch up with an old friend?’ I ask myself. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with visiting a friend, the issue lies in the fact that the thoughts I’m having of him aren’t exactly platonic.

‘I’ll just drop his coat off, thanking him for the kind gesture and be on my way.’ I tell myself as I climb into my car. ‘Okay, maybe I could make some small talk with him, that’s innocent enough. Yeah, ill ask him about his job, if he’s going to school now, stuff like that’ I manage to convince myself that this will be a short, polite visit with an old friend, but a part of me must know the truth because I tell Dakota that I’m going out with my mother for lunch.

I park my vehicle on a side street near the Lipka house, just in case Dakota drives down here for whatever reason. I grab Warrens coat and walk up to the porch.

‘Maybe he’s not home and I’ll just hand it to his parents,’ I think as I knock on the door. The thought disappoints me, but maybe it’s for the b-

“Y/n!” Warren exclaims as the door swings open. “What a pleasant surprise,” he crunches on a Cheeto, crinkling the bag as he folds it shut.

“Hey Warren,” I smile at the man standing in front of me while he licks the Cheeto dust off his fingers.

“Come in, its freezing,” he steps aside so I can enter. I frown a bit.

“Well, actually I’m just here to return your coat,” I hold out the slick material.

“How kind,” he flashes his dimples. “Are you in a rush?” He asks as he retrieves his jacket.

“Well, no…” I trail off, trying to think of an excuse, but its hard to excuse yourself from something you want more than anything else.

“Then come inside real quick, darling, just to warm up,” he winks at me and I cant help but giggle. I surrender, stepping into his warm home once again,and following him down to his room.

I sit down on his couch as Invader Zim plays on his box tv.

“This may be a bold assumption,” Warren starts as he sits down on the cushion next to me. “But I think you may have come back for something more than the raincoat,” he suggests, looking into my eyes.

“Warren-“ I begin, but I don’t know what to say. He’s right. I want to desperately finish what we almost started last week. Just the faint brushing of his lips against mine has made me feel something I’ve never experienced before. I need to feel him-

“Free weed, right?” He grins picking up the rolling tray.

Oh.

 I can’t help but blush. I thought for a moment that Warren had already forgotten about our last encounter, but the wink he sends my way suggests that he meant exactly what I thought he meant.

“It’s not often that I don’t have to match,” I admit, pulling my legs up to my chest.

“You mean with friends, right?” Warren asks before he licks the thin rolling paper, holding my gaze as his tongue slowly slides across the wrap.

“Uh,” my breath hitches in my throat. Damn he looks so good. I’ve never wanted to be a rolling paper so bad in my life. “No, I mean in general. Dakota says he’s, uhm, running a business. So I have to pay or match what I smoke every time we, uh, spark. Or else I’m stealing from him,” I mutter out. Warren smirks at the pink raising in my cheeks once again. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Thank God he can’t see the pool forming in my underwear.

“No offense y/n,” he sparks the joint, inhaling a hit of hot smoke. “But Dakotas pathetic,” he breaths out.

“None taken,” I laugh as I take the paper from his hand.

“I mean for more than just the way he treats you,” he explains as I pass the joint back to him. “I’ve known him for a while. We met through a mutual friend, a few years ago. Started smoking together, then started dealing together and breaking into the chain stores around here, ya know, the ones that just throw shit away while people are starving,” he begins to explain as he sinks into the couch, leaning his head back, blowing a cloud of smoke towards the drop ceiling tiles of his bedroom. I stare at him, taking another hit, hanging on to his every word. I could listen to his voice all day. “Soon he started shorting people on weed, over charging behind my back, he was jealous of how well I was doing, always trying to one up me, bragging about how he’s making more money than me, not caring how he achieved it. Then one night, he decided he was going to try and break into a store by himself, of course he chose the corner store down the street, the one owned by the little old lady,” he chuckles. “I beat the shit out of him as soon as I found out,” he takes a hit. “Pussy didn’t throw a single punch back. Just curled up on the ground. Worst part is; he didn’t even get anything. She chased him off with a broom,” he runs a hand through his long brown hair, finally looking at me as he hands me the spliff.

“Wow, I guess that’s why he seemed so scared the other day,” I giggle. I should feel bad, this guy just told me he beat my boyfriend up, but I almost want to thank him.

“That’s also why I get a discount,” he grins as smoke rolls out of his nostrils. “But for once,” he leans in closer to me. “I’m jealous of him,” I can feel his breath on my face. “Seeing you ride off in that car with him last week was painful to watch. You should have been right here with me,” he pushes a loose strand of hair out of my face, and I melt into his touch.

“Well,” I take in a shaky breath, unable to resist those coffee-colored eyes. “I’m here now, Warren.” And with that, the world ceases to spin as he crashes his lips into mine. I’m suddenly aware of my quick heartbeat, every ounce of blood flowing throw my veins, the electricity that shoots from Warrens hands into my body. The smell of smoke on his breath and the slightly stale air in the basement invades my senses. The kiss is desperate and hungry; something I haven’t felt in years. I moan into his mouth as he pulls me into his lap to straddle him.

“This is wrong, Warren,” I pull away reluctantly.

“No beautiful, it was wrong when he called me asking for Chelsea’s contact last month,” he pants. The mention of that whores name makes my blood boil. She’s his most recent side piece. “Had I known he was with you, I would have beat his ass again instead of sending it,” he says honestly, as his hand runs gently up my hip. My mind is made up in an instant. I take the joint out of his hand, inhaling one last hit before I set it in the ash tray. I slide down to the floor on my knees in between his legs before I take my sweater off, tossing it to the side.

“You’re right,” I grin as I reach for his buckle. The pop of the metal releasing ringing through my ears as I shimmy the jeans off his body. I look up at Warren through my lashes, his eyes wide staring down at me with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. The sight makes my core tingle.

“May I?” I ask palming him through his plaid boxers, feeling his dick stiffen under my touch.

“I insist,” he grins, helping me slide the boxers off. My eyes widen at his length in front of me. He’s perfect. I take him into my hand, holding his gaze as I let spit drip from my kiss bruised lips onto his tip, allowing me to stroke him easier. He curses under his breath as I move my hand up and down his now rock hard dick. I smile to myself before wrapping my mouth around his tip, slowly moving down his length until he hits the back of my throat, then I hollow out my cheeks, as I begin to bob up and down. Warren lifts his head to take in the sight below him. He rests a gentle hand on the back of my head.

“Fuck, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he groans, instinctively moving his hips in rhythm with my head. I hum in response as I bring my other hand underneath his length to massage his balls, earning a low moan from him.

Soon he takes over, holding my head as he thrusts into my mouth. I push him in as far as possible, gagging on his length. He stands up so he can properly fuck my throat. This isn’t something that I normally do, I never allow Dakota to use me like this. But right now, I think I would let warren do absolutely anything he desires, and I would enjoy every second of it. This is the first time I’ve ever been so turned on from pleasing someone else. My underwear is soaked my arousal and he’s barely touched me. The praise and moans coming from Warren is enough to get me off. The way his eyes peer into mine as he violates my throat, bringing a gentle thumb up to wipe the tears that creep out of my eyes makes my heart flutter.

“Come here baby,” Warren pulls out of my mouth, I gasp for air as he picks my up to carry me to his bed. He pulls his shirt over his head and asks permission to pull my pants off. I nod quickly, earning a chuckle from him. “You did so good for me,” he lays a kiss on my forehead, using his shirt to wipe the tears and spit from my face, I smile at the sweet gesture. He pulls me into a kiss after climbing on top of me, both of us now completely naked. Warrens hand wonders down to my heat, dipping a finger into my entrance, I whimper at the contact. “You really got off to me fucking your throat, huh?” He smiles against my lips, feeling how wet I am for him.

“Please just fuck me Warren,” I beg. He smirks as he lines himself up with me.

“You ready, beautiful?” He asks. I nod, impatiently scooting closer to him, begging for contact. He chuckles as he slowly pushes into me. Being stretched out has never felt so good. There’s almost no pain as I easily take him, a loud moan escapes my lips

“Shh,” he smirks as he continues to push into me, stifling his own moans. “My folks are upstairs baby, not so loud,” he explains.

“I’m sorry,” I giggle. “You just feel so fucking go-“ I cut myself off with another loud moan as he begins rocking his hips at a steady pace. I clamp my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. Warren looks down at me as he he pounds into me, a hand reaching down to hold my breast’s that are moving in rhythm with his hips.

“God, you’re so stunning,” he praises as he uses his other hand to push his curls out of his face. The sight of Warren on top of me is something that I never want to forget. If this is the last time he has his way with me, I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. His hungry eyes that take the time to admire every inch of my body. The way his hair bounces as his cock pounds deeper inside me than anyone has ever been.

Suddenly, he pulls away, leaving me feeling empty as he lays down beside me.

“Come here darling,” he rests his back on the head board as he pulls me on top of him. “I want you to ride me. Can you do that for me baby,” he asks as he lays sloppy kisses on my neck. I giggle in response as I straddle him, happily allowing him to fill me once again. I let out a moan of relief as that void in my stomach is satisfied.

“Fuck,” Warren grunts. “You take me so well, beautiful,” he whispers as I bounce up and down on his cock. I lean forward to kiss him, muffling the moans coming from both of us. I move my hips in unison with his as his hand grips onto my ass spreading me open so he can pound as deep in me as possible. Im positive he’s leaving fingernail makes in the soft skin, but I don’t dare stop him. Warren reaches a finger down to rub circles on my clit, giving me just what I need to approach my release.

“Fuck,” I moan into our desperate, wet kiss. “Just like that Warren please,” I beg. Feeling my body heat up and my swollen cunt begin to throb. As Warren thrusts exactly where I need him, I come undone around him as I erupt in a fit of moans and praises. The euphoria quickly filling my body as my release drips onto Warrens twitching dick. He quickly throws me off of him, cum shooting up onto my chest and on to his stomach. I swiftly dip my head down, bringing him into my mouth to milk every last drop out of him.

“Fuck y/n!” He moans in surprise. Now it’s his turn to cover his mouth as he rides out his orgasm. I pull away to lay next to Warren, our chests heaving in unison.

“Holly shit,” he laughs after few minutes of comfortable silence. “That was…you were…wow,” he turns his head to smile at me, already looking at him.

“I can say the same to you,” I giggle, running my hand over his chest. He brings me in for one last kiss, this one gentle and kind.

“You can use my shower if you’d like, I’ve made quite the mess of you,” he smirks.

“Thank you,” I smile standing up. “Uhm, we’re definitely not going to tell Dakota about this, right?” I ask, suddenly feeling… not guilty… but nervous and almost excited in a strange way.

“My lips are sealed, beautiful,” he winks, taking my hand to guide me to his bathroom.

#kit walker #kit walker imagine #peter maximoff #quicksilver #quicksilver smut #american horror story #james patrick march #jimmy darling imagines #kia anderson smut #evan peters x reader #warren lipka #evan peters smut #evan peters #tate langdon smut #tate langdon #evan peters x female reader #kai anderson smut #kai anderson

[salem-witch-slut]

Unrequited

Ellie Williams X Abby Anderson

SYNOPSIS: Ellie and Abby hate each other, and all of Jackson knows it. But when Ellie has a dream about the blonde one night, she suddenly starts to feel things that are not exactly hate... and Ellie does not like it.

WARNINGS: Swearing, Everybody Lives AU, loser!ellie, no real warnings its SFW

DIVIDERS MADE BY @cafekitsune

for @olliesasimplething who always encourages me to keep writing. my biggest supporter

It was a cold day in winter when they first met 3 years ago. One of the worst blizzards to ever come about Jackson was upon the city and two patrol groups were stranded in the snow. Teton County, and Elk Creek became a maze of white and ice, and the creek group took shelter within an abandoned library, while the other group was forced to keep moving…

Infected were swarming the massive office warehouse building near the lodge on the Teton County trail, and the two assigned to the route before the sun came up were able to spot what was happening. A young woman, no more than 24, tackled by a runner into the snow, struggling to keep its gnashing teeth away from her but failing due to clear exhaustion.

Joel reacted first. His revolver pressed into the runner’s face, and he fired a quick round, reaching down and shouting at the blonde to give him his hand. She was disoriented, shaking, but otherwise unharmed as she stood on her feet.

“We’re gonna have to run!” Joel warned as his brother, Tommy, laid down the cover fire that was needed to escape. The blonde went along with the two men wordlessly, and it seemed that she was just as desperate to escape as they were. No questions were asked as they ran throughout the entire building, deflecting attacks and fighting off the infected that just seemed to never, ever, ever end.

The group made it to the lodge where two horses were, but the infected just kept coming. Very slowly, Tommy reached out to get the woman’s attention. Her heart was racing and her pupils were dilated, barely able to focus on what was what.

“Hey, I’m Tommy, and that’s Joel,” Her eyes flittered between the two and she shared a moment of centering herself. Almost like her ears were still ringing from the gunshot. “What’s your name?”

“Abby,” She stated, out of breath as her hands trembled on the gun with every bang against the door that was just barricaded shut. Tommy asked her if she was okay, and she barely agreed as she took a step back, almost like she was preparing for the door to come down at any second.

The two brothers seemed to have different ideas about what to do. Joel wanted to get out of here, but Tommy was adamant that staying put was the best option due to the horses being with them and they would not outrun the blizzard.

Abby was quick to offer a solution. “My friends! My friends are at a mansion just north of here; It’s fenced in, we have the whole perimeter secure.”

Joel looked towards his brother and nodded. “It’s the Baldwin place. That could work.”

“I’ll get the door!” Tommy rushed to the front door and began to untie the horses while Joel put his pistol down.

“You ride with me, come on!” Joel told Abby who was quick to agree, following close behind him like her life depended on it; and it, in fact, did depend on it. Without these two, she would be deader than dead. As soon as she was close to Joel, she grabbed his hand and he lifted her onto the saddle behind him.

In seconds, they were gone.

All Ellie needed to hear was that Tommy and Joel never showed up to the lookout point. In mere seconds, she was out the door on Shimmer to find him in the snow, regardless of the blizzard state outside. She split up from the group, covering the entire Teton County trail in a few hours.

“Joel! Tommy!” Ellie shrieked over the howling wind, desperate to find the two most important people in her life. Shimmer ran through the snow quickly, her rider frantically searching the area and coming to a halt when she saw the dead infected at the gate of the Baldwin place… Her stomach dropped and she immediately dismounted from her horse, tying Shimmer up to a tree out of the direct sight line as she made her way down the hill.

Ellie knew the Teton County trail and she’s been to the mansion before. She knew how to get in the back way. Her legs wobbled in terror as she slunk down through the hole in the fence and jumped the railing to get inside. “Joel? Tommy?”

Her voice seemed to reach on deaf ears as she came in through… an open sliding glass door? Something about this felt far too eerie. Ellie’s fear was at an all-time high as she moved through the mansion, looking for something… anything…

The sounds of voices had her jumping as she pulled out her pistol and followed them. Those voices could belong to anybody, and trespassers were always a problem, but Jackson’s policy wasn’t to shoot first, it was to see if they would shoot first… Ellie breathed slowly and followed the voices, down a large staircase to a door that led to a basement.

Laughter echoed in the room and Ellie gulped, grabbing the door handle and slowly pushing the wood out of her way. She was not expecting the number of people inside of this room and before Ellie could even blink, she had at least four guns pointed at her face.

“Hey, hey, put your fucking gun down!” Ellie shouted, not giving one shit that she was outnumbered as she lifted the pistol and stepped inside of the room. “Back up! What the fuck are you—”

“Ellie!” The voice rang in her ears as Ellie looked up and almost immediately, her fears were quenched. Joel ran right up to her and immediately put his hand on her pistol. “Ellie, calm down, it’s alright. They ain’t dangerous—”

Ellie didn’t even care about the crowd as she immediately wrapped her arms around the man and let out a breath of relief. Joel stumbled back and wrapped his arms around her, pushing his nose into the top of her head and scratching her face somewhat with his beard. “C’mon now, what’s this all about?”

A moment passed before Ellie stepped back and immediately shoved him with her hands, making him stumble back yet again. “You fuckin’ dick, don’t scare me like that!”

“Could- could you put the gun down, Ellie?” Joel said, holding out a hand and the girl sighed with a slight growl, tucking the gun back into the waistband of her jeans and putting her hands on her knees. She was covered in snow and her nose was red from how long she had been traversing the landscape looking for him and his brother. “Here, there’s a fire in this room, alright? C’mon.”

The others in the room seemed to be relaxing at the girl’s presence as Ellie stepped in time with Joel, going to the other room. “Who are these guys?”

“They’re just passin’ through Wyoming, trynna get back to Washington… We came across one of ‘em in the snow ‘bout 2 hours ago? She was getting’ swarmed by infected near the lodge,” Joel explained what happened and why they had to hunker down and wait out the storm. Tommy was sitting by the fire and Ellie let out a sigh of relief at seeing him, crouching down next to the blonde man and whacking him in the shoulder.

“Hey! Respect yer elders, girl!” Tommy joked, making Ellie chuckle before she sat down on her knees and put both hands on the warm ground near the little firepit. “Ellie, this here’s Abby. She helped us get outta the storm.”

Ellie was confused who he was talking about but she heard heavy boots fall in front of her and she looked up to see a blonde that was at least half a foot taller than her, long hair in a braid going down her shoulder as she knelt down next to the fire across from her.

“Hey,” Abby said, looking at the girl for a bit too long before she looked over her shoulder at where Joel went, seeing him talk to a man with reddish-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. “See those two got along almost immediately?”

“Well, yer dad’s easy to like,” Tommy shrugged his shoulders. Ellie watched Joel converse with who was apparently Abby’s father, seeing them talk away from the group a little and try to keep things hush. Ellie had a suspicion of what he was declaring…

That was over 3 years ago. The rest would be history. Joel said that if they didn’t find what they were looking for in Seattle, they were welcome to come back to Jackson. Half a year passed by, and just as spring was coming to an end for summer to roll in, the group reappeared at the gates in front of Jackson, minus a few people… It seemed that Jordan, Leah, and Nick didn’t make it back with them.

It was almost too easy for them to integrate into the life of Jackson as Joel vouched they were good people and they were offered a place to stay. At first, Ellie was indifferent to Abby and the rest of the group… but that began to wear thin.

Abby was quickly becoming a pain in the ass. Whenever they were paired together for patrol, which happened quite often, Abby insisted searching everywhere and anywhere possible, causing more trouble than was needed and nearly getting them killed on several occasions.

And it didn’t take long for Abby to break Ellie’s record of the amount of infected killed on a patrol. It didn’t matter what either of them did, everything felt like a competition, and Ellie was losing. She hated losing.

It was the night after a particularly hostile patrol, and Ellie was sporting a brand new set of stitches on her cheekbone and two splints on her left ring and pinky finger while sitting at the bar in the Tipsy Bison. Dina was sitting next to her, going on about something that Ellie just wasn’t paying attention to, but then she flinched at hearing the door open. Ellie didn’t need to look to see who it was.

Abby’s right arm was in a sling for a few days thanks to an infected knocking her onto the ground and having her roll down a hill into a riverbed. Ellie laughed at first, but she knew that Abby needed her to save her sorry ass, so she was quick to join her at the bottom of the hill.

She was so busy worrying about the runner that she didn’t hear the clicker approaching and before she could defend herself, the infected knocked her down onto the ground, her fingers breaking under her body and her face slicing against a very sharp stone in the dirt.

Everything was fucked, and Ellie was pissed off, but Abby was just as equally pissed as she approached the bar and slammed her left hand down onto the counter. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I’m not the idiot that went into that trailer—”

“You’re such an asshole,” Abby grabbed Ellie by the front of her shirt and lifted her off the barstool. “You stood there and laughed at that runner taking me down!”

Ellie shoved her hands into Abby’s chest, a hand getting too close to her dislocated shoulder and making her grunt in pain. Ellie could have cared less. “Stop acting like you’re fucking invincible, you dense cunt! You could have gotten both of us killed!”

“And I could have been bit,” Abby got near Ellie’s face, close enough for the redhead to smell her pine scented soap that she used. Ellie tried not to inhale, finding that she detested the smell now more than ever before. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Guys, can we just calm down?” Dina stood up, stepping between both of them and Ellie scoffed. Abby could see blood dripping down her cheek and sliding into the collar of her black t-shirt, her adrenaline rushing and opening her wound back up. Her heart raced as she picked up the glass of whiskey and downed it in almost two seconds. Abby tried not to flinch at seeing the ugly bruises on her splinted fingers.

“I may fuckin’ hate you,” Ellie snapped. “But that doesn’t mean I wanna see you dead, Anderson.”

With that being said, Ellie left the bar and went straight home, leaving Abby to be her brooding self inside of the building. The entire walk home, Ellie wanted to tear her hair out. How can one human be so damn infuriating?! Ellie can’t remember the last time a person had pissed her off so badly. Her heart was racing, and she felt nauseous… or maybe that was just the whiskey in her system.

 In her haste to get inside of her home, she didn’t even acknowledge Joel on his back porch, Jerry sitting next to him on a chair and both of them bonding over the coffee they recently got through a trade. Joel tried to say hi, but she ignored him and slammed her door.

Ellie slammed her hand against the wall, and immediately groaned in pain at her broken fingers throbbing under the skin. Her blood was boiling and dripping from the wound on her cheek. Everything felt overwhelming and she had to calm down somehow. Her heart felt like it was trying to escape from her chest.

After a very short shower, she replaced the bandages on her cheek and changed into a different set of clothes not covered in her sweat. After getting her shit rocked today, Maria agreed to give her a few days off to recuperate from having her bones broken. Ellie could sleep in… And forget about bitches named Abby.

It was well into the night and Ellie had been tossing and turning through her entire dream. Turning onto her left side, she curled both hands into her chest and muttered something under her breath; something she would have slapped herself for saying if she was conscious… “Abby…”

The sensation of rough, calloused hands across her cheeks had Ellie’s eyes fluttering in an embarrassingly lovesick manner. The strong palms on her face slid up, a thumb swiping over her lower lip as Ellie reached up, her own rough-skinned hands sliding over massive biceps to rest on broad, freckled shoulders.

The blonde braid was unmistakable, and Ellie leaned ever closer to her, feeling the heat of her body against Ellie’s own and trembling in the blonde’s grasp. Oh, the scent of pine filled her nose, and she reveled in the pleasure that coursed through her entire being.

“We’ll take things slow, yeah?” That melodic, heavenly voice that stroked along her brain and sent shivers all over her nerves. Ellie sighed, almost like she couldn’t get enough of this, and leaned forward. Her hands went higher, one curling around the base of her braid and pulling her down a little more, but she stopped Ellie with a palm on her chest. Ellie’s heart quickened.

“Abby,” Ellie begged. Abby chuckled, and she leaned forward slowly… Her lips got so close, and Ellie swore she could feel the heat of Abby’s breath on her face. She was so close… so close that Ellie could practically taste her on her tongue—

Ellie let out a loud gasp and jolted upward from the bed. Her body glistened in the moonlight pouring from the window and she grabbed at her chest over her shirt with her good hand. Everything felt like it was buzzing and Ellie couldn’t calm her heart down.

“What the fuck did I just—” Ellie’s thoughts went to her dream, and lingered on Abby… Where she once saw annoyance, Ellie found herself BLUSHING! She remembers the way Abby once grabbed her hip to keep her from falling. She remembers that time Abby patched up her leg when she got hurt. She remembers the way Abby winked at her once a long time ago…

Ellie remembers the dream, and suddenly…. Abby was the one thing on her mind. She tried to think of anything else, but the sound of Abby’s breathing in her head refused to escape and she found herself wondering what she would look like in such an intimate moment…

A pure whine of pitiful defeat, and a little annoyance, tore through the air and Ellie simply covered her face with the pillow, screaming and wishing that she was now dead. What was once in her mind of Abby— all the hatred and disgust for her existence? Ellie couldn’t get the image of her hands caressing her face out of her mind.

If she closed her eyes again and brushed the spot where dream-Abby touched her cheekbone, her entire face would glow with a blush again and it felt borderline sickening.

“Fuck, fuck,” Ellie cursed, not knowing how else to react to this situation.

Ellie was content on hating Abby for a long time, maybe even until one of them inevitably got killed on patrol or by raiders or anything of the sort. But noooooo… that would be too easy for her brain to comprehend. So instead, Ellie would avoid her. And this time, she wouldn’t even look at Abby Anderson, afraid that if she looks at her for too long, she’ll wonder what she tastes like.

So, Ellie did what any normal person would do: she locked the door and pretended to die for a few days.

“Has anybody seen Ellie?”

The question had everybody stopping for a brief second in what they were doing. Dina shared a look with Tommy who simply just shrugged. No one has seen her in, apparently days? It had been three since her fight with Abby in the bar.

“She ain’t been comin’ out of her room,” Joel concluded, his features creased with slight worry at the idea of Ellie being hurt, or even sick. He knows that having 2 broken fingers wasn’t very fun, but she burned herself with chemicals in order to hide her bite mark. The girl was tough as nails, she could do anything with 2 broken fingers.

“I haven’t seen her either,” Dina frowned. It wasn’t like her best friend hiding away on her days off. She’s always doing something. “I can go check on her?”

“Good idea,” Jesse said, lifting a hay bale off the ground and tossing it towards the pile where the others were. “She’s gotta come back for patrol tomorrow.”

Dina stripped off her gloves, tucking them away in her back pocket before she left the stables. The walk to Ellie’s little garage home wasn’t exactly long, but it felt like forever under the Wyoming sun. Sweat dripped from her hairline as she approached Ellie’s front door, gently knocking on the wooden surface.

“Ellie? It’s Dina,” Dina announced, hoping that saying just her name would be enough for Ellie to let her in. But when she was met with silence, Dina began to tap her foot on the ground outside of the door. “I know you’re in there, Ellie. I can see you moving around in there.”

A curse echoed in the bedroom before Dina could hear Ellie actively tripping almost every single thing in her wake. And when she opened the door, Dina had to step back in order to fully take her in. What the hell happened to her?

“Ellie, are you—” Her nose wrinkled up a little as she smelt the unmistakable scent of weed and alcohol on her breath. “Fuck, have you just been in here getting shitfaced for three days?”

“What do you want, Dina?” Ellie deflected, like she always does when she’s got so much on her mind. Dina doesn’t know what upsets her more; that Ellie is getting high, or she’s getting high without her.

The redhead pushed her sweaty forehead against the doorway, almost like she was going to collapse if she stood there for another second than she needed to. So instead of talking outside, Dina pushed herself into Ellie’s home like it was her life’s purpose. Almost instantly, Ellie fell onto her ass, either too blazed or too plastered to fully take in what was happening.

“Dina, what the fuck—”

“What the hell is going on with you?” Dina crouched down, slapping her hands on Ellie’s cheeks and making her blush under her freckles. “And it isn’t the broken fingers because you broke your nose last month and still went on patrol the next day!”

“Wh- nothing! Nothing is wrong, I just—”

“I know you’re lying,” Dina snapped, still holding onto Ellie’s face. She looked like a bunny staring down a rifle barrel. “You wanna know why? Cause you suck at it!”

“Get off!” Ellie shoved Dina’s hands away, attempting to stand on her own but failing miserably. Her knees wobbled as she got off the ground before she fell right back onto the floor and for a few seconds, simply laid there with her face on the dirty rug near her sofa. “Just… Just go, Abby—”

Dina immediately froze in place, her brows knitting together for a brief second as it seemed like the whole world was coming back into focus. Before this moment, Dina was prepared to knock some sense into her best friend, but that moment passed quickly.

“This is about Abby,” Dina said, standing up and running a hand across her face. “Come on El, Abby is always gonna be a bitch, that’s just how she is!”

“S’not about that,” Ellie finally stood up off the ground, her shirt sticking against her sweaty skin as she rubbed her forehead, trying to stop the room from spinning. Her wobbly legs managed to carry her to the bed where a half-burned blunt was sitting inside of an ashtray. “Just go. I can’t deal with this right now…”

Dina watched as Ellie picked up the roach and inhaled very slowly, the end of the blunt glowing and illuminating her face. Dina could see the bruises under her eyes from a lack of sleep. Whatever was happening inside of Ellie’s head, Dina couldn’t figure it out… So she left.

As soon as Dina was gone, Ellie let out a harsh breath as she looked down at the sketches littering her bed. And if Dina had stayed, she would have understood. Abby’s face was all over the papers, her eyes staring back with that characteristic scowl she always held, and the slight pout to her bottom lip…

A curse escaped Ellie’s lips as she shoved all of the drawings on the floor and shoved a pillow back over her face. There was no reason that this affected her so badly, she’s had stupid crushes before—

“No, nope, absolutely fucking not, this is not happening,” Ellie scolded herself, gripping the fabric of the pillowcase like it was her lifeline from drowning. Lines were drawn on the invisible white board in her mind, and she felt like thoughts were knitted together.

Realization hit her like a bus. Ellie Williams has a crush on Abby frickin’ ANDERSON!

When Ellie emerged from her so-called hobbit hole, as Joel called it, she looked like death warmed up. Her face was pale and she looked like she was going to be sick at any given moment. Her trek to the stables felt like the longest walk of her life. She chugged a ton of water just to get through the day and Maria had been gracious enough to give her one extra day to sober up…

Wandering around the town was normally a good idea, so she decided to take a walk and try to clear her head. Everyone seemed to be out in full force today enjoying the warm weather while Ellie is starting to wish that she grabbed those sunglasses she saw on patrol last week. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy as she turned a corner towards the stables, going to see if Joel was back yet. But on her way, Ellie nearly fell over as she ran directly into someone.

“Hey! Watch where you’re–” Ellie looked up, ready to fight whoever wasn’t watching where they were going, and then she went completely silent. 

That blonde braid was unmistakable, not to mention the sling over her shoulder. Abby looked pissed, to say the least. Her brows were pulled together and her bottom lip was pouted out even more than usual. It was a look that Ellie has seen almost a thousand times… so why did it feel different now?

“Can you get out of your own world for five damn seconds and watch where you’re going?” Abby snapped, readjusting the sling on her shoulder and biting her lip to try and hide the wince of pain she felt. Normally, this would be the time that Ellie would fire back. She was waiting for her words that usually cut as deep as her switchblade. 

But when Abby looked back, she saw Ellie had gone red in the face. Abby figured she was coming up with some “clever” retort, and she decided to poke the bear again. “What’s wrong, Williams? Clicker got your tongue?”

If Abby had been looking closely, she would be able to see Ellie’s hands trembling slightly as she took a step back and immediately turned around and walked in the other direction. What the fuck, that didn’t make sense– Ellie never misses the opportunity to fight with Abby. What was going on?

“Williams,” Abby started following behind Ellie, who pretty much refused to acknowledge Abby’s presence. If Ellie was even more childish, Abby would assume she was being given the silent treatment, but she was more mature than that… by a miniscule fraction. Ellie was never afraid for someone to know just how much she hated them. Reminders of Ellie almost stabbing Seth in the bar will forever be a prime memory for Abby. 

She wasn’t stopping, and Abby didn’t know what to do. “Ellie,” A hand went on the redhead’s shoulder and she immediately went still. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Ellie said way too fast to be convincing. Her heart was racing and as long as she didn’t look at Abby, the blonde couldn’t see the color rising to her cheeks. “Can you just…” 

Abby watched Ellie carefully grab Abby’s wrist with the hand that had two fingers in splints. Suddenly, Abby felt a surge of guilt in her stomach from the sight. It technically was Abby’s fault that Ellie had broken two of her fingers, but she was also responsible for her dislocated shoulder. 

Actually… No, it was all Abby’s fault. Had she been thinking, she wouldn’t have gotten attacked by that infected. She let her guard down, and in doing so, almost got both of them killed because of her dumb quarter collection. She’d never tell Ellie that’s why she went exploring; Ellie would only make fun of her for it, and she didn’t need the girl to have anymore reasons to pick on her.

“Are you-” Abby tried to step around to look at her face and try to see if the stitches on her cheek were okay, but before she could, Ellie turned her head to avoid eye contact. “What is wrong with you? Why are you–”

“I have somewhere I need to be,” Ellie immediately changed the subject, turning away as fast as possible and going towards the stable. This time, Abby didn’t chase her. The blonde just stood there, looking more confused than she’s ever been before in her life. 

The redhead, on the other hand, felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest and she immediately hid behind a house, covering her face with both hands and feeling like her skin was suddenly too tight for her own body. Her stomach twisted, and she wanted to bash her head into the brickwork of the house behind her. 

What the hell is her problem? She’s had crushes on people before, none of them have made her act like this! Even when it was Cat, she was cool about it… Well, as cool as she could be. And even with Dina, she didn’t go practically paralyzed with fear or pure discomfort that she may discover how Ellie feels. 

So why did she do this with Abby? Why couldn’t she play it cool and act like nothing was wrong? 

Because Ellie didn’t fucking want to like Abby. 

#lgbt #ellabs #ellie x abby #ellie williams x abby anderson #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #alternate universe #everybody lives #lgbtq #loser!ellie #mean!abby #kind of cute ngl #if you remember my writing style from someone that recently got deactivated #boy do i have news for you... #one sided attraction #probably gonna make a part 2 #its too cute to resist

[kimberly40]

We have about forgotten that families walked to town in the heat or cold, that old men squatted to roll their own with Prince Albert from a tin, that farm folks napped in the midday heat in the shade of trees, children played with things they made from stuff they found, little ones dug doodlebugs, folks dug bait to fish the creeks, shelled peas and beans under the shade of a tree, milked a cow every day rain or shine, canned food, and did too many things that were hard, and hoped for the day when they didn’t need to do so and lived to miss it all and 'pine for the day.

(Photo of the Harrell House in Mitchell County, North Carolina by Josh Smith, 2022)

#appalachian #appalachian mountains #north carolina #appalachian culture #western north carolina #appalachia #the south #nc mountains

[sequinsmile-x]

Fire & Ice - Chapter 2

The case was over, the danger was gone and they could go home and finally celebrate Christmas.

The case was over, so she'd let her defences down, not knowing that the worst was to come.

Chapter 1 can be read here

-x-

Hi friends,

Thank you so so much for the love/yelling on chapter one - it genuinely means the world. Really hope that you enjoy this chapter and I'm excited to know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: Canon typical injury

Words: 3.7k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He wakes up suddenly.

It takes a moment for everything to register, his mind blank as he tries to remember falling asleep in the first place. It all comes back at once.

The patch of ice he hadn’t seen until it was too late. The pain in his head from where it had hit the steering wheel, the ache in his ribs from where the seatbelt had held him in place as the car span out of control and hit a tree. 

He groans as he blinks repeatedly, trying and failing to clear his vision, to lessen the ache in his head. He slowly turns his head to look at Detective Rooney, to check in on the man who had been with him, but his eyes widen when he realises he’s not there, the empty seat and space where the passenger door should have been staring back at him. 

He grunts as he undoes his seatbelt, his instinct to find the other man, to make sure he is okay, overriding any concern about his own injuries. He tries to push open the door on his side of the car but it’s jammed, crumpled shut, so he climbs over the centre console, his body burning with pain in protest and he steps out onto the snow-covered ground, the sound of it crunching below his unsteady feet. 

It was dark, his eyes straining as they adjust so he could see. He opens his mouth to yell out Detective Rooney’s name, chastising himself internally as it takes a second for the other man’s first name to come back to him.

“David,” he yells out, looking around, walking carefully further down the bank they’d crashed into, “Dav-”

He stops as he spots him lying in a creek, and he comes close to losing his footing as he speeds up, almost falling over as he makes it to the other man’s side. He thinks nothing of it as he slips into the water, the shock of the cold stealing the breath from his lungs as he reaches for Detective Rooney, the pain in his ribs only increasing as he lifts him out of the water, laying him down on the snow-covered ground.

He collapses next to him, any adrenaline he had fading, his breath stuttering as his wet clothes stick to his skin, the cold seeping into him. He thinks of his phone still in the car, cursing himself for leaving it behind in his attempt to find Detective Rooney. 

He slips into unconsciousness again, the cold and his injuries finally catching up with him.

___

Emily blows out a breath as she checks her watch again, nerves starting to spark in her stomach, the feeling switching from impatience to concern as more time passed, “What’s taking so long? And why isn’t Aaron answering his damn phone.”

They’d been gone almost twice as long as Aaron said they’d be. The team had finished packing everything up and were just waiting to go home, something they were all keen to do as soon as possible. She’d tried to call him more than once and sent a few texts that had remained unanswered.

“They probably just got caught up at the jail, Detective Rooney did say that there was barely any cell service on route,” Dave says, his smile wry, “You’ll get your boyfriend back soon enough.” 

She rolls her eyes at him, but any response is cut off as JJ stands up, her own desire to get home clear, “I’ll call the county jail,” she says, pulling her phone out of her pocket, “See what’s going on.” 

Emily smiles at her friend as she walks away and she checks her phone again, sighing at the time before her smile widens at the picture of her and Aaron that she had was her wallpaper. She’d changed it from a picture of Sergio when they told the team about them, an urge she didn’t fully understand to put their relationship, their love, on display forcing her to switch it. It was a selfie she’d taken of the two of them on a recent date night, their cheeks pressed together and wide smiles on both of their faces. 

“Never took Hotch as a selfie kind of guy.” 

She smiles tightly at Derek as she looks up at him. At first, she thinks he’s being snarky again, but she can see the soft look in his eyes, the half he’s offering her. It was an olive branch, the first sign of recognition that he’d been unfair to her. 

“Well,” she says, locking her phone and slipping it back into her pocket, “I have my ways to convince him,” she raises her eyebrows at him, and he grimaces, something that makes her chuckle, “He is my boyfriend, Derek - we do have se-”

“We’ve got a problem,” JJ says as she walks back over, her shoulder tense, and Emily feels the spark of worry in her stomach catch fire, making her belly roll. 

“What’s wrong?” 

JJ sighs as she grips her phone, her eyes full of sympathy that makes Emily angry in a way she knows her friend doesn’t deserve, “They left over two hours ago,” she says, “They should have been here by now.” 

It feels like the earth shifts beneath Emily, making her glad she’s sitting down, all the worst case scenarios briefly overwhelming her, “Wh…what? Then where the hell are they?” 

She’s never been more grateful for Derek’s ability to take over a situation, the man passing out instructions to everyone. He tells JJ to call Penelope so she can track Aaron’s phone, he tells Dave to try calling him again and gets Spencer to look over the route they would have taken on a map. 

It’s only when Derek places his hand on her arm and squeezes that she realises she’d been frozen in place, her eyes fixed on the wall ahead of them. She snaps her head to look at him, the kindness in his smile enough to make her want to yell at him. 

“Everything will be fine, Princess,” he says, squeezing her arm again, “They probably just got stuck in some snow somewhere.”

She nods, not quite sure she believes him, because life had never been quite that kind to her, “Yeah,” she replies, swallowing thickly, “Everything will be fine.”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been so terrified when Penelope calls back and confirms Aaron’s phone hasn’t moved for over an hour. 

___

Derek refuses to let her come at first, a stern look on his face as he tries to stop her from getting in the SUV with him and Spencer. She makes it clear, in no uncertain terms, that she is going with them, her winter jacket already on as she climbs into the passenger seat. 

The journey is tense, quiet, and every mile stretches out ahead of them as Derek drives. 

“Can’t we go any faster?” She asks for the dozenth time, picking at her thumbnail, the sting of it distracting her from everything else, from the fact she didn’t know what had happened to the man she loves. 

“Not in these conditions,” Derek replies, his patience with her irritating. 

“The place where Penelope tracked Hotch’s phone is just around this bend,” Spencer says from the back of the car. 

Derek frowns, “Are you sure, there’s nothing out here?” 

“I have an Eidetic memory,” Spencer quips as the car comes to a stop, “That’s why you had me look at the maps and brought me along-”

“Guys,” Emily says, already unbuckling her seat belt as Derek parks up. She frowns as she sees something metallic, the headlights of the SUV catching it before they switch off with the engine, “I think I see something.” 

She grabs her flashlight and is out of the car in seconds, Derek just behind her as she spots the car Aaron and Detective Rooney had left the precinct in earlier. She gasps at the sight of it, the metal wrapped around a tree, and she barely registers Derek calling back to Spencer and asking him to call for backup and an ambulance. She gets closer to the car, ignoring Derek’s insistence that she’s careful. She shines the flashlight in the car and swallows thickly when she sees that it is empty. 

“They aren’t here,” she says as she turns back to Derek. Her chest feels tight, anxiety she can barely hide anymore filling her lungs, “Where the fuck are they?” 

“They can’t have gone far,” Derek says, he shines his flashlight down the hill next to them, and he stops, his eyes going wide as he spots the two men next to the creek, “Em…”

She turns, and her breath catches in her chest, her ribs aching with it as she tries and fails to breathe back out.

“Aaron.” 

“Hotch.” 

She and Derek yell out simultaneously, the sight of him lying on the ground, just a few feet from Detective Rooney, enough to make them briefly freeze on the spot. She almost loses her footing as she slides down the small hill, and she grazes her hand on the ground as she puts it out to steady herself, but she doesn’t feel the sting. 

Emily kneels next to him, the cold wet feeling of the snow beneath her not registering as it seeps through her pants. She reaches out for him, hesitating momentarily before touching his neck, mentally preparing herself to feel nothing, preemptive grief filling her lungs. She feels a faint pulse, too faint, and gasps at how cold he is, the temperature of his skin enough to make her pull back in shock like she’d been electrocuted.

He was usually so warm. 

Derek checks on Detective Rooney and curses under his breath as she shakes his head, “He’s gone,” he says, looking up at Emily, “Is Hotch-”

“He’s alive,” she says, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence, not wanting to even put the words out there. She shrugs her thick winter jacket off her shoulders as she lays it over Aaron, “He’s freezing cold,” she looks around, “Where the fuck is that ambulance?” 

“It’s on its way, Em,” Derek says, watching her carefully as she shifts closer to Aaron, pulling his head into her lap as she does her best to stay calm. Derek unzips his jacket and lays it over her shoulders, smiling softly at her as she jumps slightly, her hands already moving to shrug it off and lay it over Aaron. He stops her and shakes his head, playing his hand on her shoulder, “Keep it on, we both know he’d kill me if you have hypothermia when he wakes up.” 

She nods, knowing he is right, that Aaron’s first priority is never going to be himself. She reaches for Aaron’s hand, clenching her teeth to stop herself from crying at how cold he is, and she sandwiches it between hers, rubbing her skin against his to try and get some warmth back into him. 

“Don’t do that,” Spencer says, appearing out of seemingly nowhere with a blanket he’d pulled from the trunk of the car, “Trying to warm someone's limbs like that can cause stress on the heart and lungs, he could have a heart attack.” 

Emily drops Aaron’s hand like she’s been burned and she chokes on a laugh, her breath visible as it is forced out of her chest, “What am I supposed to do? Just sit here?” 

Spencer nods, “The hospital isn’t far from here,” he says, “The ambulances should be here soon,” he looks past Aaron to Detective Rooney, “Is he…”

Derek nods, “He’s dead,” he confirms, “I’m not sure how they ended up down here.”

Emily runs her fingers through Aaron’s hair, pulling out snowflakes as she goes, “I’d put money on Aaron doing something stupid and heroic,” she says, shaking her head, a tear finally falling onto her cheek as she hears sirens in the distance, “He never thinks of his own safety.” 

If Derek and Spencer have something comforting to say, they don’t say it, and she’s grateful, unable to cope with platitudes as she sits on the cold, wet, ground, cradling the man she loves in her lap.

When the ambulances arrive, Derek has to physically pull her away from Aaron, his grip on her tight as the EMTs do their job.

___

She keeps her eyes fixed on him, the rhythm of his heart rate on the monitor a reassurance she desperately needs. 

She’d sent the others back to the hotel. In the morning they’d likely go home, something she knows Aaron will insist on when he wakes up, but she’d stay as long as he was here. The thought of leaving him here something she wouldn’t even entertain, no matter how much he tried to convince her. 

She holds his hand, his skin warmer now than it had been earlier but still cooler than usual. She hooks her fingers around his wrist, the feeling of his pulse another reassurance she needed, the thready, slow pulse she’d felt earlier still haunting her. The press of it permanently tattooed into her skin. 

If they’d been any later, she could have lost him. That’s what the doctor had told her. If he’d been out there for much longer than he had been he would have died. 

The thought alone is enough for tears to press at the back of her eyes as she stares at their linked hands. She knew in the grand scheme of things she hadn’t been with him for long, but she couldn’t imagine her life without him. 

“Em?”

She looks up so quickly that her neck pulls, something she barely feels as her eyes meet his, a relieved sigh escaping her as she squeezes his hand.

“Hi,” she says, “How are you feeling?” 

He clears his throat, “Sore,” he says, his ribs aching in a way that was familiar from injuries in the past. He shivers, cold seemingly having settled in his bones, even though he was under multiple blankets, “Cold.” 

She smiles and stands up, perching on the edge of the bed, needing to be as close to him as possible, “That’s not surprising,” she says, leaning in to stamp a kiss against his lips. When she pulls back she adjusts the cannula delivering him oxygen, making sure it’s straight as she carries on, “You did go for a swim in a creek when it was snowing,” she tries to joke, but it falls flat and he squeezes her hand, “What the hell happened?” 

“I lost control of the car,” he says, shaking his head like he’d done something wrong. He frowns as Detective Rooney comes to mind, Emily’s presence - her warmth - having distracted him so far, “Did Rooney…”

He trails off and she sighs, running her thumb back and forth over his wrist, “He didn’t make it,” she says, shifting closer when she sees the guilt flash across his face, “I’m so sorry honey.” 

“He had his seatbelt undone,” he says, swallowing thickly, guilt bitter on his tongue, “He was thrown from the car. I found him in the creek,” he says, shivering as if the mere mention of the water makes him cold again, the memory of it, of his wet clothes stuck to his skin, making him tremble, “I tried to save him.” 

She sighs as he unknowingly proves her right, and she leans down, resting her forehead against his, “When you’re better,” she says, stamping her lips against his, “We’re going to have a conversation about you putting yourself in danger like that.” 

“He has…had a family.” 

“And you have one,” she says, her eyes stern as she pulls back to look at him, “How do you think Jack and I would cope if we lost you.” 

He smiles at the way she casually refers to herself as his family, and it takes everything in him not to ask her to move in with him on the spot. 

“So,” he says, smiling softly, “When can you break me out of here?” 

She knows he’s changing the subject so he doesn’t have to talk about it, and she knows they’ll talk about this again. Talk about the guilt he feels about Detective Rooney, and her irritation at him putting himself in a situation where he could have died in order to try and save him. Now wasn’t the time. She’d wait until the were home, when the cold chill that had permeated his skin had gone completely. 

She shakes her head lovingly at him, “Between your grade 2 concussion,” she says, pushing his hair out of his face to see the bandage on his forehead, “Your hypothermia and your four cracked ribs, I think you’ll be here for a while, baby,” she smiles as he groans, and she cuts him off before he can reply, “And no, I am not taking you home against medical advice.” 

He sighs, but he knows he’d do the same if their positions were reversed, “Well, if you won’t take me home, you should at least get into bed with me,” he says, smiling softly at her, “Warm me up.” 

She hesitates, because she doesn’t want to hurt him, but she nods, wanting nothing more than to snuggle up to him, to feel him breath against her. She kisses him once more before she shifts so she can join him in the bed. She’s careful not to jostle him as she pulls him into her side, his arms wrapped around him as she kisses his cheek. 

“Better?” She asks quietly and he nods against her, his forehead against her neck.

“Much better,” he replies, pressing a kiss to her collarbone, “I’m sorry we’ll have to delay Christmas again,” he says, tilting his head to look up at her, “And New Year. I know the holidays are important to you.”

She holds him even tighter, “Not as important as you,” she says, kissing his forehead, smiling against his skin, her lips on the edge of the bandage there, as he yawns, “You should get some rest, sweetheart,” she says, pulling back to look at him, “I’ll be right here.” 

“Love you,” he says, closing his eyes, his exhaustion taking over. 

“Love you too.” 

She plays with his hair as he falls asleep, something she knows always helped him relax, and she sighs in relief as he gets heavier against her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and types out a text to Jessica, hesitating for only a moment before she presses send. 

I’ve had an idea. If I book a flight for you and Jack how quickly could you get here?

Only a couple of minutes pass before she gets a reply, the message making her smile wildly. 

I’ll start packing!

___

“Daddy has been sleeping a long time.” 

Aaron frowns in confusion as he starts to become aware of his surroundings, sure he must still be dreaming if he can hear Jack’s voice. They’d been here for a couple of days now, his release from hospital still several days away, and he missed his son. He’d tried to send Emily home but she’d refused, stubborn in her refusal to barely leave the hospital, let alone the state. 

He hears Emily chuckle, “That’s because he needs the sleep to get better, sweet boy,” she says, her voice quieter than Jack’s.

Aaron opens his eyes, his confusion only deepening when he’s met with the sight of Emily sitting on the chair next to his bed, Jack contently curled up in her lap, his focus on a toy that she’d given him to keep him entertained. It makes a tension he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying around in his chest ease, his two favourite people in the world always enough to make him feel better. 

“Jack,” Emily says, smiling as her eyes meet Aaron’s, her cheeks warm as he looks at them both with so much love she thinks she could cry, “Look who’s awake.”

Jack looks up, his smile wide as he tries to climb out of Emily’s lap quickly, “Daddy!”

“Careful, Jack,” Emily says, grabbing him and placing him softly on Aaron’s bed, her smile soft as Jack is immediately gentler, “Remember what we said, Daddy will be sore.” 

He nods and settles next to his father, “Hi Daddy.” 

“Hi buddy,” he says, hugging his son, wincing slightly at the pull in his ribs, “What are you doing here?” 

Jack pulls back and smiles at him, “Me and Aunt Jessie flew here today! Emily paid for our flights - I had a huge seat,” he says, his enjoyment of his flight something he hadn’t stopped talking about to Emiyl since he arrived, “We surprised you!” 

Aaron chuckles and looks at his girlfriend, “I’m definitely surprised.” 

She feels a mix of joy and embarrassment warm her from the inside out, “Jess is at the hotel,” she explains, “Jack wanted to stay here with you and me.” 

He smiles at her as he hugs his son, “What made you decide to do this?” 

She shrugs as if it’s nothing, as if she hadn’t given him what he himself hadn’t realised he needed, “We missed Christmas together, but we didn’t have to miss New Year together,” her smile soft, “Even if we do have to spend it in a hospital.” 

He smiles, everything he wants to say trapped in his chest as he shakes his head in disbelief at how it feels to be loved like this. Something he thinks he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to prove to himself that he deserves. 

“Jack,” he says, looking down at his son, leaning in like he was sharing a secret, “I think Emily should come over and snuggle with us, don’t you?” 

She rolls her eyes as Jack nods enthusiastically, “Just like at home!” 

“Yeah,” Aaron says, looking back at her, unwrapping one arm from around Jack and offering it out to her, She shakes her head and takes his hand, letting herself be guided towards the bed, climbing in on Aaron’s other side, the three of them squished together, the pieces of the family that they were building slotting together perfectly, “Just like at home.”

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfic #aaron x emily #emily prentiss

[beardedmrbean]

Three members of a Colorado family died while attempting to live "off the grid" in the Rocky Mountains, family members and investigators say.

The emaciated remains of sisters Christine and Rebecca Vance and the latter's 14-year old son, were found in a remote campsite this month.

On Tuesday a coroner ruled that they probably died from starvation or exposure during the cold winter.

It appears that the group began camping last summer and died over the winter.

Rebecca Vance's stepsister Trevala Jara, told the Washington Post on Wednesday: "She didn't like the way the world was going, and she thought it would be better if her and her son and Christine were alone, away from everybody."

The group - including the sisters who were in their 40s - had no outdoor survival experience and had watched online videos to learn about how to survive in Colorado's rugged backcountry, Mrs Jara told US media.

"You can't go on the internet and watch videos on how to live off the grid, and then actually do it, if you have no experience," Mrs Jara told the Colorado Springs Gazette.

"You just can't do that. They died of starvation because they weren't prepared."

All three came from Colorado Springs. Investigators say their cause of death has not yet been determined and will not be released until toxicology reports are complete.

On 9 July, a hiker stumbled upon their badly decomposed remains at the Gold Creek Campground in the Gunnison National Forest.

Gunnison County Coroner Michael Barnes said that two bodies were found in a tent, while another was found outside, at an elevation of around 9,500ft (2,900m).

The name of the teenage boy has not been released.

It appears they attempted to construct a shelter, but had given up as winter arrived and instead spent time inside their tent, he told AP News.

"I wonder if winter came on quickly and suddenly they were just in survival mode in the tent," Mr Barnes said.

"They had a lot of literature with them about outdoor survival and foraging and stuff like that. But it looked like they [bought supplies] at a grocery store."

In early August, the group came to their stepsister's home "to say goodbye".

"We tried to stop them," Mrs Jara told the Gazette. "But they wouldn't listen. Their minds were made up."

#nunyas news #maybe we should have let the black hammer group #go do its thing

[coochiequeens]

I'm usually anti-death penalty but I would rather this guy get the chair then have women at risk.

By Genevieve Gluck. January 2, 2024

A trans-identified male convicted of the grisly murders of two men is serving his 50-year sentence in a women’s correctional facility. Vietnam war and US Navy veteran Susan Monica, born Steven Buchanan, had dismembered the bodies of his victims and fed them to pigs at a 20-acre farm he owned in Wimer, Oregon.

In 1991, Buchanan purchased a 20-acre farm in Oregon where he would kill two handymen in 2012 and 2013 before feeding their corpses to the pigs he owned at the property. He was sentenced to a minimum of 50 years in prison in 2015, and multiple new outlets reporting on the case referred to Buchanan simply as a “woman,” without mentioning his transgender status or the fact he is a biological male.

“You shot two people and fed them to your pigs,” Judge Tim Barnack told Buchanan during sentencing. “I don’t know how else I can put it. You valued pigs more than you value people. It may sound harsh, but you are a cold-blooded killer.”

According to the Oregon state Department of Corrections, Buchanan is incarcerated at Coffee Creek Correctional Facility, a women’s facility. He is listed under his feminine name, Susan Monica, and is described as being “female” in official records.

In 2012, Buchanan hired 59-year-old Stephen Delicino to assist him with tasks on the farm in exchange for financial compensation and accommodations. According to Buchanan’s testimony, the two became involved in a physical altercation after Buchanan discovered that Delicino was in possession of two of his guns. During a confrontation over the alleged theft, Buchanan claims that a gun misfired, striking Delicino in the back of the head and killing him.

However, Buchanan’s story regarding the death of Delicino was inconsistent. He variously claimed that Delicino shot himself in the head, and that he had shot the victim in self-defense — before his remains were eaten by Buchanan’s pigs.

What was left of Delicino’s corpse would later be found by investigators in plastic bags on the property, but not before Buchanan killed again.

The following year, Buchanan hired Robert Haney, 56, as a handyman by placing an advertisement for hired help. In the summer of 2013, Haney’s children became concerned when they could not contact their father, and filed a missing persons report with the Jackson County Sheriff’s Office.

Haney’s son, Jesse, revealed in a documentary for Oxygen about the killings that he visited Buchanan’s farm on January 1, 2014 inquiring as to the whereabouts of his father, and to retrieve his belongings. “We hadn’t seen or heard from my dad for two months. We just all started to panic,” he said. “His leather jacket was there. His dog was still running around and all his tools were there… It made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.”

When officers initially questioned Buchanan about Haney’s disappearance, he told them that the handyman had quit and left the farm. Yet suspicions were raised when Buchanan was caught on security camera footage using Haney’s Oregon Trail Electronic Benefits Transfer card (EBT) to pay for items at a Walmart the day after he claimed that Haney had left his property.

Law enforcement officers executed a search warrant on the property and were shocked by the dilapidated conditions of Buchanan’s farm, which included piles of garbage, rotting food, and industrial waste. 

“I would describe that property as eerie. There was a very strong order there, a lot of decay,” former Jackson County Sheriff’s Detective Julie Denney told Oxygen.

Then, investigators discovered the remains of a human leg. “It was clear that it was not an animal bone. It appeared to me to be a human leg that had been severed mid-femur, down to the toes,” Denney said.

Detectives brought Buchanan in for further questioning, at which point Buchanan told a bizarre story about putting Haney “out of his misery.”

Buchanan claimed that a few months prior, he had discovered his pigs in a feeding frenzy, devouring Haney’s intestines “with his guts all over the place.” 

Steven Buchanan / Susan Monica, mugshot via Jackson County Sheriff’s Office

“He was being eaten, what I believed to be, alive,” Buchanan told detectives during the interview. “I put him out of his misery. I do that for my animals and this was the first time I did it for a human being and I knew it was wrong but if it were one of my pigs suffering out there, I would have done the same thing.”   

State Police forensic anthropologist Veronica Vance testified that Haney had suffered three to four gunshot wounds to the head. His legs had been chopped off with an ax, though it was unclear whether this occurred before or after Haney’s death. Additionally, his thigh bones showed signed of having been gnawed on by an animal.

Buchanan stated that he didn’t inform authorities about the incident because he feared that his pigs would be put down. When investigators asked whether they would find anything else on his property, Buchanan drew a map with an “X” and said, “Right there. That’s where you’re going to find Steve,” referring to Delicino.

“I do not value human life very much,” Buchanan would admit during a taped confession. “My feeling is the only thing wrong with the planet is there’s people on it. If not for us, all the other animals, even dodo birds, would be here.”

The lead detective involved with the case told the court that Buchanan had admitted to killing over a dozen victims in a similar manner. “She told me that if she told me about the 17 others that she would spend the rest of her life in jail,” said detective Eric Henderson, referring to Buchanan as a woman.

Delicino’s daughter Eva told Oxygen that she also believed there were more unidentified victims.

“I think there’s more people… I don’t know what the motive would be… I don’t think that you kill two people in that manner and that it wasn’t premeditated. I think [he] did it to other people, too… and even the investigators believe that there are more people out there on [his] property.”

Buchanan was arrested on January 14, 2014 and charged with two counts each of murder and first-degree abuse of a corpse as well as one count of identity theft, the Mail Tribune reported at the time. Dozens of crime scene investigators searched the property, digging over 100 holes over the following weeks. Though they uncovered the remains of both Haney and Delicino, as well as the victims’ personal belongings, no other bodies were found.

A former cellmate of Buchanan’s at the Jackson County jail testified to getting “chills” after receiving a birthday card from Buchanan signed, “from the sweetest murderer in Jackson County.”

It is unclear how many men claiming a transgender status are currently being held in women’s facilities in Oregon state. As Reduxx previously reported, a man in custody for the brutal murder of his ex-girlfriend had been briefly transferred to the Coffee Creek Women’s Correctional Facility, but was quickly moved back to the male estate just weeks later for unknown reasons.

Zera Lola Zombie, born Daniel Lee Smith, has received a “vulnerable” designation by an Oregon Court, entitling him to special protections and privileges due to his gender identity. He is classified as a “female” inmate in the Oregon inmate directory.

#Susan Monica is Steven Buchanan #usa #oregon #Wider #Not a woman #NotOurCrimes #The media not reporting crime statistics truthfully #Oregon state Department of Corrections #Coffee Creek Correctional Facility #Rest In Peace Stephen Delicino #Rest In Peace Robert Haney #male violence

[pigeonwit]

I pretty sure you’ve single-handedly unlocked a new hyperfixation within me

I’ve been vaguely following Billie the kid, watching their reels, enjoying bow pics, and of course the queerness of it all. This whole time I had very little clue what the plot was just that it was Queer and Ryan Kopel was involved (I mean what more could you need really) but after reading you brief synopsis of it I have the urge to absorb any and all information pertaining to this show so thank you for that /gen 🫡🫡

P.S. your art is lovely thank you for sharing it with us all <3

so help me god i will turn the venn diagram between daisies and fansies into a CIRCLE-

thanks so much maura, i'm glad i could give you some more information on the show nad allow you to connect to it in some way!! i have plenty of posts with a bunch of information about the show, including my rough notes, and i'd be happy to send you all the links i have if you'd like them! just shoot me a DM and i'll pass them along :)

PS i don't quiiiite know what you mean by art? none of those photographs were mine and i haven't made any art for it at all, only a themed battle jacket i made for the show. the only creative thing i do is writing, and i haven't really written anything for the show yet, besides this:

“So, like-” Christ, Jack can feel himself getting breathless with how excited he is, “-okay – rodeos. Are those actually, like… A thing? ‘Cause I’ve seen YouTube videos-”

Davey scoffs into his coffee.

“God, Jackie, the south isn’t all cowboys and rodeos. Sometimes places are just places.”

David shoots him a quizzical look, which makes Davey give him the same look right back, the two of them such a flawless mirror image that Jack’s brain is bending in half trying to comprehend it.

“What?” Davey tries to smile, but Jack’s known him long enough to recognize his nervous twinges.

“I mean…” David swivels his hawk-eyes across the table, peering from person to person as he judges what to say. “Yeah, you’re right an’ all, Winchester Creek ain’t nothin’ special, but – kinda rich comin’ from you, huh?”

Davey frowns.

“Coming from me?”

David blinks at him owlishly, and it’s such a Davey mannerism that Jack has to shake his head a little just to shift David back behind the line that separates the two.

“Dude.” He says flatly. “You came third in bronc ridin’ at our junior rodeo back when we were like, twelve.”

“What?!” Davey splutters, though Jack can barely hear him – the whole table’s yelling over each other at the sheer idea of Davey in a rodeo, and Jack’s too busy staring at him, mouth agape, his terrible mind filled with equally terrible images of Davey on a horse, Davey with a lasso, Davey shirtless on a horse with a lasso-

“C’mon, you know this!” David insists. “It was that summer your dad got hurt real bad an’ ya momma sent ya ‘round to us, remember? You were there for months and ya fuckin’ hated it, so my pop gotcha into our county’s Li’l Britches. I know,” he scoffs, tipping back a little in his seat, “because pop made us stay there the whole day before you went on. Think he thought I’d get jealous and wanna join in.” He tips his chin up curtly and takes what is quite possibly the bitchiest sip of his cold brew. “Didn’t fuckin’ work, though.”

“David.” Jack says gravely, and when two heads turn in synchrony to look at him, quickly adds, “uh, sorry, no – my David.”

“Well, I could be.” David shrugs with a sly grin, and Jack’s whole body feels like paper being punched into a little ball.

#billie the kid #billie the kid musical #baura-bear #ask #newsies #uksies #(technically) #pigeon scribbles

[spin4trout]

Neenah Creek

The weather has been miserably wet and cold lately, but the rain stopped long enough yesterday to let me take a run at Neenah Creek in Adams County.

I caught two nice trout right where I entered the river. That was a sign of good things to come. I fished for two hours and caught and released eight nice browns.

I would have fished more, but I hit some beaver dams and the water and stream bed got dark and mucky upstream of those. Still, it was a nice early season trip and I enjoyed covering over a mile wading and then bushwhacking back to the car.

#trout #fishing #spinning #ultralight

[brostateexam]

I would like to brag about how Texas Tough I was when it came to enduring the long South Texas summer of my childhood, but the truth is that it was winter that I dreaded most. Our house was heated by a wood-burning stove in the kitchen. Overnight, the fire would die down, and by morning the house had leaked all its warmth. As a kid, my morning routine was a shiver fest: I would cast off my electric blanket, make my way to the back porch to gather firewood, sort the kindling and the tinder, and then light a fire in the stove. While I waited, I would lay my clothes on the cast iron until they were hot to the touch—sliding into them was like putting on a comforting skin. To this day, I abhor being cold. (Maybe Switzerland isn’t for me after all.)

Despite growing up in rural South Texas without air-conditioning, I don’t remember being uncomfortable in the summers, at least not in the house. The old thing was uninsulated and drafty, inviting in the sea breezes that bring thunderstorms from the Gulf to the coastal plains. After school and in the summer, I spent hours at the town library, devouring books in the delicious AC. Plus, summers just weren’t as hot in the eighties and early nineties—I know; I looked up the data. The seven hottest summers on record for DeWitt County, where I grew up, have all occurred since 1998. 

It was working outdoors that made me appreciate what it means to eat by the sweat of your brow. My chores were many: ditchdigging, brush clearing, trash burning. Near the Gulf, one moves about in the soupy air like a bird drying its wings or an aging cowboy—arms apart from the body to let the pits breathe and to keep the sweat at bay. My parents were potters back then; they quite literally made a living from heat. Their studio on our little ranch had five or so electric kilns in a metal pole barn. Temperatures inside were diabolical. We burned our household trash in a fifty-gallon drum, and the rest went into a ravine, a makeshift dump where garbage was burned. We had cattle and horses and a big garden that needed tending to. Sweat was money.

When I was fourteen we moved to the Hill Country town of Wimberley. Spring-fed Blue Hole, an idyllic swimming hole on Cypress Creek, was within walking distance of our home; so was the cool Blanco River. Our tiny single-wide mobile home was cramped, but it had air-conditioning. Just like that, we had stepped into the modern era. It wasn’t the six-shooter that tamed the West; it was AC. 

Recent years, though, have tested me. I had hoped—against available evidence—that the scorcher of 2011 was a black swan, a once-in-a-lifetime heat wave, but now it seems like almost every summer finds new ways to challenge my resilience and upend my expectations of the future. Like a lot of folks, I underestimated the urgency of climate change. In Elmer Kelton’s classic novel on the 1950s Texas drought, The Time It Never Rained, the main character—a stubborn rancher who has sworn he will outlast hard times—tells his son that they just need to wait long enough to see rain again. “It always did rain here, eventually. A country don’t change climate permanently, not all of a sudden.” Little did Charlie Flagg know.

#long reads #*climate change

[whatthehelloh]

Jensen Ackles being called as a witness in the trial against Alec Baldwin.

A plethora of cast and crew from the “Rust” production are being summoned as witnesses for Alec Baldwin‘s trial, including its helmer Joel Souza who was present on set during filming.

On February 24th, Baldwin will be making his initial appearance in court electronically after being charged with two counts of involuntary manslaughter for the demise of cinematographer Halyna Hutchins.

Court documents acquired by Fox News Digital name camera assistant Lane Luper and gaffer Serge Svetnoy as witnesses of the incident on the set of “Rust” – both have previously voiced their concerns about its lack of safety.

Luper resigned from his job on the production of “Rust” prior to the fatal shooting incident.

“What I put in my resignation letter was lax COVID policies, the housing situation driving to and from Albuquerque, and specifically, gun safety, a lack of rehearsals, a lack of preparing the crew for what we were doing that day,” Luper previously said during an appearance on “Good Morning America” in Nov. 2021.

Svetnoy also verified the danger that exists on set.

During a press conference months after the shooting, Svetnoy’s attorney told reporters that the movie’s producers “were cutting too many corners to save money” and that negligence on set led to Hutchins’ death.

Rounding out the list are Jensen Ackles, actor; Mamie Mitchell, script supervisor; Seth Kenney, owner of prop store; Gabrielle Pickle, line producer and Sarah Zachry, prop master.

In addition, a group of investigators from Santa Fe County led by Sheriff Adan Mendoza are listed, alongside FBI analysts and experts.

Astoundingly, assistant director David Halls was absent from the witness list. The first assistant director agreed to accept culpability for his actions and plead guilty to negligent use of a deadly weapon; now awaiting confirmation by a judge.

Halls allegedly handed Baldwin the gun before the fatal shooting of Hutchins and confirmed it was “cold,” meaning no live ammunition.

On January 31st, according to court documents, the formal charges against Baldwin and Gutierrez-Reed were two counts of involuntary manslaughter.

In the same documents, prosecutors provided a comprehensive overview of their probable cause against Baldwin.

“Baldwin’s deviation from known standards, practice and protocol directly caused the fatal death of Hutchins,” the documents state.

“By not receiving the required training on firearms, not checking the firearm with the armorer, letting the armorer leave the firearms in the church without being present, deviating from the practice of only accepting the firearm from the armorer, not dealing with the safety complaints on set and/or making sure safety meetings were held, putting his finger on the trigger of a real firearm when a replica or rubber gun should have been used, pointing the firearms at Hutchins and Souza, and the overall handling of the firearms in a negligent manner, Baldwin acted with willful disregard for the safety of others and in a manner which endangered other people, specifically Hutchins and Souza.”

On October 21, 2021, tragedy struck when a gun held by Baldwin discharged on the set of a church at Bonanza Creek Ranch in New Mexico. The incident resulted in the death of Hutchins.

Over the past year, the Santa Fe County Sheriff’s Department has been diligently looking into how live ammunition wound up on set. Gutierrez-Reed and Halls were supposedly two of only a few individuals that managed the firearm.

Before Halls is said to have provided Baldwin with the gun, Gutierrez-Reed spun the cylinder so that Halls could see it contained bullets, her lawyer reported.

In a primetime interview and again in a podcast episode, Baldwin strongly declared that he had not pulled the trigger of the gun. Initially indicating that he had only cocked it back as far as possible then let go, his story remains unaltered ever since.

#jensen ackles #rust #rust movie #alec baldwin #hannah gutierrez reed #trial #rust alec baldwin #halyna hutchins

[middleland]

Winter Morning by Sarah Throckmorton

Via Flickr:

Sunrise over the wet prairie at Battelle Darby Creek Metro Park in the winter. www.sarahthrockmorton.com     

#battelle darby creek metro park #galloway ohio #prairie ohio #franklin county #the cold

[dweeeeb]

06/03/2023

Never the same place twice, that was our agreement at the beginning of spring. That is for Fishing, Hiking, Camping, Swimming & all other Outdoor Activities. So many Creeks, Lakes, Ponds, Trails & Rivers in our local area. This is one of the Bear Creek Developments in Franklin County, Alabama, Known as Mon-Dye Bottoms.

Song by: The Wilder Blue - Palamino Gold

Water was cold. We got sunburns over sunburn.

#Appalachia #Franklin County #Alabama #Mondye Bottoms #EmAlaOw76 #Tumbledweeeb

[kimberly40]

Fall Foliage Folklore:

Today we have the National Weather Service and Accuweather. But before the coming of science-based weather forecasting, we attempted to see predictions and indicators in the natural world.

Here is some weather folklore focused on trees, leaves, nuts and more in the fall:

•The brighter the leaf colors in fall, the colder and snowier will be the winter.

•The earlier fall color peaks, the milder will be the winter.

•Leaves that drop early portend a mild winter. Leaves that cling to their trees later into autumn foreshadow a severe winter.

•When plants that usually bloom in spring have a second bloom in fall, expect a cold winter.

•Ground that is covered by acorns in the fall will be covered by snow throughout winter.

•Tree branches cracking and snapping in the fall forecast a coming period of dry weather.

•When a persimmon seed is cut open, the white marking inside reveals the following information about the coming winter: If it's shaped like a knife, winter's winds will be biting and the season will be cold. It it's shaped like a fork, expect a relatively average winter. If it looks like spoon, expect to shovel plenty of snow.

•An unusually thick shell on a hickory nut promises an unusually cold winter.

The common thread running through all those bits of folklore is the fact that each one tells us more about conditions leading into the fall - growing conditions and climate - than about conditions down the road.

Nevertheless, folklore is fun to play around with, just to discover how true it will hold.

Also, here are a couple common myths about fall color:

•More myth than folklore: Anthocyanin, the molecule that gives leaves their red color, is produced only in late summer and fall.

-The facts: Leaf color is determined by relative amounts of chlorophyll (green), carotenoid (yellow) and anthocyanin (red). Although anthocyanin is at a high in the fall, it is present at other times of the year, which explains leaves that sprout red in the spring before turning green.

•More myth than folklore: Trees leaves turn red in the fall as a defense against insects or the sun.

-The facts: Lab-based research has not borne out that hypothesis.

*Pictured is Buck Creek Gap at Milepost: 344.2 on the Blue Ridge Parkway in McDowell County, North Carolina

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[morbidology]

19-year-old Margaret Martin from Luzerne County, Pennsylvania, was known as a shy but friendly girl that had many friends. “I liked to dance, but she never went to dances. She was very popular, very studious,” her friend Betty Hopkins fondly recalled.

Martin graduated from Kingston High School in 1937 and took a couple of classes at Wilkes-Barre Business College to gain secretarial skills. She graduated with honors.

On Saturday the 17th of December, 1938, a neighbor who took phone calls for the Martin family informed Martin that a man had called with a job offer for her. The anonymous caller said that he was new in town and was setting up an insurance agency and was looking for a secretary. It was just 17 days after her graduation and she assumed that Wilkes-Barre Business College must have recommended her to this potential employer. A chuffed Martin took the phone call and arranged to meet the anonymous caller at Kingston Corners, just a short distance from her family home on Covert Street.

The last time Martin was seen alive was when a man who lived in an apartment at Kingston Corners spotted her climbing into a brown Plymouth. The man who was driving the car was said to be between 25 and 30-years-old and was slightly overweight.

When Martin didn’t arrive home, police were contacted and a search was launched.

Due to a six-month strike at the local newspapers, her disappearance wasn’t well publicised but there were a few articles detailing her disappearance. An “Evening Star” article noted that police were checking into the possibility that she had been lured away by a man who was running a “white slave ring.”

On the 21st of December, 1938, 19-year-old muskrat hunter, Anthony Rezykowski, made a gruesome discovery as he was laying traps alongside the icy cold water of Keelersburg Creek in Northmoreland Township, Wyoming County. As he approached a disused bridge, he spotted a burlap sack bobbing up and down with the flow of the water. Protruding from the burlap sack was a human hand.

The search was over: it was Margret Martin and she had been viciously abused.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞:

https://morbidology.com/the-unsolved-sawmill-murder-margaret-martin/

#margaret martin #true crime #unsolved #cold case

[putah-creek]

Yolo County, Sacramento Valley

Light in the winter morning, a gray glow through the tule fog, a fog that sits low across the bottom lands, hugging the creeks and blanketing the reeds and oleander, a gray sunrise that is just barely kissing the dawn, and the silver sky is low, all is still, an easy light, gentle and gray, a love, a thought, a hope.

And the creeks themselves, Cache Creek and Putah Creek, dark and cold and fast, rinsing the earth, washing away the dust of summer with winter's bath, like dancers to a wild Spanish mambo, sisters of the rock and bone of living, the blood veins to the body of the valley, as strong as gods, full of life, and full of death.

The valley is a marsh, a garden for herons and waterbirds, a green grocer for any who would tend it, love it, treat it like a mother or a daughter, the soil made rich and sweet from the centuries spent underwater, when this valley was a great sea, from water to soil to table to stomach, worked with love.

It is winter, it is morning, another fine day in our valley.

james lee jobe

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