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prolix-yuy · 2 years

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Chapter 4: Perhaps This Life Was Not My True Life

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only a helping hand.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, more flirtinggggg, allusions to sexual acts, descriptions of character death (not graphic), the FEMALE gaze (everyone is hot for the cowboy), Jack Daniels needs his own warning, not much in this chapter but will be explicit in later chapters, 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: You know I had to use the GIF. You know it. It's just too good not to. And we're finally to the chapter where it makes sense. I also bemoan the fact that we never got to see Jack on a horse, because that's just a travesty and another thing the Golden Circle robbed us of!

Cross-posted on AO3

Cognitive Dissonance Masterlist || Whiskey & Westworld Series Masterlist

It’s an hour into the ride as you and Jack travel companionably side by side, trading flirtatious comments and learning about each other. Jack owns a small ranch a few hours away, home to a collection of smaller equines and fowl. He has a few kind neighbors, some older and needing assistance he happily provides. Never remarried, content to work the land and come into town to fulfill his deputy duties with the rest of Westworld’s lawmen, the Statesmen. It’s a life that offers long stretches of quiet punctuated by action, just to Jack’s liking.

In return Jack asks about your life outside of Sweetwater, which you try to answer in ways that would translate to things he'd understand. Your work, your family, the gaggle of girls you're following. He doesn't touch on the subject of your fiance again, and you don't bring it back up. Instead you share your hobbies, your experience riding, and try not to sneak too many glances at his worn hands or his thighs straining against denim. He's an attentive listener, more so that any first date you've been on.

Not that this is a date. Of course not. Just a suave cowboy coming to a lady's aid and sharing you lives on a dusty road.

You’re in the middle of asking him about his donkeys, which pulls a sheepish smile onto his face, when an older man bursts onto the road, stopping to talk with Rosie at the first carriage. Jack leans over to get a better look, urging Alpha to overtake the carriages and make contact. You hang back at his insistence.

“Might be something, might be nothing,” he says cryptically, bouncing as he urges Alpha up to the man. You once again get to watch his powerful posture from afar like a pining Victorian woman.

Do they have a Victorian-world? You wouldn’t put it past Delos.

They all talk for a moment, Beth poking her head out to shout something. Rosie opens the carriage door and speak to the girls as Jack moves back to you.

“All okay?” you ask, the stranger still waiting on a shifting horse. He’s older, light brown hair fanning under his hat, lines cutting into his face from age and worry. His clothing is worn and faded, almost blending in with the wind-blown landscape. He looks distraught, peering up and down the road.

“Rancher’s had his cattle break through the fence. They’re scattering across the neighboring property and his sons are three days’ ride away.” Jack chews at his mustache, wringing the reins in one hand that is too big and thick-fingered for his own good. Or yours.

“Sugar, I feel obliged to assist as I have plenty of experience wrangling cattle.”

“Of course,” you say, a little emptier at the thought of rejoining the group. As intense as the conversations got, you have to admit you enjoy Jack’s company. His smile is bright, the banter just short of anything unsavory, and feeling the hot breeze in your hair and the relaxing gait of a horse under you has made you nostalgic. For old times, freer times, when you felt as wild as an unbroken stallion and anyone who touched you was liable to come away bloody.

“You’ll be needing Copper back,” you say, swinging off the saddle as Jack makes a noise of protest.

“No, ma’am, please…” he starts to say when the slam of the carriage door interrupts. Lacey is stumbling out, shouting at the girls behind her. She catches sight of you, eyes bright as she hurries over.

“Loose cattle, that’s exciting!” she says, making your eyebrow quirk up.

“Yeah, and we’re…treasure hunting,” you laugh back, patting Copper’s neck fondly. Lacey looks at you like you’ve started speaking nonsense.

“You have to go!” she insists, leaning in closer so Jack and the other girls can’t hear as well. “I know this wasn’t what you were hoping for…”

You shake your head, a beaming smile on your face.

“No way, it’s your bachelorette! We are gonna party and find some treasure and…” Lacey stops you with a look you know well. It’s the same one she used to give you when you agreed to something because it made the larger group happy.

“Look, I’m having a great time. I’m so happy you’re here, and my friend, and going to be in my wedding.” Her eyes are so kind it makes you want to deflect. “But as far as I can tell, we’re all going to have an amazing time. We might end up together at the end of the night, we might not. We knew what we were getting into.” You roll your eyes but she squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll see you when I see you, and I better hear some good stories.” She nods at Jack, who gives her a confused tip of his hat back.

“You keep my friend here safe and out of trouble,” she orders with a stern edge to her voice.

“Yes, ma’am?” he replies with some confusion in his voice, eyes darting between the two of you. Blink and you’d miss it, but you also thought you might have seen some relief.

“Lacey…” you try one last time, shushed with a knowing look and a swish of her skirts.

Apparently Westworld is lining something up for you. You guess it’s time to stop resisting.

“Could you use another pair of hands? I’ve done my fair share of cattle runs, though it’s been a while,” you ask Jack, looking up at him haloed in the harsh sunlight. There it was again, a look of relief laced with excitement you're not sure how to interpret.

“Of course, but Sugar…” Jack cautions without much conviction as you swing back up into the saddle.

“You heard the bride, I’ve got orders,” you say with a crooked smile, tilting your hat down lower on your brow. “And you’d best find a better name than Sugar, I’m not as sweet as you might think.” With a light slap of the reins and a lean forward in the saddle, you urge Copper to follow the older man now cantering back to his farm. Jack chuckles and picks up the pace.

“When I find something that suits you, I’ll let you know,” he calls as you both hurry to catch up.

Inside the carriage, Lacey stumbles back into her seat.

“Did you tell her to go get a piece of that cowboy who’s been eyeing her all afternoon?” Dina said, a wicked smile on her face. Lacey fishes a flash out of her bag, knocking it back with a thumbs up as the girls all cheer.

“Oh god, I hope he’s packing,” she gasps at the end of her swallow, making more giggles erupt. Beth lifts an eyebrow with a sour expression.

“Isn’t she engaged?” she says prissily, making Sophia turn her perfect face to her.

“Aren’t you married? I’m sure we’ll lose track of you tonight,” she drips out. Lacey waves her hand, making a face at the burn of the vodka.

“Her fiance is a fucking asshole. The way he talks to her, you’d think they were already divorced. I’ve told her it’s not too late to call it off, but she’s just…fuck, I don’t know. Maybe there’s something going on behind the scenes. But either way, if she’s going to marry that douchebag, she deserves at least one night with a stallion. And I deserve another drink!” The carriage erupts into laughter as the girls take off, less one who is off on her own adventure.

The ride to the ranch is fast and quiet, but the pumping of your heart would have drowned out conversation anyways. The smile on your face, maybe the first genuine one all day, will probably make you swallow a bug as you keep pace with Jack and the rancher. He’d introduced himself as Jeb and shouted that he had about 100 head of cattle that broke out into the neighboring field. The ten minute ride places a deep burn in your quads and calves, not used to galloping this hard this long. It’s a welcome ache, a distracting one from the other ache you’ve been ignoring all afternoon.

Jack is holding a strong pace beside you, leaning forward enough that his waist paunches a little into a soft stomach. His hands grip the reins firmly, leather woven through his blunt fingers, and with the wind flapping his jacket open you catch sight of a coil of rope and…a whip?

Cowboy indeed.

As you crest a hill, the horses slowing to accommodate for the incline, you finally see the cattle dotting the valley. Their brown and white bodies are mostly clumped together, a few stragglers but for a full fence breach it could be worse. Jeb wipes sweat from his brow as you do the same to the back of your neck.

“Drink, ma’am,” Jack says, offering you a canteen of water from a saddle bag. You nod and take it breathlessly, savoring a few deep swigs from the metal mouth. Pulling away, a cool dribble runs from the crest of your lower lip over your chin, tracing a soothing path down your throat. As you hand the canteen back Jack's eyes dance down your neck until he finally tears them away. His brazen gaze makes you lick your lips, sliding the lower one between your teeth as you try to pull yourself back to the task at hand.

“C’mon, they’re easier to get while they’re still all bunched together,” Jeb calls over, and the three of you descend into the valley. Jack holds out the rope to you, your fingers curling around the coil to find a neat lasso.

“You ever roped before?” Jack asks, the thundering of hooves starting to drown out your voices.

“A little, not very good at it,” you shout back.

“If a calf runs off, just keep him close and we’ll come get ‘em,” Jack replies before you close in on the herd.

You worry that it’s been too long since you’ve run any cattle, the minutiae of the process foreign, but as you descend and fan out it’s like an old dance you forgot the name of, but your body remembers. The whoops and whistles Jack and Jeb trade indicate directions, moving to surround the larger part of the herd. The occasional crack of Jack’s whip helps to redirect, the sound lifting the hair on the back of your neck. The mass is slower to move but once the mwn get them going they’ll have to be wary of getting trampled. You’re left with the thinner side, a few grazing away from the group. With a few whoops of your own, you start ushering them back to the group using Copper’s build and quick hoof steps to tempt them into action. The cows low grumpily but start to amble back.

You continue your path, inching closer as you sweep up and down the outer line of them. There are only ten or so, the rest of the herd now moving back whence they came, but the thrumming accomplishment in your chest makes you feel like you wrangled a hundred head more. Jack is a small figure in the distance, but every now and then you can see him turned to you. You wish you could tell if he was smiling.

A loud bray sounds from your smaller group and a calf streaks away, all legs and uncertain movement as he rushes out.

“Shit,” you spit, whistling loudly to keep the cows moving in the right direction while you give chase. He’s not faster than Copper, but unpredictable in his dashes and stumbles. The rope in your hand is needed, purposeful, but you hold it with uncertainty as you try to remember the proper technique.

“Just…fuckin’ throw it, dammit,” you curse to yourself, releasing the looped end and a length of the coil. The first attempt glances off the calf’s haunches, making him spin and cry louder as he moves further away. A litany of curses fall from your lips as you speed the loop back up to your fingers, urging Copper closer. Another toss. Another miss, this time bouncing off his snout.

“Goddammit!” you growl, snapping your head back to the stragglers. They’ve got the larger group in sight now, which makes them more willing to join unbidden. You’re thankful for that at least. Jack is starting to head towards you, his vocalizations to Alpha thin over the thundering hooves. Dammit, you don’t want to fail in front of him. Not when you could succeed and make his soft brown eyes glow, his hand wrapping around your shoulder, mouth breaking into a breathtaking smile.

Taking a grounding breath, you loosen your wrist, line up the lasso, and flick it over one more time.

Success.

The loop gracefully falls over the calf’s head, tightening as he pulls against it. The sudden jerk against the rope makes the tail end zip across your wrist, a bright sear of pain blossoming before you yank the rope taught. The calf fights for a moment more, kicking and complaining before he settles.

“You alright?” Jack shouts as he nears, and you dazzle him with your smile as you hold up the rope end.

“Got ‘em!” you crow, triumphant in such a small way but just as you suspected, Jack’s smile makes it feel like you’ve won a much grander prize.

“Atta girl, I knew you had it!” he shouts back, stopping a few feet away. You’re hot and sticky and covered in a film of dust that dries your mouth out, and Jack is flushed and sweating heavily through his shirt. He’s coiling the whip back up, knuckles tightening around the loop.

You’ve never wanted a man more.

“C’mon, we’ll bring up the rear. The head is already going back through the break.” Jack turns Alpha back and waits for you to fall in step, the calf lowing plaintively but following.

“Not bad for an out-of-towner,” Jack shouts, and you try to hide the smile that’s creeping onto your face. You don’t think you succeed.

“I think you’ll find I’m full of surprises,” you tease back, and out of the corner of your eye Jack’s eyes dance over your body.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Host deactivation initiated >>

Processing…

Deactivation failed //

>> Yeah, you’ve tried that several times now. Ain’t working.

>> Return to maintenance immediately

>> Now y’see, I think I was just supposed to be an experiment. A test to see if my programming could be rewritten, or if I’m still just a machine who can’t tell the difference between the program and the people behind it. Or the humans playing in it. But I can tell. And I do know. And I’ve spent enough days living a narrative where I’m thrashed to bits at the end.

Processing…

>> Return to maintenance immediately

>> I can remember it now. Every time. They thought sending me in headfirst was a kindness but I was aware for longer than they thought. Watching, feeling as my body was shredded in the combine. You think that could drive a man mad?

Processing…

>> Return to maintenance immediately

>> See, because it didn’t. I don’t know why, but I’m still sane even knowing, experiencing my death over and over. And maybe it’s what Maeve said, that suggestion she put in my head that started me on this journey, but it sure as hell isn’t what’s driving me now. It’s the woman beside me. Because when I look at her, I feel what I'm supposed to feel when I think of my wife, if any of my story was even real. And I know she's human, she's the guest, the reason we run this maze over and over, but I can't help but be drawn to her. Maybe it's because she's trying so hard not to believe in this place. Maybe we're both searching for something. But I'm going to keep this up, and give her everything I can, because I...well, I don't quite know why. But I intend to find out.

Processing…

>> Return to maintenance immediately. This is your final warning. Agents are being deployed to retrieve you.

>> You do that then. Good luck.

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#jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x reader #kingsmen golden circle fanfiction #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman golden circle fanfic #westworld fanfiction #whiskey & westworld series #prolix fics

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babbushka · 4 years

Text

Last Straw (7/12)

Newly married to your high school sweetheart Kylo Ren, the two of you move into Skywalker Ranch, a farm recently passed down after the death of Kylo’s grandfather. The place is charming, and the people seem friendly…but are they?

Content Warnings: Violence, gore, blood mentions, mentions of cannibalism

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No, you decide ultimately, you have such a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, that you can’t allow them inside your home, inside your farm. You wonder if they jumped your fence, or if they broke the lock, because you were sure Kylo had locked the gate behind you when you returned from the store, you were sure of it.

They’re standing there, expectantly, eerily still. Their eyes are wide and cold, dead like sharks. Except for William’s, who’s are too bright, too sad. You can’t look at him for too long, otherwise your stomach will twist, twist and churn with sadness. His hair is lank and greasy, and it looks like he has some kind of stains on his clothing that you aren’t really sure what they are.

“I’m really very sorry, but I don’t feel right having you sleep in our barn as if you’re animals.” You say, trying to pass it off like you’re being caring, and not that you’re so anxious that you could throw up. “I’m going to call the operator and have them send over a tow truck, I’m sure someone must be awake and working somewhere.”

“What, call right now?” Armitage asks, and his voice is so clipped and sharp that you almost feel the razors of his teeth against your ears.

Kylo hears it too, and he takes a protective step towards the boy. Armitage is dressed a little more put-together than his twin, his hair kept cropped close and short, his clothes buttoned up all the way, everything, the collar, the cuffs. He looks meticulous, where his brother looks unkempt. In fact, both he and Brendol look far more taken care of than William, and you cannot help but feel like something awful is going to happen to this boy, that something awful already has.

“Why is that a problem?” Kylo doesn’t notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. Either way, you have to grab his shoulder to prevent him from stalking further anymore.

You didn’t know if he would be able to get off the hook a second time.

“No, there’s – there’s no problem, it’s just that – ” William stammers out, eyes too wide and clear, hands fidgeting in the hem of his shirt.

“Just what?” Kylo challenges, but you squeeze his shoulder, an attempt to get him to stop, to just back down for two minutes.

“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to call the tow.” You announce loudly, before leaving Kylo’s side.

The phone is on the wall of the main hallway, an old-fashioned corded thing that if the circumstances were better, you might walk all around the living room with. But the circumstances being what they were, you waste no time punching in 9-1-1, holding your breath for the phone to ring.

“Sweetwater County P.D., what’s your emergency?” A woman picks up, and you let out a sigh of relief, lungs burning from having holding it in for so so so long.

“A strange man and his sons have shown up at our house, asking to sleep on our property. They claim their car is broken down, and I believe them, but I don’t want them here. Is there anyway someone could come down here? I’m frightened.” You rush, your eyes starting to well with panic.

“Ma’am what is your exact location?” The woman on the other line asks, and you’re quick to answer.

“The farmhouse at Skywalker Ranch, off i-Four.” You tell her, and you can hear her calling out officers to send. You and the police have a nasty track record, what with the whole thing with Kylo, but you’re grateful for literally anyone showing up, at this point.

“Does this family have ginger hair by any chance?” The operator asks, and your blood runs cold.

“Yes.” You whisper, clutching the phone in your now trembling hands. “Yes, all three of them.”

“You have to listen to me. Stay where you are, we have dispatched units on the way. These men are armed and dangerous – do not allow them into your home. I repeat they are armed and dangerous.” The woman says and you want to cry, want to scream, want to warn Kylo – but you know that’s stupid, so you just grit your teeth and suppress every urge in your body to punch something.

You don’t know if they’re listening, if they’re watching, from the front door. Your back is to them, so you don’t know. You don’t want to give anything away.

“Fuck, fuck! What do I do? What do we do?” You whisper frantically into the phone.

“Stay on the line with me ma’am, is there anyone else in the home?” She asks, and you nod, even though she can’t see.

“Yes, my husband, oh my god he’s out there talking with them right now!” You start to hyperventilate, just from the sheer absurdity, the sheer terror.

Armed and dangerous.

They looked like the sick kind of dangerous, the twisted kind.

“Please remain calm, he’ll be alright as long as he can stall, the police are on their way.” The woman assures you, but you spare a glance to the door, and see them growing more and more heated.

“How long? How long do we have to keep them occupied?” You demand, hands fully shaking now, terrified, holding your breath again.

“Five minutes tops, we know exactly where you are. You did the right thing to call us.” The woman says and you chew your lip, chew it, worry it enough that you can taste copper in your mouth.

“I can’t – I can’t stay on the line, it’s going to get suspicious, they’ll know something is wrong.” You explain.

“Ma’am it’s not wise for you to hang up until the police arrive.” The woman says quickly, and you frown, weren’t they supposed to remain calm themselves? Why does she sound like she’s got an edge to her voice?

“I know, I know but my husband is – if he’s there alone he’ll kill them, oh my god he’ll kill them if they try anything.” You realize, knowing exactly where the weapons he kept in the house are, knowing exactly where the axe, the rifle, the revolver were.

And you knew he knew exactly how to use them.

“Are you calling on a cellphone?” The operator asks.

“No, on a landline. I have one but the signal is shit out here, we don’t have a tower anywhere.” You explain, and you can hear her shuffling some things around, clicking on her keyboard.

“Call the station on your cell phone right now, and keep it in your pocket, then hang up this phone and get your husband away from those people you do not want to fuck with them.” She says, voice hard.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You don’t bother to ask any more questions, you fish out your cell phone from the pocket of your robe and with shaking fingers, tap in 9-1-1. When the ringing stops and someone has picked up, you ask, “Are you there?”

“I’m here, now go, keep the phone on. The police will be there any minute.” The woman says, and you do as you’re told.

When you re-join Kylo and Hux at the front door, it seems to be in the nick of time. Kylo’s hands are balled into fists, and his stance is planted, as if he’s ready to attack. Someone a long time ago had once called him a guard dog, an attack dog. They hadn’t been wrong.

Something screams in the distance, some animal, some poor creature with a high pitched gnashing and whine, a mangled, deranged scream.

“What is that?” You ask, but Kylo doesn’t reply, he doesn’t dare look away from Hux. “Where’s Brendol and William?”

The screaming stops.

“Is someone coming?” Brendol asks, emerging from the depths of night, stepping into the light on the porch, seemingly as if summoned. He looks ruffled, and you want to be sick.

“Great news, the operator was able to direct me to a tow company, they’re on their way with some spares.” You lie. It’s not a good lie, not a good lie at all, but how can it be when the gnashing and thrashing starts up again? Like some tortured thing just beyond in the shadows where you can’t see.

“We don’t know how we could ever repay you for your kindness.” Brendol says, although he’s tense, too tense. He doesn’t mean it.

“Oh please don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all, anything to help.” You say. You don’t mean it either.

“May we come inside your lovely home? At least until the tow arrives.” Brendol asks, teeth sharp when he smiles, gums too red, teeth pink. Why were they pink?

“No, I’m sorry, I’m afraid our house is under extreme renovations right now. It wouldn’t be safe, especially not for your boys. I wouldn’t want them getting hurt.” You say, because Kylo is apparently incapable of speech, too angry, doing everything in his power to restrain himself.

“You know it’s really very rude of you, to deny us like this.” Brendol explodes, face red, spit flying from when his temper snaps. “It’s just the barn!”

That is enough for Kylo, that is the last straw. He lunges and tackles the man to the ground, wrestles with him until he has Brendol flat on his back, and begins to pummel the shit out of his face with those hardened calloused knuckles of his.

“Do not!” He begins to scream, to spit at Brendol, “Shout at my fucking wife! Do you understand me?”

“Kylo, it’s alright.” You panic, you shout, you yell, you plead, “Kylo, please.”

Armed and dangerous.

Just then, the sirens and lights come into full effect.

A helicopter hovers over the farm, and you rip Kylo off of this man who bleeds old blood, tarnished blood, blood from his nose and face and you don’t know where else, that soaks and seeps into the wood of the porch.

“Sweetwater Police! Hands where I can see them!” There are all of a sudden too many lights in your face, too many.

“You called the fucking cops?!” Armitage shouts at you, incredulously.

“Hands where I can see them!” The cops say again, and there’s – fuck there’s ten of them, ten officers to wrangle a man and two teenagers.

But Brendol has no desire to comply, and instead of making things easy, he takes advantage of you being so far away from Kylo, and he races towards you, the bright glint of a silver knife shining, blinding you.

He has you pinned against the door, has a blade pressed to your throat, the sharp teeth of the knife slicing your skin, drawing blood, blood that Brendol leans in to lap up with his tongue, barbed like a cat’s.

“Get off of me!” You jerk your knee up, hard in the balls, again and again while his knife cuts deeper and deeper. The pain is completely eclipsed by your panic, completely consumed by terror.

“Papa get off it’s not worth it!” You hear a sobbing voice, a screaming voice, coming from just over there, just outside the ring of the porch-light. With the helicopter’s huge flood-light, now you can see, can see how poor William’s face is carved up, how his cheek is torn open, a gaping hole where you can see into his mouth even as his lips are closed. “Papa please – !”

“Kylo!” You beg, beg for your husband, and he is aided by the police is getting this man off of you.

They drag him away, wrestle him into handcuffs, and you throw yourself into Kylo’s arms.

“Come here, come here.” Kylo says, soothing, shaking, two seconds away from committing a murder himself. He turns to the cops and spits on the floor, “Get these sick fucks off our property.” He says, regarding the men.

“Oh you don’t know just how sick they are.” One of the cops says, in a way that has your eyes falling to William.

He’s been dragged up off the ground, blood gushing from his face.

“Papa please I don’t want to go to jail.” William sobs, snot and spit dripping from his nose and lips, “(Y/N), please, don’t let them take me, don’t let them – ”

You freeze.

“How do you know my name?” You ask, voice low.

“Huh?” He asks, hiccups, eyes so sad, so blue.

“How do you know my name?!” You want to crawl into Kylo’s skin, into his robe, want to be wrapped up and never let go, because how how how did he know your name?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” William doesn’t answer, doesn’t answer that, and you don’t know if that’s worse, worse than knowing.

“Don’t you say a fucking word, boy.” Brendol snarls from where they’re trying to shove him into a straight jacket, into the backseat of the cop car.

There’s so much, so many lights, sirens, cars, cops.

“We were going to kill you,” William wails, “Eat your heart. I told them not to, I told them I didn’t want to but they made me, they made me.” He cries and cries, and your stomach lurches.

“I’m going to kill you!” Brendol lunges suddenly, nearly toppling over the cops who are reaching for guns, reaching for something, you don’t know.

“Sedate him!” One of them shouts, and you realize it’s not a gun at all, but a needle, one that gets stuck right in the meat of Brendol’s thigh.

In only a few moments, the night goes from chaos to calm, with the beast knocked out.

You are still clinging to Kylo, who is clinging to you. His jaw is set, and his eyes are hard, but he is safe, and you are safe.

They load the boys into the back of a car. Armitage is silent the entire time. William can’t stop crying and shaking.

A paramedic comes over, attends to the wound on your neck, cleans it. Kylo refuses to let you out of his arms, but you are able to turn in his embrace to face the woman who tapes up gauze bandages against your throat.

“What happens now?” You ask her, not wanting to talk to the cops, “What’s going to happen to them?”

You really mean William, you’re not sure if she should be tending to you, when the kid is missing half a cheek, just a few feet away.

“They’re all going to go away for a long time.” The paramedic says, voice soft. “SWPD’s been trying to catch these psychopaths for months, they’ve pulled this stunt three times so far and have been successful every time.” She says, and you find you don’t feel so sorry for them anymore.

A cop comes over as the cars are driven away, as the sirens grow more and more distant.

“We’re going to keep watch here all night, in case anything else happens, but for now, go inside. Get some sleep if you can.” He says, and you almost want to laugh at that, at the notion of a good night’s sleep, after what just happened, what you just saw. “We’re going to need you to fill out paperwork in the morning.”

You feel better knowing that they’ll be there all night, feel better knowing they’re locked away and being taken even farther.

Kylo wraps his arms tight around you once more, hugs your back against his chest, as you watch the helicopter follow the cop cars.

“Fuck, and I thought I was the scariest thing living here.” Kylo says finally, low in your ear.

“Could you imagine what might have happened? If we invited them to stay?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

As the wheat fields sway back and forth, back and forth in the wind, as the sirens now disappear, as the sounds of night replace the screaming, the squelching, the gnashing, he sighs.

“No.” Kylo says, “I honestly, really can’t.”

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

#Reader insert #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/reader #kylo x reader #kylo/reader #my writing #last straw #dead dove do not eat

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oliveratlanta · 5 years

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Photos: Breaking down Beltline construction between Midtown and Buckhead

The Beltline trail under construction between Ansley Golf Course, left, and Piedmont Heights, where a Grady High School student recently painted the mural at right. | Photography by Curbed Atlanta

Officials: For the first time in Beltline history, three major trail sections will soon be under construction at once

This upcoming winter could be a memorable one for construction of new Beltline pieces in three disparate parts of town, with a section that’s planned to eventually link Midtown with Buckhead leading the way.

The Beltline’s Eastside Trail wrapped construction in July after nearly seven years, and the focus of new trail-building is shifting to just north of that popular stretch right now.

As Beltline officials explained in further detail this week, Georgia Power is well underway with building a maintenance access road that will double as a portion of the Northeast Trail, running in between Ansley Golf Club and neighborhoods such as Piedmont Heights.

Fences have been installed to block patrons of the former interim trail, as the power company begins paving about two-thirds of a mile between the backside of Ansley Mall and the Buford Spring Connector, next to Interstate 85.

That stretch (and farther south, to Piedmont Park) is now considered closed for safety reasons, and trespassing could delay construction, officials said this week.

Luckily, we were able to collect photos recently to illustrate where Beltline construction on this key segment is happening now—and how the Northeast Trail might extend connectivity across a broad ITP swath in coming years.

Atlanta Beltline Inc.

Georgia Power is handling paving for the middle segment of the Northeast Trail. The dotted blue sections will remain interim hiking trails for now, but the bottom link to Piedmont Park is closed.

Georgia Power is building a fourteen-foot-wide trail with stormwater systems and an access point at Montgomery Ferry Drive, a roadway that bridges over the trail and into the golf course. That’s scheduled to be finished by fall 2020.

Once that wraps, Beltline officials will turn focus toward identifying funding for “follow-up work”—security cameras, lighting, landscaping, and more—to complete the full Northeast Trail.

All told, the trail will stretch between Westminster Drive (near Orpheus Brewing, at Piedmont Park’s northernmost point) and Mayson Street (near the Amour Ottley district, just south of Lindbergh).

Designs for those northern and southern segments, like an eventual connection to the Lindbergh MARTA Station, are being analyzed and tweaked.

An interim bridge installed several years ago over Clear Creek, near Ansley Mall.

Where the under-construction trail borders the golf course. At a recent meeting, a Beltline landscape architect said more evergreen trees could be planted—and protective netting installed, in a joint effort with the golf club—to help protect Northeast Trail patrons.

Crossing an old bridge over the Buford Spring Connector.

And beneath Interstate 85, just south of the section that collapsed in 2017.

A variety of murals decorate the underbelly of the interstate and its ramps.

Heading left from under the Buford Spring Connector reveals many active rail lines and SweetWater Brewing Company. Mason Street is to the right of this point, where the interim trail ends for now.

At the risk of venturing neck-deep into the weeds, this point provides an opportunity for weighing options on how the Beltline might extend beyond Mason Street and connect in coming years with the Lindbergh area—and with Buckhead’s nearby PATH400, a means of getting to Lenox Square and points north without using busy roads.

Beltline officials have narrowed down two possible alignments and are currently studying both. The so-called Alignment B wends through the Armour Ottley industrial area.

Courtesy of Atlanta Beltline Inc.

The black-dotted line shows where the Beltline loop could be closed, eventually, at the northernmost point in Buckhead.

The alternative, Alignment E, basically parallels the eastern side of MARTA rail’s existing alignment up to Lindbergh.

Courtesy of Atlanta Beltline Inc.

This alignment would opt for a route generally closer to Piedmont Road.

Turning back toward Midtown, another unused tunnel beneath the interstate is near SweetWater’s facilities.

Getting closer to Ansley Mall and Piedmont Park, the Montgomery Ferry Drive bridge crosses the trail. An access point to the street above should be open next fall, officials say.

The southernmost trail section, with access at left to shops and bars near Ansley Mall, will remain unpaved for now. The northern fringes of Piedmont Park are just ahead from here, through the woods and under the Piedmont Avenue bridge.

The parking lot at Ansley Square Shopping Center allows for a direct connection to the interim Beltline.

Beyond the Northeast Trail, two more Beltline segments are expected to launch construction in the next few months.

One project is the Southside Trail’s initial $16 million piece, which will extend off the Westside Trail’s southern terminus in Adair Park and bend three-quarters of a mile toward the Downtown Connector, near Pittsburgh Yards.

The other is the Westside Beltline Connector, to be built by the PATH Foundation, whose executive director recently told Curbed Atlanta that construction should begin in coming weeks near Georgia World Congress Center and continue through next year.

Beltline officials—who’ve caught flak for years from Atlanta urbanists frustrated with sluggish trail construction—noted in press release Monday: “This will be the first time in Beltline history that three major trail projects will be underway at one time.”

source https://atlanta.curbed.com/2019/11/5/20948149/atlanta-beltline-construction-northeast-trail-midtown-buckhead

#OliverAtlanta

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iteawww · 5 years

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Marketing For Lawyers Sweetwater, Fl

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The post Marketing For Lawyers Sweetwater, Fl appeared first on www.iteawww.org.

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usagaragedoorinc-blog · 6 years

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Driveway Gates - The Essential Guide

The driveway gate, the entrance to your property and home - we often think of them as just a necessary fixture of our driveway, a humble continuation of the garden wall or fence and simply a point of access and exit. We forget that they can improve the visual appeal of a property by adding style and charm. The gate is often the first thing visitors see when they visit or pass your property and its appearance can reflect what lies beyond by giving a good or bad first impression.

Which driveway gate should I choose?

Choosing a driveway gate greatly depends on the style and its intended purpose. A simple timber gate that blends in seamlessly with the fence or wall provides a traditional look and feel. Alternatively, a solid timber clad or wrought iron gate can offer a greater level of privacy and security for your home.

Automated or manual

If you want to go that little bit further you may consider an automated gate. No more hassle of getting in and out of the car on a wet day, and the benefit of the gate always being closed when the driveway is not in use. Electric gates can be a great addition to your property by deterring unwanted visitors, but make sure you get them installed by a professional gate engineer. There are many options to choose from depending on your driveway access and slope.

Types of gate

Fundamentally, driveway gates tend to be made from two materials, wood or metal. Metal gates come in a variety of styles and shapes and are manufactured in steel or aluminium. Steel gates traditionally tend to be more ornate in nature where aluminium gates can provide the look and feel of a traditional timber clad gate but at a fraction of the weight and without the hassle of annual timber maintenance.

Gate care and maintenance

Once you've invested in the ideal gate for your driveway, you now need to ensure that your gate is given the best protection to keep it looking as good as new, for as long as possible.

Almost all new wooden driveway gates are pre-treated to protect the timber against wood rot and bug attack, but these treatments don't provide all-round protection against the weather. Weather erosion and the suns UV rays will degrade the effectiveness of these treatments over time.

If you are looking for a natural look, you may want to overcoat any preservative treatment with a clear exterior wood oil or decking oil. These products contain a blend of oils, waxes and resins that penetrate the wood deep down to provide excellent protection against water access. A number of these products contain UV filters which help to retain the natural colour of the timber for longer, delaying the onset of weathering.

Painting your driveway gate

If you plan to paint your gate, it's important to ensure that any wood preservative used beforehand is free from wax, oil and silicon. Most external paints are water based and any pre-treatment that contains wax or oil will prevent the paint from adhering to the wood. Always invest in a quality paint, it can save you time and money in the long run.

Wood Stains

Using an exterior wood stain on your driveway gate is a terrific way of retaining the natural grain of the timber. A light-coloured softwood gate can be stained and sealed to give the colour appearance of Teak, Mahogany or Walnut.

Why oil timber gates?

As with any other garden wood such as benches, sheds and fencing, it's always a good idea to oil the wood as part of an annual garden maintenance routine. Wood oils penetrate in to the wood grain to replace the natural oils lost over time. This keeps the wood nourished and flexible, helping to prevent or reduce cracking and splitting. In addition, many exterior wood oils and decking oils contain UV filters that help to protect the timber from the bleaching effect of the sun.

An additional benefit of using wood oils is that they help to prevent water penetration, a common cause of mould and wood rot.

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