#do y'all think he would recognize her if she took off her hat? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelz-dust · 3 years

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Bro cowboy!jason with some smut would be beautiful 😭

yeehaw baby - minors avert y'all eyes 🤠

(as i was writing this i realized i was writing a female reader but if you'd like a male or gender neutral reader instead let me know and i'll come with up an whole new scenario!!)

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

what's a sheriff without his hat? (jason todd x female reader)

warnings: nsfw 18+ (no condom, pulling out - wrap it up y'all). angst if you squint.

...

"sheriff!"

you kicked in the doors to the saloon, gathering the attention of some of the patrons nearby. the place smelled of smoke and sweat, which was why you tried your best to avoid the spot altogether. however, it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so with sheriff todd making it his new hangout spot. the bastard could've picked a place with a bit more circulation as far as you were concerned.

"sheriff!" you yelled again, holding your dress up as your steps increased in speed. you saw the man in his booth with deputy harper and the rest of their little posse. they felt more like thugs to you.

"he's asleep," the woman, artemis, said to you as she opened her bottle of booze on the side of the table, subsequently chipping off some of the wood. you weren't sure if it was due to the poor structural integrity or her strength. probably both.

"i don't give a damn if he's neck deep in his grave," you spat, walking up to him. his seat was leaned back, which mean he was definitely awake. no one could balance their own weight like that and be unconscious. his hat was covering his face, some smoke coming out of the sides. asleep my ass.

you ripped the hat off of his face, bellows of cigarette smoke barreling out. his eyes shot open, the white slightly red from how he was abusing them just now. how he was still breathing, you didn't know. maybe the rumors about him coming back to life and being immortal were true.

"can i help you?" he glared, making an attempt to snatch his hat back from you. you quickly pulled back, making his seat lunge forward and his chest hit the table. you heard the deputy snort at the scene. "as my companion just told you, i'm asleep."

your glared right back at him, holding his hat behind your back. "you promised to keep those hooligans away from my place of business, todd."

"did i?" he asked you, giving you a fake grin. "well, i'm sorry little lady. it musta slipped my mind."

"don't get smart with me!" you snapped at him, the entire saloon getting quiet now. everyone was suddenly very interested in your little spat. "you're supposed to be protecting us and all you do is sit on your ass. i'm surprised you ain't collecting dust already."

"someone should sew that damn mouth of yours shut. maybe then we'd get some peace and quiet around here," he said back, getting a few chuckles from his little fan club. "give me my hat back."

you stared at him as your frustrations bubbled inside of you. that's all he had to say? his lack of concern for your issue just let you know what kind of man you already knew he was. he wanted his hat back? fat chance. you silently grinned at him before turning around and starting to walk out of the saloon. screw him and his stupid hat.

"hey!" he shouted as you continued walking off. you could feel the vibrations of his movement in the floorboards. he was coming after you. "get back here!"

you sped up, running out of the saloon and back towards the bathhouse. maybe if you got him off his sorry ass he'd be more willing to hear you out. that is, if the theft of his precious little hat didn't irritate him too much. if you weren't so preoccupied with outrunning him, you'd love to see the look on his face. you made it up the few step to the front door, where he quickly caught up with you. you pressed your back against it, securing the hat in between.

the sheriff glowered down at you, his hand pressed against the doorframe above you. you stared into each other's eyes, the sounds of your panting breath sinking up with one another. as much as he agitated you to no end, he was a very handsome man. it was the only thing that had kept you from shooting him in that pretty face.

"you've had your fun," he told you with a low tone, holding his other hand out. "now give it back."

you were surprised he hadn't just tossed you around and took it for himself. back when jas- the sheriff... first came to town, he seemed like a respectable man. you didn't cross paths very often, but every encounter with him was pleasant and memorable. he was kind, sometimes even a little flirty with you. he was a little rough around the edges. all those cowboys seemed to share that trait. but it was worse when when he returned after disappearing for a long time. you barely recognized him. it seemed he had been hardened by... whatever it was he experienced while he was gone. you didn't ask, nor did you care. he and his gaggle of dirty thugs had taken control of the town and it's been this way ever since.

"you don't deserve it," you decided to say, relishing in the instant gratification that came from seeing his expression change so quickly. oh, he was angry and you loved it. "you're no sheriff. you're an outlaw. you don't care about anybody but yourself."

you felt the hot air blow out of his nose and you had to fight back the smirk that was playing at your lips. you looked down and saw his hand moving towards your waist. the hell was he trying to do? before you could move or protest, you had fallen backwards into the bathhouse, right onto the freshly cleaned floor. he looked down at you from where he stood with a smile, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. you scrambled away from him, his hat still firmly in your grip. you got yourself off the floor, ready for whatever he was going to try.

instead of making his way towards you like you assumed he would, he looked around the place, taking in his surroundings. he eventually started walking in your direction. it was menacing watching him slowly approach you with an expressionless face. he stopped at the counter, looking down at the little bell. pressing his finger on it, it rung. he waited a few seconds before ringing it a few more times, looking over at you expectantly. your gaze narrowed as you made your way behind the counter.

"yes?" you asked with gritted teeth.

"i'd like to have a bath, please."

"... i'm sorry, sir, but we've had to close early today on the account of having no sheriff to protect my girls from harassment," you explained with a sickly sweet smile. "if we had a sheriff, which we don't, then maybe my girls would feel comfortable continuing to work. but since we don't, there's nothing i can do to help you. sorry for the inconvenience."

you saw a flicker of what appeared to be remorse on his face. he looked down at the counter, his finger tracing the grooves. "you're here, aren't you?"

"you must be out of your natural mind."

"why? because i'm requesting that the bathhouse worker give me a bath?" he asked with a snarky tone.

"that you're requesting anything of me after disregarding my concerns earlier."

he pulled some money out of his pocket, slamming it on the counter. "let's discuss it over a bath."

...

this was the last thing you wanted to be doing. you stared at the back of his head as he laid in the tub of warm water. you grabbed the rag from the bucket of soapy water, ringing it out and bringing it to his chest. as much as you wanted to be rough with him, your desire to not touch him at all prompted you to just be gentle instead. you heard him let out a content sigh as you scrubbed him down.

"you wanted to talk to me, didn't you? so talk," he said, resting his chin in his hand while you worked.

"i already told you what the problem was," you reminded him, lightly pressing against his back to get him to sit up. you scrubbed his back, watching as the dirt and grime disappeared, revealing his actual skin color.

"don't present a problem without a solution. what do you want me to do?"

"kill them."

he let out a hearty laugh at your suggestion, laying back down once you finished with his back. your fingers went to his hair as you poured some water of it, massaging it into his scalp. you could've sworn you felt him leaning into your touch. "isn't killing your clientele bad for business?"

"their existence is bad for business," you told him matter of factly, leaning down to wash his stomach. "i want them gone."

"now darling," he chuckled softly, turning his head towards you. his scruff brushed against your skin, making you shiver. "you know i can't do that. try again."

you could feel your face heating up, so you pulled away, washing his arms now. you dragged the rag along his muscles, revealing all kinds of scars as you cleaned him. "give them a stern talking to."

"about what?"

"respecting my girls."

"or else what?"

"use your imagination."

he hummed with a nod as you finished up with his upper body. "i can do that."

you threw the wet rag at his face, making him flinch. he dragged down his face, plopping into the bath water. "i'm not washing you below the belt. you can see yourself out."

...

after dramatically stomping your way up to your bedroom, you changed out of your clothes and into your nightgown. being around the sheriff was exhausting and you weren't going to waste anymore time on him. your only hope was that he'd stay true to his word. as you were getting ready to retire for the night, you heard a knock at your door.

"i want my damn hat back, y/n. i'll kick the door down if i have to," you heard him say through the door. you went and grabbed it off of your dresser, putting it on your head and looking at yourself in the mirror.

"i think i'll keep it for myself, actually."

"you have five seconds to open this door."

out of frustration, he start twisting the knob. unbeknownst to him, it was never locked to begin with. he opened the door, surprise on his face as he let himself in. he looked over at you, the same expression on his face, but for a different reason now.

"take it off."

"i actually quite like it, so i don't think i will."

he must have been fed up with you at this point, because he started approaching you with purpose in his step. you stepped back some, slipping on the length of your gown and falling back on the bed. the hat had fallen off of your head, onto the floor. instead of going around to pick it up, he found himself on top of you. the two of you held eye contact, but it was different from earlier.

"why do you do these things to me?" he asked you softly. "i'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose."

"i don't like you."

"you used to like me."

that may have been true once upon a time, but it wasn't the case now. the person you used to like didn't exist anymore. he was replaced with a hollow shell of a man and you wanted nothing to do with him.

his thumb made its way to the corner of your mouth and your heart started racing. "i still like you," he said with a small frown, his fingers tracing your jaw and moving down your neck. "i think deep down you still like me."

"no," you responded without missing a beat. his hand was on your chest, feeling the shockwaves of your pulse underneath. "i don't."

"i think you do."

you wanted to badly to smack him in his face but his response was different than you expected. the snark and smugness you were expecting was replaced with a tenderness you were unfamiliar with. or, more accurately, had forgotten he was capable of conveying. he sounded honest. genuine. like he really believed what he was saying. or wanted to, at least.

that's what caused you to let your guard down and let him in. his nose rubbed against yours before he leaned down, giving you a kiss. his large hand cupped your cheek while his other one lifted you off of your back and into his lap. you parted from him and he looked at you with a little smile. "see?"

"that doesn't count," you objected, despite not moving out of your new position. you actually found yourself getting comfortable, placing your legs on both sides of his lap. you could feel his erection growing beneath you.

"sure it does," he insisted, grabbing his hat and putting it back on your head. he laid back on the bed, starting to slowly undo his belt. you didn't dare look down at what he was doing, too stubborn to give him the full satisfaction, but you didn't stop him either. you felt your own arousal becoming stronger. it was hard to ignore when you didn't have any underwear on to begin with.

you soon felt his tip rubbing against your slickness and you sucked in a gasp, getting his attention. he stopped moving, looking up at you for approval to continue. still feeling stubborn, you just looked away and felt him slip inside of you. his hands moved up your thighs and to your hips, repositioning the skirt of your gown. it allowed the two of you to reserve a bit of modesty in your compromising state.

the first movements were shallow and slow, as you were both trying to adjust. it didn't take long for you both to find a rhythm. soft pants and moans came from you as you rode him, his hips thrusting upwards so you weren't doing all the work. you had been resisting from touching him, but as he bounced you on his lap, his hand went to yours. his fingers grazed yours, sloppily laced together as he brought it towards his mouth. he planted a kiss on your palm, placing it on his heart.

shifting your weight, you pressed your hand firmly against his chest and he picked up the pace, his hips snapping up into you. your arm was starting to grow tired and he picked up on it. he sat up, pulling you into him. his face rested in the crook of your neck, his breath fanning against it while his hands slid up your back, one at the top of your spine and the other at your ribs. you continued rocking against him while his mouth made quick work of your neck, sucking at the junction between it and your shoulder.

your moans became embarrassingly loud. you were just glad no one else was around to hear them. jason kissed up the base of your neck until he met your lips, swallowing up all of your sounds. you felt his hat slipping off of your head and you both reached back to catch it, his hand on top of yours. the two of you smiled into the kiss as he readjusted it for you.

feeling your release coming up, you slipped your fingers down to your clit, teasing it to help push yourself over the edge. jason moaned against your lips as he pulled out of you, making a mess on your nightgown. you were too blinded by your own pleasure to yell at him as you continued rubbing yourself. you felt his fingers probing at your entrance, thrusting in and out until you came all over them.

"sorry about the stain," he breathed out, pulling the skirt up in an effort to keep it from touching you. his other hand worked to untie the bow in the back, making it easier for you to get it off. he grabbed his hat from off your head and used it to cover his face while you slipped out of the gown. you set it aside, pulling your blankets up to cover yourself. "are you decent?"

"yes," you answered as he lowered it, giving you a grin before putting it back on your head. your eyes peered upwards at the brim. "i thought you wanted it back."

"i'll come get it later. there are a few men i need to give a stern talking to first," he said, fixing his pants and getting up. "you'll be here when i get back, won't you?"

you raised your brow at him, chuckling. "it's not like i have somewhere else to be."

"i'll be back soon," he winked before walking over to the door. "oh, and darling?"

"...yes?"

"leave that on for me, alright?"

#jason todd x reader #askbox

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mysticgoblinwriter · 3 years

Text

Driving In A Cold Sweat; There Is No One On This Highway

Warnings- Murder, infidelity, swearing, food imagery, shitty parents, i made Steve the villain who’s in the HOA and a politician, adult content, dark!reader, cheating, a bit of flirting, mental health joke (mental health is NOT a joke, y’all), religion symbolism, dark!steve, peggy x bucky,

Word Count- 1.9k

kudos to @blackberrybucky for being my soundboard, and @fandomsandxfiles for being my beta reader. Love y'all

a/n- This is inspired by Hypothermic by Goodnight Texas. Its really dark, and I surprised myself writing this but I like it. I also changed the landscape to desert. Leave comments if you want! As many as you like, I fangirl over my work too. All writers should, its selfcare.

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING FLUFFY AND SOFT TURN AWAY NOW; MINORS DNI

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE. A REBLOG IS APPRECIATED. A REPOST IS NOT.

Bucky looks you up and down, taking you in like you are the gods own ambrosia. “So, doll. What brings you to this shit hole?”

You laugh to yourself. “I murdered somebody.”- was the sentence that also inspired this but its not in the actual story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The radio gave out miles ago. It was emitting nothing except for crackling and static. Every now and then it would cut back to a sermon, funnily enough it’d been the same one that was on when you started your trip. Sunset was a little ways off. If you looked hard enough you could see coyotes just off the asphalt. Alive, yes. But just how long had their souls been gone? Someone was screaming.

A man. You’d heard that scream before. Seared into you memory like that steak you had for your 15th birthday. It was right next to you. Oozing blood and raw-red. You could hear the clink of the knife as it scraped against the plate. Shaking your head to clear it, you notice an exit with a gas station. “Now’s a time as good as any to stop.” Gravel crunches as you slide up next to the pump. The neon beer lights from the bar across the road are calling. But you can’t answer. The gas handle is slick and grimy, you’ve felt something like that before, but you can’t remember what. A fuzzy noise in the back of your ears gets your attention. Another truck has pulled in. Right in the spot next to yours, never mind the dozen others that are free. A bulky man steps down, his face hidden by a rangers hat.

You could tell he worked out though. And had hair in need of a washing. Clunk. The tank was full. You thought it best to leave before anyone could place you, but your stomach needed something other than greasy two-bit fast food. You glance around, looking for any sign that promised a hot meal.

“Looking for something, doll?” You let out a small gasp. He was staring straight at you now.

“Does this shithole have a place to eat? I might have to start eating the cactus.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Yeah, there’s a diner about half mile down the road.”

His face brightens like he just thought of something. “You wanna meet me there? I’ll buy dinner?” You weigh the options. You can’t have anybody recognize you; but your cash is getting low and however you can stretch it, you must. You nod once. “Sure.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The diner is every trope you’d seen in the movies your pops watched when he got off work. Flies buzzing, neon sign flickering, checkered tile. It even had the shiny red leather booths. What a dream. “Getcha a seat anywhere, honey. I’ll be right over,” came a perky voice from the back. Presumably a waitress. You choose the booth near the back exit. Its always good to have a backup plan.

The man said he needed to get something at the mini-mart, that you could go ahead and he’d catch up. Somebody screamed right next to you, causing you to jump out of your seat. You whip your head around. No one was even in the dining area. It sounded so real. Like you could reach out and grasp the shattering inky blackness. You take a couple of deep breaths. Try to remember your happy place. Tahiti, its a magical place. Or so you’ve been told You just picked it from a magazine that was open on the coffee table the night your mother set fire to the curtains in the living room. The flames had licked up the page, burning the island resort into ash. Boots thudded as they made way to where you were. He slides in across from you.

“Um, the waitress’ll be right out,” you said softly. He barely heard it over the rickety air conditioning. He nods to show he heard. He’s sitting close. Closer than you’d thought another human would ever sit next to you again. His hands are rough and calloused. The sleeve cuffs of his hoodie are frayed; as if someone clawed at them. Eyes traveling up his body, you take in more details. The hoodie isn’t faded, its brand new. He wears a bracelet of leather on his right hand, with a charm you can’t quite see. His necklace is corded hemp, plain and understated.

A light stubble that’s maybe three days old covers his jaw. His eyes... are piercing right through you. You take in a quick breath, not being able to look away. You’d never seen that shade of blue before. He’d been watching you watching him. Quirking an eyebrow, ”See anything ya like, doll?” You start to sputter an answer but the waitress comes over. “Sorry about the wait. Here’s your-” Blue eyes interrupts her, “We don’t need those. I’ll have the special and she’ll have the ‘Its Impossible To Go Away Hungry’ plate” “Okay, then. I’ll get that right out to ya folks.”

You glare at him, he mirrors it with dicky nonchalance. “Why did you order for me?” He leans forward, tilts his head the right the tiniest fraction. “You’re starved. I really don’t give a damn what kept you from eating but I ain’t gonna let you go without giving you a meal. The steak plate is the biggest meal they have. You can take a to go box, that is if you don’t eat the whole thing.”

“Oh.” You cast out a huff, “Well, thank you.” He flashes a killer smile. Pearly white teeth in a straight line. Not an imperfection to be found anywhere. A silence falls between the two of you. You can’t decide whether its comfortable of not.

“My name is Bucky. I thought you wouldn’t like eating with a stranger. I like to doodle in the margins of my books sometimes.” “Please tell me not library books.” He scoffs as if you suggested the impossible, “Never. Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Jury’s out on that, Bucky.” He looks at you more intently now. “Really? Same could be said about you. When I first spoke to you it was like a deer in headlights. Ya running from something, sugar?” He’d said it jokingly but you didn’t laugh.

“No. Nothing like that.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shirley came back with your plates, and two root beers. She left the check at the end of the table and Bucky swooped it up. The meal passed by in the comfortable sounds of silverware clinking and ice clacking in the cups. You both ate in record time.

You were careful to save enough for a second meal. That went into the to go container. Now both cups were drained and plates scraped clean. You start to slide out of your seat, mumbling a thanks but Bucky stops you. “Wait, won’t you sit here a while longer? I’d be kinda sad sitting here alone.” After a moments hesitation, you resume your position. “What do you wanna talk about? It can’t be the weather. Its been dry as bones for weeks.” He ponders for a moment, “You.” He shifts a little, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.

“I want to know what you’re running from, and see if I can offer...a distraction.” That shocks you. “Life? Aren’t we all running away in some form or another? I just happened to take the mobile route.” You shrug, “What do you want me to say? It was all shitty so I left it behind. And as for the distraction part, I got a whore last night, so don’t bother.” He is silent. Just sits there and gazes at you. You cock your head, getting impatient. “Am I allowed to leave now? Or do you want to talk about our feelings?”

“I slept with my best friends wife.”

“I-I’m sorry you what??”

“I slept with my best friends wife. He owns half the town, what with him being mayor and all. I couldn’t take it anymore, he’s always been the golden boy. Always been the beacon of light. I just wanted a slice of what he had.” He looks up, his eyes are dead. “She was willing, and I just... took her. There on his desk. He’d been out for lunch with some bigwig, and I made her cum twice on my cock.” He chuckles darkly. “That’d been the first time. All the other times don’t matter, he doesn’t know about those. But he does know about the time in the craft shed. Peggy did pottery.

Had a nice little workshop, it was connected to the mansion they had. I wanted to bring her pleasure in the place where she gets frustrated often, so she’d have something else to think about. Steve caught us on the floor. A big bunch of daffodils in hand. Stupid, those weren’t even her favorites.” He was gone now, lost in memories, not even knowing he was talking. “Said he had come by to take her to lunch. That was always like Steve. Expected her to clear her schedule at the drop of a hat but never doing the same for anybody. He didn’t even get mad. He just walked away, muttering something about his office.

Peggy said she could talk some sense into him. The next day I found her in the garbage when I took out my trash.” Your sharp inhale and big eyes do nothing to catch his attention. “Steve comes strolling out of nowhere, said that she was a threat to his image. Said that I need to leave or face the same. I asked why he left me alive and he said ‘So you can remember the pain until you lay down in the ground and the mice and carrion drag your body up from its silk cocoon to feast.”

But that’s not all.” He said the last bit so quietly, it was as if he said nothing.

“What?” He’s crying now, tears are forming rivers in his eyes. “She knew. She knew he was going to be there and that’s how she wanted to go out.” Your puzzled expression makes him laugh. “Don’t know many politicians, do you? Good. Keep it that way. That day when the mail came I got a letter. From her. It said how she wanted to divorce Steve ever since he became the HOA president. But she couldn’t. He had threatened her once, just once and what he said was so blisteringly awful. And he did it. He is a man of his word, after all. He kept his damn word.”

“So...she used you as an out?” He winces. You hadn’t meant to sound like that.

“Yes.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Out in the diners parking lot you say goodbye to James. Wait. No, no. His name is Bucky. He’s got a green Chevy and blue eyes. Or was it red? It doesn’t matter anyway. You back out and head for the next state, ignoring the blood leaking from the tarp in your trunk. The screams have stopped. And the moon is bright.

#dark!reader x bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mcu #marvel fic #bucky barnes x dark!reader #bucky barnes oneshot #dark!steve rogers #moongoblin marvel writes all by herself #bucky barnes x female reader

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hoodharlow · 4 years

Text

Show Me

AN: Part 3 of the El Novio: Workout Mini Series. Someone needs to tell Cal to stop working out bc I need to get back on schedule.The picture was taken from @kindahoping4forever. Thank you to @d-oaks for always being down to beta read and edit.

Requested: No, but @karajaynetoday gave me some ideas that I tweaked 👀👀👀

Warnings: smut

Word Count: 2.6 k words

Calum pulled up to a shaded parking space when they arrived at Costco. The parking lot was surprisingly empty for a Saturday afternoon, so he was relieved that no one would notice them. He motioned Claudia that the coast was clear, and they got out, making their way hand in hand to the food court.

“What are you getting?” Calum asked her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

“Mm… maybe an acai bowl? I wanna leave room for samples.” She responded. She tilted her head up and asked, “Do you wanna get pizza for dinner?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “we can get some premade oven ones, so we can heat them up when we want.”

“That works.” Claudia agreed.

They waited in line to get in the store for what seemed an eternity because some lady was holding up the line; her husband was getting gas, but she didn’t have their Costco Card to get in. While they waited, Claudia stretched a bit to relax some of her muscles. She was still sore from the workout from a few days ago.

“Are you not wearing panties?” Calum whispered to her. He knew her body all too well that he knew when she didn’t wear anything under. She gave him a simple shrug and pulled up her leggings, accentuating her ass even more. He gently placed his head on the cart and sighed. “Are you trying to send me to an early grave?”

“No,” she giggled, “not my fault you can’t handle all this ass.”

“You know damn well I can. You practically begged me this morning.”

“Shut up.” she mumbled.

Luckily the line started moving, so Claudia wasn’t going to deal with his teases. She led him to the kitchen decor section. Ever since they got their kitchen redone, they have been getting new things for it, from pots and pans to storage bins for the pantry. She bent down to get a better view of the kitchen carts.

Calum knew she was going to be a while, so he went off on his own to get their other groceries. He took the car and went toward the cheese section. She ate about seven different kinds of cheeses. He knew she was a keeper when she introduced him to panela. Because now he was able to add pizzazz to his veggie tacos.

Once he was done there, he made his way to the fruits and vegetables.He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages with Diego until he found the one about slapping a watermelon, a tip he wished he learned years ago. He saw a dad nearby that was also slapping the watermelons. After he finished grabbing the other produce, he made his way back to Claudia.

When he got to the aisle where she was, he was immediately annoyed. Claudia was leaning against the shelf laughing along to whatever some guy was telling her. Calum recognized him instantly. He had been out in the food court eyeing Claudia when she helped out a little kid with their soda cap at the napkin section. Now stood with his hands on his hips showing off the ginormous belt buckle.

‘Must be compensating for something,’ Calum thought to himself. He saw the smirk the guy wore, ready to stake his claim at Claudia. Calum gripped the shopping cart, pissed at how sleazy some men were. The guy was probably lurking around waiting for him to leave so he can pounce on Claudia.

When he approached them, the guy gave Calum a quick glance over, sizing up to him. He was about Ashton’s height, but more muscular and bigger, making Calum feel slightly insecure. He knew Claudia was big on arms.

“Are you ready?” Calum asked Claudia. The guy took a few steps away from Claudia.

“Yeah, I ended up ordering one of the things I wanted online because they didn't have the color I wanted. Grant helped me out on how to order it.” She said gesturing to the guy that was flirting with her.

“Well, I best be going. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” The guy said. He had a deep southern drawl. He nodded his head at her like he was tipping a cowboy hat at her.

“Bye.” Claudia said, oblivious to the guy’s intention.

“Are you ready?” Calum repeated to her.

“Yeah, did you get everything else?” She asked him, rummaging through the cart.

“Of course I did. I wasn’t the one wasting time by chatting up some cowboy.” He mumbled loud enough for her to hear him.

“Seriously?” She scoffed, dropping the veggie straws. She looked up at him frowning. She opened her mouth and quickly closed it. “I’m not gonna get into it. Let’s just go back to your place.”

***

Calum peered into the kitchen. It had been an hour since they got back to 'his' place, and Claudia was baking. When they got home, she hadn’t said a thing. At the rate she was going, she could make a pop-up bakery with everything she was baking. He watched her pipe macaron batter on a baking sheet. Then she angrily hit the baking sheet against the counter, making Calum flinch. He wanted a snack, but he knew if he was in the same space as Claudia World War 3 would start. He knew the minute she said 'your place' instead of 'home' that he was in the doghouse. Ever since she moved in with him, he made sure she knew it was their home, not just his.

He watched her stalk off to the bathroom, so he took his chance to serve himself some leftover noodles. He impatiently drummed the counter as if that would speed up the microwave. Before the last second went off he took out his food. He cleaned up any evidence that he was there and retreated back to his studio before she came back.

Claudia caught sight of him as he left and felt sad. She didn't even know what made him so jealous. As if she would even consider looking at any other man when she had him. She felt disappointed that he would even think that she would ever flirt with some guy like the one from Costco. She had seen a few military tattoos peak out of the guy's shirt. She made a vow to never mess with anyone in the military or law enforcement. She knew they lacked a few brain cells and mostly joined to fuck around with guns. Just imagining them made her shudder in disgust.

She pulled out her phone and texted her friends, Sara and Dulce, if they were able to video chat. They instantly replied agreeing. She hasn't been able to hang out with them. Mostly because Sara was in San Francisco working at a graphic design company while Dulce was at NYU starting some archaeology program.

"I missed y'all so much. School's not the same without y'all." Claudia admitted. She loved USC, but it just wasn't the same without them.

"Oh, I know. I hate New York, everything is so expensive." Dulce agreed.

"Felt, San Fran is so yucky too." Sara said.

They continued talking and catching up. Claudia filled them in on how her and Calum are out as a couple, not by choice and all that went down with that mess. She continued baking and decorating. Calum approached her and said something to her. She didn't catch it, so she just waved him off. After about an hour they hung up. Claudia went to the garage for some boxes, so she could send Dulce and Sara some baked goods.

She was coming back to the house when she saw a tall skinny blonde girl with Calum and his trainer. She was giggling at whatever Calum said. Even Duke was with them. Claudia stomped back into the kitchen.

From the window she watched the girl get in front of Calum as his trainer guided them through another workout. She wasn't even sweating. She looked perfect. Like she was pretending to workout just for a few Instagram likes, but she wasn't. She was down doing the nit and gritty along with Calum. Then he took off his shirt. The girl was practically drooling for him and started finding ways to touch him or just be near him.

It angered Claudia. He was either allowing her to do all that to get her back for what happened at Costco or he was a dumbass.

***

Calum was getting frustrated with the girl his trainer brought. At first he let her casually flirt with him because he saw Claudia walk by, but now he wanted her to back off. He took three steps back and she took four. He was thankful that the session was over. As he walked them back to their cars, he was very explicit with his trainer to never bring her around, or anyone at that.

He decided he was going to apologize to Claudia for being a jealous idiot after showering, so he went straight to their bedroom. His shower lasted longer than he expected because he thought back to what happened a few days ago when they worked out together.

He was changing into shorts when he heard a crash and Claudia yell, followed by Duke's barks. He ran back down to the kitchen and found Claudia on the floor clutching her hand with the pizza pan on the floor. He grabbed an oven mitt and picked up the pizza, setting it on the cooling rack. Luckily it landed with pizza on top.

"Show me." He told her quietly. He kneeled in front of her, reaching out to her.

She hesitated but gave in. Her left palm was bright red. When she took out the pizza, she didn't even think about grabbing an oven mitt because of the baking she had been doing. She didn't notice she wasn't wearing one until she looked at her hand.

Calum didn't think twice before lifting her up on the sink and running cool water down on her hand. He went to the pantry where they had one of the many first aid kits in their house. He let her hand under the water for a few more minutes before putting a thin layer of Neosporin on the burn and covering it with a gauze. Then he wrapped it in medical tape.

"Does it hurt?" He asked her. She shook her head. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot. Sana sana colita de rana."

Claudia burst into a fit of giggles. "Where did you hear that?"

"I overheard your brother tell Paloma that when she fell and scraped her knee while we were visiting your parents." He explained. He scratched the back of his back, shyly before continuing. "I googled what it meant and found out it was little saying you do when kids get hurt."

"Well, thank you for that." Claudia said awkwardly. She hopped off the counter and made her way out of the kitchen.

"Claudia, wait," He called after her. She turned around. "I'm sorry for being a jerk. I know you wouldn't do anything to mess up our relationship. I was just angry because that guy had an eye on you since we were getting our stuff at the food court. And also for letting the girl flirt with me. I was just being a petty asshole, and I get if you hate me and all that."

Claudia took a step forward, surveying him. "You're lucky you're cute and know first aid. But if you let some other girl openly flirt with you like that, I will end you. I'm not sure how, but I will."

Calum held out his pinky to her. She smiled and wrapped hers around it. He pulled their intertwined pinkies and kissed them. He leaned down and kissed Claudia.

The kiss was filled with more apologies and promises. Calum backed Claudia against the counter as their kiss intensified. She lifted her hips up for him so he was able to tug off her leggings. He glanced down at her glistening core and back to her face. He dropped his shorts and towered over her.

"I retract all my comments about you not wearing panties with your tights."

***

It was finally nightfall and they were settling for bed. Claudia emerged in one of Calum's t-shirts and her black Calvin Klein panties.

"Why were these in the laundry basket?" She asked him, holding up her new leggings.

"I wore them? Why do you ask?" He asked her, confused.

"They're mine!" She snorted.

"No, they're mine."

"I bought them last week."

"Well, that explains why they were tighter than usual."

"You're silly."

Claudia tossed them back in the basket and crawled in bed. She straddled Calum and laid on his chest. He ran his nails against her back as they mindlessly watched Tierra de Reyes.

After a few minutes, Claudia gasped. "You did the sana sana colita de rana wrong."

"I did?"

"Yeah, after you say it, you must kiss where it hurts."

"Seriously?" Claudia nodded eagerly. She rolled off him and laid on her back. "Where does it hurt?"

"Here a little." she said holding up her bandaged hand. He gave her a quick peck and sat on his knees. She took one of his hands and placed it on her clothed core. "But it really hurts here. Can you kiss it for me? I tried rubbing it, but it didn't help."

"Well if it hurts we gotta do whatever makes you feel better pretty girl. No?"

Claudia nodded in agreement. Calum chuckled to himself and nudged her shirt off. She obliged and reclined against the pillows. Calum kissed her lips and kissed his way down her body. He paid special attention to her breasts before finally reaching her panties. He ripped them off her, tossing the ripped fabric off to the side.

He situated himself in front of her. His fingers grazed her entrance, coating them with her arousal. He licked his fingers and continued to tease her. He smirked as her breathing quickened, and her soft pleas filled the room.

He finally laid on his stomach and began to kiss the inside of her thighs before placing them over his shoulders. His cock hardened thinking of the times she would wear high heels and would dig into his back as he made her come.

"Fuck." He moaned once he tasted her.

His tongue worked its wonders on Claudia. She was on edge minutes later. One of her hands wrapped around his curls while the other tugged with her breasts.

"Cal, please make me come,” she begged.

He slipped his fingers inside of her. She squirmed at how quick he was thrusting his fingers in her. Then he added his thumb and slowly rubbed her clit, bringing her to her orgasm. He continued licking and thrusting his fingers into her as she came.

The tight grip on his hair loosened. Claudia sighed as Calum pulled his fingers out of her. He licked them clean and laid next to her. He turned to his side just as she did. She placed her leg proactively over his waist.

"Thank you." She said.

"For what?" He asked. He reached over and rubbed her leg. He tugged her closer to him.

"For being open with your feelings even if it's not right away. Like you allow yourself to be mad, sad, happy and stuff because you figure out what you're feeling and work off of that. You don't bottle it in and lash out after." She shrugged. She reached over and brushed off his hair off his beautiful face. She kept her hand there and twisted the end of his curls.

"I try my best to. Even if I end up doing something stupid or petty. I owe it to you. You've helped me process and think without even realising it." He said.

He leaned over and pecked her lips. Claudia's hand kept him in place. They kissed for what seemed hours. It wasn't anything urgent, just them showing how grateful they are for each other.

Taglist: @another-lonely-heart @sunshinebabycal @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxwildflower @myloverboyash @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @spicycal @sexgodashton @sunshinebabycal @another-lonely-heart

#calum hood imagine #calum hood one shot #calum hood smut #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fan fic #El Novio series

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caitlyn-winchester · 3 years

Text

Pilot (Part 2)

Cordell Walker x daughter!Reader

word count: 1,554

warnings: dead parent, abandonment?, mentions of deportation

A.N. sorry I haven't been that active about updating this story. I had some school assignments to complete(and still do). this past week I just been very unmotivated to do anything. I'll try to post more! Thank u for your patience.

masterlist

“What are we doing out here again?” Bel asked me as we hopped over a fence that led to an open field.

“Just looking at the stars, I guess. My mom used to take me out here all the time, especially on a full moon.” I told her, sitting down on the grass

“Full moon, like tonight.” she realized.

“Yeah.” I pulled out my leather-bound sketchbook and markers. “She let me draw the starscape while she took some pictures on her camera. I've drawn every single full moon since I was ten, I've missed a couple since she passed. The first couple of months were difficult to get myself to come out here. She even made this sketchbook” I explained. Bel put a comforting hand on my shoulder. I was so lucky to have her, she is an amazing friend.

“She sounds amazing Y/N. I wish I could meet her.” She said and I just nodded. “Can I see your drawings?”

“Sure.” I handed her the book and she started to flip through the pages

“You're really good” she complimented

“Thanks.” I gave a small smile. I layed down on the grass and looked at the stars. It's been a little while and we’ve been talking, looking at the stars or I've been doodling the sky. We heard hard footsteps in the distance and looked over to see someone running in our direction. “What the hell? I breathed out and sat up. As the person got closer I recognized the person. It’s Ryan Marshall from school.

“Ryan?” Bel said when he was just about to pass us but he stopped when he heard his name.

“Hey guys!” he slurred. I rolled my eyes, great he’s drunk.

“Hey! You! Stop!” We heard from the same direction Ryan came from. Two police officers came running over and Ryan took off again. One police officer continued to chase ryan but the other stopped and looked at us.

“What are you ladies doing out here? Were y’all also at that party down the block.” he asked us pointing a flashlight at us. I put my hand out to block my eyes. Does he really gotta shine that thing directly in my face?

“No sir, we were just stargazing. We never stepped foot in that party. You can test us if you'd like.” I explained and Bel agreed with my statement.

“No, you guys don't seem drunk or anything. But you are trespassing.” he told us.

“Trespassing? I thought this was a public field.” I blurted.

“Last month this field was issued for game only during this season. You can only be on this field if you have a hunting license.” he explained “I’ll have to take you into the station for trespassing.”

“Can’t you let us off with a warning? We had no idea and you have no signs up!” I jabbed

“Sorry missy its protocol.” He read us our rights and asked us if we had any weapons and all the other police crap that's part of their ‘protocol’.

»»————-　★　————-««

Currently we are at the police station waiting for our parents to pick us up. Bel told me about her parents and how they might get deported since she was brought in. I feel terrible, I has no idea they changed the field over for a stupid game season. Just another thing I messed up. Luckily Stan Morrison was able to drop our charges since I explained exactly what happened and he understood. Unfortunately, we were taking in so our parents must pick us up since we are minors. We were waiting for probably a good thirty minutes when I saw my dad round the corner. I’m shocked he actually showed up, that’s a new one. I do really want to jump up and hug him but something in me is just mad at him for leaving us so I can’t bring myself to. Also being picked up at a police station was not my ideal first meeting of my dad after his absence.

“And here he is to save the day” I say under my breath.

“Good to see you too.” He said and approached us.

“Dad, this is Bel. Can we take her home?” I asked him.

“No. minors have to be picked up by their parents.”

“Well i’m not just leaving her here.”

“Then you can stay in a cell here tonight.”

Bel’s parents enter the police station. Dad takes his hat off and approaches them.

“It’s good to meet ya’ll. I've been out of town for a while so I don't really know Y/N’s social life. We should spend some time together.” he says.

“Stop it.” I whisper. He can't be serious right now.

“...Seems like the girls got into some trouble tonight so maybe we could help each other out.” he explains. Bella’s parents don't say anything as another police officer calls them back.

“Epic first meeting.” Bel sighs.

“I’m sorry, this is so embarrassing.” I apologize for my dad’s actions.

“For who? Lets go.” Dad shot at me and I just rolled my eyes. I grabbed my sketchbook off the seat and gave Bel a quick hug before leaving the station with my dad.

»»————-　★　————-««

The car ride home was an awkward one. Like what do I even say to him? ‘Nice to finally see you again after you abandoned us for almost a year’ I don't think that's the nicest thing to say. I felt sweet relief when I saw us pull up to my grandparents house. I took off my seat belt and opened the car door.

“Y/N,” dad warned. I stopped opening the door and started fidgeting with the edge of my sketchbook. “Want to tell me what the hell you were thinking?”

“I didn't know we were trespassing. There was no sign or anything to tell us pedestrians were not allowed on the field. Apparently they recently changed it or something, I don't know. Mom used to take me out to that field all the time. I didn't think anything of it.” I explained. He nodded in understanding.

“It's still dangerous. What if a hunter thought you were a deer and shot you? I don't like you out alone. I know you had Bel with you, but there's some bad people out there that can overpower you guys. I’d rather you be home for dinner with your family at night.” He told me.

“Oh like how you were home for dinner last night?” I challenged and he sighed. “Mom said you'd never be on a case too long.” I remarked.

“And I never meant to be.” dad said and I shook my head in disbelief. “This last case...it got complicated.” he explained.

“Complicated?” I scoffed. “A five minute phone call this summer, then nothing for three months! It’s bad enough we didn't have mom” I pointed out.

“We both gotta stop acting like she's going to come back.” he stated. I jumped out of the car and burst into tears. Uncle Liam was outside now and he tried to reach out to me but I ignored him. August was right in the living room when I entered the house.

“Y/N? What's wrong? What happened? Where’s dad” he asked me.

“Its nothing August. Just leave it alone.” I sniffed, trying my best to contain myself for my brother’s sake.

“Why were you at the police station? I thought you were just going to yours and mom’s spot?” he nagged on.

“I did. It's some kind of hunting ground now, you can’t go on it without a hunting license. You done with the twenty questions?” I snapped.

“Y/N, want to come have some leftovers?” my grandma asked me. Well she technically asked but she was actually telling me to get my ass over there.

“Sure Grams” I sighed and sat down by the kitchen island. She put down a plate of her famous pot roast and I dug in. While I ate she was cleaning up the kitchen.

“You’re not going to ask me what I did?” I inquired.

“No, because I know you’re a good, smart kid and you wouldn't do anything too damaging on purpose.” She offered me a kind smile. “Plus I know what tonight is with the full moon. I can put two and two together.” she laughed. Uncle Liam and dad walked in the house but I didn't hear them enter so I continued talking.

“Last month, they changed the field for ‘game hunting only’. I had no idea, so Bel and I got charged for trespassing. I can’t go out to that field anymore. Now I feel like another piece of mom is gone.” I confessed tears welling up in my eyes again.

“You can still go draw the stars, I know your mom would love for you to keep doing y'all's traditions. I'll even go out with you.” she offered.

“Thanks Grandma. I appreciate it, I really do, but it just wouldn't be the same.” I sighed.

“Not many things are going to be the same, Y/N.” she stated.

“I miss her so much.” I started sobbing. Grandma rounded the island and pulled me into a hug.

“I know you do sweetie.” she consoled, rubbing her hand in circles on my back, trying her best to comfort me.

A.N. sorry if you don't like to draw. Emily seemed like the type of parent that liked her kids to be creative, like August and photography. So I figured drawing could be what the reader and Emily did together.

PART 3 OUT NOW

#walker #cordell walker #cw walker #walker texas ranger #jaredpadelcki #gen padalecki #supernatural #walker x daughter!reader #micki ramirez #walker fanfiction

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the-dragon-hearted · 3 years

Text

This is a draft from my fanfiction The Corruption We Suffer that isn't going to make it into the next chapter because it doesn't make sense with my plot plans anymore but I'm not just going to throw it away so here y'all go:

Mumza and Dadza content.

TW: Cursing, mentions of violence... uhhh... I think that's it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crows had lost them.

Sorry, they kept crying as they slowly dispersed into the red-fogged nether. Sorry. A few kept close to Phil with their heads hung low and their feathers ruffling like the nervous shuffling of children. They perched on the crimson lichened branches and shrunk into their feathery down.

"It's not your faults," Philza muttered finally as he came to a stop at the edge of the crimson biome. The lava sea went as far as the eye could see, bubbling and broiling with Philza's rage.

"Sorry" The crows continued to murmur. A handful took perch on Philza's hat and shoulders. The others either landed at his feet or stayed in the trees.

"It's not your fault!" Philza snapped and he felt guilty watching the birds flinch. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I - I shouldn't have... I should've been... Dammit..."

It hurt. So much hurt. His wounds burned. His muscles screamed, his joints hissed in pain with every movement. He was so damn tired and exhausted from chasing, sitting down felt like a fucking miracle. His knees hit the red sharp nether stone as the fatigue from the health potions came back with a vengeance.

Then he saw Tommy's face, he saw the grey in his eyes, the obedience that followed Dream's orders. He saw Tommy... and he doubled over and screamed. His fingers dug into the stones of the nether as he knelt there and let his anger and agony run out of him.

"DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" He screamed as tears slipped from his eyes and he slammed a fist into the ground. The crows on his shoulders flapped their wings trying to keep steady, their talons digging into his skin - it was grounding to know they were still there.

"Sorry," a crow on his left squawked meekly as it rubbed its head against Philza's arm.

He'd lost Dream. He'd lost Tommy. The two of them had disappeared into the nether and despite all of Dream's wounds - despite all the hell Philza had made him suffer, the fucker still got away. And Tommy - Tommy!! Tommy was with him. Tommy was broken and empty and obedient and wrong! Fuck it was so wrong!

His boy was that. His boy had become whatever Dream had wanted to make. His boy had looked dead with those eyes of callused indifference. That hadn't been his boy.

"Tommy come back?" a crow asked as it landed a few feet away and hopped closer. It was a younger one, smaller, still downy. It was a miracle such a young crow had followed the flock thus far.

Philza blinked away his tears and looked at the young crow.

"You're new," he laughed ruefully as he wiped his face - not that there was much to wipe away other than dried blood. The nether sucked out any moisture mortals had to offer.

"Dadza sad?" the young one chirped, hopping closer.

"Tommy gone. Tommy hurt. Tommy bad. Dream is a bastard."

Philza laughed at the elder crow's responses to the question. It was a hurt laugh. He sighed as he arranged his legs and sat crisscrossed on the edge of the biome. The adrenaline was wearing off and everything felt so damn heavy.

"Mumza said Dadza was sad," the little crow chirped as it hopped up on Phil's knee. "Mumza says hi."

"Mumza! Mumza! Mom! Dadza, it's Mom! Mom says hi! Mumza!" The crows were suddenly perking up in wonder and joy at the sound of their mistress; Their maker. Phil felt a small part of his cold and broken heart warm as he reached over and had the young crow perch on his finger.

"Did she send you?" he asked gently. Did she sense how terribly he was fucking up? Were his failure and pain really that apparent...

The scars on his back throbbed a bit as if to answer him.

"Said Dadza needed help," the little one murmured as it shook its feathers and shifted on its feet.

Phil smiled and felt his eyes grow wet. He looked down and shook his head as the little crow reached over and began fiddling with his long blonde hair.

"Dadza is sad," the crow recognized.

"Dadza feels useless," Phil sighed as he looked up and blinked away his tears. "Dadza feels powerless. But you go tell Kristin that Dadza will get better, alright?"

"Getting better was never the purpose," a new voice chuckled, light and warm and oh so familiar.

Philza sat up straight and rigid as a familiar sense overcame his chest. It was warm and full and wonderful.

"Mumza! MUMZA!! You're here! Mumza! Oh my god, Mom! Mama!! Mumza! Mumza! Hi Mom!!"

The crow's joyous responses only affirmed what Philza felt and a smile of disbelief lit up his face as he looked out over the sea of fire.

He knew better than to look back, but as someone sat down beside him he felt his entire body shake with relief. She was here. Somehow, she was here. He felt her presence, the cool air that existed with the shadow at his side.

If he looked the spell would be broken so he sat there and laughed.

"How are you - " he began as he grinned and forced himself to look at his lap.

"I find questioning it leads to overthinking it. I don't know, and I don't really care," her laugh resonated in his chest, and in his peripheral, he saw her black silks and veils dance in a wind that was not there.

"So you - "

"Saw Tommy? Yes," she murmured. Philza looked back to the crow perched on his finger, but the crow didn't care about him anymore. It was looking eagerly at the shadow to his left.

"It's all fucked up," Philza breathed, his voice trembling as he saw Tommy's grey eyes in his memory.

"I'll say. But that's not the only reason I came." Her hand was on his back and he sat up, tense and rigid as her cold fingers danced over the scars on his back. She was gentle, gentle as she had been when she first gave him his wings... but it only made their absence ache more.

"I'm sorry - " he choked out.

"Why the fuck would you apologize for this?" There she was - there was his Kristin. Anger was in her tone as the cold in her palms touched his skin and relieved some of the lingering pain that had hung on his spine for so long.

"I wasn't careful enough - "

"You can't blame yourself," she was back in her god voice again. The anger was gone and that musical perfection in her tone had returned.

"I can, and I will. That bastard took my wings and he took Tommy. I failed - I can't fail anymore."

The Goddess of Death was silent, but slowly, her hand reached around and reached out for the crow on Philza's finger. The little one eagerly hopped into Death's reach and its maker chuckled. Philza drank in the small visual he could get. He ingrained the look of her hand into his memory. The paleness of her skin, the dark blood-colored nails, the elaborate drapery of black velvet and silk that lay over his love's arm and cascaded into his lap.

"I found this little soul drifting around the outskirts of this world. They'd been there for centuries," she murmured as she withdrew her arm, and Philza was left staring at the molten ocean again.

"What's their name?" he murmured, the feat of keeping his eyes away from her becoming harder and harder by the moment.

"They don't remember," she answered... and there was woe on her tongue. "I didn't find them fast enough."

They sat there for a moment, a lump in Philza's throat as he tried to think of an answer. Instead, he glanced at the crow that his love held, trying to resist the urge to look up to the place where her face should be.

"We all fail, Philza. I am a god, and I still find a way to fail these children," she continued as she stroked the young crow with a gentle finger.

Philza sighed and closed his eyes. Dammit, Tommy was still there... staring at him. Wilbur was there... laughing at him. Techno was there... crying for him.

"So how do we fix it?" he breathed.

"Well... don't lose hope. There are powerful people who are working against Dream... and he doesn't know it yet, but he's working against himself too." There she went, her voice serene and perfect - so different than what Kristin's had been. She was a god now, his wife buried somewhere within her.

"Well... I'm not giving up," Philza breathed and he slowly opened his eyes and let them drift over to her shadowy form.

Her hand reached out and cupped his face as she allowed it and for that wonderful split second, he saw her intangible form. He saw how she was smoke in his fingers, her smile a small sliver of moonlight hidden under a thick veil. Her eyes gleamed with love and warmth - this wasn't the Goddess of Death. This was Kristin, the woman he loved. The woman he had been able to hold all those centuries ago before... this. The woman who had snapped rubber bands into his face and giggled at his stupidity.

He blinked and she was gone. He was Orpheus again with the memory of her hand on his cheek, his skin still cold from where she touched.

"I love you," her voice broke - so ungodly, so imperfect. It made his heart burst in joy and longing as he felt his nose grow cold. It was her, always had been her, but that voice was undeniably hers. It was the same voice he'd loved before their world had gone to hell, before she'd been ripped from him and shrouded in the dark linens of death, before they'd lost one another. It was her voice.

"I miss you" he answered. "I love you too."

The air grew warm for too long a moment and he knew... he felt it... he was alone again. The crows were uncharacteristically silent, the young crow now standing beside Phil and looking out at the sea of lava.

"Phil!! Phil!" Ah... Techno.

"Over here!" he called as the warrior trampled through the crimson bushes in his way.

"They're gone Phil, I can't find them anywhere. Dream and Tommy - by the way, what is that about! Tommy's with him now!? Heh!? That really threw me off there for a second - not going to lie - "

"We'll find em'," Philza murmured as he forced himself to stand, the cool on the tip of his nose starting to fade. "They lost us - but they have to show their faces again eventually. We'll find em'."

He had to.

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sleepysailorjunko · 3 years

Text

Sweet Child of Mine

Johnny doesn't really want to fall in love again. He doesn't want to settle down again. He already did that once, and it ended badly, although his recollection is vague to say the least.

Gettting shot in the head throws a man for a loop, that much is certain. In Johnny's case, the two rounds fired into his skull tore holes into his memories, leaving him to fill in the blanks, as inaccurate as that may be.

He didn't remember his name when he woke. Listening to the radio, he put down Johnny Guitar just so he'd have something.

As he travel the wastes, he recollects more about his own past as he hunts for the man in the checkered suit.

His name really is Johnny, he discovers in Primm, but he only signed the document "Johnny". A place to start, at least.

Someone will recognize him, he thinks, because certainly, there aren't that many long haired men with red eyes. At least, none as handsome as he.

But no one does. No one recognizes him.

Some things he has to learn. The rifle he found felt familiar to him, like maybe he spent a lot of time using one once. Only, he ain't too good with it now, on account of something called "orbital fracturing" distorting his long range vision. He's gotta admit, maybe no one recognizes him because he doesn't look like himself anymore. Not that he ain't greatful to the Doc for fixing him up.

But that six gun he found in Primm? It felt right in his hand. It felt like his weapon, like it had always been his.

He remembers his wife. She was sweet, his Diane, and he promised he'd give up his life as an outlaw for her. It was hard for him to deny what people had thought about him since birth, but he would do it for her.

He thinks that's why he gets on so well with Boone. They're both widowers.

Or at least, that's what Johnny thinks. He doesn't remember what happened to her. Maybe it's better that way, that he doesn't remember how his wife died. Boone, surely, would prefer that.

He doesn't entertain the notion that she could still be alive. After all, if she still lived, wouldn't he be beside her instead of trecking across the wastes for the Mojave Express?

He hadn't expected to meet his son. He didn't even know he had a son for heavens sake. Like memories of so many other things, it seems like these were ripped away from him.

He's looking at the legionary, and suddenly, he knows. The legionary he's fighting is his son.

An image appears in his mind, of a young boy with red eyes looking up and his hand-he knows it's his hand, those are his scars-reaches down to ruffle the kid's hair.

He knocks the legionary out. It's something that he's practiced at, but it feels wrong knowing that's his son. It feels wrong that his son is Legion. How the hell did that happen?

Johnny's always been a strong guy, and he's thankful for it as he slings his boy over his back and takes off into the desert.

He didn't think this through. He's got absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Arcade is more than willing to point that out. To be fair, Johnny walks in with a passed-out legionary hung over his shoulder. Some surprise was justified.

"wha-what do you got there?"he asks as Johnny lays the young man down.

"He's my boy, Arcade. I don't...I couldn't let him stay with the legion."

"So you're kidnapping people now?"he remarks, checking over the legionary.

"Shit. I didn't...I didn't mean it like that. He's my son, I ain't forcing him into slavery or anything."

"What are you going to do when he wakes up? Don't say you don't know, I could figure that out myself."

Johnny made himself busy by removing the young man's legionary armor.

When the young man stirs, it is slowly ar first, red eyes blinking open.

"Well, I certainly see the resemblance." Arcade says, and then the legionary springs up. He tackles Arcade, leaning hard against the researcher's throat with his forearm.

"Where am I? What did you do to me?"

Johnny swiftly cuts into the legionary's interrogation, pulling the boy off Arcade.

"Wow,Johnny," Arcade wheezes "He really is just like you."

"Listen up,"Johnny barks. "Don't try that again, or I'll kick your ass from here to New Reno."

"Sure you will, old man."

"You ain't in the legion any more. I got you out. You try and go back, and they'll have you crucified."

"No, I am true to Caesar!"

"They'll never believe that someone just up and grabbed you. They'll think you ran. I seen men die in the sun before. "

"Why would it matter to you, profligate?"

"I'm your pa, that's what it matters. Otherwise, I woulda knocked you dead."

"No, I have no father! I am a son of Caesar."

"Yeah, sure you are, that's why you look so much like me. Say, how many men you ever seen with red eyes?"

The young man twisted around, trying to get a look at the man holding him. It was true. The man in the cowboy hat did have red eyes. A large scar covered most of his face, but he did look familiar.

"Let me go."

"Only if you swear you won't attack no one."

"I swear on Caesar." The man he had knocked to the ground stood up, rubbing at his throat, and wandered off to another part of the campsite.

"When this blows up in your face, I want you to remember I was against this." He called.

Johnny let go of the legionary. To the legionary's credit, he did not attack Johhny.

"You're stronger than me, but you're twice my age. How?"

"Yeah, well. For one, I ain't wearing a skirt."

"This is the uniform of Caesar! It grants me strength."

"Uh-huh. Well, out here, talking about Caesar is liable to get yer teeth knocked in. Hell, I might do it even."

"And you're supposed to be my father?"He smirked.

"I am your father. Say, what's your name?" He rubbed at his stubbly jaw for a second, then said. "You'll tan your hide dressed like that. You'll have to keep your boots as I ain't gotta spare, but I oughta have some clothes for you."

"I am Darius, son of Caesar."

"I ain't calling you that. What name did Diane and I give you?"

"Wouldn't you know? If you were really my father?"

"You ever been shot in the head, son? It makes you forget things. What's your name?"

"My name is Darius-"At this, Johnny lost his patience.

"Fine,"He growled."You wanna be one of Caesar's dogs so badly? I'll call you by a dog's name then. Get dressed, Dogmeat."

He threw some clothing at the kid. Dogmeat turned his back to dress. There wasn't any sense in refusing.

Johnny looked over at his son, maybe to say something, maybe just to check that he was there, but then he paused.

"They branded you? They branded you like cattle?"

"It's not a brand, it's a mark of Caesar and I am priveledged to wear it."

"Unbelievable. They do that so you won't run, y'know. So you belong to them."

"Yes, well, it appears I've run anyway." Without further argument, he finishes dressing, smoothing down the worn Sunset Sasparilla t-shirt.

"Alright, let's hit the road. A word of the wise, son, you best hold your tongue because if you upset my NCR sniper friend with talk of the legion, he's liable to shoot you." Johnny picked a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. "You might deserve it too. I ain't never met an innocent legionary."

"Profligates-" Dogmeat started, but Johnny cut him off.

"You been to Nipton lately, boy?" It was a sharp thing, Johnny's voice. "You seen the destruction y'all brought to the town?"

"It was a town of profligates-"

"Y'all use that damn word so much I'm begining to think you have no idea what it means. Where did Diane and I go wrong in raising you that you believe all this nonsense? Tell me, do you think it's right for men and women to be enslaved? Do you think it's right that people suffer and you burn their towns? Do you think that's right?"

Johnny's face was an awful, bitter vision. He looked at his disgrace of a son with disapointment and disgust clear in his eyes.

"Some men are meant-"

Johnny slapped his son.

"Some men are meant for slavery? Is that what you're saying? You ever worn a slave's collar? Twice, I've been enslaved, worn the collar of a slave, and you tell me that I'm meant for that? Fuck that."

He hadn't seen it before, but below the red bandana tied around the man who claimed to be his father's neck, there was a long line of scarring.

"If you weren't my son, I'd kill you."

"I wish I wasn't. I wish I had returned to the raiding party having bested the great Courier Six, with his duster over my shoulders as a trophy. No, I wish that we captured you. That we strung you up on a cross to die. Or maybe threw you to the dog's instead. I'd have earned a fine promotion for that; Caesar would have recognized my strength."

"Think that makes you tough, wanting me dead? Get in line. Most everyone in the Mojave wants to put me in a grave for one reason or another. Hell, one guy almost succeeded."

"Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"No, it's just how things are. There is something wrong with you, kid. Something broken, I guess. Maybe I'm the same way, I never knew when to throw in the towel or how to fall in line. But I ain't never done nothing like the Legion did. Kill people, sure, but I never took pleasure in making them suffer."

"So what? We ride off into the sunset now?"

"Christ, can't I go a damn minute without someone asking me what we're doing next?"

The other man reappeared. Dogmeat looked at him closely, realizing that it was the doctor Caesar favored. If he could somehow defeat Johnny, he could capture the doctor and bring him to Caesar as a gift. He would certainly be rewarded well for it.

He patted his thighs. They had took his knife and his pistol. Smart, but not enough to keep them alive in the long run.

Johnny, he thought, was physically stronger than him, and had the advantage if they fought hand to hand. Besides, he had a highly engraved pistol holstered at his hip. Even though Johnny had shown reluctance to harm him, he had stated that he would have killed Dogmeat if he hadn't recognized him.

The doctor, however, seemed physically weaker, armed with a plasma weapon. Johnny had prevented him from attacking the doctor before. Attempting to do so again may provoke Johnny into attacking him.

"Never mind. I worked it out. It ain't ideal or nothing, but it's the best I can do. I ain't gotta lot of options right now, and I gotta cash a few favors for this to work. I can't let you go, you'll go running back to the Legion, and you're a danger. I don't want to kill you. We're going to Camp Forlorn Hope. They've got a jail there."

"You're turning me in?"

"Yeah." Johnny said, his voice quiet. "I'm turning you in."

"You're doing the right thing, Johnny." Arcade said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"NCR prisons, they aren't like Legion prisons. They won't beat you to a pulp or anything. You'll get three square a day, and it'll be warm and dry. Hell, might even be better than out here. Might be a little interrogation. I'll tell them you're my boy. It'll reflect badly on me, but they won't risk pissing me off."

Dogmeat didn't know if Johnny was trying to comfort himself or reassure him. He didn't care much either way.

"Fuck you." he spat at Johnny. The spurrs on Johnny's boots glinted in the sun.

Johnny looked out at the horizon. It would be a long walk to Camp Forlorn Hope.

"They can help you boy, help you get all that legion nonsense out of your head." Pulling his hat low over his eyes, he continued. "And when you're done, you'll be a free man. Let's get going, son."

Tears glinted in Johnny's eyes, but he brushed them aside with the swipe of rough, scarred hand. He settled his hat, spun the chamber on his sixgun, and headed into the Mojave.

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creativeskullcreations · 3 years

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HTaHHQ Episode 3: The Vengeance of an Artist (part 2)

And here's the final part! Looks like the prank went pretty well, and Stacy's warmed up to another Puppet. At least, to the point where she won't run in fear. Maybe, she'll even help him with more stuff in the future.

Next episode will be out... idk. Might be the next thing I write actually. Until then, hope y'all have a good time. :D

"Miss Stein, I have a job for you."

"I don't have to do any jobs for you." Stacy told him, voice kept deliberately even. Nick felt a little put out, holding Scout up by her arm. The handpuppet just hung there,

"You doing one for Daisy." he argued, pointing at the little blue annoyance. Stacy huffed and, to his shock, stalked forward to outright snatch the smaller Puppet from his grasp.

"Don't hold her like that!" She admonished, settling Scout on her head. "Daisy will kill you if you hurt her."

'How odd.' He thought, watching Stacy handle the little cretin. Outwardly, he sighed. "Yes yes, I'm well aware of her temper. Now, come along. We have a job to do."

"We have to wait here for Mary." Stacy told him sternly, and he smirked.

"Oh, don't worry about her. She'll be busy for quite a while yet."

In the writers' room, Mary slammed her hands on her desk in frustration, a mess of papers spread out in front of her. "Why the fuck does he always wait until Friday to request plot and script changes?!"

"She'll be done soon enough, but it gives us enough time for you to help me." Nick told Stacy, who frowned. This wasn't good at all.

"... I still need to stay with Danny though." She tried, desperate to find any reason to refuse. This wasn't at all like when Scout took her to the playroom.

"He can come with and help." Nick told them, turning and starting to wheel away. "Now, come along. We're wasting time."

Danny seemed happy enough to tag along, but Stacy kept a tight grip on his hand as they followed Nick down the hall and to the elevator by the door. He inserted his key card, and then stood aside to let the kids on first. Stacy climbed into the tiny box nervously. The only reason she was deciding to trust him was because she knew the playroom was up there, and she could hide in there with Danny if needed.

Up, up, up they went, to the highest floor. And then down the winding halls to a plain door with a hazard sign and the words KEEP OUT underneath it in bright red. It was also covered in various science themed stickers, like cartoonish beakers full of bright colors, and various medical tools. It didn't take a genius to know who slept in here.

"Why are we outside of Riley's bedroom?" Stacy asked, and then immediately regretted it when Nick coughed lightly into his fist. That was the cue that he was about to go into a monologue. She recognized it, because he used to do it at least once a episode in the show.

"Well, since she stole my beloved paints, I've decided to do some research into her "science", and found that replacing her beakers with these ones made of sugar glass will be hilarious." He held out the beakers, and scoffed when he noticed Stacy's look. "Oh don't give me that look, she keeps all her dangerous chemicals elsewhere. She just likes to keep her beakers for the show up here where it's "safe". It'll be great when they melt during Monday's filming."

"And why do you need me?" The girl asked. She fought the urge to cross her arms and tap her foot, though her impatience still leaked into her voice.

"I'm banned from Riley's room." Nick deadpanned, and it took everything Stacy had to not facepalm. Of course. "Also, Danny told me you're good at breaking into places you're not supposed to be."

"Danny! That's a secret!" She rounded on him, feeling her face go hot.

"But Nick asked!" The boy insisted unapologetically. "And besides, you said it was a good skill."

"No, I said it was a good skill to know, not a good skill by itself. Also, stop telling people stuff about me!" She looked mad, and Nick thought that was a good thing. Certainly a better look then the scared little girl he and the others usually saw. Now if he could just encourage her to lose the baggy shirts... but no. Plan the makeover for another time. For now, it was time for revenge!

He cleared his throat, wheeling closer and holding the box of beakers out. "Will you do it, or not?" He asked bluntly, and Stacy crossed her arms.

"I am not getting involved in your stupid little-"

"I'll give you fifty dollars." He whipped out the fifty from a hidden pocket in his sweater, and the girl stopped mid sentence. After a beat she snatched the bill, turning and crouching in front of the door. She tucked the money under her right glove, pulling out a couple of slim tools as she did so.

"I can't believe I'm selling myself for a fifty." She muttered as she unlocked the door. It was surprisingly simple, and it made her feel uneasy as she put the tools away. She grabbed the box of beakers, then handed off Scout. She peered inside, noting the lack of Riley or Rosco. "It looks empty." She told Nick, who waved her on.

With a nervous swallow, she entered the too bright room, the door closing most of the way behind her. There was a large table in the middle, and a messily made bed shoved in one corner. The walls were covered in shelves that were full of books on all sorts of subjects. Any other time, and she would've loved to see just what kinds of books were there. But, she had a job to do.

She crossed to the shelf that held the box of beakers, and quickly swapped it for the identical fakes. Holding the box of real beakers close, she crossed the room back to the door. she heard something open behind her, Riley's voice drifting through. Thinking quick, she ducked under the table, hopeful it would be enough.

"Let's see, if we do the mentos experiment again that should be good enough. Could have the kiddies make volcanoes..." She muttered as she wheeled past. Stacy stayed huddled down, hands over her mouth to muffle her breathing. She watched the stand stop by a shelf, followed by the sound of fabric hitting fabric as she threw something to the bed. "Maybe baking soda? That might work better. Or maybe as a comparison between the two... Yes! That would be fantastic for an experiment!" Pencil against paper, and then the sound of things being moved. Stacy threw a desperate look towards where the door was still ajar.

Technically, Stacy could sneak out if she was quick. Riley was still talking to herself, and seemed distracted enough. But, she didn't know which way the Puppet scientist was facing. If she was facing the door, Stacy would be caught immediately, and then they'd all be in deep dookie. And she couldn't check, because, again, deep dookie if she was caught.

But, she couldn't just sit there for forever. And so, with a deep, quiet breath, Stacy leaned carefully out from under the table, just enough to check where Riley was looking. To her luck, it looked like her attention was completely absorbed by the books. A glance back at the door showed it had opened a little bit wider, with Scout, Nick, and Danny all peering in at her. Okay, she could work with this.

Carefully, she set the box of beakers down with as little noise as possible. With any luck, they wouldn't be noticed under the table. She then resettled into a runners starting position, noting how Nick was on her left and Danny on her right. 'Perfect.'

With a bang she burst through the door, grabbing Nick's sweater while scooping her brother up in her right arm. She managed to turn and drag them both out of sight as a startled "What the-" followed her out of the room. She turned another corner before finally letting go of both of them, hopeful that Riley hadn't seen them. And that she wouldn't try and follow them.

Unfortunately for Nick, he had been precariously balanced on one wheel during the escape. So, when Stacy let go of his sweater, he tipped over immediately with a loud thump. Scout landed on his chest, having been safely in his arms during the whole thing.

"That was totally awesome!" She yelled, as Stacy tried to shush her. She was still holding Danny, who was clapping, and thus didn't have a hand free to stop the Puppet from flinging herself at her face.

"Scout, shut up!" She hissed, grabbing her. She covered her mouth and waited to make sure Riley hadn't heard. "You can't let her know we're up here, or we could get in trouble."

"Oh please, like I'd let that happen." Nick had somehow righted himself, "standing" straight as ever and talking in a low voice. "Besides, you at least get to be up here since you became Scout's babysitter. Don't pout, it's true." He told Scout when she opened her mouth to object.

"Yeah, but we should still get out of here before she finds us!" Stacy insisted, ignoring Danny's pushing at her arm. She finally noticed as he kicked her side, jumping a bit and putting him down. "Oh, sorry Danny." She grabbed his hand, not wanting him to wander off and alert Riley.

"Right. Come along, this way." He led them down another hallway, a different way to get to the elevator without having to backtrack. This time there was no place to slide a key-card, which made sense. They were already in the forbidden area after all. They got inside, staying quiet the whole ride down.

Once back on the main floor, Stacy expected to go back to the Sound Stage, where her and Danny were before. Instead, Nick led them to the writing offices, and she watched as the Puppets and Danny disappeared into Mary's office. Stacy hung back, lingering in the hall to look around a little.

The doors had windows with frosted glass on them, like in the old noir movies her dad liked to watch. As a result she couldn't see inside, so instead she crouched down to peer into the keyhole of Mortimer's office.

The Puppet was there, bent over some paperwork, hat sitting on the desk next to him. Stacy thought he looked weird with it off, and not how he was supposed to. She looked away after a moment, content the magician wasn't doing anything potentially dangerous to anyone. Instead she finally followed the others into Mary's office, where her stepmother was berating Nick for something.

She stepped into the room, letting the door close softly behind her and cutting off Mary's tirade.

"Oh, there you are! Go get your stuff Stacy, we're leaving now before I commit a murder." She told the girl, who nodded and quickly left the room again. Danny followed a moment later.

"Mommy's mad." He told her, and she nodded as her voice rose behind them.

"-and how DARE you do this to me now! You know better! Do I really need to talk to Mortimer about this again?!"

"Real mad. Let's hurry so we can get home!" Together they rushed to collect their bags from Stacy's locker. However, during the walk back, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering to the little adventure earlier.

'Maybe Nick's not so bad. He didn't say anything about my lock picking skills at least. Maybe... Maybe I could do more jobs for him. Later.'

#htahhq #happy times at handeemen hq #nick nack #scout #stacy stein #riley ruckus #danny stein #hello puppets #fanfiction

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sincerelymarinette · 5 years

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A Recorded Life (12/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 1942 Chapter Summary: Marinette has a skype meeting with Jagged Stone to get some designs approved so he can release his first single. Right after, a jealous Akuma is coming after Marinette. Author's Note: WE ARE BACK!!! It's been a few weeks since I've updated because I got really busy with vacation and moving for college, but here we are! This chapter was one of my favorite ones to write so I really hope it is enjoyed. I'm still struggling for when to make the climax happen...but I know when it does y'all are gonna love it >:)

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Anti-Akuma

---

"They're just sketches, but I wanted your approval before I continued," Marinette said as she sat in front of her computer, on a video call with Jagged Stone.

Jagged scoffed. "Marinette, I'm sure they're perfect! But sure, I'll take a look at them."

Marinette grabbed her sketches and showed the first one to the camera. Since there are thirteen songs on his album, she needs thirteen designs. However, she only has six so far. As she started to explain them, she told him where the inspiration from each song came from, and Jagged was enamored at each sketch.

"Marinette, they look great! I can really see how much work you're putting into it, and you have no idea how much I love that. What's your favorite one?" He asked.

She flipped through the sketches as she thought about which song meant the most to her. She landed on the picture of Jagged kneeling with an ice cream in his hand, and dropped ice cream on the ground next to him. He was giving a little girl new ice cream, and looked excited. "Probably this one, it's a coming of age story and how someone picks themselves back up. I really related to it, and had the most inspiration for it. It was like the force picking the person back up needed a little push, and can do great things," Marinette said as she showed the picture to Jagged again.

"I can see you've spent a lot of time on that one, truly amazing. Maybe I should release that one as the first single, with your art accompanying it, people would go wild!" Jagged considered.

"Are...are you sure? It's one that's so sincere, I was sure one of your more dance-like ones would be released first," Marinette commented.

Jagged shook his head. "No, I think this song would be perfect to go out first. I'm sure a lot of people can relate to it like you, since it's kind of coming of age and getting back on your feet. It's a little different sound than what I usually make, but I think the young people would really enjoy it," Jagged talked himself through this idea. "Yes, perfect. Finish that piece first, and then we'll release it as soon as we can!" Jagged smiled widely. "I've gotta run, but keeping rocking the art, Marinette. I'll talk to you later!"

"Bye!" Marinette said as the call ended and slumped back in her chair. "What?" She whispered as she looked at the sketch. "I guess this is the one I have to finish first," She chuckled to herself.

"That's the one I liked, too. So I'm glad Jagged liked it," Tikki added when she flew out from behind the computer. "Since it sounds so much like you already."

With a nod, Marinette picked up her phone to call Alya back. Of course, Alya called while she was talking to Jagged, and she was probably angry she was ignored. "Hey Alya, sorry I missed your call. I know we were going to study today, but I just got off a call with Jagged and-"

"There's an Akuma headed towards your house!" Alya screamed as she was running. "You weren't picking up my calls, so I was just going to come to your house! Are you okay?" She asked, panting.

"An Akuma coming to my house?" Marinette looked out her window. "Why?"

"Rouge fan gone mad, I guess. Thinks you're taking Adrien all for yourself. I don't even know this girl!" Alya shouted over all the noise. "Do you want me to come to you?"

Marinette shook her head quickly, even though Alya couldn't see her. "No, no, keep yourself safe. I'll be fine," As soon as she said that, she heard a thump on her roof. "I think a cat just dropped in. I'll call you later!" Marinette said and hung up before Alya could get another word in.

"Marinette?" Chat Noir whisper yelled from the roof, standing above her trap door. Marinette opened it slowly, peering out carefully as Tikki was already in her bag. "Oh, you're still here, perfect!" He said. "We have an issue."

"Yeah, an Akuma is coming after me...because of Adrien?" She questioned. "Did Alya tell me that correctly?"

Chat Noir chuckled. "Yeah, the boy must be flattered. This...fan is not happy about you spending so much time with him. Not a shipper," He shrugged. "We have to get you to safety."

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng!" A loud yell was down the street. "I need to talk to you!"

"I have a feeling she wants to do more than just talk," Chat Noir offered Marinette his hand. "Come on, let's go."

Marinette hesitantly took Chat Noir's hand as he lifted her off her roof. He was running across rooftops with her, trying to find a place to hide her. "Where are you thinking?" She asked.

"I don't know, I'm waiting for Ladybug's reply," Chat Noir said as he continued running with her in his arms, checking his baton for any messages.

"I'll be okay wherever you put me, you guys always work it out," She told him.

Chat Noir was silent for a second. "Maybe Adrien's home? I know he has good security from the few times there have been akumas there," Chat Noir said.

"He's at a photo shoot with his bodyguard, and his father is at a business meeting with his secretary," Marinette recalled what Adrien had told her when they talked that morning.

With a shrug, Chat Noir still headed towards Agreste Mansion. "Even better," He concluded. "No one else there to get hurt."

Chat Noir pushes on a few windows to see if they would open, and then found one that did. "Oh good, I was worried I would have to cataclysm one of these," He said to himself as they landed on Adrien's floor. "Just...stay here? I'll go figure out how to turn on the lockdown system."

"Chat, that's okay, I'll be safe if I hide in the bathroom," Marinette said. "Just go take care of the Akuma before she hurts anyone."

A slow nod and another look at his baton, Chat Noir turned and leaped away. Marinette ran to the bathroom, away from the windows into some privacy. "Are you sure it's safe to be here?" Tikki flew out of her hiding spot. "What if Adrien comes home?"

"Trust me; I know how his photographers work. They're not letting him leave until they get what they want," Marinette said. "We need to get out there and stop my enraged fan," Marinette took a deep breath. "Tikki, spots on!"

Ladybug snuck out of the bathroom to ensure no one was in Adrien's bedroom. When she realized it was empty, she ran to the window, pushed it open, and swung out to meet Chat Noir.

"How are you holding it down?" Ladybug called when she landed next to Chat Noir.

"You're a little late!" He told her, a smirk on his face. "This one is going after Marinette Dupain-Cheng...because of all the time she spends with Adrien Agreste?"

Ladybug nodded slowly as she listened. "Obsessed fans, they can be a bit much," She said. "Have you made contact?"

"No, I took Marinette to the Agreste Mansion to keep her safe. Then, I made sure her parents weren't home in case the Akuma ruined the bakery, and they weren't there. Then you showed up," Chat Noir shrugged. "Let's go in, then?"

Ladybug nodded, and they both made their ways to the flying Akuma. "Just who I wanted to see!" The Akuma boomed. She was normal-sized, but her voice was louder than any person or Akuma they had encountered. She had what looked like a transparent computer screen, in front of her glasses. There was code moving quickly on it, so fast Ladybug could barely recognize it as code. "I am Anti, and I know you know where Marinette is. I want to talk to her, bring her to me!" Anti shouted.

"I think you want to do more than just talk," Chat Noir replied. "They're friends, aren't they allowed to be friends?"

"No!" Anti shouted back. "I want Adrien for me, and only me! Marinette is overstepping her boundaries and takes advantage of him!"

Ladybug rolled her eyes lightly. "Does Adrien know you?"

"How dare you!" She pointed to Ladybug, shooting electricity out of her finger. "Of course he does, I am co-President of his fan club!" Ladybug could barely hear the last sentence as she was dodging the electricity.

Chat Noir chuckled. "I don't know if Adrien would like you harassing one of his friends," He said. "Heard the guy's a sap when it comes to that kind of stuff."

"Adrien has no flaws!" Anti shouted so loudly Chat Noir had to cover his ears.

"Then why is it such a big deal he's friends with Marinette?" Ladybug asked, but Anti was having none of it. Ignoring the bakery, Anti drove straight for Ladybug, only to have Ladybug propel herself off the rooftop to another, to call out "Lucky charm!"

As the item appeared, they saw Anti begin speaking to Hawkmoth. "I'll get the miraculous once I get Marinette!"

Ladybug stared down at the object in her hand, unsure of how to use it. "A megaphone?" A few seconds passed as Ladybug thought about how to defeat Anti. "I got it! Hand me your baton!" Ladybug told Chat Noir, and he quickly tossed it to her.

"Go pretend to talk to Marinette through her balcony, I'm going to play one of her videos over here, and get Anti to come this way. Then, you can use your cataclysm to destroy her glasses," Ladybug explained, and Chat Noir jumped over to the bakery rooftop, pretending to call Marinette in a hushed tone.

"Oooooh," The Akuma sing-songed. "Are you bringing her right to me?"

As Anti flew to the bakery, Ladybug had one of her videos playing. "Hi, I'm Marinette!" Her intro began. "A few years ago, I won a design contest for a bowler hat. I got some requests to see it, so let's go over it all!" The video started.

"Who is playing that?" Anti turned around when she heard Marinette's voice. "No!"

When Ladybug waved to Anti from her spot on a roof, she commented about how entertaining the video is. Chat Noir saw his opportunity and took it, calling out his power and jumping on Anti's back to shatter her glasses.

Anti and Chat Noir fell to the ground, Ladybug catching them with her yo-yo. She lowered them to the ground, and quickly cleansed the Akuma. Throwing Chat Noir his baton back, and then tossing the megaphone in the air, she called out "Lucky Charm!" and everything ruined was back to normal.

"Pound it!"

"Well, I must go, my lady. I've got to go tell Marinette she's safe and free to go home," Chat Noir bid his goodbye, and started heading towards the Agreste Mansion.

"See you around, Kitty!" Ladybug called, and also headed to the Agreste Mansion, moving as fast as possible to beat Chat Noir to Adrien's room.

She only beat him by a hair, and slammed the bathroom door shut just as her transformation disappeared. "Sorry about the wait, Tikki," She whispered and gave Tikki a cookie, and Tikki went to hide in the purse.

"Marinette!" Chat Noir called when he entered Adrien's bedroom. He walked over to the bathroom door. "Akuma's gone, you can come out now," He told her.

Marinette opened the door hesitantly, looking around in caution. "Thanks, Chat Noir," She smiled widely, Chat Noir's smile matching in just a few seconds.

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies@bookishserendipity03@avatheexceed@gkz10 @coccinellegirl@kat-thatoneweirdo@strawberryblondish@snow-swordswoman@lilgaga98

#Miraculous #mlb #ml #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #miraculous fanfic #fanfiction #lilly writes #adrien x marinette #adrien agreste x marinette dupain-cheng #marichat #adrienette #ladynoir #ladrien

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oliver-do-the-twist · 4 years

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Hey guys! I finished an original short story a while ago. I worked on it for a while and I am very happy to share it with you! It's very reminiscent of rdr, Tombstone, and a ton of other westerns, and I think you guys will like it! If you guys do I have a lot of other stuff written about these characters and would love to share it with you.

Forever

November, 1881

The men were in position. His loyal followers were hiding in the trees with their masks and repeaters at the ready. Their hard day’s work was evident with the orderly pile of lumber laying across the train tracks. A man sauntered up to the tracks. He knelt to the ground and put his ear to the cold steel. The faint vibrations made their way into his skull, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

He stood up. “Right on time boys!” His voice rang out cold and clear in the dark autumn air. “Put them lanterns out!” his order was followed as the little dots of light faded to black until the night swallowed the surroundings up again. The only lantern left on was in his hand, Illuminating his sharp hawk-like features. His eyes were pale and focused, always on the person or thing in front of him. In the other hand was his rifle. He climbed up onto the pile of lumber and pulled up his black mask to the bridge of his nose. He stared out from the rim of his black hat into the darkness, waiting.

The rumbling gradually became louder and deeper, like some great mythical beast on a rampage, until one could hear the screeching of the brakes just around the bend. The train’s lamplight crept around from behind the hill corner. He stood confidently atop the wood, having set his lantern down, he took up his rifle in both hands and cocked it with tenacity and strength. There he faced off the oncoming train, challenging it to back down first.

The light from the lamp was now drowning out everything else, silhouetting him against the blaze. The conductor had seen him now, evident by the sparks and smoke coming from the wheels in a desperate attempt to slow down. Still, he did not flinch. He did not move.

The train screeched to a halt, stopping within spitting distance of the man. The smoke billowed around him lifting his coattails in the process. After a few seconds, he jumped down in one fluid motion. He whistled for his gang to come out of hiding. From there rambunctious shouts and gunshots rang out through the air. He strolled to where the passengers could see him from their seats, his gun sitting lazily on his shoulder. But his eyes were piercing and determined. He could see their frightened eyes and them scrambling to hide their possessions. From here he could tell that this was the first-class car, full of rich bastards who wouldn't miss what his gang would take from them tonight. They never took from the poor. It wasn't profitable and it wasn't right.

He stood facing the car windows where all the rich people stood anticipating the events that would follow. “Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight you will be participatin’ in a robbery,” he shouted in his commanding voice as he paced with his shoulders back and his chin inclined to the dark sky, but his eyes were fixed on the people. “This is the Brooks Gang!” With those words, the people gasped as they realized who was addressing them, “And I,” he paused for effect, “am Robert Brooks! Now, let's not make this too hard.”

Later that night was quietly filled with chatter, crickets, and the crackling of fire. The heist was a success and the feeling in the air reflected that. No one died, and they had gotten more money than they had anticipated. Robert looked over his gang as his chest swelled with pride at their success. He towers over most at six feet tall. He has dark brown, almost black hair, but in the sun it has hints of red and auburn. He has a prominent jawline and sharp facial features worn down and toughened by his lifestyle. Part of his upper ear was shot off in recent years, leaving a small corner missing and a scar across his cheek. Because of this he is sure to never cut his hair too short and keeps his hat on as much as possible in public lest he is recognized because of the deformity. He also has a bullet lodged in his shoulder, which didn't hit anything important. He was never able to get it out and the flesh just grew around it. His pale blue eyes are focused, penetrating, always in a slight squint. He tries to keep up on his facial hair but often forgets, leaving some stubble on his jaw but most of it concentrated on his upper lip and chin. His guns are almost always on his hip, if not they are in arms reach. He has the ability to either walk into a room and command everyone's attention or the ability to walk unseen based on what the situation calls for. He wears dark colors, and always tries to act more dignified and educated than he believes he is. He taught himself how to read and write and in any free time he has is spent reading the classic works of literature. Even though he hates the upper class and all their greed, he is always subconsciously trying to be more like them.

A gentle guitar was being played around the fire. The man playing it was named Wohali, a Cherokee, but everyone called him William on account of it being easier to remember. He was on the run from the US government for fighting for his people and found his way to the gang many years ago as someone needing refuge. Robert had welcomed him with open arms, along with many others who needed a safe place to escape the injustices of the world. The gang was growing fast. Fifteen people now relied on him to feed them, and keep them safe, not all of them fighters either. They were the people who were cast away by society. All people who were needing a safe haven from something or another and found it in the Brooks gang. But Robert did not regret taking in any of them; to him they were family. He would forever care for these people.

Around William sat three people; Thomas, a orphan who lost his parents to slavery, Luis, a Mexican on the run from the law who had been with the gang for years and also one of Robert’s closest friends and best fighters, and Marie.

Eight years ago, Marie had found her way to the Brooks gang much as everyone else did. She had been escaping an abusive marriage to a man much older than her when she ran into Robert at a saloon. He was immediately intrigued by her, and her with him. They always did everything together as equals, even the robberies. They eventually got married (much to the excitement of the whole gang). But nowadays Marie can't go robbing, for they’re expecting her and Robert’s first child.

Robert walked over to the circle around the fire and took a seat next to Marie. She looked tired but content to just listen to the melody. She was far along in her pregnancy and it had taken its toll on her even though she was always a strong and stubborn person, which sometimes drove Robert crazy, but he could never stay mad at her for very long. It was a chilly night and she had a shawl wrapped around her body. He kissed her on the side of the head and put his arm around her.

“So I hear the job went well?” she asked as she leaned her head on his shoulder and into his embrace.

“As it always does Sunshine”, he replied. He had given her that nickname the first time he’d seen her based on her round face, golden yellow hair and bright hazel eyes.

She scoffed “oh? just like the bank job in Redpeaks? The one that forced us to run here after getting no more than a hundred bucks?” she quipped. It was all in good fun, but there was some truth in her comment.

“Well it was a little better than that one, of course, you see it's all about the presentation, if you scare ‘em enough no one gets hurt,” he replied with a smile. “Though no job can top that stage at Freedom Gorge, you know the one, where the wind was so bad the coach fell down the gorge before we were even able to stop it?”

“I would be surprised if you ever found a way to top that.” she chuckled.

It was silent as they looked into the fire and listened to the guitar. After a few moments, Robert asked in a quiet voice, “How do you feel? Is the baby okay?”

“I feel great besides the nausea, and swollen ankles,” she said back, matching his quiet tone. “The baby is doing just fine.” She put her hand on her stomach and smiled. “Elijah says everything is going perfectly.” Elijah was their camp doctor, almost everyone in the gang owed their life to him at some point.

“So when are y'all goin’ to tell ev’ryun what you namin’ it?” Thomas interjected. He had been always nosy and loud since he had joined the gang a few months ago. But at the moment no one found it annoying.

Marie grinned, “well if it's a girl I want to name it after my mother, Anna.”

“And if it’s a boy?” Luis joined in his deep voice, but not looking up from the cigarette he was lighting.

“In that case, it would be after me or a friend from long ago, ‘is name was Charles,” Robert said.

“You mean that Charles?” William suddenly asked, pausing his playing, “the one who left you to die?”

“We were separated Will, weren't no one's fault what happened that night. He kept me alive, taught me everythin’ I know, without him none of ya’ll would be here,” Robert added both quickly and sternly. He looked up and stared into the darkness, through his eyes the memory of that fateful day could almost be seen playing in his irises. He and Charles grew up together. He was five years older than Robert and had fiery red hair and an ungodly amount of freckles. His goofy smile was too often wiped away from the realities they had to face together. They were both orphans living on the streets, both helping each other survive by taking what they could when they could. They were a team. They used to tell each other they would forever be best friends, partners in crime. Charles taught him what it meant to have someone to trust and rely on. Robert looked up to him, saw him as the older brother he never had.

But one day the shopkeeper caught them. Robert was fifteen then. He knew that it wasn't a good idea to steal from this shop, the owner had been suspicious of them ever since they arrived in that town. Because Robert was the scrawnier of the two boys the owner was able to grab a hold of him before he was able to grab his gun that was hidden in his belt, restraining him from any means of escape. Charles fought the man at first, but a kick to his chest caused him to fall to the floor, barely conscious. Robert remembers screaming for Charles, pleading for him to get up, to rescue him like he always did. But the last thing Robert saw of his best friend before getting dragged away and knocked unconscious himself was his head all bloody with his body in a pile on the floor.

He woke up being transported in a prison wagon, alone. By some miracle, the people who imprisoned him had not noticed the hidden gun. He was able to shoot the lock and get away unseen, and from then on he decided he would rename himself Robert Brooks to keep the law off his scent. The only person who knew his real name was Charles. He had been running the rest of his life.

“Weren't no one's fault,” Robert repeated again.

No one else around the fire decided to bring up another subject that night.

Robert woke to an empty cot. The morning chill hung in the air. The sky was lavender and pink with the anticipation of the sun. He stood up out of his tent and stretched his stiff muscles. Running a hand through his dark messy hair he grabbed his coat and went over to the fire to try to find Marie and maybe brew some coffee. After finding the campfire empty of people he went to look on the edge of the outcrop a little further away from where they had made camp. Marie was standing there lost in the view of the valley sweeping out from under their feet, her skirt moving with the breeze and her cup still steaming. He walked up and hugged her from behind. “Mornin sunshine’” he said, “what are you doing out here this early?”

“Oh!” she giggled, slightly startled by his embrace, “just thinking about nothing, and everything I guess, I couldn't sleep,” she sighed.

He turned and looked at her, “What do you mean?”

“I guess, well, I'm just thinking, I am happy with this life, I wouldn't have married you if I knew I wouldn't be happy with it. It suits you and me and it's a hell of a lot better than my life before. I like the adventure and uncertainty, never having to settle in one place. Robbin’ the rich to give it back to the poor, like what you read in the dime novels,” she smiled but then frowned, “but as fun as this life is, we can't raise our child in this.” her voice took a longing tone as she looked into his eyes, “I want to give them what you and I didn't have growing up, a stable loving home. We can't go on like this forever.”

Robert looked down, furrowing his brow, “but what about all these people? We can't just leave them. And the bounty on our heads? How could we ever go straight with that looming over us? I-I can't-” he searched for the right words.

“Can't what?” she asked as she looked at him.

“I-I can’t- stop. This life I mean. It's- all I've ever known.”

She looked at him with questions and concern in her eyes. “I believe you can. My life will change too, I'll be there with you every step of the way. We can do it together like we always do.”

“We don't have enough money to make sure that everyone will be able to survive once we leave ‘em,” he insisted.

“You're the most successful outlaw in the West, people just hand you their money at the mention of your name. I've counted the money in the box and with last night's take we won’t be able to live like kings, but we will all be able to survive if we split it evenly among everyone,” she said.

Robert sighed. She was right of course. He didn't admit it but the thought of changing his life so drastically terrified him. He had worked so very hard for the people in his gang, they were his family. He didn’t want to lose everything he’s built. He didn't want the uncertainty that came with this baby. Not to say he didn't love this child more than life itself and want it to have a good life, he just didn't want his to change, which he knew was foolish.

“One more score, then we will go straight and focus on making a good life for our child,” he insisted.

It was quiet as she searched his face for a moment. Once she found what she was looking for she said, “I want our baby to grow up with their father.”

“They will I-” he sighed, “ just let me do this one last time,” he whispered.

She studied him. She always could see him right through his facade. After a moment she said with a disappointed face. “One last score then.”

Three days were spent scouting the bank in the nearby town of Copper Springs, A once mining town nestled in the mountains turned resort and play place for the rich and elite. It was a prosperous place full of dirty money and their bank wasn't any different.

On the third night, eight men rode into town all with shotguns, rifles, and repeaters slung on their backs. Dark bandannas hung around their necks. Their hats were all on despite being no need for them. Their horses had extra empty bags slung over their rumps. None of them talked. None made eye contact with the few who were still on the streets at this late hour. The autumn wind blew up leaves and the cold taste of oncoming winter through the streets. The man leading them stopped the gang a corner before the bank. They all dismounted, grabbed the extra bags, pulled the bandannas over their faces and hitched their horses. Thomas stayed with the horses as he was pretty new and didn't know all the ropes yet, so it was best if he stayed behind as their last resort.

As they walked two more men pulled away from the group, stopping at measured distances from the bank, but still within eye shot of each other. Two men stood vigil outside the bank door. The three who entered were Luis, William, and Robert.

The interior of the bank was decorated nicely. A single chandler hung from the ceiling, illuminating everything in a soft glow. The teller was separated by a divider with bars for people to be able to talk through. He was sitting lazily with his face resting in his hand, inattentively scribbling something down. The teller didn't look up from his desk, “if you could excuse us, gentlemen, we are about to close and no more bank operations will be held today.” he sighed lazily.

Robert strode up to the teller, His spurs clinking in rhythm with his booming steps. Leaning on the desk with his elbow he pulled his revolver inches from the teller's face and cocked the hammer back, rotating the barrel with a satisfying click.

“That's a real shame, ‘cause I need to make a withdrawal,” he said through his mask.

The teller froze. His pen dropped and he slowly looked up. His eyes were wider than his small glasses and his mouth tried in vain to call for help.

“That's right, nice and quiet like. Put your hands up. We don't want any big bloody accidents tonight do we?” He purred, “now what is your name Mr bank teller?”

“H-Henry” he stuttered, his hands were shaking and his eyes were fixed on the end of the revolver.

“Now Henry, are you alone in this fine establishment tonight?” Robert asked.

He nodded quickly. His eyes flashed from the end of the gun to Robert. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Good, now what I'm going to have you do is keep your hands where I can see 'em, and go over to where that safe is and unlock it,” he motioned with the tip of his gun to the door to the safe just behind Henry. “Now my friend Mr. W is going to accompany you just to make sure that you don't need any help while you're back there.” He signaled for William to go behind the desk to watch over the teller.

Henry stumbled over to the vault door with a burly William pointing a shotgun at his back. He fumbled a few times with the lock due to his hands shaking but with some gentle persuasion from William he got it open quickly enough. The vault door creaked open. Inside the piles of cash and valuables were gleaming.

Robert smiled. “Now that's what I like to see. Mr. L? Would you kindly help Mr. W in the retrieval of the money? I will stay and watch our new friend here.”

Luis walked from his spot guarding the door and started to fill the bags with William.

But as soon as Luis walked into the vault, a delivery boy no older than sixteen walked in the back door with a box in his hand. Turning around he froze as he took in the scene before him. A split second later he bolted out the door, dropping the box he was carrying.

“HEY!” Robert barked. He started after the boy, “you two look after him and get that money bagged!” He yelled at the two men as he stumbled over the boy's fallen box. He busted out the back door and frantically looked around. No sign of the kid. He cursed as he ran around the back alleyways for what felt like an eternity to try and find him.

“Boss!” William called for him through the back door, “we've got company! That kid must've found the sheriff, you might want to get in here!”

Robert ran back inside and slammed the door. He looked around the room and saw through the front windows at least fifteen armed men hiding behind carriages and other makeshift barricades outside, everyone with a gun fixed on the building. He couldn't find any of his gang members that had been standing watch and that worried him.

“Damn it!” Robert yelled as he paced back and forth through the room. He looked at Henry, “grab him! Use him as a hostage!” He yelled as he pointed at the poor man.

Henry whimpered as Luis grabbed him by the shirt collar and put a gun to the side of his skull.

“You're surrounded! Come out peaceably with your hands where we can see 'em!” A voice from outside yelled.

“Luis! You stand in the doorway with him in front of you so everyone can see, William you guard the back door and the cash, I'll tell them our arrangements.” Robert ordered as he bashed out a window with the butt of his gun. “Gentlemen!” He yelled through the shards of glass, “this doesn't have to get violent! I will free this man if you put your guns away and let us be. If you do this I promise you none of you will be hurt!”

There was a silence that seemed to last an eternity, but the same man spoke again, “my men will lower their weapons, but as sheriff of this town I will not, come outside and let's talk like civilized men.”

“How do I know you won't shoot me where I stand sheriff?” He yelled back.

“Cause your lacky has my favorite bank teller at gunpoint, and I really don't want to have to spend a month scrubbing this town free of bullet holes,” He sarcastically shouted back.

Robert looked away from the window and cursed. He thought for a moment, weighing his options. His thoughts flashed to Marie, if she was here she would have thought to check the backdoor. He looked around the room looking for anything to help. “William, Is there anyone in the back alley?” He frantically called to him.

William quickly slung the bag of money over his shoulder and opened the back door, shutting it just as fast, “Damn it yes! We really are surrounded! What are we gonna do?”

Robert quickly paced around and scratched the back of his head, he looked down and closed his eyes. “Damn it to hell!” he shouted as he kicked over a nearby chair. “We do what he says” he growled as he walked back to the window and yelled, “were coming out now, Sheriff! our guns are holstered.” They walked out with their hands up, besides Luis who kept his hold around Henry. The three of them stood there with their backs against the outside of the building. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard that he feared someone would mistake it for a gunshot and start shooting. “What now sheriff?” he called out. But as he peered through the darkness at the man something stuck him straight in the chest, not a bullet, but recognition. He knew him from somewhere but he couldn't figure out where.

The pattering of footsteps up the street suddenly caught Robert's attention. He looked and saw Thomas running towards them. The kid's face contorted in fear as he took in the scene and pulled his gun out, shooting at the townsmen without thinking.

The night erupted in an explosion of gunfire and smoke. Time slowed as Robert leaped for cover behind a mailbox. He looked over just in time to see a bullet go straight through Luis’s neck, freeing Henry to run back into the bank. Robert roared in anger as he drew his guns. A sudden malice and clarity overtook him as he aimed and shot the man closest to the sheriff dead in the eye. He picked off one by one barely ever missing, it didn't matter anymore whether or not the men he killed were rich or poor anymore, whether they were street sweepers or oil tycoons. They killed his friend. They would pay.

A scream came to his left. Robert came out of his blind rage and looked over to see William on the ground holding his calf, his face twisted in pain. Reality hit him as he realized he was the only one left to be able to defend the two of them with still a good seven men shooting back. Looking around he started to panic. There was no way he would be able to get out now, He and William would die here, all because he was afraid of changing his lifestyle, he just had to do one last score. He put his own selfish desire above the people he loved.

Shouts and more gunfire came from up the street. There two of his men on horses rode into view causing the remaining townspeople’s attention to shift to them. Robert was relieved to see them alive. One more of his men rode in from the other side of the street with an extra horse.

“Get on!” the man yelled.

Robert rushed to William putting his arm around his shoulders. He cried out in pain as they hoisted him onto the back of the horse. Robert looked at Luis’s body one last time and thanked him before making their escape.

Sheriff Bennett stood and cursed as he realized what had happened. The criminal had gotten away in the ambush from the rest of the outlaws. His once strong body now ached with every movement. Anyone who looked at him would say he looked at least ten years older than he really was. A hacking, burning cough erupted from his lungs and he spat out blood. Beads of sweat crawled down his pale, gaunt face. To his left lay the mutilated body of his deputy and friend in recent years. He stiffened as he knelt down to say goodbye. He took the badge from his friend's chest and gripped in until his knuckles went white. This man would pay for what he did. This man came into his town and disgraced his name. His fist slammed into the ground and he stood up holding back tears.

His bloodshot eyes took in the carnage around him. Fifteen men had followed him into battle and five including him had survived. That's ten wives, children, and parents who would never see these men again. Why had he survived? He was dying anyway. It should’ve been him lying there with a hole tore through his face. It would've been better for him to die today. His footsteps were heavy as he went over to outlaw he had shot. His arms were splayed out and his body was halfway sitting against the brick wall of the building with his head barely held up by what was left of his neck. The sheriff grimaced as he removed the man's hat and mask recognizing him almost instantly. It was Luis Perez. His wanted poster had floated through town on occasion. At least he’d get some money out of all of this once he turned in Luis's head into the Pinkertons. He questioned Henry who was inside and learned that the other lacky to the man in black was a native named William. He thanked Henry and apathetically wished him the best. As he walked out the door it all clicked. Luis Perez and Wohali or “William” The Cherokee ran with the same person.

They had just been robbed by the Brooks Gang, and the man in black was Robert Brooks.

That means that they were hiding out near his town. And he would be the one to find them.

As soon as he got into the sheriff's office he went to the new telegraph machine and started to contact the nearby big city police station knowing they would be able to send lots of Pinkertons and quickly. A few moments later he got a response confirming that they could be there in the morning if it meant stopping the infamous Robert Brooks.

They rode into camp with two fewer men than they rode out with. Marie was the first to notice they had returned. She jogged the best she could up to Robert as he dismounted and helped William get down. After passing William off to Elijah to be patched up, Robert stood there facing his horse's neck, his right hand gripping the rein and his left resting on the saddle horn. His head was hung in defeat.

“Robert…” Marie whispered.

Robert lifted his head shaking it before hanging it down again. “It's my fault.” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His shoulders shook as he brought his hand up to his forehead covering his face. “I killed them, Marie. Luis and the kid, they're both dead. And it's my fault.”

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“We- I, was sloppy. Didn't check the back door and we were found out. They're dead because I couldn't let go of this life. I just had to do one more goddamn job.” Robert said.

Marie was silent but she put her hand on his shoulder. He couldn't face her.

“We got the money,” he said as he looked up and composed himself. “Tomorrow we tell everyone that this is over.” He said in a heavy voice before he turned and walked away. Never once looking Marie in the face.

The Pinkertons didn't lie about getting to Copper Springs quickly. The Brooks Gang must've caused them a lot of trouble. At ten o'clock the next morning thirty of them rode into town. Agent Shaw was the detective in charge and he was the one who would meet with Bennett.

“Sheriff Bennett is it?” Shaw asked as he hung up his hat on his way into the sheriff's office. His voice was both uninterested and serious at the same time, and had a tone that said, “I'm better than you” with every word. His blond hair was just perfect so that when he had a hat on no one could tell he was actually bald.

“Yes sir,” Sheriff Bennett said through a small cough as he rose and shook his hand. “You're Shaw correct?”

“Agent Shaw,” he said in a slightly disgusted tone, getting a handkerchief out and wiping his hand on it. “Tell me everything that transpired the night before with Robert Brooks and his gang.”

Bennett told him all about how he got a tip-off from the kid and everything that happened afterward. How he has the head of Luis Perez and the body of an unknown boy in his teens that also aided in the robbery. “I do believe they are hiding in the mountains to the west of here,” he continued, “as they did take the western route out of town, that narrows it down to only a few paths they could've taken to their hideout. We’ll find them in no time.”

Agent Shaw had walked over to the window while he talked, now staring out into the street, he said, “getting sloppy now are we Mr. Brooks? It will be your last mistake.”

Bennett sat awkwardly in his chair for a few moments waiting for him to continue. But once he decided Shaw wasn't going to say anything else he said, “You should go scoutin’ as soon as possible.”

Agent Shaw turned around and said, “yes, you're right of course, once we find his camp my men will take care of the rest as soon as possible. You will have nothing else to worry about Sheriff. We haven't ever been this close to capturing the Brooks gang.”

“Agent Shaw,” Bennett started slowly, “I have a proposition. Instead of immediately raiding the camp once you find it, you send Brooks an ultimatum.” he suggested, “you block off all means of escape and tell him either he comes with you or ev’ryone is killed. Then I will talk with him.”

The agent eyed him “Why you?”

“He disgraced my name as sheriff of Copper Springs, killed my friend and a damn good portion of my town, Agent. I want to be the one to kill him.” He said in a steely voice. “And knowing him, his care for his little family of criminals will force him to come to me.”

The agent paused and looked at him, slightly alarmed, “I am inclined to let you go through with your plan, but this could jeopardize this whole operation, Sheriff Bennett. We’ve been after this man for a long time.”

The sheriff stared him down with his bloodshot eyes, “I'm dying, Shaw. Let me at least avenge my town and my friend before I go.”

Shaw considered him, clenching his jaw. After a moment he said, “doesn't matter to me which foot he steps into hell with. When my scouts find his camp, I'll alert you first.”

It was late in the day and the promise of snow hung in the overcast sky. The gang would sneak out after dark. Robert overlooked the packing up of camp. He hadn’t said much, not even to Marie, who had walked over to where he was standing.

“Robert, I know how hard this is for you, but you have to tell everyone what the plan is,” she urged him, “ we can't just abandon them in the next town.”

“I know, I know.” He said putting his hand on the back of his neck. “I don't know how, or when.”

“Just tell them. Right now,” She insisted.

Robert sighed as he walked to the middle of camp, his hand still hanging off the back of his neck. People noticed and turned their attention to him. “I want to tell everyone what our plan is once we get to the next town,” he said as he looked around at everyone’s faces. The people who risked their lives for him. The people who he had cared for and protected for so many years. But no matter how much money he left them with, he couldn't help but feel he was betraying them. “The plan is-”

“Robert Brooks!” a sudden piercing voice split the crisp air. Everyone’s attention shifted to the source of the voice. There were gasps and the people with guns instinctively pointed them, including Robert. Marie ran up to his side and grabbed his free hand.

A middle-aged man in a bowler hat waltzed into the camp, his hands in the air. A shiny badge on the top of his nice vest. The sun started to set through a clearing of clouds, illuminating the camp in a golden glow.

“Do not shoot, I can assure you that will not end up well for you and your little gang,” he said with a little too much confidence.

Robert’s aim didn't falter as he stared down the unwelcome guest. “How so Pinkerton?” he shouted back, “you're greatly outnumbered.”

“On the country” The Pinkerton smiled as he turned around and whistled. Two more men with shiny badges each hauled in a body. Robert’s stomach dropped as he realized that they belonged to two of his guards set up around the camp. But his face didn't show it. His steely eyes didn't waver. He quickly realized that there must be many more Pinkertons hiding close and it was in everyone's best interest if he heard what this snake had to say.

Robert lowered his gun, “Talk,” he demanded.

“I am Agent Shaw of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. If it were up to me you would all be dead by now, you certainly all deserve it. But instead, I come with a proposition. You see I have more than three times the fighters you do, all strategically placed that you won’t be able to escape these mountains. Everyone in this camp will either be dead or captured before nine o’clock tonight,” the snake smiled.

“And the other option?” he asked, inches away from breaking his confidant facade. Inside Robert was a hurricane of emotion and fear. Everything was falling apart, everything he had built and loved.

“You come with me alone and we let the rest of you live,” He called out, “we came here for you, not everyone else. But if it comes down to it I will kill everyone in this camp just to get to you.”

“No!” Marie yelled. Tightening her grip and looking at him desperately she cried, “Robert you can’t! They'll kill you!”

“How do I know you're not lying?” Robert asked. His breathing getting quicker. He gripped Marie tighter, “How do I know you won’t kill all of these people once I leave?!”

“You don't,” Shaw smiled.

Robert turned to Marie and looked her in her beautiful eyes, now filled with tears. Her hands found his cheeks and he leaned into them, feeling the warmth and softness from them. He placed his hand on hers. “I-I” he whispered, unable to finish his sentence.

“No, NO, you can't- we can fight them off- we- like we always do, together” she sobbed, her hands shaking.

“You'll die if I don’t- Marie I can't lose anyone else-” He breathed, “Especially not you.” He looked her in the eyes, his own now welling up with tears. He cupped her face in his hands, trying to memorize every little detail, every little freckle and the way her irises caught the dying sunlight. They pressed their foreheads together and he embraced her, holding her trembling frame as tightly as he could. They kissed one last time full of passion and grief, “I love you, forever” he whispered in between kisses.

“Forever,” Marie sobbed as she held him as tight as possible.

Robert knelt down and kissed her stomach, saying goodbye to the baby he would never get to meet. Looking into her eyes one last time he pulled up her hand and kissed it passionately before walking away.

Marie held onto him for as long as possible. It took every inch of his being to not run back to her and make everything better. To cradle her and tell her everything was going to be ok. But he pushed forward, he pushed forward for his family, for Marie, for his child; each step more difficult than the last. He looked over to William, who closed his eyes and nodded, emotion seeping out of his usually stoic face as the understanding passed between them that this was the last time they would see each other.

Robert stopped in front of Shaw. His eyes boring down into the Pinkerton’s. He was a good three inches taller than him.

“Your gun if you please,” Shaw said.

Robert grudgingly unholstered his gun and held out the handle to Shaw. One of the other two Pinkertons came and cuffed him.

“This is a very nice gun, did you steal this too?” Shaw asked with spite.

“It was a gift,” Robert said.

The sun had set as Robert looked back one last time at his gang, his family, the people he cared for most in the world, and couldn't help but remember all the good. He just hoped they would all lead good lives.

They shoved him into the back of a prison wagon and started off down the road. He checked the wagon’s lock in hopes that he could get lucky. But to no avail. The lock was tight.

The last light of day had been swept away as they traveled. The further they went the more Pinkertons he saw. Shaw wasn't lying, there were at least three times his fighters. Relief flooded through him as he realized he had made the right choice; for the Pinkertons were getting ready to go back to town, not preparing for battle. At least his family would live.

They weren't heading into the town but rather further up into the mountains, which made Robert confused and afraid. They stopped in a clearing. In the middle was a man with a lantern. Shaw came and unlocked the cage and threw him out, leaving a small splinter in Robert’s finger as he was dragged across the rough wood.

“He’s all yours,” Shaw said to the man as he handed the man Robert’s gun and the man paused and studied it for a moment. With that, Shaw climbed back into the wagon and drove it off. Which meant they were never planning on carrying him alive out of here.

The first snowflakes of winter fell onto the ground like confectioners sugar. Robert stood there in chains facing this man, his breath steaming and his heart beating rapidly in his chest. The man's face was darkened by the brim of his hat.

“Why don't you just take me to town and hang me there like all the rest of ‘em?” Robert demanded. “This ain't American justice.”

“You don't deserve American Justice” the man spat.

“So shooting an unarmed man in chains is justice enough for ya?” Robert demended.

The man began to answer but instead erupted in a fit of coughs.

Robert eyed him, “Looks like I won’t be the only one dyin soon,” he said over the man’s coughs.

The man spat blood and straightened himself out. While doing so he took off his hat and ran his fingers through his fiery red hair.

Robert stared at him for a long moment.

“What are you looking at, scum” the man hissed.

“Who are you?” Robert asked stepping into the light closer to him despite his survival instincts screaming at him not to.

“I’m the Copper Springs sheriff, you killed my best friend and half my town,” he said as he turned towards Robert again.

“What’s your name I mean,” Robert persisted.

The man frowned as he got a good look at Robert in the light for the first time. Robert realized that this was the first time this man had seen his face in real life, not illustrated on a bounty poster. The Sheriff’s face softened. For the briefest of moments regret and- was it love? Robert couldn't tell, flashed across his eyes. But changed quickly to an even deeper malice than before. Finally, it was evident he came to some cruel conclusion in his head.

“It's been a while, Jimmy, I knew I recognized this gun,” the man said.

The world started spinning around Robert, he suddenly felt fifteen again, lost and confused, “Charles,” Robert breathed, “it is you. How-”

“Once you left me to die on that storefront,” he cut Robert off, lifting his hair out of his face to reveal the nasty scar on his forehead left by the shopkeeper, “I shaped up, became a respectable person. I grew up that day, I realized that I could only count on myself to survive.”

“I didn't leave you I-”

“No, NO, you left me!” he bellowed, “We had a meeting place and you didn't show! I thought you had died a long time ago, you were such a scrawny little kid. But now it turns out that you’re alive! And now you're Robert Brooks, infamous outlaw.” he spat, his face twisted in disgust, “You even changed your name to throw me off your scent!” he said as he pointed an accusing finger at him. “ After all we’ve been through, you took the money and left!” his voice ached with years of unspoken suffering.

“Charles, I was captured don't you remember! I was taken away, I changed my name to keep the law off my scent!” Robert pleaded. There was so much to tell him, but he wouldn't listen.

“How can I trust you? You rob and kill for a livin’, and I vividly remember what you did that day, you saw your chance and took it.” Charles said as he unholstered his gun. “I've been thinking about this day for a long time Jimmy.” In his eyes was an unyielding determination.

“You were my brother! We were gonna be partners in crime forever. You taught me everything I know!” Robert yelled as he picked up on the deathly resolve coming from his oldest friend. He was close to panicking now.

“You taught me that there is no forever. And I didn't turn you into this monster. You did.”

“Charles please,” Robert begged as he fell to his knees, eyes welling up with tears “I got a family, a wife who’s expectin’. They need me. I love her more than life itself. Did you ever find someone like that?”

Charles’s eyes glared down Robert. There was a long silence as Charles walked closer to him, “No, I didn’t,” he spat, “It would be better if they had never known you, you would’ve only betrayed them,” he said as he cocked the hammer back on his gun, rotating a bullet into the barrel.

Robert’s frightened eyes met Charles’s in one final desperate attempt to reason with him. “Please…”

“Goodbye Jimmy.”

Robert Brooks watched in horror as his oldest friend lifted his gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet finding its home in his chest. The frigid air rushed into his lungs. The world lurched up around him and crashed into his head. Everything was red, his hands, the ground. His pale eyes followed the stream of blood flowing out of his chest.

He closed his eyes.

#forever #original work #original short story #oc #Robert Brooks #Marie Brooks

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flowerslut · 5 years

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1/2: hiii, i was wondering if you have the time (and/or patience), could you please explain further about vampire age vs. human age when turned and how that effects how they act and what teenage tendencies the vampires will be prone to? like i get the whole child development frozen. can't be taught. but for like the cullens physical age (17-20s?) you're telling me their 50+ years won't affect them at all? like they won't mature mentally at all? learn? does this make sense? it confuses me too tbh

I always have time to procrastinate my real life responsibilities to talk about twilight are you joking

this is going to be long. so uh, apologies, I guess.

I'm no neuroscientist or anything (fucking duh) and I feel like smeyer makes all of her science-esque explanations vague enough to be left up to some sort of interpretation, but with my understanding it all has to do with what the brain can actually do. so, again, while I’m not a neuroscientist, I am a teacher. I did study child development pretty thoroughly back in school and I work with kids that range from infants to 12 year olds. so I’m going to start with an example on child vampires before I answer your question about teen vamps.

here’s the way I see it:

say you’ve got a two year old. alriiiight, lets make that baby a vampire! now, two year olds are basically large babies who are just beginning to function as people. words are there because vocabularies are being built. fine and gross motor skills are lacking but still being actively improved upon. their understanding of the world as a whole is also pretty basic because they can’t grasp larger concepts. sitting down a vampire toddler—even one who has been a vampire for 5 or 10 years—and saying “hey. you’re illegal. which means we have to keep this on the down-low, meaning you have to like, listen, or both you and I are going to to be straight-up murdered by our immortal lawmakers.” isn’t going to get you any results. your little abomination is just going to ignore you after the first 6 words and start to wonder why you’re making such a funny face.

in the words of Piaget, children aren’t “little adults” and literally cannot function as such because their young brains prevent that. they just don’t have the tools.

I know smeyer took all sorts of “it’s supernatural!!” liberties with Advanced-Functioning-and-Brain-Development Renesmee but the way I make her existence work in my head canons is by headcanoning the opposite with her: I want to see the vampire side of her show in more realistic (and less idealistic) ways. where her parents are frozen vampires, I want to see her slowly developing, as opposed to the weird hyper-developing thing smeyer had going in order to age her faster to get her with Jacob quicker, but uh *coughs* we won’t go into that nasty fact. I want to see a Renesmee at her 2 year old birthday party and she’s still the size of a 6 month old. (Emmett blows a noisemaker too close to her head and she bursts in to tears; he’s subsequently banned from the cottage for a month but it’s not like he misses out on anything. Next time he’s over Renesmee has barely grown anyways.)

so while we have Renesmee’s frankly disturbing case, let’s go back to the actual topic:

the thing is, vampire children’s brains aren’t developing. they’re learning, as all children do, but what makes (human) kids wild from a general standpoint is how fast they do it. but again, with the rate at which their brains develop and their bodies grow, of course they’d pick up things so quickly. they sort of have to in order to help them navigate this world around them in which most pieces of information they’re introduced to are 100% new concepts to them.

now, the real question: can vampire children learn. yeah, to an extent, they probably can. but they’re not learning the way you and I do, or the way a normal kid might. let’s go back to our hypothetical two year old baby vamp for a second. so this kid is frozen in time, right? so that means that while they might practice or perfect skills that are usually developed as they grow, they won’t be able to build off of those learned skills and advance them into something more or something better.

for example, a two year old who has learned to catch and throw a ball with someone else will eventually learn how to throw and catch the ball by themselves because their motor skills and hand-eye coordination will improve as they develop.

not with our vampire baby, though. imagine anything you can teach a two-year old with one full day of practice: catching a ball. hopping with two feet instead of just one. putting on a hat by themselves. now, imagine anything you can teach a five-year old in the same period of time. how to tie a knot. how to do a cartwheel. how to recognize specific words. so, with a two-year old vamp who is technically 5 years old, they wouldn’t be able to further their skills like a human 5 year old because they don’t have the tools to build their skills. so while you may have a 2 year old who can catch a ball from a literal half-mile away, they aren’t going to figure out how to tie their shoes even if you worked on it for 6 months. it aint going to work. they’re going to be figuratively left in the dust developmentally and they’re going to stay that way because, you know, the unchanging nature of the vampire deems it so........

now with our poor, unfortunate immortal teenagers. oof. I really feel for them. I mean, as a grown woman I think back to seventeen year old me and cringe sometimes. all people do, but then I imagine if her development had been stunted and she’d been trapped in that body and mindset for an eternity. it really gives a gal some fucking goosebumps, that’s for sure.

I know everyone likes to joke about how Esme is the only person with braincells in the family because she’s the only one with a fully developed pre-frontal cortex, but when you think about the fact that developmentally she really is the only one who should be calling any shots for that family it makes you wonder why smeyer didn’t make the Cullens a matriarchal family (I mean, we know why, but I digress...)

since the Cullens are written by an adult (and Bella, too, for that matter) that’s why when we read the books when we were younger we all most likely thought “oh! they’re all so level-headed and mature!” and they are a little bit. but that’s because they’re written like that. if the Cullens were as developmentally stunted as smeyer claims they are then they’d be every bit as chaotic as the fandom likes to head canon them as. poor impulse control. bad decisions nearly every step of the way. and sure, they’d learn from mistakes. but when faced with a split-second to make a decision it doesn’t matter if you have 50 years of lived experience behind you. that 17-year old brain in that head of yours is going to act and react. ain’t nothing you can do to stop it.

that’s why Edward being like “alright. fuck it. I'm killing myself” in new moon makes sense to me. and it’s why Rosalie being angry and jaded for nearly the entirety of the series makes sense to me. combine their ages and their last human moments and look back on where there development was stunted: a lot of the shit that people complain about their characters will feel like it makes a shitload of sense. it doesn’t matter if they’ve been ‘alive’ for 100 years.

(this whole thing is also why I made Esme the head of ‘the family’ in CotN, for all intents in purposes. bc of fucking course she would be.)

but think about how frustrating it would be, even with the super-vampire-memory, to look back at every single time you gave into the same impulses. sure, you’ll tell yourself you’ll do better next time. and maybe you will. but the brain calls the shots y'all. and while you might think you’re fully in charge of what it has to do or say, you really are only a passenger in this thing. along for the ride.

to finally answer your question: I think, yes. you are going to have teenage vampires who give off an air of maturity to them because of all of their lived experiences. but I still believe having even a 23 year old in charge (because now I look back on 23 and I’m like, hm, yeah. still a baby.) of a coven of vampires is fucking foolish as shit. but I mean, if Carlisle were as ‘smart’ as his medical degrees say he is, with him at the helm of the family the Cullens wouldn’t get into half the shenanigans they do. that pre-frontal cortex development is vital in making sure someone doesn’t give into impulse, can make thoroughly thought-out decisions, and has proper judgement in a variety of ways. without that, it’s a recipe for disaster (i.e. see: the entirety of The Twilight Saga.)

#the twilight saga #now that what I call a proper waste of time #time to get back to errands before work lmaoooo #mine

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zoslittlefish2 · 4 years

Text

Killers and Deep Closets

Ch 5 Lost Waves

Wattpad

Hey Yall! This is my first fic, and it's based on the World created within my favorite Sanders Sides ask blogs, @ask-creativitwins , @ask-the-left-brains , @ask-the-sanders-dads , and @ask-remy-and-picani. Fish is Deciet and Remus's child (kindof-). If you want, you could skip the first part with Fish, anf go straight to the rescue party.

WARNINGS: Semi Graphic description of torture, Partial drowning, and death mention

************************************************************************************************

A couple of days later, the routine had continued. Fish had almost gotten used to it and didn't pass out right away when Magnolia was finished with them. Today started the same, and magnolia dragged them out of the room. This time, though, they went in a different direction, leaving Fish to wonder what the dragon witch was planning.

They entered a room that was similar to the other room. Magnolia attached the chains to the wall this time and left the room without a word. Fish felt her blood run cold as they heard what sounded like running water. Their fear was confirmed when they felt the water at their feet, rising quickly. They tried to keep their breathing calm when they realized what was happening.

The water rose quickly, and the room was filled in a matter of minutes. Fish couldn't see anything, and the water stilled around them. It wasn't long before their chest started to ache, and every movement felt like lifting heavy boxes. They could feel themselves slipping out of consciousness and fought it, knowing if they passed out, that would be the end.

They could feel the water start moving again as they started sinking. When they felt the top of their head leave the water, they almost passed out then and there. They couldn't stay sitting, let alone standing, as the water finally disappeared. The last thing they saw was a pair of feet before everything went black.

***********************************************************************************************

Logan looked around as they walked through the forest, taking note that Roman seemed sluggish in his movements, and was leaning on Virgil. Remus and Deceit were in a similar state. Logan had made his way to the front despite not going into the imagination often. Remy made his way to the front, falling in line with Logan.

"Hey." He said, causing Logan to turn his head to him

"Hello. Did you need something?"

"I wanted to see how you were holding up." Remy sighed, the concern evident on his face.

"I am... Adequate, I suppose. And how about you?" Logan asked, his gaze returning forward, carefully stepping over a root.

"I'm alright, I guess. I am a little worried about Princey, though. Remus and Dee, too, they all look exhausted." These observations surprised Logan. Apparently, this surprise was showed, because Remy laughed.

"What? Just cause I'm dumb doesn't mean I can't tell when someone didn't or had trouble sleeping. If I couldn't, I wouldn't be able to do my job. I mean, I know I'm stupid, but not that stupid." Remy said, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder. "I can also tell that you're not as 'adequate' as you want me to believe. I know we don't always get along, but you can talk to me."

Logan sighed, "I guess I am concerned, it been a few days of wondering the Imagination, and we haven't seen a sign of Fish, anywhere. I've also noticed how the others are reacting to their disappearance, which is concerning. I'm fond of them as well, and i hope we can find them soon. I guess..." logan trails off, and remy tilts his head.

"You guess?..."

logan shakes his head. " I guess I didn't realize how much Fish wiggled their way into this odd family. I find myself wanting to find them quickly, not because of how long it's already been, but i fear what is happening with them, and the longer it takes, the less likely we are to find them unharmed..." 'or dead...' he almost said, but shook the thought from his head. They would find Fish, and Fish was going to be fine. A movement in front of him caused him to leave his train of thought as he stopped, looking ahead and seeing what remy was pointing two.

In the distance was a small town, and a large, dark castle overlooking it. The others caught up, looking at the castle. Remus and roman seemed to tense up.

"How much do you wanna bet that's her castle?" Virgil said, and roman sneered into the distance.

"It is... " Remus growled. Deceit held his arm. Logan looked around before speaking.

"well, we have two options. We can either go to the town and stay there tonight, or we can camp out here. Either way, the sun is setting, so we won't be able to search the town until tomorrow." this made Remus and roman sag, both looking at each other. Without letting go of Virgil, Roman reached a hand out, and Remus took it. Logan couldn't hide his disappointment with waiting one more day. finally, they had found something that might lead to Fish, and he wanted to jump straight into the search. But deep down, he knew everyone needed to rest first.

"Why don't we stay here? Since that is the DW's castle, we don't want to run the risk of running into someone that would recognize those two," he gestures to Remus and Roman, " and none of us have the energy to deal with that right now." Logan nods, and looks to the others, waiting for their opinion. Reluctantly, they all nod slowly.

"That settles it then; lets set up camp then. "

~~~~~~

The sun had just finished setting when they had camp set up. remy had forced Roman and Remus to sleep, and Virgil had fallen asleep not long after. Remy fell asleep as well, leaving Deceit and logan still awake. Dee was sitting by the still-lit fire when logan came back with some more twigs and leaves. He sat next to the snake-like side, setting his things down.

"You should sleep." Deceit looked over to see Logan looking at him with a level of concern he hadn't seen much before this search started, but had been shown to him more and more these past few days.

"I can. I just..." Dee sighed, looking into the fire, " What if we cant find them? What if... what if we're too late? I can stand the thought of losing them. What if-" he's startled out of his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see that Logan moved closer, a determined look in his eye.

"Deceit... We will find them. We are already much closer than we were a few hours ago. We are going to find them, and everything will be alright." Logan says this with such certainty that Dee almost believes him. He sighs and removes his hat.

"I am not going to try to sleep... Goodnight, Logan." he quickly falls asleep, and Logan sits by the fire, keeping watch until Remy wakes up and forces him to sleep as well.

***********************************************************************************************

Patton was standing in the twin's room, staring at the Imagination door for the millionth time.

Emile walked in and sighed. This isn't the first time he's found Patton here, waiting.

"Pat... Come on. I've got cupcakes in the oven and cookie dough in the fridge. Why don't you come and help me and the others get ready to decorate?" he asks. Patton looks at him, before nodding and leaving the room. Emile sighed again. Patton hadn't really talked much since the others left to find Fish, and it's taking much longer than they had expected it to. He knew that Patton was worried, Em was too, but he had to stay strong for Patton and the Mods. As he walked out, he ran into the girl with dark hair, who seemed like she wanted to say something.

"Hey there, Semp!What's up?" Emile asked cheerfully, startling her.

"Oh- uh- sorry... I was just... are- are the others okay?" She asks shyly, and em sighs.

"Yeah...It's just taking them longer than we thought it would. They're going to be fine." Emile said, "now come on, its almost time to decorate those cupcakes."

Semp didnt seem convinced but followed him to the kitchen. Both of them were shocked when they walked in, before bursting into laughter

It hadn't taken Pat long to make the icing, and had separated it for the Mods to have their own, and was going to make more for emile and himself. Jax and nerd wanted to try to help, and Patton let them. They were almost immediately covered in powdered sugar. Astra then thought it would be fun to put the icing on Nerds' face, which led to full out war. Now the entire kitchen was covered in powdered sugar and icing.

The part that surprised Emile the most was the genuine laughter coming from Patton. He hadn't heard that in a while and it made emile think...

Maybe everything is going to be okay...

***********************************************************************************************

Im pretty sure this is my longest chapter. Well, Ill see yall next time. Love Y'all!

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thehighlandhealer · 5 years

Text

Directions || Deirdre & Oliver

Oliver: The scent of cigarettes was mute for a man covered in the same stench, mixed with motor oil and dust. His Old Spice was no match unless pruned in the shower. Sometimes he wondered if Tristan Seger's vessel ever truly left his skin.

What caught his attention was a scent he did not recognize. Floral, almost cloying. He turned, passively curious for the source.

Deirdre: The source was standing a few feet away, having stopped to check something on her phone. Truth be told she looked more like farmhand than a tourist. Despite the warmth she was wearing boots and jeans and flannel. Honey blonde hair was gathered in a loose braid that fell nearly to her waist, with a few wisps of hair framing her face and a swoop of bangs covering one eye. She could feel his gaze, and watched him from her periphery.

Oliver: She was beautiful, but he was partial to blondes no matter the shade. As impolite to stare as it was, he had. He knew his gaze had traveled her for too long. He forced his attentions away, back towards the road. A passing favorable thought she would be as he headed home.

Three steps from the property, and he paused again. Perhaps one more look.

Deirdre: Deirdre could swear she felt his gaze wherever it lingered. She smiled to herself. Did that mean, she wondered, she was hyperaware of him or that he was simply staring that intensely?

She finally looked up as he started to walk away, thinking that she wouldn't get an answer to her question. At least until he stopped and turned again.

This time he'd be met with a serene, gently amused smile and gray-blue eyes looking back at him.

Oliver: Caught red-handed. He was not one to blush and duck his chin in shame. Rather, he smiled at her amusement. That would be his treat for the day, having made not one but two women smile.

He supposed he should return to purpose, though with the haste of a sloth.

Deirdre: Not so fast. I'm not quite done with you.

"Oi! Spare a moment?" she called to him in a thick Scottish accent.

Oliver: The foreign surprise caused a double-take. He began to pick his thumbnail.

"M'I in trouble?"

Deirdre: "Why, have ye done somethin' wrong?" Smiling, she slipped her phone into her pocket and walked over to him. "Might I trouble ye for directions?"

Oliver: "I dunno. M'a man, so probably." She seemed smaller the closer she approached. Confidence could make one two inches taller, but still, petite.

"Where ya needin' t'go?"

Deirdre: "Flower shop. Wild Rose of Arran. Ye know it?"

Oliver: "I - Yeah. It's a walk from here. Miles, I mean. My truck's outta commission, so..." What in god's name? "I mean, ain't ya got a GPS?"

Deirdre: "I do," she said, giving him a very obvious once over before heading in the direction of a black Jeep. "Come along, then."

Oliver: Oliver subconsciously straightened. "Just like that?" he called, frozen in place by skepticism.

Deirdre: "Ye waitin' for an engraved invitation?"

Oliver: "With real gold?" He began to follow behind. "I'mma fuck up the seat."

Deirdre: A light laugh floated back to him. "Don't worry yer head about the seat. That's what towels are for."

Oliver: I'm gonna be murdered by a farmgirl. Worse ways to die, he thought, climbing into the seat with one fluid movement.

"So, you're...British?"

Deirdre: "Highland Scot," Deirdre corrected, starting the Jeep and definitely pulling out of the lot faster than was strictly legal.

"Left, right, or dead ahead?"

Oliver: Not a quip on her driving skills. "Ahead for a mile or two. We'll take a left, then. So is there a difference?"

Deirdre: "There a difference between the States and Canada?"

Oliver: "There's a difference from California n'Jersey."

Deirdre: "But they're in the same country. Scotland and England are no'."

Oliver: "It's called Britain, right?"

Deirdre: "Technically."

Oliver: "So what's the big difference?"

Deirdre: "They're separate countries."

Oliver: "On one island. So I wanna know what makes the top different from the bottom."

Deirdre: "I once again point ye to the States and Canada. Similar language, similar customs, similar lookin' people even, but different countries. We never fell to the Romans."

Oliver: "On a giant continent I get. Ya can travel all of Europe in a weekend. Nothin' is a country if ya can travel it all in a day or two. Ya see games on TV from there n'it says United Kingdom on the shirts with all of it."

Deirdre: "Just like an American to disregard nuance," she said, the amused smile making a return.

Oliver: "Waitin' for ya t'open my door n'boot me out."

Deirdre: "Well now that would be rude."

Oliver: "You're in America. It's normal."

Deirdre: "Rudeness or tossin' men out o' movin' vehicles?"

Oliver: "Both?" he chuckled.

Deirdre: "Funny, don't remember readin' that in my 'Welcome to America' pamphlet."

Oliver: "What about fried Oreos?"

Deirdre: "A glorious step up from fried Mars bars."

Oliver: "Excuse me what?"

Deirdre: "What?"

Oliver: "A fried Mars bar?"

Deirdre: "Aye. Don't ye Americans fry Snickers?"

Oliver: "I ain't had a fried candy bar no."

Deirdre: “Don’t tell yer dentist if ye do.”

Oliver: "That somethin' ya wanna try? Fried Oreo?"

Deirdre: “That ship’s long gone.”

Oliver: "How come?"

Deirdre: “Because I’ve already had one. Several if we’re splittin’ hairs.”

Oliver: "What about a fried hot dog?"

Deirdre: “Hot dogs should be grilled. Full stop.”

Oliver: "Thank fuckin' god ya didn't say boiled."

Deirdre: “What do I look like, a barbarian?”

Oliver: "Not a barbarian."

Deirdre: She smiled. "Good to know. Left ye said?"

Oliver: "Oh. Yeah. Left after this stop sign. It'll be kinda obvious."

Deirdre: "That's all right then." But rather than turn left, she turned to face him. "Which way's yer house?"

Oliver: "Ya...wanna know where I live?"

Deirdre: "Ye said yer truck's broken down."

Oliver: "Yeah. I got legs for walkin'."

Deirdre: "Consider it a thank ye for showin' me to the shop."

Oliver: "It's outta the way. It's fine."

Deirdre: "I'll find my way back. I'm in no rush."

Oliver: "Well, I'll savor the company, then. Keep goin' this way."

Deirdre: Another smile and they were off again. Callum could certainly wait a few minutes longer. He didn't even know she was here yet.

"Lived here long?"

Oliver: "About a year n'some change. Needed a chance of scenery."

Deirdre: "Do ye like it?"

Oliver: "It's work. It's a place," he muttered.

Deirdre: "No' terribly attached then?"

Oliver: "Not really anywhere. I mean, I miss Tennessee, but it ain't home anymore."

Deirdre: "Sometimes home is where yer hat is. And there's nothin' wrong with that."

Oliver: "N'where's your hat?"

Deirdre: "Montana."

Oliver: "Not Scot-Britain?"

Deirdre: "No' Scotland, no. I moved to Montana to take over the family ranch when my sister moved to New Orleans."

Oliver: "At your age? Big boots on ya."

Deirdre: "I'm older than I look," she chuckled.

Oliver: "Twenty-two, maybe."

Deirdre: Deirdre laughed. "God bless ye and yer flattery."

Oliver: "Flattery is fake. I'm sayin' what I think."

Deirdre: "Motivations can be fake, flattery isn't. And for the record, ye're about ten years off."

Oliver: "I have no motivations. I'm a free man. You're not in your thirties."

Deirdre: "That brisk Scottish air does wonders for the complexion."

Oliver: "Sunblock too, I bet. Or wait, y'all don't get sun."

Deirdre: "No' as much as ye do here. It's so bloody hot in this country."

Oliver: "Try Maine if ya want mist."

Deirdre: "If I want mist I'll go back home. Either o' them. Plenty o' mist up in the mountains in Montana."

Oliver: "Not all dry plains? Right up here."

Deirdre: “A few plains, plenty o’ hills, and the mountains. Be right silly to name the place after a mountain if it were completely flat.”

Oliver: "Maybe I'm thinkin' of Utah when I think of mountains. Up there is all the same in my head. Left here."

Deirdre: "The Rockies join ev'rythin' together." She turned left. "Went from one highland to another."

Oliver: "Why, though? Why Montana at all?"

Deirdre: "Montana is where our family ranch is. My da's family's had it since before my sister and I were born."

Oliver: "Why not have a ranch in Scotland?"

Deirdre: "We do."

Oliver: He just turned to blink at her.

Deirdre: "What? Mark Twain said to buy land, they're no' makin' it anymore. My da's family took him at his word. As did my sister. The ranch is a few times bigger than it was when she took over."

Oliver: "What d'ya do on the ranch, then? Cattle? Sheep?"

Deirdre: "All sorts, though mostly cattle. Ever seen MacAllister Heritage Ranch in the meat and dairy section o' the market?"

Oliver: "I don't really look at names. Must be pretty big t'get all the way t'the east coast."

Deirdre: "People ev'rywhere are ravenous for organic food."

Oliver: "Soy lattes n' kale salads. No sugar and no carbs."

Deirdre: "We make cheese and sausage and cream and eggs, nothin' but carbs as far as the eye can see. Bloody good kale too."

Oliver: "I know how t'make cheese. Sausage, too."

Deirdre: "Grow up in the country?"

Oliver: "Nah. Bored in the military."

Deirdre: "If necessity is the mother of invention, boredom's its dear old da. Still make it now?"

Oliver: "Nah. I make the best beef ribs, though."

Deirdre: "Pop into the market and get some o' ours next time ye get a fancy for them."

Oliver: "MacAllister, huh?"

Deirdre: She nodded. "MacAllister Heritage Ranch."

Oliver: "...Would ya like some beef ribs? Maybe some corn bread t'go with it?"

Deirdre: There was that smile again, twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Askin' me to dinner, are ye?"

Oliver: "Well," he cleared his throat, picked at his thumb again. "I'll wait on that 'til ya see my place. There, that sign on the left." The entrance to the trailer park hidden in the woods.

Deirdre: "Why, is it full o' corpses on meat hooks and severed human fingers?" she asked as she turned into the caravan park.

Oliver: "Just a loud dog trippin' on his ears, n'the smell of beer n'probably cigarettes. A door that don't wanna close all the way, n'neighbors with nothin' better t'do."

Deirdre: Deirdre's entire face lit up brighter than the morning sun. She didn't hear a thing after he'd said the magic word.

"Ye've a dog?"

Oliver: "Humphreys. My basset hound." His smile a subconscious response to her own.

Deirdre: "Is he lovely? How old is he?"

Oliver: "I guess a young man now. I don't think lovely describes it. My couch would disagree."

Deirdre: "All dogs are lovely. Like babies."

Oliver: "Ha. Right there...that one." She'd say her goodbyes now, if she had any sense, he assumed.

Someone across the park had neglected their grill, burning what would have been under-seasoned burgers. Not the worst smell to greet his nose, but still he made a face. Humphreys was impatient for release from his rectangular prison, howling for all he was worth at the sound of a door slam.

Deirdre: Deirdre parked the car and cut the engine, face lighting for a second time as she heard the howl from inside.

"Can I meet yer dog?"

Oliver: "Ya ain't an axe murderer, out for money? I'll disappoint ya t'no end."

Deirdre: "I'm lousy with land and cattle, yer money's quite safe from me. And I left my axe at home," she added with a grin.

Oliver: "Lousy with land? Gotta explain that one t'me." The dented aluminum door was unlocked. A black, tan, and white basset hound blew past to freedom, crashing at Deirdre's feet. Time to investigate.

"Humphreys!"

Deirdre: "The cattle and the sheep and the fields take up an awful lot o' space in Montana." A rather large chunk of the state, as a matter of fact.

But what importance was that when a floppy-eared bundle of fur was barreling toward her like a bat out of hell?

Deirdre gave a small cry of delight, crouching down to Humphreys' level. "Oh look at ye, lovey! Pretty as a new penny and handsomer than sin, ye are! Hi! Hi, puppy!" She offered her hands for him to sniff.

Oliver: The ungentlemanly hound leapt to her thigh, sniffing her jeans, hand, and what hair he could reach. Floral, and yet stunk like his father. Satisfactory. He wanted pettings, and leaned his dense weight against her. Another howl to announce his findings for a very irritated Oliver.

"Just push him off. Ya can't hurt him."

Deirdre: Pushing Humphreys off was the absolute farthest thing from Deirdre's mind. She was already giving him a hearty squeeze, scratching his ears and his back and his belly and beneath his chin in between showers of compliments.

Oliver: "So that's the way t'a woman's heart, huh? It's that easy."

Deirdre: "The way to a man's is food." She smiled up at him. "The way to a woman's is a friendly animal."

Oliver: "So what d'ya have in Montana, then?"

Deirdre: "Two collies, a deerhound, and three cats."

Oliver: "How many were gifts?"

Deirdre: "One o' the cats just sort of appeared one day. The deerhound and the other two cats were already there when I took over. I adopted the two collies to give Gary a hand with the herdin'."

Oliver: A cigarette was lit while she recounted. He didn't mind.

"Humphreys, bathroom."

The dog finally released her, disappearing behind the house to relieve himself.

"Ya...want a beer? Soda? ... Water?"

Deirdre: "My sister would keel haul me if I had a beer before I was about to drive. I'll accept some water though."

Oliver: "Want it out here?" The house was the usual mess, something he cared little about until that very moment. Just a little.

Deirdre: “Out here’s fine. It’ll give the laddie some time to get some fresh air.”

Oliver: "The door's always open anyway." Though the same could not be said for his bedroom, with an additional padlock. Since the front door gave so much trouble, and he could swear he was beginning to sleepwalk almost every week...

He retreated for a bottle of water. Humphreys returned for more attention.

Deirdre: He'd be able to hear a fresh round of enthusiastic delight as Humphreys returned and the petting resumed.

Her estimation of her admirer could've risen from the depths of hell purely on the shoulders of his dog. When he came back out he'd find her happily sitting on the ground with Humphreys in her lap, squishing his little face to hers as she scratched his ears.

Oliver: "That scares the shit outta me," he said, offering the bottle of water, having to dodge Humphreys curious nose.

Deirdre: "What does?" Deirdre asked, taking the water.

Oliver: "Puttin' an animal’s face near mine."

Deirdre: She laughed. "I think ye'll find that they're cleaner than we are. Besides, I've had far worse things on my face than a wee pup."

Oliver: "Nah. It ain't that. I was bitten by a dog when I was a kid. It stuck with me."

Deirdre: "Poor thing. I'd dare say ye've made progress though. Ye brought this wee fella into yer life."

Oliver: "Yeah, but he don't come near my face. He knows better. See here?" He stepped closer and knelt, pointing to a small scar on the outskirt of his facial hair.

Deirdre: Without thinking, she lifted a hand to his face and turned it to get a better look. "That was the dog that bit ye when ye were little?"

Oliver: His skin was as warm as it was deep, tanned by years forgetful of sunblock. Destined to be a leathery old man. His muscles tensed instinctively. Exhaled through his nose. Shoulders fell. He wasn't always on such edge. A recent phenomenon.

"A dalmatian. I don't remember it clearly, but I just don't like em near me like that."

Deirdre: "Dalmatians have the lion's share of energy, especially if they're no' trained properly. Don't blame ye for bein' cautious."

Oliver: "Ya know everything 'bout everything, huh?"

Deirdre: "Enough to retain what Animal Planet teaches me, at least."

Oliver: "Huh." He tossed the butt of his cigarette away. The pack was brought from his back pocket and offered, half squished.

Deirdre: She shook her head. "Thanks anyway. There's a program about dog breeds and another about cat breeds. Good for when ye want somethin' mindless and light."

Oliver: "I just watch the races, n'the history channel. For some reason they got shit on old cars n'woodshop."

Deirdre: "Seems like they're broadenin' what constitutes history. And animals."

Oliver: He watched her for a minute. The excuse was in her lap, but hardly noticed. He needed a fresh cigarette.

"M'keepin' ya from the flower shop."

Deirdre: "It's no bother, I'm no' expected."

Oliver: "Just wantin' some roses?"

Deirdre: “Decided to surprise my cousin. He’s the owner.”

Oliver: "Oh that - I shoulda figured. Don't hear much of that accent around."

Deirdre: "Do ye know him, then? Callum?"

Oliver: "Just a face I see around. I ain't ever gone in there."

Deirdre: “Never had need o’ roses?”

Oliver: "Ain't had a woman that wanted one."

Deirdre: “I take it ye’re no’ the type to buy flowers for yer sittin’ room?”

Oliver: Inadvertently he locked eyes and shook his head.

Deirdre: "Well, he's there if ye ever have need," she said softly, smiling at him before turning to Humphreys. "Or just bring this wee one with ye wherever ye go. Ye'll surge in popularity."

Oliver: "Ain't really somethin' I strive for." He turned his head to keep the smoke from her face. "Anyway, I gotta clean up n'get somethin' t'eat."

Deirdre: “Of course, I’ll leave ye to it. Bye, lovey.” She gave Humphreys a kiss on his forehead and got to her feet. “Thanks for the directions and for lettin’ me love on Humphreys.”

Oliver: "He appreciates it, I bet." He placed his cigarette on the awkward steps and turned. "Know your way back?"

Deirdre: “Aye, I can manage. All the lefts are rights now, only real difference.”

Oliver: "Yeah." His smile and half-hearted laugh were for her benefit. An excuse to see her smile, perhaps? Damn stupid.

Deirdre: Excuse or not, he was still given a smile as Deirdre got in the Jeep.

She rolled down the window. “Blush.”

Oliver: "Wh-What?" The wrinkles around his eyes faded with his confused look.

Deirdre: “I like blush roses.” Deirdre’s smile became a full grin. “For when ye ask me to dinner.”

Oliver: Oh. But she'd seen his decrepit excuse for a house. He'd casually insulted her so-called country. He had been himself, and yet her smile was as though he had been the utmost gentleman.

"How m'I supposed t'find ya?"

Deirdre: “I’ll find ye. I know where ye live.”

Oliver: "That don't sound horrific at all," he smiled.

Deirdre: “Told ye I left my axe at home,” she said, starting the car and giving him one last smile before she drove away.

Oliver: Humphreys bellowed his farewell and was shooed into the house. The cigarette was stamped out. The smile remained stuck to his face until he hit the shower.

#Directions chapter #deirdremacallister #olivercole

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lfthinkerwrites · 5 years

Text

High School AU: Superintendent al Ghul

Superintendent al Ghul arrives and the author shamelessly rips off The Simpsons.

On Wednesday morning, at 8 AM on the dot, Strange and Gordon had the faculty and senior staff of Gotham Academy lined up outside the school's front gates. The two principals marched in front of the faculty, much like generals inspecting their troops. In the center of the line, Edward stood next to Penelope. "So that's the plan?" he asked her. "Just be our charming selves for the day?"

"That's what Pamela, Harley, and Jonathan decided," Penelope said. "I think they talked to Dent and Selina. Well, at least Harley and Pamela did."

"Yes, I notice that Jonathan is conspicuously absent. What did you do to him at the 'conference' last night?"

"He won a bottle of red wine."

"And he overindulged. Typical Jonathan." Edward looked at Penelope and noticed that she was fidgeting with her hands. "Nervous? I didn't think anything rattled you."

"Yes-no-well," Penelope took a breath. "There's something I needed to talk to you about."

Edward rolled his eyes. "I am aware that joining in Jonathan's plan was a bad idea. I had the concussion to prove it, thank you very much."

Penelope let out an irritated sigh. "That wasn't what I wanted to talk about! God, why are you so-"

"Charming?"

"Impossible," Penelope finished. "You're impossible."

Edward looked again and realized just how flustered the normally cool as a cucumber counselor was. "Sorry," he said. "What did you want to talk about?"

Penelope flushed a bit. "Meet me in my office at lunch."

Edward cocked his head, then nodded. "Alright."

Strange's booming voice interrupted their moment. "Now that we are all assembled-" he paused, then his face darkened when he realized Jonathan's absence. "Where is Crane!?"

Jervis stepped forward, trembling a bit in the face of Strange's fury. "March Hare-excuse me, Jonathan, said that he would be a bit late. He's feeling under the weather."

Strange took a deep breath. "Fine," he said. "As long as he actually arrives. As for the rest of you," he raised his voice. "I don't think I need to remind you of the consequences should you decide to misbehave today."

A shudder ran through half of the staff. The other half, Kerr, Dent, and the Sirens included stared back at Strange defiantly. "We're well aware," Pamela said. "Now, is there a purpose to us being lined up here other than a power trip for you, Strange?"

Strange chuckled lowly. "Of course, Dr. Isley. When the Superintendent and the school board arrive, they'll see for themselves just how orderly you can be, given the correct incentive."

"Principal Strange," Kristen tapped him on the shoulder. "The Superintendent is here!"

Strange, for the first time anyone could remember looked, flustered. "He's here! My God! All of you behave or so help me-" A large black limousine pulled up to the front entrance of the school, followed closely by what Harvey and Selina recognized as Bruce's car. A large man popped out of the driver's seat and opened the rear passenger door. Out emerged a tall, well-built man with a neatly trimmed grey beard and striking green eyes. A black cape billowed around him as he made his way up to the assembled faculty. This was Superintendent al Ghul. And he looked less than impressed.

"Oh geez," Harley gulped. "He's wearin' the cape! We really are in trouble!"

Strange and Gordon stepped forward to greet al Ghul. "Good morning, Superintendent al Ghul," Strange spoke in an almost servile tone.

"Good morning indeed," al Ghul huffed. "I have important matters to attend to! This visit had better not be a waste of my and the board's time!"

"I can assure you, it isn't," Bruce said, walking up to join them. He and al Ghul shared a brief glare before he spoke again. "I have serious concerns about how the faculty behaves at this school."

Selina nudged Harvey's side. "Bruce and al Ghul don't get along?"

"al Ghul never forgave Bruce for not marrying Talia," Harvey explained. "They can't stand each other."

Selina rubbed her chin in thought. Bad blood between Bruce and al Ghul. They could exploit that somehow. Sorry, Bruce, but Selina liked being gym teacher here.

"Very well," al Ghul sighed. He began to walk down the line. "Most of you I've met before. Dent. Kyle. Isley. Quinzel," his face curdled in displeasure. "Kerr. Fries. Langstrom, Harris. Dorrance. Tetch," his eyes narrowed. "Nashton." Edward gave him a jaunty wave. al Ghul rolled his eyes, then paused when he saw Penelope. "Ms-"

"Dr. Young," she said matter of fact. "I'm a guidance counselor."

"Oh yes," al Ghul said with a nod. "You replaced Kellerman when he retired. Hopefully, your tenure won't involve getting into a fistfight with another member of faculty over a bag of corn chips." He turned to Strange and Gordon. "Speaking of which, where is Crane?"

Tetch let out a squeak and pointed towards the parking lot. All eyes followed. Penelope let out a gasp. Edward had to stop himself from laughing. Gordon wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Walking up to the entrance, or rather, swaying, wearing a hideous, ill-fitting brown suit and singing an old gospel song, was Jonathan Crane. Selina quickly turned and gave Pamela and Harley a look. "That game was last night, how can he still be this drunk?"

Pamela shrugged. "He only drank half the wine last night. He probably drank the other half this morning."

Selina pinched the bridge of her nose. "Terrific."

Jonathan stopped when he reached al Ghul, Strange, Gordon, and Bruce. He cocked his head to both sides as if considering the men before him. Then he gave al Ghul an awkward salute. "Mornin' Supernintendo al Ghul!" Jonathan then leaned over and puked, narrowly missing al Ghul's alligator leather shoes.

"Good God!" al Ghul shouted, leaping back. He took one smell and his face curdled. "You reek of liquor!"

Jonathan ignored him, instead giving a wave to the gathered faculty. "Mornin' children! How're Y'all?"

"Nice to see his southern drawl is in full force," Edward muttered. "He really is three sheets to the wind."

"Dormouse," Jervis whined. "He'll hurt himself!"

"Fine," Edward sighed. He and Jervis stepped forward and each man took one of Jonathan's arms. "Come on, Jon. Time to sober up."

"We'll have him right as rain," Jervis said, tipping his hat to al Ghul. "Right as rain!" He and Edward practically dragged Jonathan into the building. al Ghul then glared at Gordon and Strange.

"Beautiful," Harvey groused. "The school board hasn't even gotten here and we're fucked."

"Do you normally allow your faculty to show up drunk?" al Ghul demanded.

"Absolutely not," Gordon answered.

"My children have frequently told me that Crane brings whiskey to school grounds," Bruce stated.

al Ghul took a deep breath. "I see," he said. "I see. Are there any more surprises I should be aware of?"

Strange spoke again, holding his hands up in supplication. "None, Superintendent. Crane will be appropriately disciplined, but everyone else will be well-behaved." He turned his rictus grin to the remaining faculty. "Correct?"

Pamela smirked. "Of course, Principal Strange. We'll be as professional as we always are, right Harley?"

"Right a Roonie!"

Gordon felt sick to his stomach. Five more years until retirement. Five more years until retirement...The hell with that, actually. As soon as Barbara graduated next May, he was gone.

"Very well," al Ghul said. "The rest of the school board will be arriving by 9 am. At that time, we will be conducting a tour of the school grounds. We will be dropping in on classes to observe you at work. Anyone else who chooses to behave in as disgraceful a manner as Crane will be sharing his fate. Any questions?"

Kerr immediately raised his hand. "Yoo-hoo! I've got one!"

al Ghul grimaced. "What is it, Kerr?"

"How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"

al Ghul's left eyebrow began to twitch. "What relevance does that question have here!?"

"You asked for any questions, Superintendent! You didn't say they had to be relevant!" Kerr threw his head back and laughed.

It was only 8:15 AM.

#high school teacher au #gotham rogues #ra's al ghul #someone save jim gordon

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el-borealis · 6 years

Text

All The Things Left Unsaid

Read on AO3

Jopper One-shot: Summer 1985

Words: 4,326

---

Joyce had given into her anxiety and turned off the engine to the car fifteen minutes prior.

She was on her fourth cigarette, but her guilt only grew with each puff. What good were cigarettes anyway, she thought with annoyance, if they no longer worked to calm her down. She prayed that Will hadn't looked out the window.

Nothing had changed on the Wheeler's front stoop, which she had been watching like a hawk for the last thirty minutes. No monsters, dark clouds or government officials. Yet still, here she was.

The late July sun was just starting to set, yet the incoming night was still swelteringly hot. She hung her bare arm out of the window in an attempt to catch a bit of breeze but there was none to be had.

A rumbling engine tore around the corner in front of her. Joyce smirked. Hopper's Blazer with 'Police' emblazoned across the side was definitely going over the speed limit as it appeared on the Wheeler's street and came to an abrupt stop on the opposite curb.

"Ok, what are the rules, kid?" Hopper's voice carried out of his open window.

"I'm late! You took too long," El whined, already opening the door to her side of the car.

"Rules?" he replied gruffly.

El huffed, "Stay inside. Don't use my powers in front of anyone. Tell the Wheelers my name is Jane and I'm your niece," she stated in a glum monotone, "Can I go now?"

"Be back out here at 10, no dawdling," he said, making Joyce smile warmly at the overwhelmingly fatherly tone.

"Dawdling?" El asked.

"Oh, it'll….be your word for tomorrow. Don't be late," Hopper replied, rubbing her messy curls with his bear paw hand, "Have fun, Kid." Joyce watched as El smiled, said goodbye, jumped out of the truck and dashed to the front door of the Wheelers so fast you'd expect she was being chased. Hopper watched her keenly the whole way, his eyes falling on Joyce, directly across the street from him, as El slipped through the doorway.

"You too, huh?" he asked from his seat as he pulled out a cigarette.

Joyce nodded and leaned her head out of the car window, "You know me. Where else would I be? I might as well build a bed for myself in the backseat of this car at this point."

Hopper snickered as he held his hands up to light his cigarette, "This parenting shit, man. It's a racket."

"Ah, but it's worth it to feel the love when they wake you up after a double shift to ask for 20 bucks," she retorted with a dark smile.

"I haven't gotten that far yet. Now I have something to look forward to," he replied. He took a deep drag from his cigarette and let out a lazy puff of smoke as silence settled between them. "Say, Joyce," he said, his voice carrying a hint of hestitation, "Wanna get some dinner? I could kill a patty melt right about now."

Joyce, surprised by the invitation, took a guilty look at the house, "Well, I should probably leave here before the Wheelers call the police on me for stalking. So, sure."

"Well, considering it would page directly to this," he said, lifting the receiver of his CB radio, "I think you're safe. Get in over here, I'll drive?"

"Okay," Joyce replied. She fumbled for her purse, leaned over and manually rolled up each of the windows, and locked up the car. She took one final anxious peek back at the Wheelers' home, which still had not burned down or fallen into an alternate dimension, and made her way to Hopper's truck.

She felt like a child as she attempted to step up into the tall cabin of the vehicle, hoisting herself forcefully, laughing in the process.

"Having some trouble?" Hopper asked with a hint of sarcasm as he held out his hand to assist her. She took it gladly and pulled herself in, yanking the door closed behind her with a loud thud. "Where to?" he asked as he put the truck in drive.

"Oh, I don't know," she stuttered, "You're the hungry one. You pick?"

Hopper nodded in acknowledgement and pulled onto the road as Joyce worked to buckle her seatbelt. She peeked over at him as he turned a corner and couldn't help but notice that he was dressed… nicely. He was sporting a pressed light blue button-up short sleeved shirt tucked into nice jeans, and his thinning hair was combed and tamed, unlike his usual hat head of flyaways.

"Something fancy happen today? You look nice, Hop," she said with amused surprise.

"What, a guy can't try sometimes? What do you take me for, a slob?" he responded with his patent dry humor.

She didn't respond but rolled her eyes casually and sat back into the seat.

Hopper turned right down Sycamore Lane, "So, how you been, Joyce? Don't think I've seen you since the we were chain smoking outside the Wheelers this time last month."

Joyce shrugged and worked to fill him in on the comings and goings of her and the boys. Mostly the coming and goings of the boys, to be honest. The truth was Joyce's life had been quite quiet in the nine months since everything had happened in the fall. Honestly, she'd needed it that way. But at this point she couldn't help but notice that her devotion for her kids, combined with her work schedule and her need for alone time, had turned her into a bit of a recluse, and she was admittedly going a bit stir crazy. Dinner with Hopper was probably the most exciting thing she had done without her boys all year.

After a short drive he pulled into the parking lot of Sheila's Bar and Grill on the main drag of town. "This place good?" he asked, looking over to her for approval as his fingers rested on the keys to cut the engine. Joyce gulped. It was one of the two nicer restaurants in town. Which sure, wasn't saying much as this was Hawkins, but still. She couldn't help but feel underdressed in a ratty tank top and old jeans, her hair still pulled back in a messy pony tail from cleaning the house all day. Plus, her wallet was a lot less full than she was comfortable with for a real restaurant. Though Sheila's was only two blocks from Melvald's, she'd never stepped foot inside. It had always been just a little too expensive for her to rationalize taking the boys.

"Am I… dressed appropriately for this place?" she asked hesitantly, her eye falling on a rip in the knee of her jeans.

Hopper laughed and brushed off the question as he opened his door and cut the engine, "Don't worry about it. Of course you are. Besides, even if you were wearing a flour sack you'd be the prettiest girl in there."

Joyce felt herself blush in surprise at his words and hoisted herself out of the truck to the ground.

He opened the door of the restaurant for her and she snuck under his arm to enter. The restaurant was lively, but not packed, filled with families, middle aged couples and a couple groups of old men sharing war stories in the back submerged in a cloud of smoke.

"Evening, Shelia," Hopper called to the elderly woman behind the bar. Sheila, a sweet looking woman in her 60s with twinkling eyes, looked up from the bread baskets she was filling with a wave. Her eyes widened as she spied Joyce.

"Well, little Jimmy Hopper," she said with a kind smile as she sidled her way out from behind the bar and beckoned them to follow her to a booth by the windows. "You clean up well, Jimmy. Can't remember the last time I saw you bring a date in," she whispered quietly to Jim, though not quietly enough for Joyce to miss it, as she nudged him with her elbow like a nosy Aunt.

Joyce felt her cheeks redden in a silly way that belied her age, feeling slightly awkward by the misconception. Jim audibly groaned, "Alright, Sheila. Alright."

Sheila smiled at Joyce brightly as she laid menus on the table and patted the booth seat, "Here you go, dear. Y'all have a nice dinner," she said with a wink. Hopper stepped back to allow Joyce her choice of seats and dropped himself into the seat facing away from the door.

"This place is nice," she said as she surveyed the deep red wooden walls and ceiling.

"You've never been here before?" he asked, picking up his own menu. She shook her head. "Well then, you're in for a treat," he continued, "Sheila was my mom's best friend and she makes the best rolls you've ever tasted." He lifted the bread basket in offering.

They fell into companionable silence as they searched for their choices on the menu, Joyce munching on what was admittedly great bread all the while. After a few minutes a slight teenage girl with overwhelming Farrah Fawcett hair, who Joyce recognized from Jonathan's grade, approached their table for their order.

"I'll have the patty melt and fries," Hopper said as he handed her his menu, "and a Schlitz. Want a beer, Joyce?" he asked.

She hesitated, worried about driving later, but once again remembered she was with the Chief of Police, "Why not," she replied with a playful shrug, "and I'll have the…" she paused, realizing she had never made a decision, "Same. I'll have the same."

"Two Schlitz and two patty melts it is then," the girl said with a placating smile as she scribbled on her pad, "Be right back."

Joyce fumbled with her napkin for a moment and focused on lying it on her lap. A twinge of awkwardness pouring over her at her unexpected dinner. She looked up to find Hopper watching her closely.

"So," she said quickly, trying to change the subject from her own insecurity, "how's it going with…" she looked around and leaned in to whisper, "Jane."

Hopper nodded and took a bite out of his bread, "Well, she hasn't blown out any more windows, so I'd say it's going well. I sneak her out of the house right about the time I can tell she can't take it anymore," he shrugged, "Only a few more weeks now and then she starts school. That's gonna be weird," he said with a nervous sigh as their beers arrived, "Thanks."

"Aww, old Dad Hopper," she teased as she patted his hand, "It'll be fine. She's a good kid, Hop. And she's got good friends who will look out for her."

"Yeah, and its ample alone time with one of those 'friends' that I'm worried about," he said with an eye roll, "Do you know that Wheeler kid showed up at her window last Saturday and tried to get her to sneak out into the woods with him? I practically had to chase him off and Jane wouldn't talk to me all day. That boy is getting too brave, I tell ya."

Joyce laughed gleefully, "If I recall correctly," she said, wagging her finger accusingly in his direction, "that sounds a lot like someone I knew who tried the exact same thing to me when we were seniors. I think my Dad had to use a broom to scoot you off of the roof, if I remember correctly."

A guilty look passed over Hopper's face as he fought back a smile. "Yeah, seniors in high school," he said wryly, "Not the same."

"Touche," She shrugged in relent as she took a swig of her beer, "She could do worse, by the way. I've known that boy since he was five. He might mouth off sometimes and yes, he might be a little reckless, but he's the most loyal and dedicated friend Will could have ever hoped for. He's a good kid, Hop."

Hopper sighed, "Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I have to enjoy this."

"Well, just feel lucky that you didn't walk on your kid naked with his girlfriend last week," Joyce said, shuddering at the entirely horrifying memory that she attempted to drown with another swig of beer.

Hopper winced, "Ooooh, I do not envy you," he said with a bleak laugh.

"Well," she said, raising her glass, "At least we're in it together now. Parenting teenagers is a trip."

Hopper shrugged and shot her his classic beleaguered smile, "Cheers to that," he said as he clinked her glass.

The evening continued on effortlessly, any awkwardness she might have felt melting away at their easy conversation and the presence of beer, much as it had always been since their first chapter as teenagers. She listened with rapt attention as he told her about renovations he was making to the old cabin and as he bragged with the sweet pride of a father about the success Jane was having with her tutoring.

"Want another?" he asked as the waitress came around with their meals.

Joyce looked down to find her glass surprisingly empty, "Oh, I shouldn't," she declined bemusedly, her head swimming a bit from the single drink. It was amazing how much of a lightweight she'd become in her forties.

"Neither should I," he replied, playing with the glass in his hands before looking up with a trademark glint in his eye, "Split one more?"

Joyce chuckled and nodded after a pause, "Sure."

"Atta girl, Joycie" he said jovially before turning to the waitress, "Just one more, thanks."

"You're a bad influence," she accused as she reached for the ketchup.

Hopper barked with a loud cracking laugh, infecting her with its suddenness as she broke out in her own giggle, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Well, I'm not sure I meant it as one…" she retorted, "but all the same."

He shot her a coy look in response, making her insides jump nervously, surprising every nerve in her body. She blushed as she quickly forced her attention on her meal, as her mind began to run in a very unexpected direction.

Nice restaurant. Nice outfit. Combed hair. Extra round of beers. That look he just gave her.

No.

No way.

Maybe?

Not possible.

"So, how's work been?" Joyce asked lamely, seeking any benign topic that would help her get her bearings back as the beer arrived at the table. She swiped it immediately and took a healthy swig.

Hopper groaned and launched into a dull story about his deputies.

She didn't hear a word of it. Instead, her mind launched itself noisily into a frenetic beer fueled tizzy.

It had been years since she had seen that look on Jim Hopper's face, but it wasn't something she could really forget. In fact, it was emblazoned on her memory like a trigger.

It was the same look he would shoot her across the biology classroom every Friday of senior year. A clandestine invitation to skip fifth period for a rendezvous of cigarettes and a heated make out session underneath the bleachers.

The same look he wore when he talked her into going to prom with him despite her father's wishes, egging her on to disobey how grounded she was... because they'd been caught having a rendezvous of cigarettes and making out under the bleachers.

The same look was on his face his final night before shipping out to Vietnam, as he appeared at her window and beckoned for entry. She had let him in willingly and he had stayed all night, wrapped up silently with her body, neither of them knowing if they would ever see each other again.

And here he was, all these years later. After so much shit and so many winding roads. Sitting across from her chatting about his daughter, his house, his town, all back at the scene of their old crimes. Giving her that look again.

…and she hadn't worried about the boys in at least forty-five minutes. It might have been a record.

His shirt looked incredibly good on his biceps.

"What?" Jim asked in surprise.

"Huh?" she sputtered, shaking her head, unsure of where they were in the conversation.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked in amusement.

"Oh…" she said, a twinge of embarrassment playing across her face, "No reason. Sorry,"

"Ooookay," he said, eyeing her suspiciously,

She drained the rest of the beer.

"You know you drank that whole thing," he pointed out amusedly as he pushed his plate to the side and sat back in the booth.

"Did I?" she blanched in surprise, "I'm sorry!"

"Nah, it's fine," he said as he waved his hand to dismiss her worry, "Drunk Joyce is cute. Plus, it's probably good for the town to see the Sheriff driving sober."

"Yes!" she said emphatically, "That's why I did it. I drank this beer as a service to our community!"

Hopper's laugh boomed through the restaurant, and she smiled shyly in return, entirely overwhelmed by the situation. The truth was, he'd always had that affect on her. She had always lived just a little more dangerously in his presence. It was an odd trait, she regarded through her foggy mind as she watched him laugh, because he also made her feel incredibly safe.

The check appeared at the table as his laughter subsided. Joyce reached for her purse, but before she could rummage out any cash, the girl was already gone and Hopper was pocketing his wallet.

"My treat," he said casually as he rose up from the booth, "ready to go?"

"Hop, you didn't need to do that," she contested as she scrambled to her feet while digging in her purse for cash, "Here, let me pay you back."

"It's fine, Joyce," he said as his hand grasped her's firmly, stopping her from continuing her search in her purse. She jumped in surprise. He pulled away quickly and smiled reassuringly, "Just think of it as... prepayment for all of the Eggos you'll probably end up buying to feed my daughter once she's let loose on this town and ends up at your place after school. The girl is a monster for breakfast food."

Joyce laughed loudly as she followed him out of the restaurant, the quest for cash in her purse abandoned.

Hopper and Joyce walked to the truck in the parking lot. The night air had cooled down considerably, more than she'd expected. It was refreshing and worked to clear her mind. Hopper followed Joyce around to the passenger side of the truck. He unlocked the door and gave her a hand to hoist her up before shutting the door and crossing back to his side.

She took the five seconds of alone time to let out a huge exasperated exhale. What was happening? Her body felt hot and icy at the same time, betraying her into thinking she was seventeen again. It was… nice? Weird. Unexpected.

Hopper climbed into the truck, revved the engine, and pulled out without a word.

They drove in silence back to the Wheelers, Joyce working to calm herself, her brain and body swimming in a fuzzy intoxication.

Hopper's truck pulled up behind Joyce's car and he cut the engine. "Ahh… back in time to nervously watch the door while they overstay their curfew," he said wryly, pulling out a cigarette.

"Let 'em," Joyce said with a casual shrug, "they're only young for a few more years."

"Well, Joyce Byers," Hopper said with surprise, "If I didn't know better I'd say that beer loosened you up a bit."

Joyce just smiled, scooted closer to him in the big bank seat, and stole his cigarette, "Maybe I am."

The moments ticked by quietly as they shared a cigarette, watching the clock move closer to 10pm. Her heartbeat picked up paces consistently as their fingers mingled back and forth over the cigarette, and more so as Hopper's arm slid over the bank seat behind her, picking the cigarette from her far hand playfully when she hadn't expected it. His arm, however, did not leave the space once it had settled, and his fingers were now dangerously close to her hair. She could feel every minute movement.

The usual companionable silence that existed between them did not exist in this moment. Instead, the air felt thick, heavy and electric, as though unsaid words were floating through the air. Words that were suddenly knocking at the back of Joyce's teeth, fighting their way out of her lips and slipping through the cracks before she could stop them.

"Jim?" Joyce said suddenly, turning to him. His face was lit dimly by the street light. He looked softer than usual. Timid even. After a delayed moment he averted his eyes to the street.

"Yeah, Joyce?" he replied casually.

"Why are you dressed so nicely tonight?" she asked directly.

Hopper shrugged dismissively with a light laugh, but she could swear she saw the hint of a blush on his cheeks. He didn't respond, but merely shrugged as he took a deep puff on their cigarette.

"Well," she said after a moment, realizing she was not going to get her answer, "You look very nice."

The trace of a shy smile ghosted across his lips as he looked at her from the corner of his eye, shrugging in his trademark fashion, "Well, you always look nice. I felt like I had to try."

Joyce smiled as her chest warmed, "What does that mean?", she asked as she shuffled in her seat, turning to him fully and finding herself closer to him in the process. He did not look at her. She swallowed hard and her voice dropped, liquid courage pushing to the point, "Did you plan this?"

Hopper let out a nervous laugh, refusing to look in her direction, "Well, I didn't think I was going to get interrogated for it but-"

"Jim," she stated quietly. He hesitated, but slowly turned to look at her after a pause. His eyes were vulnerable and nervous. "Thank you for the date," she said quietly as she allowed her body to lean back into his arm. She felt his fingers brush her hair.

"Anytime," he replied quietly.

Maybe it was the second beer or maybe it was something more, but in that moment she had no hesitation. Joyce leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips, her right hand brushing against the tuft of his beard. It was chaste, simple and sweet. Nothing like the ravenous teenagers they had once been. Something stirred deep within her.

Hopper's eyes were wide with surprise, and a sadness laced through them that she couldn't place. He hesitated for a moment, looking directly at her as if he had just seen her for the first time. "Joyce…" he whispered slowly in his gruff tone, trepidation written across his brow, "did you mean to do that?"

Joyce's features crinkled in surprise as she laughed, "…Do you think I just fell on your face or somethi-" Her sentence ended in a breathless moan against his lips. In a flash, his eyes shifted from surprise to nervousness to unbridled longing. Before she could decipher his movement, his arms had wrapped fully around her slight frame, pulling her to him as though she weighed nothing at all. His lips were rough, unhewn. Her body flooded with a burning as she pressed deeper against his body, deeper against his lips, his large hand lacing through her fine hair as he moaned against her lips. He was still, as he'd always been, the absolute best kisser. A dam broke within her. Her hands reached around his neck as she pulled herself closer, her kiss containing things she could not yet express with words. Things that had bubbled, unindulged, beneath the surface for months, years, and while it was nerve wracking to admit, probably decades.

He breathed deeply against her lips and brought both of his hands up to cup her face softly. "Joyce…I…" he rasped as he laid his forehead against hers, his eyes closed lightly and his breath ragged, "I've wanted to do that for so long."

A long lost insatiable smile played upon Joyce's lips, her heartbeat racing, "Then do it again, Jim."

El and Will trudged up the stairs from the basement together, audibly grumbling because they had to leave earlier than everyone else.

"I can't believe it's already ten," Will sighed.

"I know," El griped as they reached the door.

Will swung the door open and held it for El to leave first. She stepped out and crossed a few feet over the lawn before stopping wide eyed in her tracks.

"El? What's wrong?" Will asked nervously, looking at her.

El pointed silently at the truck. Will gasped, grabbed El's arm, and pulled her back inside, easing the door shut silently.

"Was that what I thought it was?!" he asked, eyes s wide they were about to fall out of his head.

El nodded slowly, her mouth still agape in shock. Will pulled El down against the door out of eye shot. She peeked up ever so slightly, parted the curtains, and peered out quickly. She swiped the curtain shut with a gasp and slid back down the door.

Will breathed heavily as she grasped onto El's arm, "My mom… and your dad…"

"Yeah!" El exclaimed in a whisper, "He combed his hair tonight. For a long time. It was weird."

They sat in silence against the door staring at each other in shock. El climbed back up and peered out of the window again. "Still happening."

"Do you think that means they'll notice if we're late?" Will said suddenly, his tone changing from shock to mischief. El looked back at him, shook her head excitedly. The two scrambled to their feet and bee-lined for the basement stairs, laughing confusedly all the while.

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