#she said as if she ain’t cut from the same dang tree

[katballesteros]

Hey kids, I heard y’all like angst

is what I gathered from the reactions of my previous post

here you go

#MASOCHIST MUCH? #she said as if she ain’t cut from the same dang tree #a whole banging background with colors and objects?? in my art?? it’s more likely than you think #inspired by the environments from the manga #tried to keep blood to a minimum there are children watching #inukag #inuyasha fanart #kagome #inuyasha #angst #kat draws

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pull

Sequel to Push

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The sheriff keeps coming around.

Note: Okay, so probably a three-parter. I didn’t intend for this to go beyond a one shot but same old story, eh.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh what the hell she says I just can't win for losing And she lays back down”

-Her Diamonds, Rob Thomas

🚔

You stared out the window. The trees along the edge of the yard were pale and barren, a sheet of frost laid over the ground. There was a wailing in your head. The tears blurred your vision and your fingernails curled into the lip of the sink.

"Goddamn it, girl," you flinched at your father's voice. "The kettle's fucking screaming."

You pushed yourself away from the sink and shook away the haze. You turned the knob and moved the kettle to the front burner. You took off the lid of the percolator and poured the piping water inside. You left the coffee to brew and turned your back to the stove.

"Are you alright?" Will asked as he cut up his eggs with his fork.

"She's fine. She just ain't wanna do her work." Your father growled through a mouthful. "Way she's been draggin' her ass lately like the rest of us ain't work a lot harder than rinsing a pan or sweeping a dang floor."

"I've been doing all that, daddy." You cringed after you spoke. Not just because you knew you're father wouldn't like it but because that word, 'daddy', tickled that memory in the back of your head.

"Try to do it without makin' a bigger mess," he snarled. "Your ma raised you better. She was still here, she'd be shakin' her head."

Not just at me, you thought but kept it to yourself. You turned and filled the four cups lined up with coffee. You set each before the men at the table. Your brothers thanked you, your father grumbled for the sugar. You set the dish in the centre of the table and backed away. 

You would eat after them. A bowl of porridge with cinnamon as your daddy went to his shed and the boys drove into town. Your only peace for the day although you hadn't had any since that night.

Six days. You counted each in your head. Laying in your bed, sleepless. Even after almost a week, you still felt the Sheriff's intrusion. You were still sore; bruises on your ass and thighs, a hole deep in your being. You closed your eyes and you were bent over the chair or the table. Your skin crawled and your stomach flipped. You couldn't shake the terrible shadow from your mind.

They left without ado, the boys in an argument over Mr. Calver's new car and what year it was. You cleared the table and sat to make yourself eat. It was hard but after a two day fast, you'd almost passed out against the burning stove. So you ate without tasting and washed the dishes.

You found yourself gazing out the window again. Snow began to fall and you shivered. You looked down, your hands mindlessly in the dishwater that had long turned cold. You pulled the plug and dried your pruned hands. 

The gravel crunched outside as the wind battered flakes against the window panes.

Your heart dropped. It used to be weeks between visits, sometimes a whole month. As of late, Sheriff Bodecker had taken to visiting more often. You were never very vain but you suspected it might be on your account. How could it not be?

You went to the door and peeked out the tall window beside it. It was him. The lights atop the cruiser and the emblem painted across the door. It was early but every visit was unexpected.

He looked at the house and you let go of the curtain. You pressed yourself to the door and listened. His footsteps trailed away and he knocked on the shed door. Your father answered in his usual gruff demeanor.

You felt brittle as you pushed away from the door. You walked to the stairs and looked up. The carpet was worn away by years of steps taken up and down. You leaned against the railing as you climbed. Don’t think about the man below and perhaps he wouldn’t think of you.

You took a cloth from the linen closet at the end of the hall and began to wipe down the plates that decorated the wall. Each was painted with a landmark; Niagara Falls, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Pyramids in Giza. You focused on cleaning each, even as your hands shook and your legs threatened to crumple.

His hands on you, his sickly sweet breath, his body crushed against you. You gripped the plate with the image of the Coliseum. You stared at the hundreds of windows, the falling facade. Your eye overflowed and the door below slammed.

You sniffed and set the plate back in the hooks. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater and wiped the top of the side table. Thick soles climbed the stairs and a figure stopped in your peripheral. You turned as Lee peered down at you, fingering the heel of his gun as he neared.

“Your pa said I could use the facility,” he said.

“Behind me,” you said quietly as you picked up the vase and wiped the inside. 

“What’re you doin’? Tryna hide from me up here?” He tapped two fingers on the table.

You shook your head and put the pot down. You looked at the old sepia picture of your parents beside it.

“You know, I was wanting to come back sooner but… duty calls.” He lowered his voice as he leaned close, “There’s not much to do sittin’ around in the cruiser. I end up thinking of you. Wishin’ it was your hand down my pants instead of mine.”

“Sheriff,” you breathed. “Please, don’t--”

“You mad ‘cause I been gone, I get it. Not right of a man to be with a woman than just leave her waitin’,” he touched your cheek as you looked away. “You smell nice.”

“You better do your business and get goin’, sheriff,” you uttered. “I got laundry to do.”

“No point in actin’ all coy anymore,” his hand stretched over your jaw and he forced you to look at him. “And I can’t hold out much longer. You remember the river, where I take my break, you meet me there at midnight, after your pa’s asleep.”

“It’s snowing,” you argued.

“I don’t care if it’s a goddamn blizzard. You come find me or I find you,” he snarled and his hand slipped down to the top of your dress. He undid the top two buttons and squeezed your tits together as he watched them with a lewd leer. “I gotta pay more attention to these… but that ass is so nice.”

“My daddy--”

“Half drunk, as usual,” he huffed, “I could fuck you on his bed right now and he’d be none the wiser.” He purred and admired your tits as he bounced them. “Midnight… I’ll keep the car warm for you.”

He winked and dropped his hands, his palm brushing over the front of his pants and causing him to groan. He turned away and unbuckled his pants as he entered the bathroom. He kicked the door closed and you whimpered.

If your daddy found out what had happened, even if it was the Sheriff, he’d string you up by your knickers.

🚔

You found the flashlight under the stairs and waited until the house was filled with snores. The old standing clock ticked as you counted down the hours sat on the stairs across from the front door. The snow wasn’t thick but enough to make it slippery. With the night, the temperature dropped and seeped in around the windows. It would take you a while to get through the woods.

You opened the front door carefully. You wore the old hand-me-down coat and your heavy boots. You hated the forest after dark. When you were kids, your older brothers like to tell tales of grisly murders and other atrocious acts there. You’d since learn much of those were fantasy but it didn’t make them any less sinister.

You flipped the flashlight on as you neared the trees. You hit it twice to get the bulb alight. You pointed it ahead of you and followed the glow like a beacon. If your daddy knew what you were about, if your mama was alive to know it… you could hardly bear it yourself.

Your teeth chattered as the bitter wind swept under your skirt and you crossed your free arm over your middle. You hunched against the cold as flakes began to fall once more. You heard the river ahead of you and came out onto the dirty shore.

Bodecker’s cruiser sat waiting, his flashlight on the dash as it lit up the interior. You saw him in the yellow haze as you neared. He got out as he spotted you and rounded the car. His breath fogged before him and he rubbed his hands together.

“Got the heat on, not that you’ll be cold for long,” he said, “Come on,” he opened the back door and reached for the flashlight. You handed it to him as he waved you into the car. “On your back.”

He was out of pretense, out of patience. You sat and shimmied back on the seat. He got in behind you and pulled the door closed as he huddled on his knees on the seat. He was bent awkwardly as he grabbed at your skirt.

“Common, let’s get these off,” he reached up and grabbed the waist of your wool tights and jolted them down your thighs. “It’s so fucking cold. I don’t know we can keep to the car through the winter.” He left your tights at your knees and tore down your underwear. He pushed your legs up so they hung around him, the wool stretched across his stomach. “There’s a hotel in town. We can drive in…”

His voice trailed off as he fumbled with his pants. He grunted and planted a hand beside your head as he bent over you. He slapped the tip of his cock against your cunt as you turned your face away from him. You pressed your lips together. Better to have it done with.

“What’s the matter, girl?” He grabbed your chin and turned your head. “Open your eyes…” he rubbed his nose against yours and pushed against your entrance. “Look at your daddy, girl.”

“Please--” You opened your eyes and begged. “Please, don’t make--”

He impaled you and let out a long groan. You yelped and as you curled beneath him and he sank to his limit. It hurt just as much as before. He hit the same bruises as he began to thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said with each tilt of his hips, “You don’t know how I’ve been thinking about you.”

He pushed himself up as he continued to move against you. He unzipped your coat and unbuttoned your blouse with some difficulty. He ripped your jacket, shirt, and brassiere strap down your shoulder. He grabbed your tit as it fell loose and toyed with your nipple. He flicked with his thumb and circled the hard nub.

“You need to dress yourself up, girl,” He purred between thick breaths. “Show off what you got. Just for me, no one else.”

“I can’t-- I can’t--” You squealed as he sped up and sent a pang up your spine. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“I ain’t care about your pa,” he murmured, “I’ll buy you something nice, hmmm? Then I can fuck you in that.”

You blinked away the tears as they threatened. This man could use your body but he wouldn’t see you cry. You hadn’t truly done that since your mama’s funeral. 

The car rocked with him. He crushed you into the seat as his feet hit the door. He was too tall to be crammed in the back of the cruiser atop you but it barely seemed to matter. The leather of his coat squeaked as he hammered into you and the scent of his sweat permeated the air. 

He dropped down on you, smothering you as his hips kept going. He nuzzled your ear and gave a throaty grunt. He came and slapped the seat beside your head. He slowed and went limp over you, out of breath as he shuddered.

“Mmm, can I use my cuffs on you next time, girl?” He lifted his head and tickled your temple. “Hmm? You can be my perp?”

You stared at him, mortified. You nodded, unable to speak.

“Tomorrow,” he rasped, “I won’t wait another week.”

🚔

Your nights belonged to the Sheriff and the days had never truly been your own. Two weeks of his sick game, trekking through the dark, cold woods to his cruiser by the frozen river. Face down on his seat, cuffs behind your back, him behind you, on top of you.

That day, he’d been by to see your father. He found you in the kitchen before he went. “Forget the underwear tonight, girl.” That was all he said before he left you to dread him again.

The same path, the same bobbing light before you, the knot deep in your gut. You were as sick with yourself as you were with him. You let him use you. Maybe you didn’t have a choice but you didn’t fight. You just laid there and waited for him to finish.

As you walked through the woods, you still jumped at every snapped twig and every rustle. It all seemed louder that night. The wind was wild and the branches shook above, no leaves left to block the moonlight.

He took your jacket off that night. You shivered and he cuffed your hands behind your back. He bent you over the hood and hiked up your skirt. Your thigh highs began to sag as he entered you. Your cheek nearly stuck to the cold metal of the car as he pushed your head down.

“Fuck yeah, girl, you like when daddy fucks you?” He snarled as he slapped your ass. The open zipper of his jacket brushed your skin and his pants scratched the top of your thighs. “Hmm, you like being a whore?” He tugged on the cuffs as he fucked you harder. “That’s it.”

He snorted and slowed. You sensed a disturbance and he reached to his loose belt.

“Who’s there?” He called out as he slipped out of you.

“I fucking knew you was sneakin’ around,” Your father’s voice cut through the air. “Might be with a policeman but it don’t make it any better, you tramp.”

You tried to stand and Bodecker pushed you back down. “She’s a grown woman and times are changin’, Rhett. Why don’t you go back home? You know I’ll get her there safe.”

“Home? Uh uh, she can stay out in the cold. I won’t have no whore under my roof.”

“Now, let’s not be rash, Rhett, I’ll take care of her. You won’t have to. I was just--”

“Everyone knows about you, Lee,” your father barked, “This where you take your other whores?”

“I’m a changed man,” Bodecker insisted and you heard a subtle snap. You watched as their shadows got closer in the dark lit up only by the flashlight thrown onto the ground. “She’s--”

“You can keep her. Maybe you can find a man who will buy or sell her when you’re done.”

“Don’t be sayin’ that--”

“You fat fuck, don’t you--”

You were deafened by the sudden bang and your ears rang as your father’s body slumped to the floor. You stood with some trouble and stumbled back. You heard your father gasping as he twitched in the dirt. Bodecker turned and caught you before you could stepped away from the hood.

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” He growled as he bent you over the hood again.

“Daddy!” You cried out. “What did you do? Daddy--”

“I told you,” he pressed the gun to your head and poked around until he slid back inside you, “He ain’t your daddy no more.”

Your boots kicked in the dirt as he fucked you. The cold metal of the gun had you frozen, your eyes on your father’s body as the life slowly drained from him. You closed your eyes as his last, moist breaths escaped him. You bit down; you couldn’t cry, not even then.

You didn’t even notice as Bodecker finished and backed away. As his cum leaked from you and your legs folded. You fell onto the cold ground and he hauled you up into the back seat. He slammed the door and got in the front.

“Daddy…” You muttered.

“Pity. You never know what scoundrels are hanging out in the woods after dark,” Bodecker said as he started the car. “That’s some bad news to wake up to, isn’t is, girl?”

“Wh-why-why?” You stammered.

“Shhhh, you gotta be quiet, girl,” he coaxed, “‘Specially when drop you off. Better not wake any of your brothers, right?” He was quiet for a moment and cleared his throat loudly, “Right?”

“Right,” you whispered as your sticky thighs rubbed together, “Right, right, right…”

🚔

“Now, girl, you go inside and put your clothes in a bag and wash yourself up.” Those were Bodecker’s instructions as he dropped you off. 

You didn’t remember doing it but you awoke with damp sheets and a bag by your bed. You rolled over, stiff from the night spent tense and rolling back and forth. It hadn’t really been sleep. More shock.

You laid there. Numb. You heard the gurgling again. Saw the lifeless black form of your father’s body in the dirt. It wasn’t real. You’d go downstairs and he’d be there. Once you put on the coffee he’d get up and demand a cup. It couldn’t be real.

You sat up and kicked the bag under your bed. You wore the grey dress with the pleats, a black sweater over it, with black stockings, and your mary janes. You descended the stairs one at a time and put the kettle on the stove. You stared out the window. It had snowed more in the last hours of the night.

You got out the tray of eggs and the sausages. You searched for the large skillet and Will walked in with a yawn. He was always the first up. You stared at him as he sat at the table. You tried to say something, maybe you said ‘good morning’, and then you went back to your work.

Arn and Cal came shortly after. None of the three mentioned your father’s absence. It wasn’t that unusual. Sometimes he drank too much, sometimes he had been up for hours or hadn’t slept at all. You served them and added the bacon grease to the jar of lard.

Where was he? He couldn’t be there. In the dirt. In his own blood. Dead. No, he was going to come right through that door.

You heard the tires before the knock. Your heart raced as reality closed in around you. Arn got up to answer it and came back with the sheriff. He didn’t even acknowledge you as he nodded at the men around the table.

“Pa’s not awake yet,” Will said and chewed the edge of a strip of bacon.

“Well, I think…” Bodecker hooked his thumb in his belt, his stomach sticking out awkwardly, “I think we need to talk about your pa. Can I sit?”

“Course, sir,” Cal said, “Should be enough fixins if you want some.”

“No, no thank you,” Bodecker sat heavily and sighed. He was an effective actor. “Look, your pa… well, we don’t know exactly what happened but… we all agree he must’ve been drunk.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Arn snipped, “What do you mean? Pa is here--”

“You remember when he went to bed last night?” Bodecker asked.

“Well…” Cal frowned and looked at his brother. “Well, I think I laid down before him.”

“Me too,” Arn said.

“I’m always the first asleep,” Will added. “Same with my sister.”

You gulped as the sheriff finally looked at you. “Well, you know we had them flyers around town for the longest time about the woods. About the criminals we got hangin’ around these days and there’s really no easy way for me to say it but it looks like your pa ran into one of them last night.”

“All the way out in the woods? But why?” Cal asked.

Arn’s nostrils flared as he shook his head. “Because he got no sense. You remember last summer. We found him face down in a bog out there. Took the three of us to get him out.”

“Yeah, but so late…”

“You know how he’s been since ma.” Will intoned.

You were dizzy. You grabbed onto the counter as your legs turned to liquid and you cried out. “No!” You fell to your knees and touched your forehead. You knew it was real, you’d seen it, but you had wanted so badly for it to have been a dream. A nightmare.

Will was the first at your side. Bodecker helped him lifted you back to your feet and get you to a chair. Arn and Cal watched in concern.

“You sure it was our pa?” Arn asked.

“I’ll save you the sight. I can assure you it’s him.” Bodecker said as he rubbed your shoulder and Will stood over you. “She should be fine. Get her some water. It’s the shock. You know the ladyfolk and their temperaments. They aren’t so equipped for things like this.”

“Any idea who? Why?” Arn prodded.

“Don’t think your pa had the sense to take his wallet but his belt buckle was gone and we can’t be sure what else they took,” Bodecker took your hand and caressed the back of it, “Honey, you drink tea? You want your brothers’ get you some?”

“I-- I--- You--You--” You stuttered.

“Come on, boys, let’s get her laying down,” Bodecker said as he stood. “She’s just havin’ a moment.”

Will and Cal lifted you out of the chair and carried you to the sofa in the front room. You were stiff as a board as they angled you onto the cushion and you could only babble at the ceiling.

“Go get that tea going, Will,” Bodecker ordered, “Cal, you go get her something to keep her warm.” Arn stood in the doorway and watched. “And Arn, get some wood for the fire. We should get it going.”

The boys dispersed as you laid across the couch. Bodecker touched your shoulder and you latched onto his wrist.

“You--” You hissed.

“Shhh, I only did what I had to. What you made me do,” he whispered, “‘cause you weren’t careful.”

You turned your head back and forth and squirmed. “No, no, no! You raped me! You killed my daddy!’

He covered your mouth and leaned over you. “Shut up! Shut up!” He sneered and his other hand went to your throat. “Now you got your clothes in a bag.” You nodded with wide eyes. “Good. I’m gonna take your brothers into town and you’re gonna burn them. Got it?” You nodded again. “And you’re gonna shut up.”

He released you roughly and stood as Cal came in with a blanket and tossed it over you. Bodecker helped straighten it and looked around.

“Think y’all should come back with me. We can get you sorted at the station then see about the caretaker.”

“All that already?” Arn asked.

“I ain’t rushing. Bodies don’t keep long, though. Investigations neither. We’ll get some statements from you boys and you’ll be free to choose what you wanna do from there.”

🚔

Will stayed home from school to keep watch over you. You didn’t know what was wrong with you. When your ma died, you didn’t feel this empty. You had cried for her, mourned for her. But now all you could do was sit there. Was it your fault? Even if Bodecker had pulled the trigger, you had brought your father there. You had been so concerned with keeping the sheriff from telling your secret, you had failed to hide it yourself.

Bodecker stopped by almost daily. He claimed it was to ask more questions or check on the family but you didn’t miss the way he looked at you. The way he made the excuse to be in the same room when he talked to your brothers. The way he shifted on his feet and peered around the house in silent triumph.

On the fifth day, you made Will go to school. He shouldn’t miss class because of you. He was the only one out of the boys who had ever read a book full through. So you saw them off, a proper breakfast for them for the first time since that horrifying morning, and you went about the list of undone chores.

You looked out the window at the shed. Your daddy never said much to you but you were used to his presence; the noise of his activity just outside. You couldn’t blame him for his faults, he’d fought a war, he’d worked hard, and he’d lost a wife. And now he was dead because of you.

You were scrubbing the floor when you heard the engine and the rubber treads on snow. You didn’t stop as you tried to scour away the salt stains and layer of dirt from the hallway. Boots clambered up the stairs and you kept your head down. 

No knock, no warning as Bodecker opened the door. You looked up at him as he kicked the snow off his feet.

“You’re up and about today,” he said in a pandering tone.

You said nothing and focused on your work. He took off his jacket and hung it on the rack in the corner. He wiped his boots on the mat and watched you. He hummed as he tapped his toe.

“I like that. You on all fours.” He taunted.

You sat back on your heels and dropped the rag in the bucket. “I got cleaning to do, Sheriff, and if you don’t recall, my daddy’s gone… for good.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said as you lifted the pail and he followed you to the kitchen. “But do you? Do you really know it?”

You dumped the water down the sink and plunked the empty bucket on the floor. “I know it and I know who done it. I saw you. How could you?”

“Your brother Arn’s gonna get the house in the will. He’ll be lookin’ for a wife soon. Means Cal’s gonna have to get his own place, take Will with him or get a wife of his own. And you? Where does that leave you?”

“There’s jobs for me out there, I can clean, I can cook,  I’m sure I could waitress,” you argued as you crossed to him. You grabbed his arms and tried to shove him. “Go. You don’t need to worry about me. I’d prefer it if you left me alone all together. You got what you wanted, Sheriff.”

“Not all of it,” he smirked. “You gonna drive yourself mad with all this.”

“What do you care?” You slapped his chest with both hands. “You don’t care about no one but you. You killed him!” You hit him again, “You killed him!”

He grabbed your upper arms and shook you. “You shut up about that now. You say anything again and you’ll be lyin’ beside him. If that ain’t enough, I’ll put your brothers there first.”

You reeled as if he’d slapped you. Your lip quivered and you sucked it in to keep from sobbing. “What do you want from me? I never wanted any of this.”

“You can’t know what you want, girl,” he wrenched you back and turned as he dragged you through to the living room. “So let me show you what you want. What your new daddy can do for you.”

“Get off of me!” You wrestled with him as he angled you around the couch. He shoved you and you fell back onto the cushions. “Leave me alone!”

He forced you back as you tried to stand and grabbed your chin. He squeezed as he looked down at you.

“Take them bloomers off now,” he ordered. “And hush your mouth.” You gaped up at him. He turned his hand and rested it against your cheek. “There’s one sure way to knock some sense into a woman,” he slapped you lightly, “You can decide if this lesson is an easy one or not.”

You sat back as you shrugged away his hand. You winced and lifted your pelvis and slipped off your underwear. As you did, your stockings bunched at your knees. Lee watched you with thick breath and purred. He knelt down and pushed your legs apart.

“Put your arms up. Just across the couch. Relax.” He directed as he got closer. “I wanna show you somethin’ makes the girls happy.”

“What are you--”

“You stop asking questions before I make it so you can’t. Now,” he squeezed your knees and his hands slipped up your thighs as he urged them further apart, “Just don’t think. Just sit there.”

He lifted your skirt over your head, one hand still on your legs. His warm breath tickled your pelvis and you squirmed. He pinched you and you exclaimed. You stilled and he slid his tongue down your cunt and poked between your folds. You choked on air as he dragged the tip of his tongue around your bud and your legs tense as your feet tried to arch in your flats.

He delved more firmly into your pussy and you grabbed onto the sofa. Your heart sped up and you pushed your pelvis out without thinking. You looked down at his head draped in your skirt as his mouth made sloppy noises. You felt a strange tingle as he kept on and your neck was pricked as you filled with guilt. It should feel good, whatever he was doing.

“Stop, please, Sheriff,” you begged.

He lapped hungrily as he ignored you and his hands gripped your hips. He pushed you into the couch as he devoured you and drew your pleasure to a point on his tongue. Your breath hitched and you moaned without thinking. You wanted him to stop but more, you wanted him to keep going.

And he did. He seemed to enjoy it just as much as your core pulsed. Your fingers dug into the cushion and your toes curled. You cried out, a voice that didn’t sound like yours, and rocked your pelvis against his face as you were overcome with delirium. You’d never felt so delicious.

Every ounce of strength drained from you. You panted as you slouched against the couch and he pulled away. Your skirt slipped from his head and his lips shone with your juices. He rubbed your legs and watched you writhe as your nerves were overwrought.

He stood with a grunt and unbuckled his belt. He licked his lips and tilted his head. “I knew you wanted me and now you know it too,” he said, “Now you show me that ass. You know I can’t resist.”

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #the devil all the time #Fic #short series #series #dark fic #dark!fic

[void-tiger]

Tagged by @curiosity-killed (thanks for the tag!!)

roses or daisies:

DAISIES!!! They’re so simple and cheery have just as many colors and look delicate but are actually really tenacious? Also, how charming is Day’s Eye (and asters in general having the habit of facing eachother if they’re not turned towards the light--I think I have a picture of dahlias doing this from last autumn--and like. Star Flower. Okay, I’ll shut up now xD )

classical or lofi:

...okay so I admit I had to look this one up. But easily some of my favorite tracks are those Hidden Ones that bands plop onto their albums to fill up leftover space, but are often basically just scrapped recording or practice sessions? The bloopers and their creative process, basically. Cut to me googling and youtubing it and finding hiphop lofi and...yeah! Definitely Lofi.

(Classical vs OST and Modern Classical (that’s composed to be a lot more cinematic) just...really puts me on edge. It’s too mathematical...to put it nicely.)

So...yeah. Slow beats and something that sounds experimental or like a jamming session? It’s soothing and kinda ideal for background noise.

sunrises or sunsets:

Sunset. One, never ever gonna be a “morning person”. Forget it. Two, sunsets often have more dramatic colors and still make the landscape glow and you get to see stars peeping out vs fading. Also, y’know. I’m actually awake to appreciate it vs groggy and legit physically ill.

honey or lemon:

Honey as a condiment. Lemon for sweets flavor. (Baklava’s probably the exception...then again I haven’t had that many honey-flavored sweets, I guess? But Lemon-Poppyseed?? Definitely one of my favorites,)

coffee or tea:

Coffee. I adore tea service aesthetics and will someday probably collect them (especially the really quirky or earthen or blownglass ones vs the froufrou european ones)...buuuut, I just haven’t really had A Good Cuppa Tea much at all. There was this spiced tea I’ve had in Jordan that was AMAZING and I do like greentea (with...A LOT of sugar or honey...) but. I’ve just never really had tea. My family’s coffee drinkers, so the smell of coffee is nostalgic. (And yes, I’m basic enough that I prefer flavored, sweetened creamers; and my coffee brewed or spiced with, like, cinnamon and nutmeg, too. Or as a mocha.)

...I also have a Bad Habit of abandoning my Herbal “Teas” with the bags either left steeping too long (I have gotten better at using a timer) or while waiting for them to cool. And while I’d just really love it for Uncle Iroh to make me tea (provided he doesn’t get on my case about wanting sugar and maybe cream), the Times and Temperatures are just so dang fussy!! I...don’t think I have the patience for that.

enemies to lovers or friends to lovers:

Friends to Lovers. I just...don’t Get It with the sexual tension~ that seems to be the driving force behind enemies to lovers...I guess?? (That, and unless it’s literally on a battlefield, HARD PASS. I’ve had people try to blow off my complaints about getting repeatedly tormented as “he liiiiiikes you~” bullshit to ever be comfortable with it as anything but Legit Two Sides Of A Battle/Political Conflict. Sorry.)

But, Friends to Lovers? That Bond. And then the ...Oh. The domesticity and trust and safety. Also it is RIPE for Idiots to Lovers mutual pining xD

(bonus points if both parties decide ahead of time, “hey. even if dating doesn’t work out I still value your friendship in my life, so no pressure about ‘ruining things,’“ And then, of course, it does work out and there was nothing to be anxious about, after all.)

rainy days or sunny days:

...cop out but, overcast days with Soft Sunlight and Cloudbreaks?? I do like a clear skies sunny day, but, my eyes are also so sensitive to light that it can be painful. Rainy days can be soothing...but the rain has to be A Certain Way. Too heavy and with too much wind behind it and it can get me anxious. (My childhood home had Every Rain is Severe Weather...with no place to shelter. It’s gonna take awhile before i can appreciate it like i’d want.)

jupiter or mars:

Jupiter. GIANT. DEADLY. MARBLE (that wants to eeeaaat meeeee...) Also Pluto, and the jovian moons.

aphrodite or athena:

Athena!! She’s an ace icon, aight?? And also strikes me as...very, very Tired with everyone’s bullshit. Also...all the greek gods are kinda assholes. So. Yeah. She ain’t perfect and her characterization’s at the mercy of whatever myth in question, but generally she strikes me as practical and sensible and having Mercy...sometimes. As much as that group is capable of it, anyway...

rome or greece:

...probably Ancient Rome as a “ancient culture to explore but a YIKES (but. so is ancient greece.)” But visiting IRL in the present? Greece.

sun or moon:

Moon. I appreciate what the sun does and I do like feeling sunlight and all that...but, I’m also a night person. And I can look at the moon without risk of blindness and admire its corona and that rainbow corona you can see just a bit further out if you know where and how to look. BUT. The moon easily loses out to a starfield, especially if the light pollution and humidity are both low enough that ya get to actually see the milky way’s galaxy arm. (The irony that the sun IS our local star does not elude me.)

1920s or 1990s:

...neither?? 90s only slightly win out ‘cause I’m a ‘93 Kid and the 90s and 00s had some incredible toys and cartoons. And, idk. I still like overall pants and shorts. Always have. While a flapper dress would be “oooh pretty! starlight beading! Now OFF. Back to regular clothes for ‘Sporing or Comfy Lounging.”

blizzard or thunderstorm:

Blizzard. Also. Have you considered...thundersnow??

(Admittedly? I’ve also never been through a snowstorm that threatened by health&safety. The same cannot be said about thunderstorms when nearly every one could or would spawn tornados and severe straightline winds that could knock down trees and powerlines and sometimes even damage homes. While living in a home with NO safe place to shelter. Not even an interior closet or bathroom. NOT. FUN.)

midnight memories or made in the am:

...what?? [googles] ...OH...they’re...albums. UH. Neither?? (I don’t listen to them...?)

sage green or vanilla white:

Sage green. It’s kinda a nostalgic color somehow? Also. Just not a fan of monochrome...at all. I see it? I instantly want it to be a backdrop. Negative space. For COLOR. (jewel tones for whites/light neutrals and browns; NEONS for blacks and dark greys. Preference for Jewel Tones over Neons...wait. What was the question again??? OH YEAH..uh... I do like vanilla icecream? With rainbow sprinkles. Or...paired with hot fruit pie or cobbler. Or cookies. Um...yeah I should prolly shutup now. xD )

folklore or lover:

...I don’t...understand??? But...I like Folkslore as in...folklore??? Fairytales, Legends, Myths... (also, so frikkin ace I’m just. not ever gonna pick “lover”)

croissant or macaroon:

...why would you do this to me. I make a beeline for croissants because...Soft Flaky Buttery Bread. And they are So Good as a savory sandwich sorta thing. Easily better than english muffins or crumpets, tho biscuits have a fighting chance. But LIKE. Soft breads. My weakness as a kid.

...but a good macaroon?? It is so light and crisp and TINY and like?? how does it taste like coffee??? and berries????? (Too bad they are So EXPENSIVE. While even cheap croissants are almost always Good.)

ballgowns or pantsuits:

I like the aesthetics of a ballgown. But never the pricetag, I wouldn’t wanna live in that thing for more than an hour, tops (and. so much damn work!!) and I’m stuck looking at them Defying (boob) Physics and just...dying a little inside. With my rare It Pretty Want Pretty wilting with it. But...it’s rare that pantsuits really...look like anything. (They also look uncomfortable and yet another Wardrobe Disaster and Do I HAVE To??? if I think about...actually wearing them. But, Legs Free No Tripping...I guess??)

hades or zeus:

I only wanna EVER meet Zeus if I get to castrate the bastard and lock ‘im up where he’ll NEVER get back out. Hades, tho...I’m WATCHING you, Bub. (Why yes, I agree with Demeter on this one.)

platonic love or sensual love:

Platonic. Cuddling and Kissing are technically Sensual but, y’know what? They ain’t exclusive to sexual or romantic loves (and I just. really do not want kissing at all. MAYBE a quick kiss on the forehead or fingertips but LIKE. That’s it. And it’s cute af for...literally ANY Love Type.)

light academia or cottagecore:

Honestly? A mix between the two. Cottagecore with my charming little home with its overgrown flowerbed of wildflowers (and asters! All the asters) and produce grown in large pots or hanging baskets...and inside the walls are covered with overflowing shelves of books and knicknacks and other Neat Things. Oh, and naturally a tea service (might not actually have tea in it...) and tons of pillows and blankets, and lamps and lanterns Everywhere for warm and soft (and colorful) light to read by while music plays softly in the background. And the home smells like something I just made for Supper or Snacks, or like a food-scented candle.

-

Aaaaaand tagging @mckinlily @headspacedad @aairachnid @synergetic-prose and whoever else wants to play! No obligation to play if tagged.

#tagged meme #tiger’s musings #long post

[mwolf0epsilon]

((As kids)) the polks let Sammy live with them after being abandoned by his parents. At first he’s rude to them but then he gets straighten out. Maybe he helps around there farm/ work?

Reworked a few things here to fit the prompt considering Samuel Sr. wasn't the best person or parent, but he he wouldn't just abandon his child, and the fact my Norman is 20 years older than Sammy in the canon compliant verse.

Summary: Sammy was a weird kid. Norman thought he must have been a major brat to get thrown out, and the blond spitfire never tried to disprove it. Then he got wiser.

---

Everyone in their area knew the Polks. They were a quaint little family that owned an equally quaint little farm out near New Orleans. Nothing too fancy, just a few sugar cane plantations, and a bit of cotton on the side. Enough to get food on the table, pay for studies, and even support a few hobbies . It was a comfy lifestyle for a tight-knit family.

Those who were aware of the Polks also knew what they tended to do when not tending to their crops.

Despite a few shady (and sadly true) rumours about dear old Poppop Polk, the military background of a few of the Polk men, and the sheer physically intimidating bulk that they often grew into (even the women) due to years of hard work, the only hardened part of them were the muscles. In truth the Polks were the kindest most soft-hearted folk in Louisiana. As such they were suckers for a sad tale, second chances and what not. This tended to lead into them bringging in strays...

The most recent, much to a young Norman's displeasure, being a bit of a sour crumb.

Sammy Lawrence was this pale tiny boy with a shock of curly blond hair and eyes that weren't a color Norman couldn't quite name. Something in between a soft brown and a flicker of green.

He was a skinny sort, no more intimidating than a little fuzzy newborn chick, with knees marked by bruises and scratches (from climbing trees and skinning his knees on gravel) and unevenly cut nails that looked like they'd been bitten until they were short (a nervous tick).

But, most notably, the kid was a snake. One with venom in his eyes, and words that bit into flesh like a snapping turtle out for the kill.

Now Norman's mama always told him never to judge a book by its cover, but surely the saying couldn't apply if he judged the contents, right?

The kid was just... Mean-spirited...

Yelled, had tantrums like the devil himself made him whacky, and honestly watching his mama fret over him and try to make him more comfortable staying at the farm was like watching a trip for biscuits. Completely pointless.

Sammy was a weird kid. And Norman thought he must have been a major brat (because obviously he was) to get thrown out by his parents.

To his credit the blond spitfire never tried to disprove it or give any logical reason to be there. Instead he resorted to verbally attacking him and his older siblings at every chance he got.

Norman didn't much care for those wordy insults of his. The kid thought he was smarter than him, so fine let him believe that. But the moment he told his sister she looked like a little ugly ape, Norman's composure snapped like a twig.

"Yous thinks yous plenty rugged uh? Spoutin' all them nonsense fancy words like ta rest o' us don't get what yous sayin'?" He'd spat out twice as venomously, with a hint of fury over little Jolene's tears cutting his heart deep. "What sorta wet sock goes 'round throwin' crust at little girls?!"

"None of your business you slobbering cyclops!" The little shit had his fists balled like he thought he could take on someone who brawled with two much larger siblings. He may not be able to beat Franny and Carol in a fight but damn, Phineas couldn't tear them off him either and he was 16!

At 12 Norman wasn't stocky but he put up a fight. This 10 year old egg would go down easily. "She started it!

"She's 5! I bet this why you ended up here. So dang mean not even your parents could love yous!"

"Nomie!" Jolene protested, but the damage was done.

The little blond stared wide eyed with his mouth hanging open, before his face went red with rage. Like the devil possessed him.

Shrieking loudly the brat lunged and both he and Norman went rolling downhill into the creak.

On Jolene's account, both of them were in trouble for saying and doing bad things (his one regret was not biting the kid harder when he tried to go for his neck). She also got a light spanking for something she'd said.

Much to Norman's embarrassment, matters parteining his behavior were taken up to his Great Nanna. And boy did she look angry...

"Bárbara told me yous went and said some evil things to that poor boy." The burn of her gaze made his cheeks hot with shame. But also a little bit of resentment.

"Not like he a saint Nanna! He called Jolene a monkey, she was just playin'!"

"She also insulted him to his face, cuzz you boys drilled it into her head that it's fine ta go around making fun o' people you don't know as long as you ain't caught doin' so." Nanna pointed out. "Now why'd ya go an' tell him what yous did?"

"Ain't it obvious? Kids out here for SOME reason... And his attitude sure makes it seem like he gots thrown out with the rest o' the trash."

"NORMAN ELIAS POLK!"

Norman yelped in fright as his great grandmother pointed her long crooked finger at him and began laying down the law. You did NOT piss off Nanna.

"You do NOT get to say such evil things in this household! You don't know nothin' 'bout why that poor boy is out here, and goin' bout saying such booshwash will get your hide tanner than a leather belt!" She spat as she went, her toothless sneer a great sign of her displeasure. "That boy just 'bout went and lost his poor mother, and his father is in hospital sick as a dog, so you best go out and 'pologize to that frightened child before I get half a mind to drag you there by the ear and spank your butt in front o' the whole family 'til the only words comin' out that crude mouth a'yours are words a regret!"

"Y-yes Nanna!"

"Go on then! Git!" She pushed him out the door. "Apologize!"

His Nanna was crazy scary when she wanted to be. Her promises were also always kept.

He shakily apologized as soon as he caught sight of Sammy, and he must have well and truly looked shaken up because the kid took it without so much as putting up a fuss.

At dinner things simmered down, and the little blond didn't put up a fight about staying or eating "slop" like he'd his memaw's cooking before.

According to Phineas, their pops had sat the kid down and layed it out just as hard as Nanna had done to Norman.

Either behave or risk getting sent somewhere less friendly. His pops also called in for extra drills the next morning, as punishment for their bad influence on Jolene. Sammy would participate, as his father thought such exercise routines were good for later on in life.

You never know.

Through following the same routine as everyone else, Sammy seemed to overall mellow out. He was less aggressive towards everyone else, actually did a decent job, wasn't too bothered about the farm work (apparently his dad owned a cattle ranch), and he actually started playing with the other kids as well. It took time for him to get comfortable, but heck if he wasn't fun to brawl with! Least now Norman had a chance to win!

Sammy Lawrence's stay wasn't a long one though. A month and a half.

As soon as Mr. Lawrence got out of the hospital he'd practically floored it all the way down to their farm to get his boy as far away from the black folk (no wonder the kid was such a ball of bad manners, his old man was one of THOSE people) as quickly as possible.

Must of thought they'd tainted the kid or something...

No skin off Norman's nose. He may have been in the wrong about why Sammy lashed out the way he did, or about the kid being a crumb, but that didn't stop the little shit from being a weirdo.

Hopefully he'd grow out of the superiority complex.

#Eps Writes: #Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Sammy Lawrence #Norman Polk

[kaijuguy19]

Scooby Doo,and the Ink Machine. Chapter 1

New York City, 1946

Car noises blared across the city sky as they drive off to their specific destination. Either they be towards home,work, shopping or really anything that warrants fast travel,it was hard to hear them unless you're hard of hearing. For a guy like Edward Blake it was the city version of hearing cicadas in the countryside which soothed him during his time,slumping over the drawing board as he made sure the lines on the cartoon characters he was doing are smooth as possible. To say that working for the famous Joey Drew owner of Joey Drew Studios and home of renowned cartoon icon Bendy the Dancing Demon demanded blood and sweat along with talent would be the understatement of the century. He lost count on how many social events,and free time he missed out on all because of how his boss demanded overtime from him and his fellow cartoonists. He sighed in annoyance at that,as he placed the finishing touches on the picture of Bendy about to give Alice Angel flowers. Thankful that this was the last cell he had to work on for the night,Eddy started to put everything on his desk away at the folder,and pack his own stuff to carry home.He then heard someone come next to him ,hearing then a mop plop down behind him. Eddy didn't need to ask who was it behind him.

"Anyone else gone home for the night Wally?" Eddy asked without looking at the studio's janitor Wally Franks.

"Well by that you mean the ones that don't have to make sure them ink pipes don't go dynamite on this joint then sure." Wally replied as he moped. "Afraid I can't say the same for myself you know?"

"Connor on your case again?" Eddy asked as he picks up his suitcase.

"Right on the money." Wally said with an annoyed tone. "One little slip up with the monkey wrench apparently lands me doing night shifts as a way to make me more attentive." Wally mops around the middle of the room. "Would it kill Connor to lighten up once in a while? You'd think working in a cartoon studio would make a fella chuckle a bit more."

"He's just a little on edge with what rumors are saying about the studio facing money problems despite what Mr Drew says." Eddy said. "That and the growing number of missing people here isn't helping him I'm sure." Eddy looked around nervously as he said that.

"Yeah well rumors, or not I ain't got time to do some overtime. Getting enough flak from my gal about not spending some more time together." Wally finished the last space in the room then starts to go out. "If I get slammed with doing oil changing the ink equipment next I'm outta here!" 

After seeing Wally leave,Eddy followed out,then making a right turn. He pondered more about the rumors he mentioned Wally about the studio possibly going under. He felt that it might've been the reason why Drew had been making hem do more overtime as a way to pay off whatever dept he owed. Granted Drew talked about many times that the studio was doing fine and normally with a man that's able to make inspiring speeches he'd feel more at ease. However a man like Napoleon Bonaparte likely had said the same thing to his troops during the invasion of Russia,and he knew how they worked out for him at the end. But what worried him more was how people around the studios kept vanishing like ghosts. One especially was Susie Campbell who he remembered last time seeing was distraught about being replaced as Alice angel's voice actress. He was keeping on his toes since they started to begin. He also notice that the newest intern Drew hired named Buddy went missing too. He did like the kid from the few interactions he'd had with him. What didn't help was the strange noises he's been hearing near the medical rooms. Coming from the door that no one's meant to go inside in. Animal like noises he could've sworn were being uttered around that side of the studio. He prayed that nothing will happen to him long enough to see his brother Denny Blake being married to his long time lover. He's glad that Denny from his end was really making enough dough to last his luck for a lifetime along with his children's children when they come. At the very least one of the Blake brothers was getting fortunate at life.

As he reached to the exit,he stopped in dismay on what he almost forgot.

"Dang it!" Eddy muttered under his breath. "Of all the times to forget about my coat." Sighing he turned around and went to the direction to where he hung his coat in the recreation room. He went down the steps leading down to the recreation room,filled with tables, and darting boards on walls. He was about to grab his coat until he heard a clanging sound. He topped still and turned his eyes around.   "Wally is that you?" Eddy called out in a quiet tone. "If this is a joke it's not funny..." Hoping as it was Wally,he was getting the feeling that it wasn't him. 

Eddy backed away slowly,being extra attentive to his surroundings so he can catch who ever was making the noise,and chew out for making a distasteful gag. He kept hearing more clanking,making him want to just dash it out of there,but daring not too. He almost reached the staircase when he notice an odd yet familiar smell.

<i>"Is that ink?" </i> Eddy thought as he noticed more of the inky smell coming to his senses. He suddenly felt something wet,and sticky hitting his back. Heart pounding,and mind, racing in fear, Eddy began to look up to what he hit against.

The face of Bendy that is he assumed to be Bendy's from what face he can clearly see,smiled down at Eddy,as Eddy gasped a silent scream at the shock. The Bendy creature's face was almost covered down with ink but the smile clearly wasn't. Regaining what common sense he had,Eddy backed straight away to move from the creature's arms as it tried to grab him. Eddy ran to the other side of the room as the creature limped after him. Eddy threw tables at it,taking the chance to race down back to the stair case. As he ran up,he heard the creature racing after him. He slammed the door,and locked it after going up,praying it'll hold long enough for him to escape. He charged to the left,as he heard the door breaking open. Dashing some more,he eventually reached the exit,but before he can around the corner,he felt his right foot being grabbed,falling down face flat,eddy scream in terror as he being dragged more and more away from the exit. 

Afterwards no other noise let alone screams of the terrified animator was heard other then wheezing animal noises in Joey Drew Studios.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Present Day:

New Jersey Pine Barrens. Nighttime 

Owls hoot in the night sky as the trees of the infamous Pine Barrens rustles in the night. It was a peaceful sight to behold for sure that is until a giant shape burst out from the trees. The shape was a giant monster that had a demonic hose head,body of a bear,claws of an eagle with hood legs,bat wings,and snake tail that roared in fury as it tried to shake off a rope that was tied around it's tail. 

At the end of the rope a tall skinny young man wearing a green shirt with his dog a Great Dane both clearly hanging on for dear life.

"Like this is the last time I try to play cowboy with a dragon thingy Scoob!" The skinny man cried out to his dog.

"Rikewise here Rhaggy!" Scooby Doo yelled to Shaggy Rogers in turn as they swing around the air like a couple of monkeys hanging for dear life.

The beast roared in fury at the two poor souls then it dove back down to the forest ramming into trees in an effort to shake them off.

"Like-OW-OOF! OWY HEY NOT IN THE MOUTH MAN!" Shaggy yelled in pain,coughing up leaves.

Coming in front of them was a van that was blue and green with the words Mystery Machine written on both sides. A gun came out of top of the van then it fired a net at the creature at full face. The beast roared as it crshed to the ground,knocked out. 

Another young man dressed in a white sweater with an orange ascot came out of the driving side of the van,and rushed quickly to the van. Two other people a beautiful young woman dressed in a purple dress,green scarf,and purple tights,and a nerdy girl with an orange sweater with glasses followed after him.

"I can't believe this worked on the first try!" The man with the ascot said with excitiment. "I mean usually they tend to backfire at first but this is the first time it didn't happen!"

"Like that's great Fred but can ya please get me and Scooby down?!" Shaggy said as he and Scooby hung from branches in a comical fashion.

"Here let me help!" The girl with the purple dress said as he started to climb up. She soon reached them and got out some knives as she cut the branches down. both Shaggy and Scooby fell down softly.

"Like thanks Daphne!" Shaggy said as he rubbed his butt. 

"No problem." Daphne Blake said coming down. "Pays to have outdoor training years ago."

Fred Jones saw upcoming police vehicles drive up. "Right on time. Care to do the honors Velma?" He asked the nerdy girl.

"Like I need to ask Fred?" Velma Dinkley replied in his usual know it all self. She turned to see the chief come up to them with a rightfully concerned look.

"Care to explain me kids on how the flipping heck did you capture the Jersey Devil?!" The chief demanded. "That monstrosity put many of my men and women to hospitals faster then you can say Clockman Diamond!"

"Funny you should mention that Chief." Velma replied going up to the Jersey Devil. "Had this been the actual Jersey Devil it would've done more then put people into hospitals but seeing as on how we've figured out on this is otherwise allow us to show you who's been really behind the Jersey Devil attacks."

She pressed into the monster's neck,making clicking noises as the head falls off revealing itself to be just a high tech suit,worn by a disgruntled man with balding hair,and a glare in his eyes.

"Glen Richards?!" The Chief cried in surprise "But how? Why? He was doing well as the city's electrician!"

"He was. However he didn't always want to be known as such. He had ambitions of being the owner of his own movie studio and was able to get enough funds from his time as an electrician however the problem was that he wanted to set it up at the Pine Barrens but the county council didn't allow it for obvious reason." Velma said.

"So in order to scare people away from the Pine Barrens for good,Richards used his suit making skills he learned from film school to construct the Jersey Devil suit using advance enough tech to make a convincing method to bringing the Jersey Devil legend alive!" Fred joined in.

"It took a little eye for detail to figure out on how the fur on the creature was made from leftover fun used from taxidermy operations." Daphne said plucking out clumps of fur then showing it to the police chief. "This was made from deer fur, so once we were able to figure where the fur came from and where bits of oil were flown about from the hydrolics all we had to do was to set him up and nab him!"

"And I would've gotten away with it too! If it weren't from you snooping goody two shoes suck ups to the law and your flea ridden sorry excuse for a canine!" glen Richards growled as he was led away."

"Hey!" Scooby said with offense.

"Like you could've just said Meddling kids and your dog too man!" Shaggy said.

"THEY MEAN THE SAME THING MORON!" Richards yelled as he was driven off.

"Sheesh! Like someone didn't give him enough hugs." Shaggy said with annoyance.

"Well thanks kids." The chief said shaking Fred's hand. "A lot of folks are gonna rest easy tonight."

"It's our thing chief! Always happy to help!" Fred said with his usual friendliness. The chief then went to his own car and drove off. He then turned around and faced his friends. "Another mystery solved gang!"

"About time too! Scooby Doo!" Scooby said giggling.

Daphne smiled then she heard her phone ring from her purse. She got it out and looked at her friends "Hang on guys! I have to take this." She answered the phone. "Yes?...Oh Mimi it's great to hear from you!...Yes I know I loved your last fashion show!....Huh?....Wait really?!" She said looking surprised then serious. "....You're not pulling my leg right?.....Where?!.....You have it?!....Thank you so much Mimi! I'll tell them about this!..alk to you later!" She hung up the phone and sees her friends looking a little worried.

"You ok Daph?" Fred asked in a concerned tone. "Something happen?"

"Yes Fred but it's the good kind!" Daphne said "It has to do with my great uncle Edward Blake!"

"Edward Blake?" Shaggy asked. "Wait wasn't he one of the animators of-"

"Of the Bendy cartoons? Well sure!" Daphne said with a surprised tone. "You watch them too Shaggy?"

"Like sure Daphne!" Shaggy said with a grin. "It's one of Scoob and mine's top cartoons to watch as kids."

"Surprised you didn't ask us before Rahpne!" Scooby said.

"Ok going fanboy or fangirl in your case Daphne aside what about Edward Blake?" Velma asked now curious.

"Oh right!" Daphne said remembering what she was about to say. "My old friend Mimi works as a fashion designer in New York City,and she said that during one of the renovations near where Joey Drew Studios was at,hey found a couple of items there. Most of which belonged to My great uncle who vanished those years ago."

"So this was a family mystery for a long while now?" Fred asked,looking equally as curious. 

"Yeah." Daphne sighed. "I remember my grandmother talking about on how her father was devastated at his brother's going missing like that. He wasn't totally the same afterwards." She looked up,looking pretty glad. "Mimi said she has his suitcase in hand,and wanted to show it to me to finally get more of an idea of where he went." 

"Wasn't the studio also the subject of urban legends of ink oozing out from the studio's cracks and odd animal noises coming from it?" Velma then inquired. "I remember reading upon New York's urban legends and that was among the more infamous ones."

"Like what now?" Shaggy asked now with a look of horror in his face. Same goes for Scooby.

"Yep." Daphne replied. "If that isn't adding icing on the cake for us I don't know what is."

"Well then." Fred said with a look of great interest coming upon him. "I think we've just found ourselves a new mystery!"

Both Shaggy and Scooby look dejected.

"Well so much for a relaxing weekend right Scoob?" Shaggy said to Scooby.

"Rep." Scooby said nodding his head. "Phooey."

#scooby doo #bendy and the ink machine #scooby doo and the ink machine #daphne blake #fred jones #shaggy rogers #velma dinkley #wally franks #thomas connor #themeatly #kindly beast #warner bros animation #hanna barbera #bendy the ink machine #ink demon #jersey devil #crossover

[toonsforkicks22]

Just a Couple of Weirdos (Amphibia one shot)

(”Wally and Anne” was an AMAZING episode! I just had to make this!)

The one-eyed frog was exactly where Anne hoped he would be. For a frog living in squalor, his residence wasn’t too shabby. Hoisting her backpack, the human girl made her way toward the small, familiar shack. The last time she came here had been when she joined the toad guards, breaking in without consent and raiding the place. She especially remembered how this had been the same place where she first acted in compassion, which slowly resulted in earning the town’s respect. 

As she knocked on the door, nervousness crept into her mindset. It was like hanging out with a new friend for the first time; and if Anne recalled, that moment happened rarely back home. 

She forced down a lump in her throat as the door swung open. Two eyes, one closed, stared back at her with surprise and awe. 

“Annabelle?” Wally exclaimed.

“H-hey,” the human greeted somewhat shyly, not even bothering to correct him on the given nickname. She actually kind of liked it. “How’s it going, Wally?”

“Oh, well, I’m good,” the musical amphibian responded, still a bit taken by the unexpected visit. “What brings you here, love? Wait, don’t tell me those toads are back!” he expressed anxiously. 

“No, no! There’s no toads! Just me!” Anne assured, giving a gentle smile. 

Wally gazed at her momentarily. The look of amazement was not lost on his face. _______

Anne sat on an old wooden chair that had probably been discarded at some point. It still held well as Anne leaned against it. The tea cup provided to her may or may not have been from the remains of a broken family’s home; still, it was in good condition. The tea itself, Anne specifically remembered was from the Grub N’ Go, similar to the kind Hop Pop made. 

Wally sat next her in another old chair, sipping his own cup. 

“I got to admit, love, I never get visitors,” he explained. 

“Really?” Anne asked. “Why’s that?”

“Oh,  you know, seeing as the town’s local crazy person and all,” he expressed nonchalantly. “Coming here, you’d think it’ll be the nuthouse.”  

“That’s not true,” she insisted. “This place is really nice. It reminds me of the clubhouse I’ve always wanted to have back home. But the other kids thought it was pretty weird, and my friends told me it was kind of childish.”

“Nonsense!” Wally cackled. “Those kids probably don’t know real fun even if it stung them in the eye!”

Anne chuckled. “You know I wish there was someone like you back home. Always, optimistic, not caring what anyone else thinks...”

“And maybe someone who could make you feel you don’t need to impress everyone?” Wally suggested, glancing at her knowingly. 

“What?” she said with a forced laugh. “What makes you think that?”

“Love, I know it’s not any of my business,” he began, giving her a serious, worrisome look. It reminded Anne so much of the expressions Hop Pop would give her if she was ever in the midst of danger. “But I get the distinct feeling you had to pull yourself one way and not being able to do things your way.”

“What? Of course not!” she insisted. “I mean, the other kids-”

“Make you feel bad about yourself and you got to aim to please in order to fit in,” he cut in gently. “Am I right?”

Anne couldn’t say anything. How was it that this guy of all people could actually have the intelligence of a psychiatrist? Heck, he did a better job than any of the counselors at school could even accomplish! 

She never thought a conversation with the local looney person could ever be this serious. But if her adventure with him to find the mysterious moss man was any indication, she and Wally weren’t that different. 

A gentle hand made its way to Anne’s, and she looked over at Wally. The one-eyed frog gave her a sympathetic look, with a smile to match. Anne couldn’t help but smile back. A month ago, he along with the rest of Wartwood had seen her as a freak. The mean comments that would make an online message board look peaceful, the lack of respect, and not to mention how Wally called her and Sprig’s friendship as ‘disgusting’.

Anne remembered how much she just wanted to go home and leave these ill-mannered jerks behind. But then she saw how vulnerable they were during the toads’ visit. And despite how she had been treated, Anne still looked out for them. 

Oh, how things have changed since then. Wartwood saw her as one of their own. Anne felt closer to the town than she ever dared believe. 

To think she initially saw Wally as deadbeat, moronic, and above all too crazy to hang around. Spending this time with him made her realize what an artistic, sweet, passionate, caring, and selfless person he was. Not to mention he had great hair under that hat of his. If it wasn’t for the age and species difference, he would have made for an entertaining student at her school. Maybe Sasha and Marcie would have liked him. Or maybe they wouldn’t. If the latter, Anne wouldn’t have allowed their opinions get in the way of her friendship with him. 

All these thoughts made Anne realize that she never had a conversation this deep before. In fact, she had never opened up to Sprig like this, and he was her best friend!

Come to think of it, she didn’t even tell Sprig where she was going. She had been too set on visiting Wally, she forgot. 

Oh, well, maybe it wasn’t too bad.  _______

Sprig opened the door leading his best friend’s room, a wide grin on his face. 

“Hey, Anne!” he called excitedly. “Want to see some drawings I made? They’re all inspired by Suspicion Island! One of them is a character I made up who would totally fit into the variety of characters on the show. Also, spoiler alert, he’s a competitor for Chad.”

His only response was silence. 

“Anne?” he called again. He turned on the mushroom lamp, seeing an empty bed. 

“Anne went out, Sprig,” Hop Pop called from the kitchen, reading a book. “Had something to do, I think.”

“Oh, I guess that’s okay,” Sprig said nonchalantly. 

Five seconds passed and-

Sprig kicked the front door open with his foot before hopping off. 

“How could she go off without me?” he exclaimed frantically as he left the farm. “Maybe something bad happened and I was too occupied to notice! Anne! Anne! ANNE!”

“Clingy much?” Polly muttered while reading on the couch. _______

Meanwhile, Wally and Anne were taking a stroll through the woods. The former allowed his accordion to be used on account of how well Anne was doing with it. Not to mention the song she thought at the top of her head sounded wonderful. 

“Now I find myself in the wild unknown, with the frogs and toads, and I’m far from home,” the human sang aloud in rhythm with the accordion. “But there’s so much here to discover! One leap after another! Hop into the adventure! Gotta ribbit, ribbit, jump on it!”

”That was beautiful, love!” Wally encouraged. “Is that all you got?”

“Not really sure about the rest of the words,” she responded sheepishly. “I got to work on that. But, man, I never thought accordions could be so much fun. Back home my friends would think instruments like these were lame. I was too scared to sign up for a music club because of that.”

“Oy, you really got to stop listening to what they think, Anne,” Wally insisted. “Real friends wouldn’t drive their opinions into your brain like a nail on wood. Are you sure this Sasha and Marcie are your friends?”

A bit taken aback by such a question, Anne merely shrugged. “Well, yeah, of course. I mean, it’s not like they pressured me to do something stupid or whatever...” she added, swallowing a lump in her throat afterward.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he promised, although deep down he was certain that wasn’t the entire truth. But he wouldn’t press the kid. 

Soon the two were exploring the forest. They gathered berries, took pictures on Anne’s phone, and even ran for their lives from some giant predator. Wally never had this much fun before in his life!

When it was time for lunch, the two found a shady area under a tree. Wally was surprised Anne made him a special meal called an ‘omelette’. 

“No one’s ever cooked for me before,” he said as she placed the plate on his lap. “This ain’t pity because I live in squalor, is it?”

“Of course not,” she insisted. “Besides, sometimes friends cook for friends.”

Wally tasted her cooking, and his eyes immediately widened. “Goodness! This tastes better than whatever scraps I can get together and boil it in water!” He took another bite. “You cook for your friends back home too?”

Anne’s smile fell. “Well, not really. My friend’s don’t really trust my cooking abilities. And they don’t even eat Thai food either.”

“Don’t eat your foreign cuisines?” Wally gasped. “That’s rubbish! Why, if it weren’t for your culinary uniqueness, Stumpy’s would have been already closed!”

“Aww, thanks,” she said, touched. 

As they ate, Anne felt a drop on her head. She looked up and noticed that gray clouds were forming. 

“Shoot! It’s raining!” she exclaimed. 

Soon enough the duo were running out of the forest as the pouring began. With the Plantar house much farther than Wally’s, the one-eyed frog allowed her to stay for the night. 

Sitting on a clot laid out just for her, Anne glanced from her phone over at Wally. The older being stood in front of a chipped mirror nailed to the wall, then took off his hat. Anne couldn’t help but be amazed by how gorgeous his hair was. She was surprised he even had hair; she still remembered how surprised she had been when she found out Sprig had hair. 

Whistling a merry tune to himself, Wally began to comb his nightly blue locks. In some way, Anne had to admit that for a frog with one eye closed, he looked pretty handsome. 

“I really hope Sprig and the Plantars don’t freak out that I’m gone,” Anne said as Wally laid his cot next to hers.  _______

Meanwhile, back at the Plantar residence, Hop Pop had to carry a wet, muddy Sprig back inside the house. The kid had been practically terrorizing all of Wartwood trying to find Anne. “Dang it, Sprig!” the old frog sighed as he put him down. “I’m just as worried about Anne, but you didn’t have to tear the whole valley inside out!” 

Sprig wiped the mud off his face. “How could Anne just go without me? Do I mean nothing to her?”

“Cling-yyyyyy...” Polly sang.  _______

“I’m sure they won’t get too upset that you’re gone for one night,” Wally assured. “Although I wonder how your family from wherever you came from must be feeling right now.”

It took a moment for Anne to realize he was referring to her actual home. “Oh, yeah, I hope my parents are doing okay. It’s been more than a month. Can’t imagine the trouble they’re going through just to find out where I’ve gone off.”

“Hey, I’d be fretting too if you were my kid,” Wally remarked. “Probably tear the whole valley inside out just to find you.”

Anne couldn’t help but blush at that. The more she gotten to know the oddball frog, the more she realized just how golden his heart was. 

“What about your parents?” she asked. “I remember, in the song, you promised your dad you would find the person who killed him or something and defeat with, I think, the sound of music or something?”

“Oy, you were actually listening?” Wally exclaimed in astonishment. 

“Yeah,” Anne said, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry about your dad. I can see just how important this accordion is to you.” She glanced over at said instrument, remembering how those toad warriors nearly took it away from him for good that day. 

“Oh, thanks, love,” he responded, touched. “Yeah, my parents were decent people. I admit our living situation was no better than this, put still, we pulled through. Lost my mum when I was no older than you. My dad, during my late teens. You know, if they were around today, he would have liked you. Even though you’re a human.”

“And I guess my parents would have definitely liked you too,” Anne said. “Even though you’re a talking frog.” 

Both laughed before calming down. 

“You now, Wally, after that adventure we had looking for the moss man...” she began carefully, looking at her phone, sliding through pictures of her life back home. “I can’t help but think about what you said. About being in a new place, meeting new people, being the person you want to be without letting judgment control you.” She lowered her phone. “That was really good advice, you know.”

“I got to admit that Wartwood has become something interesting since you arrived,” the one-eyed frog replied. “Can’t imagine what this place will be like once you leave.”

As soon as he said that, Anne’s heart felt heavy. All month she had been thinking about home, back to her old life and with humanity itself. But as she adjusted here, she could barely remember what she was even living at all back in her world. 

Here in this valley, she gotten to experience a whole new culture, meet new faces, and even admit that she loved the bug-based dishes. Not to mention just how colorful this world was compared to the dreary, grayish town she grew up in back home. 

She couldn’t imagine what her life will be once she left Wartwood. 

“Thing is, Wally,” she sighed. “That’s the issue I’ve been dealing with. Like...part of me doesn’t want to leave.”

The adult frog looked over her in surprise. 

“I mean, I do miss home, but this place has been like home! And I don’t want to leave Sprig, the Planters, Wartwood, especially you, Wally!”

“Well, that makes me want to tear up just a bit,” he expressed, although calmly. 

“I mean, look how much we’ve bonded in just two days,” Anne added. “I don’t want to leave that. Any of this. Sure, you guys were a bunch of jerks in the beginning, but look what we’ve all been through together. I’m not afraid to admit that you guys really mean a lot to me. And it kills me inside every time I think about the day I’ll have to leave.” 

Although Anne was breaking inside, she forced herself not to tear up. Wally sensed this and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Oh, Anne, I appreciate you feel that way about us,” he said gently. “And no doubt we’ll all be sad the day you go.” Then he gave her a warm smile. “But hey, if you managed to come here...who says you can’t come here again?”

She stared at him. “You really think that’s possible, Wally?”

“Well, why not?” he chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to have the best of both worlds! Then that way we’ll always be together!”

Anne couldn’t help but smile at the thought. For as long as she had been in Wartwood, there were so many things she wanted to share about her world. Maybe if what Wally said was right, she could completely change this place for the better, make it more innovated with her 21st century knowledge. 

“The best of both worlds sounds amazing,” she said with a yawn. 

Wally watched as her eyes slowly closed, laying onto her cot. The phone slid out of her grasp right next to her waist.

He chuckled softly as he draped a blanket over her. 

“Nice kid,” he sighed before going to sleep himself.  ------------

So what do you think?  I hope for more episodes featuring Anne and Wally! 

#amphibia sprig #amphibia anne #amphibia wally #one-eyed wally #disney #disney channel #hop pop #polly plantar #wartwood #Wally and Anne #sprig planter #anne boonchuy #disney fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #amphibia spoilers #amphibia #disney’s amphibia

[tippitv]

Recap: “Scoobynatural”

Welcome to my first recap in... a very long time!

Right off the bat, Dean is engaging in fisticuffs with a giant stuffed dinosaur. Or perhaps a person in a fuzzy dinosaur costume. Sam taps in and Dean whips out some holy oil and starts sloshing it all over the dino like it's free vinaigrette at the Olive Garden.

Remember when that stuff was super rare? The holy oil, I mean. Anyway, he sets the dino on fire. It explodes in a shower of melted foam and green fuzz. Presumably the Winchesters double-checked to make sure a person wasn't in there.

A shopkeeper named Alan---we're in a pawnshop here---is glad to be alive. Some guy named Jay shows up to see what all the ruckus was about. It's pretty obvious he's the bad guy even though he seems nice because 1. he gets a fair amount of exposition about owning a lot of real estate and 2. he's wearing this outfit.

Alan offers the Winchesters anything in the store as thanks for saving his life. Dean picks out a big flat screen TV. I can't decided if this is in character or not because I can't remember where the show last settled on Dean's characterization.

Back at the bunker, Sam pores over the lore trying to figure out what it was they just fought. Dean quotes Elsa from Frozen: Let it go. Sam is baffled and let me tell you, I was clenched up thinking they were gonna make a "what are you, a little girl?" joke but they didn't. Phew. Dean wants to show off his new "Dean Cave," which I promise you is not a weird goatse thing.

There's beer and games and two old recliners, which I guess means Castiel has to sit in Dean's lap if he shows up for movie night. The centerpiece is their old new TV.

The TV sparkles with an eerie purple light and the Winchesters stand there staring at it even though nothing good can come of it. Suddenly, they're transported to a cartoon world where Sam and Dean are the same height.

The Impala is also magically there because, Dean guesses, the keys were in his pocket. Imagine what would've popped up if he'd had condoms in his pocket and this wasn't a kids' cartoon...

They soon find out exactly which kids' cartoon when they go for a drive to the nearest malt shop and find the Scooby Gang. The poor Mystery Machine looks so homely next to the Impala.

"Great, so we're stuck in a cartoon with a talking dog," Sam grumps as he sees Scooby slurping up a malt. Dean defends Scooby and the rest of the gang, except for Fred. He says the characters are their role models. "We do the same things! We go to spooky places, we hunt monsters! We fight ghosts!" Sam's like, "Our ghosts don't wear masks! And we don't have a talking dog!"

Now, there were a couple of ways they could have gone with this joke. Dean could have said, "Well, we kind of had a talking dog once," or even, "Hey I was kind of a talking dog once!"

But the joke they make is, "Cas is kinda like a talking dog." So, I propose that,  much like Scooby Doo is named after its talking dog, Supernatural be named after their talking dog.

The Winchesters introduce themselves to the gang. Dean kisses Daphne's hand which seems like kinda a dick move in front of her boyfriend even if everyone is a cartoon. They find out Scooby has been named an heir to the recently deceased “Colonel Sanders”.

Sam thinks they should be trying to find a way out, but Dean reminds him that the last time they got stuck in a TV show reality they had to play their parts.

They get themselves invited along to the reading of Colonel Sanders's will and hit the road. Dean grumbles about how much he hates Fred because of his "perfect hair, can-do attitude, and that stupid ascot." I'm pretty sure that's a neckerchief, but whatever. He challenges Fred to a race, which the Mystery Machine handily wins because... Baby's not used to driving on cartoon roads, maybe. Meanwhile, a shadowy figure emerges just before the cut.

At the reading of the Colonel's will, everyone finds out they have to spend the night in a haunted mansion to get their million-dollar inheritance. If I somehow come into possession of a mansion before I die, I'm going to have everyone do this, except instead of ghosts it's going to be haunted by male strippers.

Sam's about to tell Velma they're all in a cartoon but Dean shushes him up. "They don't know they're in a c-word!" Oh the age-inappropriate mental image! Anyway, everyone gets to their gender-segregated rooms and Dean puts on a comfy "sleeping robe." He says it's like being wrapped in hugs.

Daphne and Velma have a very het conversation about Sam Winchester while a cloaked ghost goes roaming through the mansion. As happens normally in the regular show but not in the Scoob-verse, the ghost is preceded by a drop in temperature.

Everyone goes running when they hear Cousin Simple scream bloody murder and find that he's been... bloodily murdered. "Well, gang, it looks like we've got another mystery to solve," Fred cheerfully announces. The Winchesters are both aghast at his casual attitude towards death. Lol

Although to Dean's credit, he's just putting down Fred to try to score points with Daphne. Wait... that's not a credit! The brothers realize that if cartoon people can die, it means they can die, too. Dean's more worried about Scooby than his own fate, because the show's been renewed for season 14 so he ain't dying anytime soon.

Suddenly, the mysterious figure from earlier bursts through the doors! It's Cas. Or "Cass" as the show continues to insist on spelling it.

Flashback to how Castiel got into the cartoon: He was in the bunker looking for the brothers, having just returned from Syria with fruit from the Tree of Life. How'd he get those past customs? He had to fight and love his way through a pack of Jinn to get them. "I think I'm technically married to their queen now!" he calls out in the empty bunker. The magical TV sucked him into the cartoon.

The Scooby Gang overhear the Winchesters and Cas talking about the killer stuffed dinosaur from the pawn shop. They say they're just talking about a book they're writing. Cas blurts out, "It's called The Killer Stuffed Dinosaur... in Love..."

The ghost shows up, does some ghost stuff that scares everyone, and disappears again. Scooby and Shaggy jump into Castiel's arms and he just... pitches them onto the floor. They find the lawyer in one of the rooms, decapitated. Sam and Dean have possibly literally never looked more disturbed by a death on this show.

Everybody decides to go look for clues. Dean tries to split off with Daphne but Fred gets in the middle of them like he's about to get the threesome awakening of his life. Velma practically humps Sam all the way up to the attic, and Castiel ends up with what's left. "I once led armies and now I'm paired with a scruffy philistine and a talking dog." That's a weird judgment after knowing Shaggy for 2 minutes.

Velma cannot shut up about Sam's broad shoulders and he has no idea why. It's called heteronormativity, Sam! He tries to convince her ghosts are real but she says most villains are just unscrupulous real estate developers.

Meanwhile, Dean's still trying to hit on Daphne when he inadvertently sends them all down a trapdoor to the basement. He ends up flirting with the ghost, to his dismay.

No really. After the standard Scooby Ghost Chase Musical Montage, everyone is reunited and Daphne tells them, "Dean had him by the thigh!" and Castiel's like, "YOU WHUT??" and Dean's all, "I almost caught him, that's the point!" Sam's reacting to him like this and I don't know why:

The ghost barges into the room where they're all being straight and starts throwing people into walls and out windows. The Winchesters beat the ghost off with iron candlesticks. You know what I mean.

Shaggy ends up with a broken arm---something that's never happened to him---despite Cas's best efforts. Sam and Dean decide they have to tell the gang the whole truth. This leads to all of them having an existential crisis. Dean gives them a pep talk about what heroes they really are. Man, if only all existential crises were this easy to fix.

Sam wants to arm the gang with guns but Dean reminds him. "That's a Scooby-don't!" Instead he tells Fred and the others to build a trap. This involves a Rube Goldbergian setup of soap bubbles, coconut, chains and a washing machine.

Naturally, this backfires on them and Castiel ends up in the washing machine with Scooby and Shaggy.

Luckily there's a second equally complex but much more successful trap that uses the trapdoor and a salt ring in the basement. Why would a ghost fall through a trapdoor instead of hovering? Shut up that's why.

The ghost turns out to be this poor dead kid whose spirit was tied to a pocket knife that belongs to Jay. He's been making the kid scare people in the neighborhood so they'll sell their property to him.

Now, the Scooby Gang isn't around to hear any of this. Just Sam, Dean and Cas. So they work out a bargain with the kid and promise to set him free when they get back to the real world

The kid pretends to be the cartoon baddie who was wearing a mask all along so that Velma and the others don't have their world view changed. Why can't they just leave now? It's not like anything they do in the cartoon has an effect on Scooby canon, does it? This episode aired decades ago.

Dean sends Daphne off with Fred, Castiel bids a fond farewell to Shaggy and Scooby, and Velma grabs Sam and dips him into a kiss. Dang, she's like the cartoon Becky. He'd better get out of there before she sets a real trap.

The kid zaps them all back to the real world, where Dean smashes up the TV to get the pocket knife Jay hid in it. He... could have just turned it upside down and shaken it. Sam torches the knife, making me wonder why it didn't burn when they flambeed the dinosaur.

I mean, they have Castiel right there. Couldn't he have just taken the kid to heaven? Or is he persona non grata up there again? I have the hardest time where the chess pieces are sometimes.

Anyway, Sam and Dean confront Jay at the pawn shop where he's conveniently about to get Alan to sign sale papers for him. I feel like you'd need a notary public for this kind of thing or... something. Dean is wearing a red neckerchief, which baffles Alan a bit.

Flashback to explain how Jay used the haunted knife to scare shop owners in the neighborhood, including Alan and later the Winchesters' new TV. How did he ever plan to get it back, though? The Winchesters did some digging and found out Jay hasn't been paying his taxes.

Suddenly the local cops show up, sirens blaring, because they do that for tax evasion in this reality. Jay is led away in cuffs, cursing, "I would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for those meddling middle-aged men kids!"  Dean is so tickled that he looks right at the camera and goes,

Sam and Castiel are old grumps about the whole thing. I mean, so am I, but not as much as them.

I give the episode 3.5 Late Great Hellhounds out of 5.

Thanks for reading! This took about 14 hours to work up so I hope it's enjoyable for readers. And like, no pressure or anything but I have a virtual tip jar via ko-fi here:

https://ko-fi.com/A4017DA

#supernatural #recaps #tippitv #scoobynatural

[smallgirlbigpersonality]

Take it Easy | Chapter 1

Source: supremeleaderkylorens

1/15 (Chapter Two) 

Pairing: Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 2,000+

Disclaimer: All copyrighted characters are property of Bleeker Street, Fingerprint Releasing, & Steven Soderbergh.

Warning: Rated PG-13 (Eventual NC-17)  

“Well… I don’t know Clyde, have you ever thought about just droppin’ it?” Mellie suggested as she rolled another curler into the Purple Lady’s hair. She’d been more than happy to give her brother a ride to town today but man~ she hadn’t been prepared for the 20-minute car ride to morph into a three hour lecture. The Logan’s had rotten luck and it wasn’t exactly a secret. Her older brother just seemed to need a reason to explain their ever shrinking family tree family tree. 

“You know poor old Maggie Logan, bless her soul, won the lottery and then the next day she just drop~” 

“Now Beatrice, you know I love ya but he don’t need any encouragement,” Mellie scolded, casting her brother a weary glance. 

The batty old hens at the salon loved nothing more than gossip. They caught wind of every good, bad, lucky, scandalous, and downright unfortunate event that ever happened in their small Podunk county. Clyde hung on their every word too; no doubt taking notes so he could bring his findings to Jimmy their older brother when he finally wandered into town. 

In fact, by the time Clyde left for his shift that night, he had managed to add three more unlucky Logan’s to his list. He manned the bar straight faced and more determined than ever. If he kept his game face on, tonight might be the night he convinced Jimmy that whatever this “thing” was… It was real! 

Although, when Jimmy Logan did finally make an appearance he wasn’t exactly in a talking mood. He marched up to the bar looking madder than a wet hen. His brother could practically see the steam rolling off his shoulders. Clyde knew Jim well enough to know he needed a drink or two before words of any kind could be exchanged.

He made his way across the bar to where the taps were and poured a homegrown West Virginian Porter. That and their old friend Jose Cuervo should’ve been enough to get the evening headed in a better direction. He poured two shots and pushed one towards his brother. The other Clyde picked up the other, idly sloshing it around while he waited to see Jimmy’s next move. 

“I don’t wanna talk until both of these are gone,” Jimmy muttered before grabbing his shot and downing the honey colored liquid. The younger Logan hadn’t even finished his shot before his brother was done with the beer.

“Well, what happened?” Clyde asked, brushing some of the long black hair away from his face. 

“I got fired today.” Oh.

“It might’ve had something to do with this darned curse. I was at the salon with Mellie this mornin’ and we hear about old Aunt Maggie. Beatrice said she won the lott~” 

“Don’t you start with that Logan curse stuff again,” Jimmy snapped, cutting him off. “It’s all folktales anyway!” 

Clyde frowned. To him this was very real and very simple. 

“Then how do you explain you gettin’ fired? Blowing out your knee before the championship game? Or me losing my hand on the way to the dang airport?” 

Jimmy grunted, dragging his hands over his face. “Look, I don’t want to deal with this tonight. Bobbie Jo is moving Sadie out of state too.” 

“I like to think we ain’t that bad of people and for good people we sure do see a lot of bad karma,” he argued. 

“Oh, so it’s karma now? Alright fine, you win! When I get back from my satellite office we’re going to talk about this!” Jim muttered, hobbling off towards the bathroom. 

Cylde seized the opportunity to checkout the bar. He craned his neck to take a quick look around the place. Same old dusy pool tables, empty booths against the back wall, neon beer signs on the right, and a jukebox resting next to the karaoke system on the far wall. Everything was in its place. 

As for the clientele… It was a slow Friday night. He had a few locals hanging around the pool tables; they just ordered a fresh round of beers so he didn’t have to worry about them. You and your friend; however, managed to sneak in during his debate with Jimmy. Lord knows you two had to be some of the prettiest thing this side of the Mason-Dixon line so he wasn’t sure how you’d snuck by. Your friend with the long blonde hair and baby blue eyes seemed like the city type. Those were usually just passing by on their way to Charlotte. You almost looked at home though… 

You had long (y/c/h) hair with a bit of a curl to it and some of the prettiest eyes Clyde’d ever seen. The dark purple flannel, black tank top and jeans weren’t that out of the norm- what gave you away as an out-of-towner were the boots. Nobody that lived in these parts would wear shoes quite that nice; even if they had money. He imagined you were a nice girl with a sweet laugh, and just enough sass to keep things interesting. Reading people was one of the few skills he prided himself in. That and being able to guess what kind of drinks people liked. More often than not, he wasn’t that far off the money. 

When your friend leaned in to whisper something in your ear, he confirmed his suspicions about your laugh. Gosh, you had the cutest smile too. It wasn’t until you’d hopped off your bar stool and started making your way towards him that Clyde realized he’d been staring. 

Oh boy, did that blush rise in his cheeks. 

“I would’ve remembered if you’d ever been to the bar before. Are you and your friend just passing through?” he asked, trying to maintain some dignity. That little smirk you gave him though, sure wasn’t helping with his blush. 

“Oh, my friend’s in town with her… Well I guess you would call him boyfriend,” you wondered out loud, “Anyway, he owns one of the race teams and they’re prepping for the big race. I’m just along for the ride.” 

“What team does he ow~” for the second time tonight the bartend found himself getting cut off. His attention snapped to a new group of gentlemen who’d stumbled in the front door. Tonight’s new guest count jumped from two to five. These men gave him a bad feeling though; that uneasiness crept up through his bones like no other. These men weren’t good people… 

“Oi! Hey (y/nickname), did you order us a round yet? Where’s Alyssa? God, I miss that tight little ass of hers,” Clyde’s eyes widened at the comment; so not a gentleman. 

“Not yet. I was just about to though,” you murmured, turning back to face the bartender. “...Look, I’m sorry in advance…” 

He rolled his shoulders and tried to brace himself for the massive ego that was about to hit him head on. 

“You’re a bit slow for being the smart friend aren’t ya (y/n)? Anyways ol’ bloke just open a tab on this card. Anything these ladies want can go on this,” the man offered as he slid a black piece of plastic across the counter. 

“Right, well what will you have then?” Clyde asked, resting his prosthetic limb against the counter. 

“I’ll have three stoli martinis dry, all with two olives… Oh, oh this is going to be good. Are you sure you can manage all that?” Looks like the bar’s latest guest finally noticed his missing appendage. 

“I think I can manage. What can I get for the ladies?” he asked briefly turning his attention back to you.

“If you’ve got ginger beer, two jacks and gingers would be amazing. Then two of your strongest shots would be greatly appreciated, please!” When Clyde nodded you gave him a silent thanks and watched as he got to work on your drinks first. Although, it didn’t matter much. Alyssa found herself occupied with her boyfriend’s two cronies. 

“Hey! Do you mind if I film a post?” the obnoxious man asked as he whipped out his phone, “It’s not often that ya get to see a one armed bartender.” 

Living in such a small town Clyde was used to people poking fun at his arm. More than half the time though, it was done out of ignorance as opposed to ill intention. Very few people had the guts to mess with Jimmy Logan’s brother. Even if he wasn’t a Logan… He was a war hero of sorts. Between the Logan thing and the veteran thing most people backed off leaving him to his quiet self. For those who didn’t, he did his best to educate them on transradial amputations… 

Blocking them out came with years of therapy and he still wasn’t that good at it. He couldn’t blame people for not being comfortable around him because he still didn’t feel at home in his own skin. 

Clyde started to liken your friend’s date to a shorter, fatter, talentless version of Graham Norton. He kept going on about something called Instagram and how he could make the man famous. Out of all the things Clyde Logan was an idiot sure wasn’t one of them. He knew the man was trying to get a laugh… Now the bartender was trying to figure out if it was worth causing a ruckus over. 

Almost as if he was on cue, Jimmy stepped in to defend him though. His brother didn’t have the chance to open his mouth before words and fists started flying. Jim had been itching for an excuse to get in a fight tonight and this man just served himself up on a silver platter. 

Clyde hear two distinct noises; one sounded like a body hitting the floor and the other sounded like one hitting the bar. He didn’t need to turn around to tell you his brother had been the one to bite the dust. Jim wasn’t the type of man that thought things through. He’d dive head first into a one on three fight and hope for the best. As his brother, it was always up to Clyde to help even out the odds. Turning on his heels he darted to the opposite corner of the bar.

In his experience, fighting smarter always ended up better than going for the most direct offense. Which was exactly inspired the bartender’s next move. Making sure his prosthetic was safe, he grabbed a rag, a bottle of vodka, and headed towards the parking lot. 

“Hey Earl, you got a light?” Clyde asked calm as ever. Earl was a townie about 10 years his senior and a quiet man much like the middle Logan. He’d worked with Jimmy up in Charlotte, but beyond that there wasn’t much to know about the man. 

“Yeah, here ya go.” 

The young bartender then picked up a brick and threw it towards the widow of an expensive looking SUV. The car was plastered with an ugly red wrap. It looked like it was for some off brand energy drink… Just the kind of car the ass currently beating the pulp out of his brother might drive. He then shoved the rag into the vodka bottle and lit his little Molotov cocktail. Within seconds the car had burst into flames. Clyde leaned back against the porch railing, taking a second to admire his handiwork. 

What he missed though, was you watching from the window. Alyssa was appalled but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Anybody who even attempted to put Max in his place was someone you wanted to know. That man had an ego the size of a planet. 

“Handsome and ballsy,” you smiled after taking a sip of your drink. You couldn't help but wonder if your little trip was about to get about a thousand times more interesting.

#clyde logan #logan lucky #fanfic #fanfiction #adam driver #clyde logan x reader

[creativitytoexplore]

Kind Girls by Alexander Richardson https://ift.tt/3j7e3k9 Ethel and Elizabeth take diabolical action to avoid a visit from their abusive uncle; by Alexander Richardson. 

Elizabeth clutched the book under one arm and held the wicker basket in the other as she took the steps down two at a time. She reached the front hall, and was about to run out the door when he spoke. "Lizzie? Just where is it you're goin' to, girl?" She turned to her father. He wore soiled overalls, and was rubbing an oil-spotted rag between his hands. "Up to the hills, Pa," she said. "Me and Ethel gonna have a picnic." He nodded, moving the rag from one hand to the other. "Y'all finish cleanin' your room?" "Yes, Pa, and I'll dust again 'fore bed." He smiled. "Good girl, Lizzie. I want ever'thing lookin' nice for your uncle." She felt a knot in her stomach, and swallowed. "Yes, Pa." He squinted. "What's that book you got?" Elizabeth clenched it against her chest. "It's from the library, Pa. It's about... birds." His brow furrowed. "You best be careful with a library book outside, hear?" She nodded. "I hear, Pa." "Go on and have fun, then. Don't be playin' too late. After supper, I wanna fix up the guest room." The knot tightened. Elizabeth's knuckles whitened as she gripped the book. "Yes, Pa." He smiled, and she hurried outside to her sister.

She found Ethel by the apple tree, up on the hill overlooking their home. From here, they could see all of it; the house, the barn, the old scarecrow and his crops, the horses, and the dirt road leading into their farm. The area provided a clear view of anyone coming. Ethel watched as Elizabeth opened the basket and took out four thick candles, matches, a copper pot, and a letter opener. Elizabeth dropped to her knees and began rifling through the book. "Here it is," she said, pointing to the page. Ethel looked over. "From the top of Gram's shelf. Told you she was a witch. I read up good on it last night while you was sleepin'." Ethel swallowed. "What we gotta do?" "Lay out them candles in a square. Make it big enough to fit us both." Ethel did. Elizabeth placed the pot in the center. They both stared at the letter opener for a moment, and Elizabeth picked it up. "Lizzie, you sure this'll work?" "Yes." She shivered. "I won't let him touch us no more." Elizabeth laid out the book before them. "Okay," she said, handing the letter opener to Ethel. "Hold this a sec. I gotta read." Elizabeth took a breath and began reading from the book.

"Azazel, come forth, take what is yours Azazel, come forth, cleanse with your sword. Slay this beast, Azazel, free us from his spell. Azazel, come forth, and drag his soul to Hell."

"It ain't 'xactly a spell," Ethel said, "is it, Lizzie?" "The book didn't have no pages dedicated to creepy uncles." Elizabeth raised the letter opener, swallowed, and stuck it into her hand. She gasped, and handed it to her sister. Ethel looked at her, eyes watering. "Lizzie, I don't wanna. I can't. Elizabeth grabbed her arm. "Uncle Ernie ain't been as rough as he coulda, Ethel, but it only starts with touchin'. There's things worse than little cuts. C'mere." Ethel tried to pull away. "Can't we just tell Pa? You ain't never explained why we can't tell Pa. I wanna tell Pa." Elizabeth took her hand off Ethel's arm just long enough to slap her across the mouth. Ethel yelped, and Elizabeth pulled her close by the collar. "Hush that bawlin' and listen good. Pa loves Uncle Ernie like a pig loves mud, and there ain't no way this side o' Heaven he gonna hear about his beloved brother gettin' touchy with his little girls. No way, no how." "B-b-but last time he took his pants off!" "And Pa won't hear it, Ethel. He won't be able to wrap his head round it at all. This is the only way." She pressed the hilt of the letter opener against Ethel. "Now get cuttin'." Ethel choked back one more sob. "Lizzie, please." Elizabeth glared at Ethel for a long moment; in a quick motion, she pulled on Ethel's wrist and brought the letter opener down against her forearm. Ethel gasped, and Elizabeth pressed both their wounds against the inside of the pot, staining it with their blood. A gust blew through, putting out the candles. Ethel opened her mouth, and a sharp voice made them both jump: "Why, kind girls, have I been summoned?" Ethel turned towards the house. Elizabeth grabbed her again. "If you leave the square," she said, whispering, "the book says you'll break the ritual. Be brave." Ethel nodded, her eyes wide. Elizabeth took a deep breath. "We're here," she said, looking around for the source of the voice, "to ask that you please kill someone." The voice laughed, chilling and sharp, and Elizabeth's heart pounded. She wrapped an arm around her sister, careful not to smear blood on her. "And what," said the voice, "shall be your payment?" Elizabeth released her trembling sister. She reached into the basket, pulling out a string of pearls and a plate wrapped in aluminum foil. "We got Ma's old jewelry and two dozen raisin cookies, with another two dozen coming after." The laughter returned, sharper and louder, and it was all Elizabeth could do to not run from the spot. Ethel threw herself around her sister, and they dropped to their knees. "You bring bauble and sweets, children? Trinkets and treats, to end a life? Kind girls, do you think me a whore? Elizabeth didn't know what a whore was, but she shook her head. Tears streamed from Ethel's eyes. "What... what you want, then?" Elizabeth asked. There was silence for a moment. Then: "Something of worth. When your uncle is dead, be ready with a proper payment." Elizabeth gulped. She hadn't told this dark spirit anything about her uncle. "Okay," she said. "I agree." "And you, child?" Ethel didn't look up. "Yes," she said, her voice small. The laughter returned, louder and louder, until Elizabeth was sure Pa would hear it. On and on and on, and when it stopped, the girls ran; their belongings forgotten, they nearly rolled down the hill in their rush, stopping only when they were inside the house. They shook and shook, and Elizabeth thought she would scream. Pa walked into the room. "Say, you girls look like you seen a ghost." His eyes lingered on Elizabeth. "You been sure to bring in that book?"

The following morning, Elizabeth and Ethel were back under the apple tree, watching the road. Elizabeth could hardly sit still; she'd spent the night trying to think of a proper payment for the creature they had summoned and was at a loss. They didn't have money, outside of whatever the house and land were worth. On top of that, she had expected to hear something by now ("Uncle Ernie's been in a car accident; Uncle Ernie's heart gave out; Uncle Ernie's taken ill and it don't look good"). She continued to wonder, until she saw the familiar green jalopy puttering towards the farm. "No," she said. The car pulled up past the scarecrow and out stepped Uncle Ernie, suitcase in hand. He wore that darn flannel shirt she and Ethel had seen him unbutton so many times. She shuddered, and Ethel started to cry. Pa stepped out of the house, and the two men embraced. They chatted a moment. Elizabeth could picture the conversation, even if she couldn't hear it. Where them girls at, Ed? Brought 'em their favorite treat. They both went inside, and Elizabeth slapped her cut hand against the grass. "What was the point of all that, if we're still stuck in the same dang -" She was interrupted by Ethel pulling on her arm and pointing. "Lizzie, look!" Elizabeth did, and flung a hand to her mouth. The old scarecrow had stepped down from its cross and was strutting quite freely toward the house. It stopped at the stump where Pa chopped wood and pulled the axe free. Swinging it over its shoulder, it opened the door and went inside. Elizabeth stared at the house, transfixed, and jumped when she heard a man scream. The scream turned to a shriek, reaching higher and higher, and abruptly stopped. Ethel grabbed Elizabeth. "What we done? What in God's green garden we done?" The door opened again, and out walked the scarecrow, still carrying Pa's axe. Blood covered its chest and head and the axe's blade. It turned to the apple tree, to the girls, and started walking. The screen door slammed open as Pa rushed out, his double-barreled shotgun in hand. He pulled back the hammers and aimed. "You done killed my brother, you dirty sonofabitch!" Both barrels erupted into the scarecrow's back, rocking it forward. Hay filling exploded out of its sides, like a watermelon under an anvil. Elizabeth squeezed Ethel's hand. They'd brought forth evil, but Pa had killed it. Pa had saved them. Laughter filled Elizabeth's ears, same as the day before. Her eyes widened as the scarecrow turned, its sides stitching together to repair the shotgun's damage. Elizabeth watched her father stumble and yell as the scarecrow brought its axe down on him. "No!" Elizabeth and her sister began screaming. The scarecrow swung again and again and again, until their father was little more than pieces of meat. It dropped the axe, and the girls rushed forward. "This wasn't our deal!" Elizabeth yelled. Ethel dropped next to their mutilated father, wailing. "Only Uncle Ernie was 'sposed to die!" The scarecrow turned to her. "I assured Uncle Ernie's death, child." Its voice was the same as the one they'd heard yesterday. "No other guarantees were made." Elizabeth stared at him, open-mouthed, speechless. "My end of the bargain is complete. I will claim my payment." Ethel continued sobbing. Elizabeth tried to choke back tears. "What you want?" The scarecrow folded its arms. "You were to be ready." Elizabeth gulped. "Take Uncle Ernie's jalopy, then. Or our house. Don't need no house without Pa." Ethel held her late father's head against her chest, rocking and moaning. "Mortal acquisitions do little to sway my dark heart." The scarecrow stepped forward, axe raised, and a stain spread across the lower half of Elizabeth's dress. "Pay now, kind girls. I'll wait no longer." Ethel, her father's head still pressed against her chest, looked up and pointed a trembling finger at Elizabeth. "You done this!" Elizabeth glared. "Hush, Ethel." Ethel stomped her foot on the ground. "Take her, demon! This was her idea! Just take her away!" Elizabeth's jaw dropped, and a gloved hand closed around her hair. "That's a fine idea." Elizabeth reached back, prying at the fingers. "You can't do this! It was me done made a deal with you! Me!" "Child," the scarecrow said, laughter hanging around its words, "you both gave of your blood." Elizabeth's heart caught in her throat. She reached for her sister. "Ethel! Ethel, stop him!" But Ethel was back to staring at the remains of her father, fresh tears flowing. That cackling laughter returned, and the scarecrow dragged Elizabeth away from the house and out of sight as she screamed for her sister.

#FICTION on the WEB short stories

[masked-fox-creations]

When the Strangers Blew In, Ch. 20

I couldn't wait to let you all see this chapter. Things get intense. The beginning scene is the last happy moment until the very end.

Summary: Stanford and Stanley Pines dream of a different life. One where they’re not just tidying their pa’s shop or helping ma take care of the baby. Where they can live freely as the men they know they are, instead of pa hounding them to marry before they become spinsters. They get a taste of that possibility when two strangers blow into town, but with them comes a heap of trouble.

Pairings: Rick/Stan (stanchez); Fiddleford/Stanford (fiddauthor)

Warnings for this chapter: Some violence and tense situations.

ao3 link

Chapter 20— Fires of Death Chewing at Our Shoes

For the next few days Rick staid in bed and healed. They would have to move on the second Rick was well enough to ride. He was unconscious more than not, but when he was awake he seemed to be improving. Stanley hardly left his side.

Fiddleford and Stanford had gone out to get supplies while Stanley staid behind with Rick. The latter was asleep so Stanley was entertaining himself. As much as he wanted to be at his partner’s side, he never had liked being cooped up much.

There was a mirror in the room, cracked where his head was reflected but overall usable. He admired his hair; he and Stanford had decided it was about time for a change, and Fiddleford had cut it for them. While he trimmed down the fronts, he left the back down to their shoulders. Fiddleford did a great job, and Stanley felt almost transformed.

Next he took off his shirt and examined his back. None of his wounds looked serious anymore, mostly all healed up. That nasty bruise on his side was now a fraction of its original size and a much better looking color. It didn’t even really hurt to touch.

Stanley turned back around and stretched, testing how far he could bend comfortably. He wasn’t as stiff as when they first rode out. All the hard riding and the obstacles they’d had to deal with didn't aid the healing process, however. Sleeping on hard grounds or rickety chairs didn’t, either.

Glancing over at the bed where his partner lay, Stanley smiled. It was all worth it. Stanley closed his eyes and let himself get lost in thought. He wondered how ma was, and the girls. At least Susan and Carla had each other, and Susan’s budding romance, and he knew they’d take care of ma. He still felt a pang in his heart; those were three great women he’d never get to see again. They’d understand, though. He hoped.

He couldn’t help fretting about Filbrick. He worried Filbrick would direct his ire towards Shermie now. He wouldn’t dare lay a hand on ma. She had always tried to diffuse the tension between them, keep Filbrick from hitting him and Stanford, but she wasn’t always around. Filbrick knew how to take advantage of a few minutes where she wasn’t watching. That kid didn’t deserve to grow up with that hanging over his head.

Maybe ma would get away from him somehow. Go back to New Jersey. Or maybe Susan’s family would take her in, keep Filbrick away from her and Shermie. The sheriff might muscle in, though, stop her from leaving. He and Filbrick were close, after all, and Powers owed his position to him.

A pair of hands wrapped around his midsection, and familiar lips brushed against his neck. Stanley didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was Rick. All the same he did, smiling at the reflection that had joined his.

“If you pull your stitches Fiddleford’ll have my ass.”

Rick squeezed his arms, puling Stanley flush against him. “Can’t, i-it’s mine.”

Stanley craned his head back just enough to kiss Rick. It was a drawn out affair, neither in a hurry to break apart. Rick parted his lips to let Stanley in and for a good few minutes he reveled in exploring the familiar territory.

When they finally came up for air Rick commented, “You got beat up.”

He ghosted his fingers over Stanley’s side. Stanley looked down, focusing on Rick’s hand rather than his face. He didn’t trust his usual lying abilities right then.

“Hey, it was a rough ride getting this far. Besides, I’m not the one with a bullet in him.”

Rick shrugged and pressed a kiss to the crook of Stanley’s shoulder.

The door creaked open and the other two walked in, arms interlinked. They didn’t pull away when they saw Rick and Stanley, and neither did they.

“Looks like our patient has risen. How’re ya feeling, Lazarus?”

“Fucking ready to get the hell out of here,” Rick retorted.

“Agreed,” Stanford said, “but you’re still not in the best condition.”

“We’ll see how you are in a few days,” Fiddleford promised. “We need ta take advantage of the time we have now.”

Rick rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. As Fiddleford started his routine of examining Rick, the twins headed out for some fresh air. They walked side by side in amiable silence down the stairs.

As the first floor came into view they stopped dead in their tracks, blood turning cold.

With his back to them, Filbrick was at the front desk talking to the innkeeper. Neither noticed them.

“Yeah we got some guys like that here,” the innkeeper was divulging.

The twins slowly and silently crept back up the stairs. When they were out of the other men’s line of sight they raced to their room, barging in and startling the other two.

“What in Sam Hell?”

“Filbrick’s downstairs!” Stanley exclaimed.

“Of goddamn course he is,” Rick spat, shrugging his shirt back on.

“What’s the plan?” Fiddleford asked, leg bouncing as fast as a horse could gallop.

Stanley peered out the room’s sole window. There was no awning to jump down on or stairs to climb. They’d have to get crafty.

“We obviously can’t stay here,” Stanford answered. “Rick—”

“Don’t worry about me, Stanford. I-I-I, I’ll be fine.”

Stanford nodded and help Stanley push furniture in front of the door as Fiddleford started gathering up their things.

“So what’re we thinking?” Rick questioned.

“Remember when I showed you my knot tying abilities?” Stanley replied, already ripping sheets off one of the beds.

With Stanford and Fiddleford’s aid they began to tie them together. Halfway through their endeavors there was a banging at the door. For a split second everyone paused and stared at each other wide eyed. Then there was another series of bangs and they quickly got back to work.

“Leah, Leanne, I know you’re in there,” Filbrick growled. “Open this door right now.”

“You got the wrong room, buddy,” Stanley called out, trying to disguise his voice.

There was a pause, then the door shook angrily as Filbrick tried to shove his way in.

“Well it was worth a shot.”

Filbrick didn’t give up, and his barrage on their barricade spurred them faster. Soon all the sheets in the room had been tied into a rope which Stanley secured to a bed leg before tossing the other end out the window. It danged just a few inches off the ground.

“One day we’ll be able to leave a town the easy, normal way,” Fiddleford commented, gazing down.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Stanley chirped. “Alright, Sixer, you first. Show them how it’s done.”

With an adventurer’s practiced grace Stanford slid down the rope. He waited at the bottom, motioning Fiddleford to follow.

“I used to climb trees all the time as a boy, so this shouldn’t be too different.”

Fiddleford climbed out the window, making it down without incident. Rick insisted Stanley go next so he did, waiting there for Rick.

“Go around and get the horses, make sure the other’s ain’t out there,” Stanley instructed.

They left and Stanley concentrated on his partner. Rick was coming down gingerly, a grimace plain on his face. Halfway down his hand slipped and he fell, thankfully into Stanley’s waiting arms.

“Maybe you should ride with me,” he suggested.

Ever stubborn, Rick declined and Stanley put him down with a sigh.

The other two came back with their horses and they hurriedly saddled up. Then the quartet rode out as fast as lightening. When they crossed the border out of town they heard another set of hoofs join theirs. Powers.

Before they could do something about him, Bud and Preston suddenly shot out from the side. The former nearly rammed into Chestnut, but Stanley veered at the last second which forced Stanford to do the same. Rick and Fiddleford, riding behind the twins, both came to a complete stop.

“Sixer!”

“I’m fine,” Stanford assured. “But I do believe we’re in a bit of a bind.”

Everyone was at a standstill. Bud and Preston had weaseled in between the twins and their partners, and Powers had pistols drawn.

“Girls,” he called out, “be sensible.”

“Oh, I am beyond being sensible, you ignorant patsy!”

Stanley whipped out the guns on his belt and Stanford followed suit; Stanley had been holding onto Rick’s while he was recovering, and Stanford had theirs. Fiddleford was carrying, but one twitch towards his holster could very easily be his last.

“Fellas, get outta here!” Fiddleford urged.

“Hurry before Filbrick gets here. These idiots won’t harm you.” “But they will you,” Stanford pointed out. To the sheriff he advised, “I suggest you let them go.” He was proud at how level he kept his voice, no trace of his incredible panic audible.

“I am a man of the law, and I aim to uphold justice.”

“The hell does justice even mean to you?” Stanley snapped. “I can’t tell if you even realize how corrupt you—all of you—even are.”

“Perhaps it helps them sleep at night, imagining they’re benevolent rather than just plain crooked,” Stanford mused.

Bud held up his hands and started, “Now why don’t we all just put these silly weapons away and talk? I’m sure once you hear us out you’ll realize—”

Stanley pointed one of the guns at him. His mouth clamped shut.

“You may not care about a gun pointed at your head, sheriff, but I sure as shit know you need to keep these two doofuses alive.”

He trained his second one on Preston while Stanford kept his on Powers.

“Would you really shoot me?” Preston scoffed.

“Do you really have to ask?” the twins returned in unison.

There were at a standstill. Everyone’s eyes were focused on the twins. They in turn kept looking back and forth between their pursuers. At one point Rick caught Stanley’s eye and nodded slightly. Before he could suss out Rick’s plans the other man set them into motion.

He reared Katrina up, startling Powers and his horse. The beast let out a high pitched squeal and knocked its rider back, one pistol flying out of his hand. As he tried to steady his spooked horse Rick and Fidds tried to make a break for it.

Before they could get far Bud managed to cut the pair off on the right. They started to turn but Preston charged, ramming into Rick who fell off his horse.

Without thinking Stanley let off a shot. It cleared Preston, sailing far too close to Fiddleford for comfort.

It was too late for another shot.

“Put your guns down.”

The twins were so conditioned to what would happen if they didn’t obey that tone that they had to force their hands to stay up. Filbrick glowered at them, and they didn’t meet his gaze.

He looked around at the scene. Powers and gotten control of his horse. Rick staid on the ground, hunched over and clutching his chest. Preston and Bud looked far out of their depths, probably surprised at their own quick thinking.

“Off your horse,” Filbrick barked, and Fiddleford readily complied, casting the twins an apologetic look.

Filbrick eyed them expectantly. They staid right where they were.

“Do you two know what you’re costing me?” the man growled. “This ends here.”

The twins didn’t speak, neither trusting their voice. It was all they could do to not shake in their saddles.

Filbrick narrowed his eyes and climbed down. As he approached Fiddleford and Rick, Stanford inhaled sharply while Stanley vibrated, suddenly overcome with rage.

“You touch one hair on their heads and I will show you hell,” he promised.

Filbrick drew his pistol and whipped it across the side of Fiddleford’s face. He staggered to his knees beside his partner.

“Fiddleford!”

“I’m fine, darling, don’t you worry about me,” he assured, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.

Preston and Bud inched away from Filbrick, shock and worry evident on their faces.

Stanford realized he was pointing his gun at Filbrick. His finger felt heavy on the trigger, and he desperately wanted to close his eyes and let that finger push down. Filbrick could never hurt his brother again then. Yet before he could Powers was at Rick’s side, gun trained on him.

“Do it, y-y-you fucking coward,” Rick snapped, leaning into the barrel. Stanford glanced at his twin. Stanley was visibly shaking, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed. He put a hand on Stanley’s elbow, giving his brother a margin of comfort. It was small but it was enough to help Stanley compose himself.

“Leave them alone,” Stanley said, voice not as steady as he’d like.

“Goddamn it you idiots, leave us and get out of here!” Rick hollered.

“Rick, please be quiet,” Stanford replied, glancing from Filbrick then back to his twin. He caught Stanley’s eye and both nodded. They took a deep breath and climbed down.

“Let these two go and you can have us. We won’t fight, or struggle, or run off again. We’ll go back to Gravity Falls with you and marry these two sheepskins.”

Fiddleford’s eyes were disbelieving saucers. Rick looked ready to yell out again, but the pistol at his temple made him bite his tongue.

“Why would I ever agree to that?” Filbrick replied. “I have you both and this bandito trash.”

“Because you could have us compliant,” Stanford returned. “Which is what you really want.”

“Or you do this the hard way, and risk it all. And I swear, if anything happens to them—”

“Do not threaten me, Leah.” Filbrick pressed his gun to the back of Fiddleford’s head. Fiddleford closed his eyes and started mumbling what was most likely a prayer.

“Don’t!” Stanford exclaimed, chest tightening.

“Throw down your guns,” Filbrick ordered.

Seething, they obeyed. Rick shifted slightly, like he planned on doing something incredibly foolish. The twins shook their heads and he reluctantly stilled.

“You finally learned how to use your heads. Preston, Bud, grab those guns.”

“Us?” Preston squeaked. Filbrick shot them a dark look and they scrambled off their horses.

Bud started to say something to the twins as he scooped up their weapons, but the twins glared at the man, and he quickly shut his mouth.

Filbrick went over to his steed and pulled something out of his saddlebag. As he came closer, stopping just a few yards away, the twins recognized them as two of their dressed. The thought that Filbrick had been in their room at all sent a shudder through the brothers. They couldn’t dwell on that, however, as he tossed the dresses as their feet.

“You’re not wearing man’s clothing anymore.”

“What, you just expect us to change out here in front of everyone?”

“Don’t act like you have any modesty after consorting around like you have been.”

Filbrick leveled them with a hard gaze which Stanley matched. Stanford, however, went rigid. Stanley glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

“Sixer, behind me.”

Stanford nodded gratefully and grabbed one of the dresses, then retreated behind his twin. Stanley and Filbrick kept their eyes locked, neither breaking contact while Stanford changed. He twisted and contorted, trying to stay as covered as he could by Stanley’s frame. His face was hot when he came back out, and he refused to meet anyone’s gaze.

The twins switched places and Stanford forced himself to stare right back at Filbrick. Stanley didn’t try to be as conservative as he had been, tossing clothes off with abandon and letting everyone catch glimpses of bare skin. When he emerged from behind his twin, though, he similarly didn’t look over at Rick and Fiddleford.

The brothers glared daggers at Filbrick. He glared back. When neither averted their eyes he finally turned around, mouth practically in a snarl.

“We’re heading out. There’s still plenty of time before nightfall.”

Stanley and Stanford started for their horses but Filbrick stopped them.

“Both of you on one.”

They clenched their fists, but wordlessly climbed up on Chestnut. Stanford cringed as Filbrick ordered Bud to take Astra’s reigns. Then he laughed as she snorted indignantly and moved out of his reach. Bud tried again but the horse simply continued to jerk away.

“Calm that beast or I’ll shoot her,” Filbrick threatened, already raising his gun. Stanford instantly sobered.

“Astra,” he called with a whistle. She instantly trotted over. He pressed a calming hand to her face. “It’ll be fine, girl. I know he’s beneath you, but just go with him for a bit.”

She gave a horsely huff but, after Stanford have her an apologetic stroke, she went back over to Bud. This time she allowed him to grab her reigns.

They turned their attention to Powers who had bound Rick and Fiddleford’s hands together. Now he was attaching them to Filbrick’s horse.

“Y-you don’t actually expect us to walk.”

“If you try anything I’ll drag you,” Filbrick promised.

With that he approached their horses and slapped their flanks hard. The already unsettled beasts ran off.

“Let’s go,” Filbrick ordered, ignoring the twins who glared at him with all the malice they could muster.

Filbrick took point, Powers staying in the rear behind Stanley and Stanford. Preston and Bud staid a bit off to the side, both seeming like they had no idea how to react to the situation.

Stanley looked down as he felt a hand squeeze his. He gazed back at his brother who offered him a small smile that was more of a promise, though one it didn’t look like he quite believed himself. Stanley returned it shakily.

Then they cast their eyes ahead. It was slow going, and felt like a death march.

#Three chapters left. Our heroes are in a bind. #stanchez #fiddauthor #fanfiction #Fox made this #Rick and Morty #Gravity Falls #trans bandito quartet au #trans