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summersnow82 · 6 months

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Somethin Bad - Part 19

Author's Note: I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter up. I will be finishing this story. Life just keeps getting in the way. Thanks for sticking with me. @durorholmes - this chapter is for you!

Part 19

Patience had never been one of Annabelle’s virtues. Frank and Darlene had her convinced Travis only needed a night or two to think things over before he’d come back for her. It had been three days, and Travis hadn’t so much as called.

She was starting to get pissed off.

Thankfully, her accommodations were better than normal. Darlene’s home had been in the family since the Civil War, consistently updated and well cared for while still maintaining the historical charm. The home was a lavish two-story build with columns, tons of windows, and a charming wrap-around porch. Inside, the original flooring had been carefully maintained, and small details like the sconces reminded the owners of their rich heritage. Darlene had carefully decorated with a flurry of antiques and heirlooms, while updating the kitchen and bathrooms to a more modern taste.

Annabelle loved it. She currently lay on the four poster solid chestnut bed trying not to worry or feel sorry for herself. Darlene and Frank had gone above and beyond to make Annabelle feel at home, and they’d been kind enough to keep the personal questions to a minimum. Darlene had taken full advantage of having a female companion with time on her hands, and had dragged Annabelle to North Kill’s beauty parlor and salon for a “day of lady luxury,” as she called it. It was hard to feel bad for yourself when your nails were polished like gems, your makeup was flawless, and your hair was styled like a 1940s pinup model. Darlene had insisted on shopping afterwards, and now Annabelle had half a dozen bags in her room with new clothes and accessories.

“I can’t take it with me, sweetheart,” Darlene had said, grinning like a Cheshire cat as she handed her credit card over to the store clerk. “Besides, you need something more than Travis’ flannel shirts and stretch pants to wear. I take it this was an unplanned visit?”

“Very much so,” Annabelle admitted, ducking her head to hide her shame – her pride was currently at war with her gratitude, which was another common problem thanks to her time traveling.

She sighed, swinging her feet off the side of the bed now. She couldn’t lie in her room all day; maybe she could help cook dinner or do something to show her gratitude. If she could find something to do, something to preoccupy her thoughts perhaps it would be easier to figure out how to deal with the coming full moon and Constance Hackett’s clear insanity. Anything was better than thinking about why Sean hadn’t reached out yet, and how Travis could so easily pretend she didn’t exist.

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“You can’t stay here anymore.”

That’s what Travis had said the night of his confession to Sean; the same night he’d cast Annabelle out of his home. He knew he couldn’t go home that night, either. He blamed it on the alcohol, but he knew it was because he couldn’t face the place now that he’d sent Annabelle away. Despite his reasoning, he still felt guilty for how he’d left her. The least he could do for her now was keep Sean safe from his parent’s murderous intent.

The alcohol had loosened his tongue as he paced his office floor. Sharing his story had ignited a determination in him to fix something, anything within his control, and this he could control. Sean watched him pace back and forth, working through options before he spoke again. “I know a place,” he finally said, grabbing his keys and his jacket.

Sean didn’t move. “You’ve been drinking.”

Travis arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you serious?” Sean’s expression said he was. Travis sighed. “Look, you can risk the car with me, or you can risk my family coming back here later tonight.”

Sean pursed his lips, exhaling deeply. “Fine,” he reluctantly announced. His body language and tone told Travis it was anything but fine, but this was the lesser of two evils.

Sean wasn’t sure where he was expecting Travis to take him – maybe a cabin deeply hidden in the woods, or a seedy motel, but a historic Catholic church was not on his list. Saint Christopher’s Blessed Trinity of North Kill had fallen into some disarray over the years, but it was still stunning with intricate detail.

“Saint Christopher’s the patron saint of travelers,” Travis replied, killing the ignition. “Thought you’d appreciate the irony.”

A small chuckle left Sean before he said, “I always preferred Saint Jude.” He cast his eyes to the Sheriff. “Patron saint of lost causes.”

The two men were silent as they approached the church. Travis took the lead, heading towards the back of the building. The back door of the church was unlocked, a testament to either the trust of the priest or his faith in the citizens of North Kill. Travis ushered Sean in, leading him to a back room in the darkened halls.

“You know your way around,” Sean said softly.

Travis made a small noise in the affirmative, closing yet another door behind him before he pulled out his flashlight. “I spent quite a lot of time here growing up. Thought about joining the priesthood at one point, too, but Ma wasn’t very supportive of that idea.” He grimaced at the thought. “This church dates back to the Civil War era. It’s been used to hide, protect, and offer sanctuary for countless people – a fact the former priest shared after Evie…,” he trailed off, casting the glow of his flashlight in the direction of the bookshelves lining the wall. “Now let’s see,” he murmured to himself, moving forward to run his hand along the wooden shelves. “Frank said it was even used in the Underground Railroad.” Travis paused for a moment, then turned back to Sean. “Is that a thing where you come from?”

Sean nodded, his silence heavy. “So your folks don’t know about this?”

Travis went back to searching. “Not a bit. I think the only reason Frank ever told me was in case Evie or I needed to run.” He shrugged. “At least it’s helping someone now. Ah!” The excitement in Travis’ voice and a small, but firm click told Sean he’d found the release mechanism, and the bookshelf pushed forward. “There we go. C’mon.”

The enthusiasm in Travis’ voice died the second the lights flicked on. Both men whirled to see an older man glowering at them, his hat clutched firmly between his hands.

“Frank,” Travis gasped.

“You two wanna tell me what you’re doing in my church at this hour?” The scowl on Frank’s face read as disappointment and frustration more than proper anger, but Sean remained silent, waiting on Travis to take the lead. “Dagnabbit, Travis, I showed you this in confidence. What’re you doing skulking around here in the dark like a common thief?”

Sean blinked. “You thought we were thieves?”

Frank gave him a withering stare. “Of course. Figured they could take what little I had instead of risking the defilement of the Lord’s House. And you are, son?”

“Ummm,” Sean said dumbly, not missing the sudden smug look on Travis’ face. Sean wasn’t used to feeling dumb; he was used to Annabelle doing most of the talking when they were in sticky situations. She was good at it. Travis, despite his earlier surprise, seemed to be enjoying this off moment for the younger man.

“Frank,” Travis began, and the older man turned his withering gaze to the Sheriff.

“You’ll remember where you are before you answer that question, son.”

Travis sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Frank.”

“My name is Sean, sir. Sean Landers.”

Frank arched a brow. “You a new officer?” He asked, motioning towards the uniform Sean still wore.

“Not… exactly, sir.”

“Frank, I can’t explain, but I need you to trust me,” Travis said, holstering his flashlight. “He needs a safe place.”

Frank cast a look between the two men, crossing his arms over his chest as he debated Travis’ words. Finally he said, “This have anything to do with your folks?”

Travis nodded, his thin lips pulled in a tight grimace. “Yes, sir.”

“What about Alice?” He cast his eyes over to Sean when he said the name, studying him carefully.

Travis sighed. “Yes, sir.”

Frank pursed his lips, nodding his head just a touch. “Her name really Alice?”

Sean couldn’t tell if Travis was ashamed or forlorn, so he spoke up. “Her name is Annabelle Harris, sir. She’s my sister, and we’re in a bit of tight spot.”

Frank took the new information with stride, carefully studying both men. “I’ll say you are. Constance Hackett’s got her eye on that girl. Maybe she should be the one hiding in here instead of you.” He was silent for a moment before slowly asking, “Does this have anything to do with the fire six years ago?” Travis’ head snapped up, and Frank nodded, clucking his tongue. “What about the upcoming full moon?” It was Sean’s turn to look surprised.

“How… ?”

“I may be old, boys, but I’m not dumb. I’ve lived in North Kill most of my life; the town’s not that big. People talk. Some listen. Fewer observe.” He paused, his gaze softening at he looked back over at Travis. “You haven’t been the same since, son. Been… off. Tired – no, exhausted. Constantly. Every full moon you get on edge, and the day after you’re plum worn out. But mainly,” he paused, releasing a heavy sigh. “Mostly, I just see the hope and faith slip further and further away in you and your kin. That’s no way to live.”

Travis cast his gaze to the ground. “So you’ll help us?” Sean asked quietly, and Frank nodded, still watching the Sheriff.

“I will. Just tell me what you need.” He paused for a moment, as if he’d just had a brilliant idea. “And you c’mon over tomorrow night for supper, Travis. You owe your lady friend a proper apology.”

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Annabelle should’ve known something was up with the way Darlene and Frank flitted around the house the next day, fusing over her, insisting she wear the lovely yellow blouse with the frilled collar, and the emerald green skirt that twirled around Annabelle’s calves. Darlene was taking extra pains to make the house smell warm and inviting, while giving Frank hushed instructions anytime Annabelle came into view.

So when the doorbell rang it shouldn’t have surprised Annabelle how Frank called from the kitchen, asking her to get the door for them.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. So did seeing Travis standing there in a clean pair of dress slacks, a stiff white button-down shirt, and a charcoal gray suit jacket. The look on his face when he saw her was one of pure surprise, and she might have relished it more if her anger hadn’t gotten the better of her. Her lips twisted in a defiant purse, and with a flick of her wrist she was slamming the front door in the Sheriff’s face.

Annabelle spun on her heel, her green skirt flowing around her, and began marching away from the door when Darlene popped her head out of the dining room. “Darling, don’t slam the door the poor fellow,” she said, examining two different stems of glassware. “You can’t see him grovel through the wood.” Annabelle froze, blinking at the older woman. She’d already come to admire and adore Darlene over the past few days, but a new respect was growing within her. The older woman looked up, flashing Annabelle a dazzling grin before nodding in the direction of the front door. Annabelle sighed reluctantly, and spun back around, swinging the door open with a flourish.

Travis was still standing on the porch, an eyebrow arched so high she could hear the sass before he opened his mouth.

...so she slammed the door in his face again. Just for good measure.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the entryway mirror. Her hair was still curled and coiffed, her makeup still pristine, and she looked better than she’d seen herself look in a long time. If she was going to deal with Travis better to do it looking like this.

She swung the door open again, thrusting a hand against the door jamb, ultimately blocking his path. She arched a brow, tilted her chin up a touch, and said, “You made me ruin a perfectly good roast.”

Annabelle didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but clearly it wasn’t a reference to food. His brow furrowed in confusion, and she stepped over the threshold, surprising him further as she advanced into his personal space. His eyes widened a touch, and he took a step back. She reached out, grabbing his jacket lapels and pulled him back to her. “Where is Sean?”

#the quarry travis #the quarry #ted raimi #travis hackett #ao3 fanfic #fan fiction #annabelle harris #sean landers #north kill #my ocs #travis x oc #patron saint #ao3 writer #sorry for the delay #time travel #somethin bad #slow burn #angst with a happy ending #idiots flirting

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youchewnet · 6 months

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"tits or ass" bro her hard drives

#txtposting #there's somethin really comforting to me about the whirring of hard disk drives #my homelab pc has a lot of em and it's so nice being around while they're doing their thing i love girls #objectum #apologies if this exact post has been made before. btw. my bad

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inkskinned · 10 months

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you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

#writeblr #warm up #my dad was actively doing bad shit to us and we STILL were told we were lucky . and to a point i do think im lucky #i just think also there's somethin to be said about like. how about we stop using comparison to dismiss ppls individual struggles #yes there are people who have no perspective. for the reference tho having perspective actually made me really unwilling to get help #for what was a serious and debilitating mental health issue. bc i thought i didnt DESERVE IT #and i would rather have 600 ppl who aren't THAT bad get help and get heard and get seen #than make any 1 kid. do the math that i did: look at the world that is dying and the people who are hurting and say #''oh. okay. others have it worse. they are probably better people than i am. i am being unreasonable. i cannot ask for help #i am not good. i am taking too much space. i am not worth saving.''#bc our WHOLE lives we are taught a scarcity mindset - that you can 'steal' from someone. so that instead of changing a system that doesn't #actually offer fair support to everyone #we put the impetus on the individual to just... demand less.#and here's something - there are probably ppl who think i DIDNT deserve to get help #bc i DID have it better than other people #and something about that is ... so sickening. bc i think all of us in some way at some point WILL need help.#we were supposed to make communities. we were supposed to offer our hands. we were supposed to raise the barn #instead we said: it could be worse. now handle it yourself

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cloudsofteeth · 5 months

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_(┐「ε:)_ 🧡

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb fanart #whb mc #whb satan #whb mammon #my art #oc ivory #I’ve been thinkin about tiddies all damn day #listen I love Satan I really do but somethin about the way Mammon absolutely rizzes the shit out of you….#I’m a weak woman

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unexpectedbrickattack · 1 year

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Drinking Buddies :)

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #pizza tower vigilante #gustavo #peppino #vigilante #alcohol #drinking #heehee giggly <3 #assume they were both waiting for their ride home dw <3 #pep can handle hard liquor and vigilante cant u_u #but both of them get so bad and silly as soon as they reach a buzzed state #im thinking of that cute album art for the ost that has peppino doing karaoke #hes just SCREAMING into the mic and vigilante is like waow....this tugs at somethin close in my soul.....#and vigilante just starts monologuing LOUDLY when hes wasted. Peppino is kept entertained by this :)#i forgot i wanted to do catty old men but old men being silly was all i could think of last night #get funky get sillay #also also i am looking back and rereading the comic for mistakes #and pep is just a very silly and affectionate drunk hes like #*crying softly* 'i love you....u deserve good things....*hugs them* *passes out in their arms*#when hes still buzzed but sobering up hes like pleasantly warm and vibin #hes throwing out ilu to anyone who will listen #'i told vigi i love u n g'night and he . and he he made. Cheese Bubble. :)'#'thats really nice peppino :)'#'AND I. gugh. I love u too Gus! and i. uhm *tugs at bricks fur* Brick :) and i love brick!'#'we love you too pep :)'#':) *passes out*'

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ipromptography · 1 year

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leather-clad lads

#noctis lucis caelum #noctis #gladiolus amicitia #gladio #prompto argentum #prompto #ignis scientia #ignis #ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #thank you to areion sakurachiruhi and snacks for the mods #somethin about boys in leather yknow #scratches my bad boy itch #i took about 1mil photos of these so expect a part 2/3 #we need a version of the monica fit for gladdy

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hxltic · 3 months

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It’s BOKUTO’S birthday!! In the decorated living room, he’s laughing with his friends and teammates that, when given the signal, push him down onto the couch and slap a children’s party hat onto his head. He’s confused at first but unable to stop giggling at whatever was said beforehand.

It takes a moment to see you amongst the many people there, despite being stood directly in front of him. A cheeky smile grows on his face that lights up the room even more when he gets a first glimpse of you. Everyone in attendance disperses to give him a clear view, so when he looks for the second time, his gaze shifts, and there’s something resonating within him that wasn’t there before.

His smile shrinks, but not in a bad way. Simultaneously, his eyes fall lower and lower the closer he gets to your feet.

Your hair was down. Your lips were painted a blood red, and there was a big number 12 on your stomach, surrounded by black with a hint of yellow in the scratch design. “Bokuto” was written at the top.

You’d had a larger version of his jersey made so you could wear it as a short dress. A short dress. It only shrinks as you step closer to him, but it matched the high heeled black boots you wore for the September breeze.

His mouth was just barely open the whole time, and he closed it when he realized, but his teeth clenched hard against each other when he looked back up to you to see a devilish smirk on your face.

By now you were within an arm’s length away, bowing seductively with two hands on his kneecaps. His throat feels tight when he swallows. He can only imagine the display from behind in a dress that short.

“Happy birthday baby,” you whisper, blinking through your eyelashes, pressing a light kiss to his lips. He immediately raises his back from the cushion of the couch through all the hoops and hollers, wrapping his large hand around your nape. He grunts and chases your lips greedily when you pull away, the aggravation clear on his face as if he can’t hear the people around.

He jokes, forcing a curl into his lips, “Why is my present running away from me?”

It was mainly to calm his “nerves” that were sending a blood rush directly to his lower half, but also to convince himself he wasn’t angry that this whole stupid party was planned if you were going to stand in front of him like this. “You’ll get the real present later, Kō.”

He’s silent after that, shifting and readjusting in the seat, hoping nobody would catch him moving his dick so that it wouldn’t sit heavy against his sweats amidst his friends.

It’s precisely why dancing for him, which you were planning to do but without an audience, doesn’t work. He gives in too quickly, and the desire to touch you is so raw he’s usually still in the chair dragging kisses down your throat as you throw your head back in ecstasy.

©️ hxltic

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