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jemej3m · 4 years

Note

Aaron takes the mental health course part of pre med (is that a thing?) and starts recognizing Andrew grounding himself, having an episode, etc

bruhhhhh

bruuhhh

Aaron winced as his son sprinted for the door, yelling the whole way. The twins knew that their uncle was coming to visit and were absolutely ecstatic about it. A well-known fact amongst the old Foxes and their children was that Andrew was very, very good with kids.

Well, Aaron conceded. Andrew wasn’t good with them. He just didn’t even have to try: they loved him right off the bat. And barring the slight furrow in his brows whenever one of Aaron’s twins or Kevin’s spawn whined ‘please!’, he didn’t seem to mind being around them, either.

His son was jumping for the doorhandle excitedly, so Aaron put his hand atop of his head and stilled him before swinging the door open.

Andrew was much the same. They were aging the same way, albeit the slight muscular composition difference. Andrew’s teeth were a little more yellow, though he’d given up smoking a few years ago, and Aaron had reading glasses tucked into the collar of his shirt. Other than that, they were just as similar as they always had been.

“Hey,” Aaron said, but his son was already yelling and jumping and tugging on Andrew’s hand. Andrew’s lips nearly twitched into a smile. Nearly.

Once his bags were deposited and shoes tucked into a corner, Katelyn handed him a mug of cocoa and they all sat on the couch as the kids regaled their uncle with stories of preschool and their neighbour’s new dog and how Dad had found them in the bathroom with craft scissors, which was why Aaron’s son had such a short haircut now.

Katelyn got them settled for bed soon after: Andrew had arrived relatively late in the evening, just in time for ‘adult dinner’.

“How was the flight?” Aaron asked, taking a dish of potatoes out of the oven.

Andrew hummed into his glass of wine. “Miserable.”

Aaron had known for quite a while Andrew’s deliberating fear of heights, ever since the Foxes had taken a reunion trip to Hawaii a few years ago. When his wife hustled back into the kitchen, Andrew nodded at her and she smiled back. Aaron felt something odd in his chest. Andrew had been very tolerant of Katelyn lately. He assumed it was the kids’ doing.

They ate dinner quietly. Katelyn chattered about the kids, and their medical placements. Andrew asked about their specialties.

Aaron stared at the plate. Katelyn nudged his shoulder.

“Right.” He glanced up. “I’m not sure. What I want to choose, that is. It’s between surgery or psychiatry.”

Andrew hummed. “Psychiatry.”

Aaron shrugged. He’d done a lot of mental health work throughout his postgraduate degree. It just seemed to make sense that he’d go into that field. It takes one to know one, and all that. “What do you think?”

Andrew just arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“Well, yes,” Aaron said, tone a little frigid. Drake’s trial had been a public debacle, but it was Dr Richmond Proust that Aaron couldn’t get out of his head. It was during their fourth year when the news had come on about a psychiatrist at Easthaven being exposed for forceful sexual conduct with patients. Andrew hadn’t spoken to anyone but Neil for a week, and then disappeared for another two when Waterhouse asked him to stand witness to Proust’s trial.

“Psychiatry is glorified drug dealing,” Andrew decided, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork. He paused, then shrugged. “Could probably do with a bit of Minyard fuckery, though.”

Aaron was finally able to read Andrew’s subtext though: that was the biggest compliment he’d ever get. Unable to bite down a smile, he said “I thought so, too.”

His brother simply hummed.

The rest of dinner passed quietly. Andrew had three of Katelyn’s triple fudge brownies and sent a photo of them to Kevin, just to piss him off. The evening slowed down with a nightcap in front of the news, Katelyn heading to bed early. She’d agreed to take the kids to their daycare in Aaron’s stead so that he could have breakfast with his brother alone.

Aaron was just about to turn in for the night when Andrew’s phone rang. Andrew squinted at the unknown number, mouth turned down: he could remember everyone’s phone numbers, and this was clearly one he didn’t recognise.

He rose the phone to his ear. The slight frown disappeared and transformed into a blank stare, something far deadlier. Aaron hadn’t seen him wear it since college.

“When,” Andrew snapped, gripping the phone so hard Aaron thought it would break. The voice continued. “And you only thought to call me now? I’m his next-of-kin.” Aaron froze.

Eventually, Andrew hung up, holding the phone midair as his eyes glossed over.

“Andrew?”

“Neil got in a head-on collision,” he mumbled.

“Dead?”

“Unstable.”

“I’ll book you a flight.”

Andrew wasn’t moving. When Aaron saw a flush rise in his cheeks, he realised Andrew wasn’t breathing, either. Shit. Shit. His brother was having a fucking meltdown. Goddammit, next time Aaron saw Neil he was going to strangle him.

He got off the couch and crouched down in front of Andrew, careful not to touch him. “Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t move.

“Hey, Andrew.” Aaron stood up a little more so that they were eye level. “Andrew, you need to breathe. Okay? If you’re going to go make sure Neil’s okay, I need you to breathe.”

Andrew finally looked at him. He was angry. Terrified. Aaron couldn’t really tell: his gaze was like looking into a void, pupils blown wide.

Calming someone down was a lot simpler when Aaron didn’t know them. This was like walking a tightrope of barbed wire over an alligator-infested pit.

“Can I have your phone? I’m going to book you a flight. Okay? Nod if you can hear me.”

Andrew nodded but didn’t relinquish the phone. Aaron grit his teeth.

“Andrew. It’s going to be okay. He’s unstable, but he’ll make it. He’s always made it. He’s impossible to kill, right?”

“I hate him,” Andrew mumbled.

“I know. Can I use your phone?”

Andrew dropped the phone into Aaron’s hand and dropped his head into his hands, utterly still. His breathing went all ragged and choppy.

There was a springy voice on the other end of the line. “Hello, this is the service desk for Terminal 1 domestic, how can I -?”

“I need a flight for Denver as soon as you can,” Aaron snapped. “It’s an emergency. When’s the next available one? I’m willing to pay whatever’s necessary.”

“Oh,” the woman sputtered. “Um, there’s a red-eye leaving in an hour, but there’s only first-class left - ”

“That’s fine. Please book it for Andrew Minyard. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Sir, I really can’t - wait, Andrew Minyard? Seriously?”

“Dead serious.”

“Alright,” she allowed. “Okay. If you can make it to this desk in 25 minutes, I’ll have a seat for you, Mr Minyard.”

Aaron hung up. “Andrew, we need to go.”

Andrew’s breathing sped up, fingers digging into his hair and pulling hard enough to rip it out. Aaron’s chest began to ache, watching as the sleeves of his shirt fell down to reveal the black armbands, still everpresent after all these years.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “Are you with me, Andrew?”

Andrew glanced up slightly, glaring at Aaron’s collarbone.

“All you need to do is breathe. Neil is okay. He’s going to be okay. You’ll see him soon, alright?”

Aaron tapped his hand gently on his knee, palm down for four counts, then holding his fist closed for eight counts, then palm up for four counts. Andrew slowly began to breathe in time with his hand, chest heaving as he inhaled through his teeth.

It took a while, but Aaron watched him slowly come back to his senses. His hands slipped over his eyes once his breathing was steady, kneading at his temples.

“I’ll drive you to the airport,” Aaron said.

“Okay,” Andrew rasped.

“Babe,” Katelyn whispered. “Your phone is going off.”

Aaron blinked his eyes open, glaring at the ceiling. Why’d he been up so late?

Oh. Right.

He blindly reached out for his phone.

Most of it was the Foxes going mad, but there in the midst of chaos, was Andrew’s number.

he’s going to be ok. thank you.

Aaron sighed, oddly relieved. He didn’t like Neil Josten one bit, but it would’ve been a slight hiccup if he’d died.

good, he said, texting blindly without his glasses. don’t mention it.

trust me, his brother texted back. I won’t.

nawww twinyards!

#tw: panic attack #mental health #twinyards #andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #tw: mention of car accident #aftg #all for the game #look at that relationship growth #aaron minyard

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hellonoblesky · 3 years

Text

Happy Saturday it’s past 2am here’s Harbinger Angst. Because I’m up late and I’m havinggg thoughts.

So here’s my hcs about the Harbingers reacting to/dealing with the news of Signora‘s death :)

(CW For like. Mental breakdowns and guilt and general emotional instability because no one is having a good time here. Oh also cussing, anddd some familial angst in Childe’s bit? Also I am so sorry about any misspellings n whatever it is. Very late and I already have two other posts in my drafts collecting dust that are also HCs so.)

Dottore:

So if you don’t follow my art blog or haven’t seen my Harbinger hcs (which are under the process of some change with new info being released and whatnot), you don’t know this but I HC Dot and Signora to be like sorta just evil siblings

Now because death is such a commodity in Dot’s uh… specific line of work, he doesn’t register that Signora is dead until like two days after he hears the news

He picked up the phone (rotary perhaps?) to go call up Signora‘a office to see if she has any good gossip and then stopped halfway through dialing because it hit him that she’s never going to be there to pick up the phone on the other end. Ever.

He usually listens to music when he’s working but with the absence of Signora ranting he has to take up listening to the radio on top of the music

Problem is: the radio doesn’t have the same charm and cadence to it that Signora’s rants did, because normal people are boring and it’s going to drive Dot up the walls if he has to listen to one more commercial or one more anxious ramble about how cool and great the Fatui are from some stupid radio host trying not to overstep the Tasritsa’s favor like she listens to some boring ass radio station in her spare time!!!

HE HATES IT. But is forced to make do because if he shows weakness he will be torn apart (or so he thinks)

So this leads to him locking himself away in his office even more than he already did

Because he was already intrigued by the traveller after their actions in Mond and their victory against Childe, but them beating Signora in a duel before the Shogun? Oh now that kickstarted a whole new line of study

Especially because his only coping mechanisms are Be Destructive and Dive So Far Into Work You Don’t Think so within about three days he has a comprehensive analysis of everything he can possibly get his hands on regarding the Traveler (without interacting with other people) and is about to pass out because he hasn’t slept

Oh and the funeral was absolute hell for him.

Mainly because while he was barely conscious he agreed to play violin at the service and then promptly passed out and forgot about it so he woke up and was hit with the consequences of his own actions in the form of sheet notes

He endured, obviously, he’s not going to back down from playing something at the funeral of one of the few interesting people in the organization, that’s what tools and cowards do and this might be the Fatui but if he’d survived the wrath of dead gods he would make it through this

Went right back to locking himself away after that though

He actually got bad enough that the other Harbingers took notice of his state and MADE him come out of his labs and eat (mainly at demand of the Tsaritsa because she just lost the Crimson Witch as an asset, she wants the rest of her Harbingers in good health god dammit, the Traveler is becoming a genuine threat)

Broke down at dinner a week after the funeral

Swears that if any of the other Harbingers bring it up ever ever again he will kill their bodies and keep their consciousnesses trapped in a machine that he controls forevermore

Really he’s just glad that no one immediately pounced on one of his few shows of weakness

Maybe he’ll risk it again if it means he can cry it out for another hour but he wouldn’t dare say that out loud, won’t even finish the thought

But you know what he will do?

What he does best, of course

Look at an oddity in the world (in this case the traveller) and seek to pick it apart until he can put it back together without looking and still have it work

The only way he can actually get through his grieving is by finding something to take the edge off

And it just so happens that the traveller is a perfect candidate

Childe:

By no means has he ever liked Signora, in regards to personality or method, but her death still hit him

He had to travel back to Snezhnaya for the funeral, and it did absolutely cheer him up to see his family again and get to spoil them all silly, but with a mind whirling with thoughts it was genuinely hard for him to keep a smile up

Mainly thoughts about battle, because that’s really the only way he can interpret the world at this point

Like he keeps thinking about weather the Traveler was holding back with him, or if they had gained the strength to fight off yet another Fatui plot just in the month or so since Liyue? And if they had gained strength, how had they done it so fast? If they’d been holding back against him had he not shown himself to be a fighter worthy of their strength? Had Signora even faced the Traveler‘s full strength?

Overall his head is much too full of too many things, and it wears him out to the point that he ends up sleeping in late enough for his family to actually worry because usually he’s up before dawn training and they don’t see him until the afternoon

But he’s back on track as soon as he can, because the training helps him think, and once he can resolve most of his thoughts (or repress them so they don’t bother him too often) he’s absolutely alright and fine and ready to go! Totally. Fine. It’s fine.

The thoughts were very much There during the funeral, especially as the first harbinger read a (somewhat summarized version) of Signora’s life to the assembly of Fatui

(Oh and Pierro didn’t really care weather or not Signor wanted people to know her life after she died because she was dead now what was she going to do??)

The reveal that Signora had been fighting for the Fatui because her lover had been killed by the actions of the Anemo Archon, and she desired nothing more than to see him again… it got to Childe. It got to Childe more than he’d like to admit

Because suddenly the woman who he had always known as the embodiment of frostbite and frozen barbed wire fencing had someone she had cared about, genuinely cared about, to the point where she had become the Mondstadt legend, the Crimson Witch herself

And she had lost that lover to the actions of a fool of a God

He swore silently to himself that when the Tsaritsa‘s future came to pass he would make a little monument for Signora. Nothing big, probably a plaque on a nice stone where Mondstadt would have been before the Tsaritsa’s success, but a monument nonetheless

This promise was a spur of the moment thing, and later he would be like “Man she was a jerk, lost love or not why did I promise her that?“ but he doesn’t go back on promises

Besides, actually watching Dottore break down in a grief and sleep-depravation induced haze was also something that got to him because of course the two people he happened to simply Hate The Most in the organization were close that makes perfect sense but also wow it is weird to see Dottore cry and it feels Wrong because after murdering and tormenting so many people… Signora is gone and he breaks then??? What the fuck

Avoids most of the Harbingers after that, just heads home to Morepesok to spoil his siblings silly before going back to Liyue

Oh and his siblings can tell something is up, Teucer especially because when his brilliant big brother, the greatest toy salesman in all of Snezhnaya, is suddenly struggling to keep a smile even though they’re at home… he notices

Childe’s other siblings are all avoiding the subject, they heard about the death of Signora and all, they just assume the organization is going through it tight now and frankly most of them are a little afraid of him weather they‘ll admit it or not

Not Teucer though, he’s confused just because he still has grasped how Snezhnaya works yet, so he goes ahead and asks anyway

Childe just says he’s sad because he has to leave again so soon! And he hasn’t even been able to take Teucer fishing this time, isn’t that sad?

Teucer can tell that he’s lying

But Teucer is also beginning to sense the danger that lies behind Childe’s eyes, so for the first time? He doesn’t push it or say that they could go fishing now if they hurry

Just a grin and a “Next time!! Promise?” Makes it all better and he doesn’t have to think about why his big brother feels unnerving to look at sometimes

Childe is oblivious to Teucer’s growing awareness

He heads back to Liyue and makes himself focus on work

Scaramouch:

Now he didn’t particularly like Signora either, and didn’t really care about her life’s story, because blah blah blah we get it lady you lost someone, we all did, cry about it or whatever

But he does feel… he feels guilty for leaving her to face the Shogun

He had the Gnosis, he had finished Signora’s mission for her without even meaning to, and he had thought it would be funny to just let her face the Shogun without knowing that

To some extent, it’s his fault she’s dead

And it’s not the fact that she died because he didn’t go get her that weighs on him, it’s that he left her to the Shogun of all things

I don’t know if puppets like Scara can feel things like people and such do, but considering how the Shogun expressed frustration and stress when Ei disabled the majority of her functions, I’m going to assume they can

And because of the meddling of ‘some eccentric scientists’ his emotions are probably toned down a tad but he can still feel guilt all the same

And leaving Signora to the Shogun makes him feel guilty because he and the Shogun are essentially kin

Disowned and disavowed kin, but you know

He may have been able to easily counter the Shogun, or even help Signora prevail in her duel, but he. Ran. Off.

He happens to think that that was very cowardly of him

It causes a spike in his aggression which everyone unfortunately has to notice every time he walks by because the sheer static electricity that snaps in the air when he’s in the room now? Haha. Ouchie

Fun fact: he has no idea how to cope with guilt

He channels ALL of it into SHEER RAGE

Ever seen a couple hundred year old man go absolutely apeshit in the Harbinger‘s shared training arena? Well now you have!! It’s not a pretty sight!!

He’s crying and can’t tell why, which fuels his anger, which fuels stress as a fun side effect which just makes more tears and now he has to snap someone in half because he needs it to stop he hates it here he hates it here he hates it here

And in the beginning the guilt wasn’t even that severe for him, it was just so immensely magnified by his lack of coping skills that he very nearly broke himself down

He tried going to Dottore to get it disabled but Dottore had his doors all locked so Scara couldn’t even get a word through to him

Oh and the funeral was fine with him he just left early because he didn’t want to deal with looking people in the eye at the time because, again, his lack of coping skills with guilt magnified the whole feeling so it was almost unbearable

It’s a lot of fighting and breaking things before he’s able to resign himself to some semblance of how he was

#Genshin impact #genshin spoilers #genshin inazuma #genshin fatui #genshin Hcs #genshin headcannons #genshin signora #Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter #crimson witch of embers #crimson witch of flames #genshin Childe #Genshin Dottore #it is very late and my brain is abuzz #I have s’more thoughts about the Harbingers and Signora hut I’m already throwing all of this at y’all so #yeah #anyway #sad about her but also where Is Dottore hand him over mhy please

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

I love your last fic so much it got me thinking could you write something about like the gallaghers( +Kev and v and sandy etc) observing Ian and Mickey’s relationship? Like their perspectives of seeing them be soft with each other and just their dynamic? I’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense lol <3

hiiiii anon!<3 okay i want to start off by saying that this got WAY too long, bc i loved this prompt a lot- so much that i think i might make this a multi-part thing on ao3! i started with sandy (since i am in love with her) but i’ll also go through the gallaghers/kev & v soon- lmk if u guys want me to continue, and who u would want me to write next if i do (or if u want me to continue with sandy lol i have lots of thoughts and feelings)

this ended up taking place in s10 when we first meet sandy, fyi:) also tw for brief mentions of abuse (as always, bc of terry 🙄) -- and there is a reference to the line in 10x07 that jokes about mickey and sandy for a brief moment

When Sandy heard her phone buzz on that Tuesday afternoon, sitting on the stained and lumpy couch in her shithead uncle’s living room while drinking a beer and arguing with Alek about what type of insurance fraud could make the biggest payout, she had no idea what to expect on the other end of the line. The phone kept ringing, the contact info lighting up the screen: MICKEY.

Mickey? Shit. It had been a long fucking time. Between her own various juvie stints as a kid and Mickey’s time behind bars overlapping just as she got released, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey since… high school, maybe? Whenever it was, it was back when Mickey was a grimy kid with spikey hair and dirty fingernails, a kid with an obsession with guns and way too much time on his hands, back when they would hang out by the train tracks and drink beer and get way too high and do stupid shit; all in all, back when everything was a hell of a lot simpler. Sandy assumed Mickey had met Royal and been clued in about her shitshow of a life at some point while she’d been gone, and they’d possibly overlapped at a family party or two a few years ago when they both were in town— but other than hearing about the aftershocks of Mickey coming out and driving Terry up a goddamn wall, so much so that Terry broke his parole and was headed straight back to prison hours after his release, Sandy hadn’t seen Mickey in forever.

Which is why this call intrigued her so much— Mickey was supposed to be in prison for at least a couple more years, or at least that’s what his brothers had said, so why the fuck was he using a cell phone right now?

Sandy nodded her head towards the cellphone, cutting Alek off mid-sentence and sliding her thumb across the screen to pick up the call. Before saying anything, she rose off the creaky springs of the couch and speedwalked out to the front porch before answering— whatever the fuck Mickey wanted, she assumed he was calling her because this conversation wasn’t for the ears of any other Milkoviches. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the post of the front stoop, listening to the silence hanging heavy on her phone’s speaker.

“Mickey? You there?”

A low chuckle came from the other end of the line.

“Fuck. Been a long time.” Mickey’s voice sounded the same; punchy and snarky, maybe a little gruffer and raspier after years of cigarette smoke. Sandy waited a moment for Mickey to give more of a reply, or an explanation for his call, but it was clear that Mickey wasn’t going to give one right away— it was like he was testing the waters, like he was deciding if making this call was the right move. Soft static echoed on the phone line.

Sandy totally got it— reemerging from a life of cinderblock cell walls and barbed wire fences fucking sucked, especially when you were a Milkovich and the moment you got out you were faced with a choice, an opportunity: did you want to go back home, or did you want to start fresh, erase your own name, and forget this dysfunctional family ever existed? Sandy knew she felt the same way when she got out. Mickey deciding to call Sandy was a big fucking move, and she realized that— reclaiming your life as a Milkovich on the brink of a new beginning took guts.

“So, I take it you’re out of prison?” Sandy asked after a moment, inhaling another slow puff of her cigarette.

There was that laugh again— Sandy had weirdly missed it. Honestly, Mickey hadn’t ever been too bad to be around— they’d both felt like outsiders in the family, had both always had a strong head on their shoulders and a fucking moral compass, unlike the rest of Terry’s sheep who did his bidding and got swastikas tattooed on their chest. When he was younger Mickey used to follow Terry and his older brothers around like a lost puppy, and he even got those fucking knuckle tats—but later in high school, Sandy remembered seeing something deep snap inside him, bleeding out in “STAY THE FUCK OUT” and “FUCK LOVE” signs taped onto his bedroom walls. At the time she thought it was the fucked-up shit with Terry and Mandy driving him up a wall— but now she realized the constant bombardment of homophobia, coupled with the cuts and bruises blooming on his cheeks and the cigarette burn scars on his arms, must have been signs of Mickey realizing the rude awakening that was inevitably going to come if he wanted to be who he was. Sandy couldn’t even imagine— no one really gave a shit who she fucked, and her cousins didn’t know anything about her sex life—but she couldn’t fathom being Terry’s son, the pride and joy of the Milkovich clan, and needing to outwardly admit those deeper parts of herself.

“Yup, I’m free to join civilization as of this morning. Overcrowding or some shit.” Sandy could hear Mickey also taking a drag of a cigarette on the other end of the line. She smirked to herself. Guess we both didn’t break the Milkovich nicotine addiction.

“So, uh, listen,” Mickey continued, and Sandy immediately knew he was in deep shit if she was the one he was calling to ask for a favor. “I’m in a bit of a… situation. Don’t wanna go into too many specifics, but there might be a massive fucking Mexican cartel after me right now.”

Sandy barked out a laugh before she could help herself. Fucking Mickey. “Oh yeah? Sounds like you’re feeling thrilled to be a free man again.”

Mickey chuckled again. “Fuck you. But hey, d’you think you can bring my shit by to me, so I don’t have to stop by the house and get fucking killed? You don’t gotta rush or whatever, just didn’t wanna show my face quite yet.”

Sandy could feel all the unsaid things wrapped in the way Mickey’s sentence ended. Didn’t want to show his face quite yet because of this cartel bullshit, or because of Terry? She decided it didn’t really matter— Mickey was a good guy, she could spend an hour or so rounding up his shit and bringing it to him if that’s what he needed.

“Got it.” She blew out more smoke, watching it curl and drift over the wasteland of the front yard on a gust of summer air.

Mickey cleared his throat, like he was gearing up to say more. When he spoke, his voice was softer around the edges, more genuine than before.

“I’m, uh. I’m sure you heard everything about me while I was gone. About Terry flipping his shit. Probably not the best idea for me to come around the house quite yet—my brothers n’ I haven’t really talked much since then either.” He paused, inhaling another drag of his cigarette. “I figured you’d get it. And hey, if you can bring the stuff by, I’d love to hear all the badass shit you’ve been up to the past few years.”

Sandy nearly winced—yeah, if by “badass shit” you mean getting forcibly married to a douchebag and then couch surfing for months— but she tried to keep her shit together for Mickey’s sake. She stubbed out her cigarette on the railing of the porch, straightening from where she was leaning.

“I’ve got it Mickey, don’t worry about it. Where are you right now, anyways?”

She could hear the hint of relief bleeding into Mickey’s voice when he replied. “I’m at the Gallagher house? The grey one by the tracks.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “I was in jail for a couple of years Mickey, not braindead. I know where the Gallagher house is.”

Mickey huffed out a breath, but there wasn’t any sharpness in it. “Excuse me for tryin’ to be helpful, smartass.”

“Why the fuck are you there, anyways?”

“I’m, uh, crashing with my partner for now. Ian?”

Holy shit, Mickey was still fucking Ian Gallagher? Sandy had pieced together that Ian was the reason Mickey came out months after getting married to some Russian bitch, and according to Iggy the whole reason Mickey went to jail in the first place was some love-crazed revenge plot on Ian’s behalf— but since getting locked up Mickey hadn’t kept in touch with anyone, other than a shady-as-fuck message to his brothers after he’d busted out of prison letting everyone know that he was in Mexico, despite getting thrown back into jail in Chicago a couple months later. Sandy didn’t really know the details, and she especially didn’t know anything about Mickey’s love life— but it was wild as fuck that someone as unsettled and ruthless and batshit crazy as Mickey could’ve been with the same person all this time, especially someone as seemingly bland as Ian Gallagher. Huh. Wonder if I’ll get to see Ian.

“Got it. I’ll round up your shit and bring it by the Gallagher house later today. And don’t worry, I won’t let anyone know you called til you’re ready.”

Mickey exhaled on the other end of the line. “There shouldn’t be much, just check the drawers or whatever. “

Sandy knew for a fact that most of Mickey’s lingering possessions had probably been taken, sold, or thrown out by a zealously homophobic Terry by now, but she wasn’t going to say as much to Mickey over the phone.

“I’m on it. See you in a couple hours.”

“Hey, Sandy?” Mickey blew out a long breath, and this time Sandy couldn’t tell if it was because he was still smoking or because he was riding a wave of relief, releasing the floodgates of anxiousness he’d been holding in the whole conversation. “Thanks. I fuckin’ owe you one.”

Sandy smirked. Maybe Mickey being let out of jail early was a good thing, despite how fucked his whole situation seemed— maybe, for once, someone in her family would be fun to be around, wouldn’t set her teeth on edge every two seconds by making a racist comment or forcing her to be something she wasn’t.

“I’ll text you when I’m almost at your love nest.”

She imagined Mickey’s grin as he replied. “Fuck you. See ya soon.”

After scraping through every rickety dresser drawer in Terry’s house for nearly an hour, Sandy could barely come up with anything that was reportedly Mickey’s: a couple of tattered shirts, an impressively overused-looking bong, and a single sneaker she’d left behind because she couldn’t find the other one. She threw it all in some shitty burlap rucksack she’d found on one of the bedroom floors, assuming no one would miss it— it dawned on her that maybe her cousins were lying, and some of the other stuff in the house was still Mickey’s, but she’d collected what she could based on the whispered directions Alek and Iggy had given her when Terry was out of the room.

Sandy unlocked her phone, and typed a quick message to Mickey. “Out front.”

Mickey’s reply came quickly, and Sandy noticed the front curtains rustling on the top floor of the Gallagher house.

“Coming down”

The front door creaked open, and Mickey walked out onto the front porch. He looked good; he looked cleaner, sure, but also like a fucking adult—like he’d grown into himself, like he actually carried himself with confidence instead of just pretending to. He nodded his chin up at Sandy in acknowledgement.

“Long time no see.” He smirked, leaning on the banister. “You make a good delivery service. All those hauls we did with Terry must’ve been good training.”

Sandy lazily walked up the front steps, reaching the bag out in front of her for Mickey to take. “Here’s all the shit I could find. It’s not much.”

Mickey jerked his head to the open door behind him. “You wanna come in for a sec?”

Sandy grinned. Why the fuck not. “Sure."

So that was how she found herself perched on what was presumably Ian Gallagher’s bed, watching Mickey ruffle through the burlap bag, his brows furrowed as he realized just how much of his shit was actually gone.

“This everything?”

“As much as I could find.”

They comfortably chatted back and forth about how everyone was— Sandy decided to divulge the fact that Mickey’s brothers were idiots who tried to crawl in bed with her every night, which is something that she had to joke about so she didn’t go fucking insane sleeping under the same roof as them.

“Fuck ‘em, chop their nuts off next time they try it.”

Sandy smirked. Finally, a decent fucking relative. She made some hollow joke about staying with Mickey, alluding to the extra-shitty night decades ago when their cousins had forced them to make out when they were way too high on something.

“Or I could stay here with you. Have fun like we did when we were kids.”

“You know that’s fucked up, right? We’re fucking cousins!”

“Plus he’s taken.” A voice came from around the corner.

Ian Gallagher looked bigger, taller, and more solid than Sandy remembered; he was definitely miles away from the scrawny kid with the bangs who worked at the Kash N Grab that Sandy and her cousins endlessly used to fuck with in middle school. Ian’s shoulders were wide, his body imposing in the tiny room; immediately, Mickey’s aggravated stance softened when Ian walked in, wrapped in a towel from the waist down.

“Oh right, you.” Sandy grinned as Ian hunched over the bed and grabbed his deodorant from the nightstand.

Mickey had turned back to the bag of clothes. “Hey, I had shampoo and shit, is there soap anywhere?”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’ve been gone for years, you think your brothers would save that shit for you?” she bit out— and okay, maybe she was a little pissed at Mickey’s brothers for the constant-sexual-assault thing.

Ian just applied his deodorant and leaned in close to Mickey as he passed by the bed towards the doorframe. “You can use mine. We’ll hit Costco later, I’m getting paid.”

It was stupid, but Sandy felt something soft pang in her chest at Ian’s words; it was just now that she was realizing it, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone take care of Mickey before, or so… automatically factor Mickey’s needs into a situation. Being a Milkovich was all about scrounging and scraping, and guarding what little you had; a Milkovich would never let someone use their fucking soap just because they cared about them, or not as an immediate reaction anyways.

“Nah, I can’t, man. PO texted me when you were in the shower, he’s got a job for me.”

Ian kept looking at Mickey from where he was leaning in the doorway. “Then give me a list of shit you need, and I’ll pick it up for you,” Ian said in an overly simple tone, like he was mocking the fact that Mickey didn’t realize Ian would run an errand for him.

Sandy smirked. Jesus, Gallagher is whipped.

“Isn’t that cute, little domestic bitches,” Sandy crooned before she could help herself.

Ian stepped into the room again and leaned in towards Mickey, pressing a kiss to Mickey’s cheek while Mickey aggressively tried to uncrumple one of the pile of shirts from the bag.

“Mm, thank you,” Ian said in reply, his voice muffling as he smushed his face closer to Mickey’s.

Mickey instantly smiled smugly as Ian’s lips pressed against his cheek—then he noticed Sandy was staring, so he flipped her off and smiled even wider. What the fuck? Sure, Mickey had flipped Sandy off, but he was practically fucking beaming in a way that Sandy had never seen. God, wonder if I’ll find this shit someday.

Ian detached himself from Mickey and walked out of the room, Mickey’s eyes lingering on his torso. Once Ian had turned the corner Mickey snapped back to attention, fixing his eyes back onto the small mountain of clothes spread on the bed in front of him. Mickey lifted the bong off the bedsheets, and met Sandy’s gaze.

“You have to go, or d’you wanna hang for a bit? I don’t have to be at work for a couple hours, and it’s gonna suck enough that I should probably be high before I get there.”

Sandy grinned. “Hell yeah, I’m down.”

They sat on the rickety back steps of the Gallagher house, silently taking hits and passing the bong back and forth. It had been years since they’d been in the same space, but Sandy and Mickey easily sank into a comfortable silence, passively surrounded by the shrieks of kids playing across the alleyway and the bubbling of water as they inhaled. Mickey blew smoke out of his nose, then sat back so he was leaning against the banister and passed the glass pipe to Sandy.

“So,” Sandy started as she held the lighter to the bong and inhaled deeply. “Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey huffed out a laugh. “Yup. That’s some Romeo and Juliet shit for ya.”

Sandy smirked as she exhaled. “You really fucking love him, huh?”

Mickey eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly as he looked towards her. “Yeah. Guess I do.” He took the bong from Sandy’s outstretched hand. “Took me forever to get shit straight with him, though.”

Ah. So their road to domestic bliss wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Sandy’s curiosity was growing.

“Because of shit with Terry?”

Mickey stiffened, coughing a bit as he exhaled smoke, like Sandy’s question caught him off guard. “Shit. Yeah. That too. Let’s just say there were lots of fucking ups and downs, and we both had a lot of shit to unpack.”

Sandy snickered. “You sound like a fucking couples therapist.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “If you wanna see couples therapy, I should tell you about the months me and Ian were sharing a fucking cell. We nearly ripped each other’s heads off. We literally stabbed someone so one of us might get sent to fucking solitary.”

Sandy’s laughter grew. “Are you fucking serious?”

Mickey grinned, and passed the bong back to Sandy again. “Fuck. Yeah. I fucking love him, though. He’s fucking crazy, and I still can’t let him go.” Mickey looked off into the distance across the alleyway, and either the weed was really hitting him right now, or he was being a very sappy motherfucker.

Sandy nudged Mickey’s knee. “You guys are cute together.” Mickey’s eyebrows raised when he heard the word “cute,” and Sandy quickly tried to rephrase. “Not cute, but y’know. Good for each other. You seem happy. Happy is... good.”

Mickey nodded pensively. “How’re you doing, anyways?”

Sandy shrugged noncommittally. “Eh. We can talk about me another time. How the fuck did you and Ian end up sharing a jail cell, anyways?”

Mickey let out a throaty laugh. “I heard Gallagher was getting locked up when I was down south, so I essentially pulled some strings and fucking snitched on the cartel I was working for. Hauled my ass back up here so we could be together.”

Holy fuck. Sandy’s jaw nearly dropped. “Mickey, you’re batshit crazy.” She shoved him squarely in the chest this time. “Are you fucking serious?! You evaded the feds, were living in Mexico, and you came back for Ian Gallagher?”

Mickey rolled his eyes again, placing the bong on the steps. “I can’t explain it, man. I just didn’t wanna be anywhere else, I guess.”

Sandy leaned back onto the banister. “Shit.” She paused for a moment, wondering if she should ask the next question. “Do you… want me to tell anyone you’re back?”

Mickey glanced over at her, his eyes alert. “Nah. Not yet. That okay with you?”

Sandy nodded. “Of course.” Mickey pulled out his phone, checking the time and presumably looking for a distraction from tiptoeing around talking about Terry— but Sandy had to tell him, had to let him know one more thing.

“Hey, Mickey?”

Mickey looked up. “Yeah?”

“I don’t really know the details of what went down with Terry, or whatever— but I just wanted to let you know that… if you ever wanna come home, I’m on your side. No questions asked. And I think a lot of the others are, too.”

The corner of Mickey’s mouth ticked upward. “Thanks.”

Sandy stood, checking her phone and zipping her leather jacket. “Well, I’d probably let you sober up a bit before your big parolee first day of work.”

Mickey raised a middle finger up to her from where he was seated, but then rose to stand.

“Thanks for comin’ by. And hey—you’re free to crash here anytime. There’s a million fucking kids running around all the time, but there’s always a couch or something open if everyone at home’s giving you too much shit.”

Sandy felt something warm growing in her chest. It had been a long fucking time since someone offered to take care of her, just because they could, just because they wanted to— maybe being a Milkovich wasn’t half bad. Maybe there were some good ones.

Sandy nodded in acknowledgement, and turned to walk down the creaky back steps. Wow. If Sandy was sure of one thing right now, it was that Mickey really, really fucking loved Ian Gallagher.

#also this goes without saying but i am not acknowledging the inc*st jokes as things that actually happened #bc that makes me!! wildly uncomfortable!!! lmao #but that being said hope y’all enjoyed this :)#gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #sandy milkovich #gallavich fic

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cowboy-anon · 3 years

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Weston’s Wild West Whump - 2

I DID IT! I FINISHED IT. Holy cow. XD Anyway, it’s a bit of a longer piece. Today, we learn a bit more about Weston, we’re introduced to Graham’s men Dee and Sunders, and we discover Graham is not someone you want to mess with. Enjoy! :D

CW : Animal corpse used as a metaphor, bribery mention, broken bones (and the symptoms that accompany them), concussion, cowboy shenanigans, gun mention and threat (not real), hogtie threat (not yet realized), knife mention, mild cursing, somewhat degrading language, thieving mention, touch of low self esteem, vaguely implied unsafe home life.

(I’m new to content warnings, so if I’ve missed something, please don’t hesitate to let me know! :D )

Tagging: @milk-carton-whump, @unicornscotty, @abitefullofwhump, @alliecat5594, @ihaveacrushonjester (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from this list!

2 - Good Ol’ Righteous Cowboy

Weston has only met Graham twice before this. Once, last week when he came to investigate the ranch’s missing cattle. “Sheriff Graham Miller,” he’d introduced himself. The way he’d carried himself, charming and self-assured, Weston was sure the culprit would get theirs, and if Johnson was lucky, he’d get his cattle back before Weston moved on.

And then Weston found that handkerchief caught on the barbed wire fence, “G.M.” embroidered on it in a stunning shade of blue. As far as leads went, it was pretty thin, but that blue thread and those initials—there was no way it could be a coincidence.

Which is what led him to his second encounter, dressed in Johnson’s clothes, pretending to be a wealthy man in search of some cattle for his father’s failing ranch. Of course, Weston was nowhere near wealthy, and his father’s ranch, he’d remembered with a shudder, was doing just fine, but wearing Johnson’s Sunday best, he sure as hell looked the part.

But with Graham being the one to show him around, he could only see so much. Weston was walked past rolling pastures and prize-winning cattle, sure, but no proof.

Which is what led him to his final attempt at getting it, not exactly a third encounter but one that led to it—this one—kneeling in front of two of Graham’s men, a lasso tight around his middle and with his right ankle throbbing painfully with every heartbeat.

Despite their lack of history, when one of Graham’s men pistol whips him across the face, it feels strangely personal. Weston can feel the malice, sees the satisfaction on the left’s face when his own snaps sharply to the right. The shock of it almost overwhelms the burn. Almost.

Weston stays there for a second, hunched over with his eyes squeezed shut, reminding himself to breathe, letting out a pained groan instead. Another breath, this time bracing. He shakes off the stinging pain and rights himself with a tight lipped smile.

His tongue darts out over his bottom lip, tastes blood. Yeah, he’s sporting a split lip now. He winces at the pain, more an ache than a burn now, and blinks back involuntary tears.

When Weston raises his eyes again, the man has his revolver in hand, arm pulled back to strike him again. God, he hates to admit it, but he flinches, tucking his face into his shoulder, waiting for the blow.

He hears the grunt of effort, expects his view to whip right again in a burst of pain when he hears, “Stop playing with him, Dee. Get his legs.” When Weston doesn’t feel the strike, he allows himself a glance in the direction of the voice.

It’s the man on the right, face stony with purpose.

The man on the left, “Dee” Weston assumes, shoots the man a venomous glare, then turns to look at Graham, who’s digging into the saddle bag of one of the horses.

Graham’s not paying attention when the butt of the gun slams into Weston’s temple.

Weston hits the ground hard, landing heavily on his shoulder, cheek pressed into hot rocky dirt. His head, oh God. He gasps against the blinding pain, eyes skewed shut as he gapes like a fish out of water.

“Dee.” Between the ringing in his ears and his ragged breaths, he hears it, a low reprimand but not a surprised one.

Weston forces his eyes open to look at the two men now looming over him, but he ends up shutting them again. When did the sun get so damn bright?

“You wanted me to get his feet, Sunders.” Sunders. That’s got to be the other man’s name. And—wait, they’re still talking. Focus, Weston, focus! “ —think he was gonna let us tie him up that easy? Graham likes Randy clueless. The sooner he’s tied up, the less questions we gotta answer. Get me?”

Randy? Who the hell’s Randy?

Weston lies there for what feels like ages before the more important thoughts make their way back to him. Graham’s here. Dee and Sunders, they’re going to tie him up. His ankle’s shot, he’s got that lasso around him that’s not going to let him go anywhere.

And all three of them are armed. Great.

Weston worms his arm out from under him and eases himself up until he’s propped on an elbow. For a moment, the world spins. Forget cotton. His head’s full of sloshing water, distorting and disorienting and all too heavy for what it is.

He wants to lie back down, let whatever’s going to happen happen. He’ll feel those ropes dig into the tender skin of his wrists and bite into his swelling ankle. Will they make him walk? No, not with a hogtie. He’ll more likely be draped over the back of a horse and taken back to the ranch, where—

Where what? Who knows what’ll happen back at that ranch? And what the hell is he thinking, lying back down and giving in? He shakes his head with a sneer. If he’s going to that no good sheriff’s ranch, he’s going angry, not complacent.

So he pushes himself up until he’s sitting again, lightheadedness be damned, and squinting at Graham’s back, legs stretched out in front of him, he calls, “You needed three guys to get a hold of me, Graham?” It comes out a groan, nowhere near as snarky as he wants it to be, but it’s dripping with sarcasm nonetheless—and based on the smile that sneaks over the sheriff’s face, it catches his attention. “Why, I’m flattered. ‘Course, I probably should’ve expected as much.”

Dee’s at eye level in an instant. He grabs a fistful of Weston’s shirt and jerks him forward, lips curled up in a snarl. “Why, you—”

But Graham just laughs from his spot by the horses.

Dee’s eyes, still shining with murder, flicker with confusion, and Weston’s gaze snaps over to Graham, doubled over with warm, genuine laughter. What the hell?

The grip on Weston’s shirt wavers as the seconds tick by. Finally, Weston clears his throat and says, “Sure, I find your stupidity funny, too, but—”

Graham’s gun is trained on him before he can finish.

“Dee,” Graham says, motioning with his revolver. It’s a command. Dee barely spares Weston a smug grin before pulling his hands from Weston’s clothes and stepping into place between Graham and Sunders.

Graham squares his shoulders and, accent thicker than Weston’s ever heard it, he says, “What’s funny is you talking about stupidity.”

Weston knows he should be scared, and he is. He feels it, unadulterated fear, making its way to his shaking fingers, twisting knots deep in his stomach, watching him stare down the blackened barrel of this gun, telling him, Give up, give in. Maybe he’ll let you walk away.

It’s so damn tempting.

But Weston has already given in to too many people like Graham with the promise of walking away too many times, so despite everything, he balls his trembling hands into fists, meets Graham’s eyes with a pained smirk, and says, “Please, do tell.”

Graham grins.

“Good ol’ righteous Weston Casey.” He shrugs past Dee and Sunders and makes his way towards Weston, digits lazily fingering his gun’s trigger, blue eyes scanning him and the barely concealed shock on his face. “Yeah, I’ve heard about you. Hardworking, dependable, new in town. You rolled on in here just last month, didn’t you?”

Weston doesn’t answer. Instead, he changes the subject. “What do you mean, ‘righteous’?”

Graham stops by Weston’s feet and sits back on his haunches, eyes trailing idly over his body. “I mean your absurd morals,” he says. “I’d heard about it before, but I saw it clear as day when I came to Johnson’s ranch yesterday. You were angry for him.” He laughs to himself, toying with the trigger thoughtlessly.

But the hammer’s still standing tall by the frame, not pulled back. So the gun’s not cocked yet. It never was. That’s good news.

“It’s a damn shame,” Graham continues. He’s looking at Weston’s face again, a tiny knowing smile on his lips. Did Weston’s realization show? “The bribe I would’ve paid you—beyond generous. Not that you would’ve taken it.”

“What’s this got to do with stupidity?” Weston cuts in. He’s stalling at this point, he knows it, but he needs something—anything—to distract him from the fear bubbling just beneath his surface.

“Well, we’re talking about you, aren’t we?” Another flick over the trigger as Graham’s tone shifts, almost amused. “A good, quiet stranger rolls into town, surely minding his own business when something not quite right goes down. A few cows go missing. Nothing special, nothing new. Cattle go missing all the time around these parts. But being him, he decides he wants to investigate.”

Graham’s voice darkens then. Weston forces himself to be still under Graham’s scrutiny as his eyes travel over his left leg, then to his right. Then to his right ankle, swelling like a cow’s carcass in the summer sun under his jeans. “And he finds out a little too much,” Graham continues. “And he gets in a little too deep. And he decides he wants to do the right thing. Which, in itself, is not a stupid thought.” Graham glances back up at Weston. “But his—your—morals, they get in the way of some really great opportunities. A guy like you would fit into this cattle rustling operation real well.”

At that, Dee’s expression visibly sours behind Graham, but he stays quiet. Smart or scared?

“I know you won’t take the bribe,” Graham says lowly, “but how about a fair trade? Your work for my money, plain and simple.”

Weston scoffs to himself. His heart is in his throat pounding so loud he can hear it, but it’s not even a question. He meets Graham’s eyes through his mop of hair and says, “Over my dead body.”

He means it.

Graham stares at him, and for a second Weston thinks he might burst out laughing again. But he just smiles, more to himself than Weston, seemingly thinking something over.

He tucks his gun back into his holster, shoots Weston a big grin. And then his gloved hands shoot out and twist his right foot hard.

Weston’s broken bones in the past. He’s felt that wet snap of the initial break. He’s felt the numb shock before his brain catches up with his body. He’s felt that nauseating pain that accompanies every jostle and movement of the site.

But he’s never felt anything like this.

Weston shrieks, white hot blinding, agonizing pain that he feels all the way to his fingertips in sharp, involuntary spasms. Overwhelming, all encompassing. In this moment, Weston is pain.

Too much, too much, too much! It’s blaring in his head like a siren, that fear. His face goes hot, then cold. Tears run down his cheeks, but he’s too focused on gritting his teeth against another wail to care.

“See, I gave you a chance just then,” Graham says over his cries. “I offered you a job, nice and respectable like, and you turned it down—and for what?” He leans in close to Weston, a hand still twisted in the fabric of his pant leg. “A few meaningless morals? If you ask me, that’s awful stupid of you.”

Graham wrenches his ankle again, and even though Weston knows what to expect, it’s just as awful as the first time—worse even. Bone grinding on bone, leather on swollen, hypersensitive, hot-to-the-touch flesh.

He throws his head back with a broken sob. “G-Graham—!” Weston doesn’t know why he says that. He doesn’t even realize it’s him saying it, not in his current state, concussed and half delirious with pain.

But he definitely hears “Yes, Weston?” through the haze, barely registers Graham’s hand leaving his leg.

The twisting’s stopped, Weston knows it, but the pain hasn’t. He still feels it, twisting, twisting, the rough seams of Graham’s leather gloves on swollen skin. And he feels dread, prominent, telling him this isn’t the worst to come, not by a long shot, that only makes it hurt worse.

He hasn’t felt a dread like this since his last month at the family ranch.

As the worst of the pain melts from his limbs, just enough for it to be bearable, his wits start to come back to him, and it occurs to him that he cried out Graham’s name in an agony-induced panic. Then Graham had asked him a question: “Yes, Weston?” His stomach drops at the thought.

What had he been looking to say? Would he have begged? “G-Graham, please stop! Please!” Or would he have bargained? “G-Graham, I won’t tell a soul, I swear!” Maybe, Weston realizes with a thick swallow, he would’ve accepted Graham’s terrible offer, helping steal cattle for the man he’s grown to hate in the last twenty-four hours to save himself. “G-Graham, I… I’ll do it.”

Graham had called him righteous.

Weston is a coward.

“Weston, you wanted to say something to me?” Graham is grinning, blue eyes glimmering with mirth. He wants to know what he was going to say just as much as Weston does.

Weston stares at his feet. His ankle is back to that constant throb, but the muscles in his foot and calf are still twitching and seizing from Graham’s rough hands. “Yeah, I did,” he says quietly. “I wanted to tell you, ‘Graham…’”

He shakes his head, sets his jaw, meets Graham’s eyes with a steely gaze. And then he spits at him, fueled by what little fight he has left, “‘Graham, get your damn hands off of me.’”

Righteous. Coward.

Liar.

Graham stares at him for a long moment before rising to his feet, that stupid smug grin still on his face when he looks back down at him.

“I like you, Weston. I really do,” he says, vaguely apologetic, “and you’ve made a lot of stupid decisions today that I could forgive you for. But that decision you made just now, making an enemy out of me? Real stupid.”

Graham turns on his heel and shoulders his way past Dee and Sunders again, only this time he stops between them and, in a voice just loud enough for Weston to hear, he says to them, “Now, I know I told you two to get him trussed up.” The look Graham gives Weston is chilling. “So tell me, what’s he still doing with his hands free?” Graham casts a final glance at Weston before Dee and Sunders make their way towards him for the second time.

This time, they don’t hesitate. Sunders pockets his knife, walks behind Weston, and tugs his arms behind his back, holding them together by the wrists. “Grab the rope from my horse, Dee,” he calls.

But Dee is standing by Weston’s feet, smiling a malicious smile. “His legs first,” Dee says.

Weston can’t see Sunders’s face, but he can hear the exasperation in his voice from behind him when he replies, “There’s no way he’s going anywhere on that ankle now.”

“I know that.” Dee crouches down by Weston’s feet, eyes running down the length of his right leg. “But I want to start with his legs.”

Sunders sighs and drops Weston’s arms back to his sides, already aching at the joints from the position.

“I’ll hold him down.”

Sunders takes his spot next to Dee and puts pressure on Weston’s thighs, holding him still while Dee goes for Sunders’s rope. If Weston didn’t know better, he’d think they were trying to help him.

But he does know better, and he knows their intentions are anything but pure.

He could shove them off, Weston realizes from his spot on the ground. He could, and if he tried, he could get a good solid kick on Dee when he gets back if he uses his left leg. He’d sure as hell deserve it.

But watching Dee take his place by his feet again, Weston doesn’t. Smart or scared, righteous or cowardly—Weston doesn’t know anymore. He just glares at Dee.

Dee smiles back at him. “You got him, Sunders?”

“I’ve got him.”

“Good.”

Dee feels the rope in his hands, tests its strength with a few sharp pulls. Then he turns to look at Graham.

Graham nods at him from by the horses.

When Dee turns back to Weston, he’s grinning from ear to ear, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I’m gonna enjoy this.”

#weston's wild west whump #weston's wild west whump part 2 #cowboy whump #my whump writing #whump #whump writing #whump ocs #pistol whipping #why did i choose to use so many italics #i swear that made the transfer from google docs to tumblr like 6000% harder XD #thank you for reading!#the mystery that is weston is slowly being unraveled #so stay tuned for that!

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commentaryvorg · 5 years

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Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 0.1

This is the beginning of what is essentially something like a text-based, very-not-blind Let’s Play of Danganronpa V3? I have a lot to say about this game’s story and characters, and this gives me an excuse to talk about any and every part of it that I feel is worth mentioning as I go along.

Be aware that this will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

All characters appearing in this game are fictional.

Yup, they sure throw that right in your face at the very first moment. And every single time you turn on the game after that. No other Danganronpa game does this during its startup.

This opening movie showing Danganronpa 1, 2, 3 and UDG is supposed to be an in-universe advertisement for season 53, right? But why are they acting like this season is going to be connected to the Hope’s Peak arc? That definitely was not part of the original plan.

“No knowledge of who I am. …Who I am? Who am I? I extend a hand. A hand that belongs to no-one. To take hold of my existence—”

Pregame Kaede: “This is me. My name is Kaede Akamatsu. I just remembered who I am. Nice to meet… me.”

Uhh. I would say this part is a significant sign of what’s going on here. It sure sounds like it’s written as though the character we’re meeting here is literally coming into existence as we watch. But, this is pregame Kaede, not our Kaede. Our Kaede literally does come into existence moments before we meet her. If these lines had been used for her introduction, they’d have been a really neat hint at what was going on! But it really doesn’t make sense for pregame Kaede, who already existed as a person before this moment and is simply waking up from being unconscious.

Pregame Kaede: “I’m the protagonist of this crazy story.”

Again, would be nice foreshadowing (especially because Kaede’s not really the protagonist), except it doesn’t really make sense here because the “story” hasn’t started yet. It’s a pretty weird thing for pregame Kaede to be saying about herself.

Ultimate Revival

Hm, the original Japanese prologue title, “Rise of the Ultimates”, is actually a better hint to what’s really going on. The localised title makes it sound like they genuinely did lose their memories of being Ultimates and are going to regain them, but “Rise” implies they’re becoming Ultimates for the first time, which they are.

Pregame Kaede: “…A classroom?” (Yeah, this is a classroom alright. But… I don’t recognize it.) “Where am I…? What am I doing here…?”

Pregame Kaede, you have just woken up to find yourself in a strange classroom with barbed wire on the windows. Surely you have seen enough seasons of Danganronpa to have an inkling of where this might be going.

For some reason, pregame Shuichi’s hat is the same hat that our Shuichi will continue to wear. I guess the producers had the idea for incorporating that hat into his backstory and issues when they saw his audition. Obviously, there needs to be a different in-universe reason for the writers to give him the hat than the out-universe reason that he’s the real protagonist and they had to hide his Protagonist Hair until the reveal. In-universe, the protagonist is Keebo.

The pregame characters – at least Shuichi and Kaede; we don’t hear anyone else’s name except Rantaro, who isn’t “pregame” – have the same names as the Ultimate characters. Seems a little surprising that the writers wouldn’t have picked new names for them, but I guess this isn’t Ace Attorney where everyone’s name has to be a pun. (Also, obviously, out-universely we’d have been a bit suspicious if the characters in the first half of the prologue had completely different names).

Pregame Kaede: “Now listen to me, Shuichi… Shut up! You’re not the only one who’s confused right now!”

Pregame Shuichi: “Ah, sorry…”

Pregame Kaede: (After making him shut up, I retraced my steps again.)

Pregame Kaede sure sounds a lot more selfish and less encouraging than our Kaede, doesn’t she.

So they were kidnapped and brought here. Which, uh… isn’t exactly the most logical way to bring in your successful auditionees. I could try to argue that Team Danganronpa told everyone their audition failed to try and avoid them blabbing to the general public and then went about it this way or something, but… honestly I’m just going to put this down to the rather flimsy out-universe writing for everything relating to how the outside world works. There’s going to be a lot of this in this part of the prologue. The out-universe writers didn’t want to make it too obvious what was going on, so they had to have some method of coming here that seemed plausibly like they were unwillingly being dragged into a killing game.

I’m putting it down to bad writing and not to a deliberate hint that actually the whole fiction thing was all a lie and they really were kidnapped by the Gofer Project or whatever because…

Pregame Kaede: “Everyone pretended like nothing happened… It made me think how rotten the world is…”

…this is a very clear indication that this is not our Kaede. Pregame Kaede said in her audition tape that she had no faith in humanity, and this matches that perfectly. Even if you could argue that having wiped all of Ultimate Pianist Kaede’s memories of playing the piano would have made her less of an optimistic person (since all of her optimism is based in the reasons she plays piano), it wouldn’t have made her actively more cynical like this.

Pregame Kaede: “But… why me? My family’s not rich and I’m no one special.”

I don’t know, Kaede, maybe because you auditioned to be in Danganronpa? This is another of the main problems I have with the way the outside world is portrayed in this game – and by “outside world” I’m including the pregame versions of the characters that we’re seeing here. It should be obvious to all of them that they’ve just wound up in the opening of a Danganronpa story! They should be celebrating!

Partly I can see that the out-universe writers are doing this to bring up the fact that right now these kids are perfectly normal non-Ultimates, but. Still.

Hello, giant humanoid mecha! Did you know this is Danganronpa, Gurren Lagann edition. Or it will be once our equivalents of Simon and Kamina actually exist.

Huh. I’m messing around letting pregame Kaede get thrown around by the Exisal, and there’s this flashing red effect on the edges of the screen, as if indicating she’s in pain, that keeps intensifying each time it happens. It stops intensifying after about four times, though; obviously you can’t actually die. That’d have cut the killing game short, heh. Although they’d probably have just picked another auditionee to take her place.

Oh man, look at pregame Kaito’s expression. He just looks so disgusted and contemptuous. That is so definitely not our Luminary of the Stars right now. Kirumi also looks uncharacteristically nervous, and maybe Kokichi does too? But our Kokichi pretends to be nervous often enough that maybe that’s not such a huge clue in his case.

Pregame Kokichi: “Do you want me to check on what’s happening?”

This, though, is pretty telling. He’s genuinely offering to do something to help out! That is not the Kokichi we know.

Pregame Tenko: “You can’t! It’s too dangerous out there!”

I also have to wonder if our Tenko would have said this given that the person who offered to take that risk is male. It’s possible that her worry about the danger would have overridden her misandry for a moment, though.

Rantaro: “There are 16 of us – all high schoolers. What do you think that means?”

Yeah, guys, what do you think that means? Rantaro should not be the only one here who knows what is going on. The out-universe writers probably had everyone else not also show signs of this since they wanted to hint that Rantaro in particular knows more than he’s letting on, but, still. Right now, everyone should know what this means. Except maybe Keebo.

I’m assuming that this is a Rantaro who still has his memories and identity from season 52 and is fully aware that he’s been thrown into a new killing game. That seems to make the most sense – if they forgot to give all the new characters their memories, they might have forgotten to wipe his, too. And he’s a lot more obvious about being familiar with this situation than he’s going to be after the reset.

One thing to note is that everyone’s superficial personalities – speech patterns and such – seem more or less the same as they’re going to be. Guess that’s something that’s harder to rewrite by implanting fake memories, even if you can change the actual person behind that personality?

You know, I’m not sure why Tsumugi is here in a non-Ultimate outfit if this was supposed to be the real beginning and everyone else being in non-Ultimate clothes wasn’t planned. Keebo too, for that matter. But again, the out-universe writers don’t want to give stuff away.

Also, Keebo’s wearing a hat to hide his Protagonist Hair, aka antenna. Does that mean his antenna just isn’t there right now? Is he connected to the audience yet? Are they seeing this through his eyes and being very confused?

Monokid: “I told ya we shoulda read the script!”

Hah. That’s pretty telling. I mean, on a first watch it probably seems like they just had a script for how they were supposed to present themselves as gamemasters for the killing game, but no, it’s literally the script for this entire story.

There’s a lot of little hints like this, particularly from Monokuma and his cubs, and I’m going to have fun pointing them all out.

(However, other than that I will be ignoring most everything the Monokubs say, because all of their bits are almost entirely annoying and extraneous.)

Pregame Maki: “Moving stuffed animals…”

Pregame Ryoma: “On top of that, it seems like they’re calling themselves the ‘Monokubs’.”

Pregame Kaede: (Moving stuffed animals? Monokubs?) “Wait! You guys call yourselves… the Monokubs?

On a first watch, this’d just sound like everyone’s bewildered (with good reason), but in reality, this at least is a hint that everyone knows what’s really going on here and is finally starting to piece it together. Took them long enough, though.

However, given that they’ve finally figured it out, someone should really just get it over with and blurt out, “Oh my god we’re in Danganronpa!”. They’re all thinking it now.

Rantaro: “This is exactly what I thought it was.

Yep, Rantaro, but you’re really not the only one who’s thinking that anymore.

Rantaro: “Why the ridiculous theatrics—”

Oh dear, did your previous season not have the Monokubs or anything else equally annoying and extraneous, Rantaro? Man, you got lucky.

Monosuke: “Ya think maybe they haven’t been given their first memory yet?”

Ha. “Given” their memory. Yeah, that’s totally how memories work, right.

Pregame Kaede: “Hey, answer my question! If you guys are the Monokubs, then—”

Oh my god, Kaede, if you’ve figured it out then just blurt it out, stop letting them cut you off.

Pregame Kaede: “I have a skill that I devote myself to… but I wouldn’t call it an Ultimate talent…

I wonder this is actually playing the piano or something else. She could have chosen her talent because of that, but also the writers could have just given her a different talent to what she asked for.

Pregame Shuichi: “M-Me either… I-I don’t… have anything like that…”

Meanwhile pregame Shuichi literally has nothing. He only wanted to be a detective because he thought they were cool.

Pregame Kaito: “Y-Yeah… same here.”

Neither does pregame Kaito; like hell this asshole would have the communication and teamwork skills necessary to be an astronaut at all, let alone earlier than usual.

Kaede is still trying to butt in and ask if this is Danganronpa and still getting cut off before she says the spoilery part of that sentence.

Monotaro: “See, according to the backstory, there’s this Ultimate Hunt goin’ on.”

Haha, yep, that’s really all it is: a backstory.

Tsumugi: “Umm… what are you talking about?”

Heh, and Tsumugi’s the one to act confused about that. She’s probably worried that he just said too much. In fact, for someone so apparently-not-that-important, she has a lot more lines in this scene than most other characters, which I imagine is deliberate.

This magical girl clothes-changing sequence can’t be how things really happened. On my first time I was sure this had to be meaningful and took it as a hint they were doing the simulation thing again, but I was also sceptical that they’d do the same twist twice. But yeah – it just… can’t be how this happened? I’m not sure what really did happen here. Unless they have some really weird technology in this universe.

Monokid: “Once the seal has been broken, we’ll be in the domain of the killing game!”

Pregame Kaede: (K-Killing game?)

And from this moment, what we’re seeing here omits a few parts to avoid spoiling us. This is finally the point at which everyone reacts to being in Danganronpa. Again, took you guys long enough, geez.

Monotaro: “This amazing story will begin for real this time!

Yup. It’s a story all right.

Some of the words in the background during the Flashback Light sequence are pretty telling – not only does it have a bunch of stuff relating to the piano, there’s also things like “Chatty” and “Friends”, showing that her entire personality and history are being shown to her right now, including parts that shouldn’t ever have been erased if all she erased was her talent.

There’s also “Moonlight”, which I believe is a mistranslation that should say “Clair de Lune” – it’s French for moonlight, and in Japanese the piece’s title isn’t the French name but is just the Japanese term for moonlight, so it seems someone on the localisation team missed the memo that this was referring to the piece of music and translated it into English rather than French.

I would note that Gonta was one of the characters who never spoke at all during this section, which is clearly deliberate because if he had we’d have noticed him speaking with correct grammar… except then I remembered that he uses correct grammar in the original Japanese anyway. So that’s just a coincidence. I wonder what the localisers would have done with that if he had been one of the ones to speak up.

Keebo also doesn’t say a word, which has to be deliberate. I’m not sure exactly what would be going on with him here – surely he must already have been given his “character”, because he doesn’t have a pregame identity at all.

After the reset, our Kaede starts out reacting word-for-word the same way as pregame Kaede did – as I said, it seems that the superficial personalities weren’t really rewritten. However, everything else about the kind of people they are has very significantly changed.

Kaede: “How rude! Don’t freak out at me like I’m some sort of monster!”

Shuichi: “Ah, sorry…”

Kaede: “I’m sorry too, okay? I just have no idea what’s going on…”

Tellingly, the point at which this starts to diverge from what originally happened is when Kaede and Shuichi apologise to each other for freaking out, rather than getting into an argument. Because these are both good people, and their pregame selves weren’t.

Kaede: “Oh! ‘Gymnopédie No. 1’ by Erik Satie. Try to imagine that sorrowful melody filling your head and soothing your heart—

Also Kaede is now a huge piano geek. Too much of a geek to realise that Shuichi probably doesn’t know the piece she’s talking about, but, she was trying to help him calm down! Kaede is good.

Heh, during the Monokubs’ exposition about Ultimates, they mention they have eligibility to run for elected office. I think you’ll find a certain Ultimate is already technically the prime minister (albeit without having been elected).

Okay, but, question. Shuichi and Kaede started out shut in these two lockers in this classroom. But this and the Flashback Light classroom are the only classrooms with lockers. That is not enough lockers for everyone. Where did everyone else start out?

Kaede: “You’re a detective? That’s amazing!”

Shuichi: “Ah, no… I don’t have the credentials to call myself a detective yet… I just… happened to solve a case that I came across and… now people call me that.”

Kaede: “Not many people can ‘just happen’ to solve a case. You should be more proud of that.”

Aww, Shuichi’s lack of confidence in his title and Kaede already encouraging him.

This series of images of Kaede growing as a pianist is really cute. Warmed me to her straight away the first time around.

Shuichi: “That’s how you got your Ultimate title? That’s way more impressive than me…”

Kaede: “No. That’s all I’m good for, really.”

And she seems really self-conscious about the “Piano Freak” thing, the fact that she’s so obsessed with it that she thinks she doesn’t have anything else going for her. That’s not true, Kaede! You’re an amazing person, all because of how hard you work and how much you want to make others smile

So already Kaede and Shuichi both have a reason to admire the other for their talent – Kaede admires Shuichi’s talent because it’s much cooler and more useful than hers, and Shuichi admires Kaede’s because she worked really hard for it and didn’t just get her title by chance.

Kaede: “But this is my first time meeting another Ultimate student.”

Kaede seems enthusiastic to meet other Ultimates, too. I bet she’s hoping she can bond over the shared feeling of being really passionate about something, even if that something is different for each of them. No-one’s going to call her Piano Freak if they’re equally obsessed with something else themselves.

Shuichi: “When I woke up, I was in that locker. I… don’t know how I got there… It’s like… that memory just fell out of my head—”

Not really – it got overwritten. The only one who would have had memories erased just now would have been Rantaro

Kaede: “We’re confused. We just need to relax, is all. Oh! Let’s imagine Maurice Ravel’s ‘Sonatine’…”

Playing music is all about influencing people to feel certain emotions, and Kaede cares so much about trying to do that to help out even when she doesn’t have a piano!

Kaede: “When we get outta here, I’ll share it with you…”

oh no it’s not even Clair de Lune but ouch

I really like how the fragments in this game are Friendship Fragments, not Hope Fragments. Almost like friendship is one of the main themes of this game or something! It’s also neat design-wise how the first fragment is much smaller than the main petal-like fragments, because just being introduced to someone is only the small foundation for the much more meaningful friendship that might come.

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[Next post]

#danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #drv3 #ndrv3 #prologue #commentary

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tiggys-bitch · 6 years

Text

Chapter One - Runaway Bride.

Oh my gosh !! Me and @papa-chibs are so so incredibly excited to share our lil baby with you!!

Highway To Hell is actually a remake of a fanfic we wrote back in 2014. - we changed pretty much everything except the name and our faceclaims lmao.

So sharing this with you is such a big deal to us!

We really hope you lil beans like it, please like, reblog, share! Feel free to message either of us with questions, or if you wanna fangirl!

Let us know if you’d like Chapter 2.

Enjoy!

Xoxo

Babydoll and Lassie.

----

The brunette stared through her teary blue eyes at the fullbody mirror. She had never looked so beautiful before... Or broken. Her long brown hair was draped over her shoulders in loose curls. Her makeup was the definition of perfection. And the dress. Oh the dress was the most beautiful and elegant dress she'd ever seen. So it should be, it cost her 12,750$. She really did look like a fairytale princess, but her prince definitely wasn't charming. So many thoughts and doubts were swimming around in her head. Was she doing the right thing? Did she really love him? Would she be able to deal with living her life like this just to make her mother happy? Did she really want to marry him? Letting out a whimper, Rissa carefully examined the fading bruises that littered her skin like leopard-print. She couldn't handle even thinking about having to spend the rest of her life being beaten and bruised by her soon-to-be husband let alone actually go through with it! Rissa let the tears she'd been holding back spill from her eyes. She couldn't hide anymore. She couldn't keep pretending that everything would be okay. This was not the life she wanted! No... This was not the life she deserved! The sound of a door opening ripped the bride from her thoughts. Rissa's head turned in direction of the noise fast enough it hurt. Her heart pounded and she could feel herself starting to panic. She had assumed it was her mother or her in-laws but lo and behold, it the one person in the whole world she trusted. Her best friend Roxxie.

There stood the tall strawberry blonde haired girl in a floral dress with a sympathetic smile on her lips. She knew exactly what Rissa was thinking, she'd known for a while and she came prepared. "I... I can't.." Rissa spoke but her voice was like a whisper. Roxxie walked over to her best friend and gave her the biggest embrace. Before Rissa knew it her legs gave way and she fell to her knees bringing Roxxie down with her. Roxxie wrapped her arms tightly around the woman as she completely broke down. She absolutely hated seeing Rissa like this, it broke her heart. But she was here and would support her best friend through anything. "It's okay baby, it's okay.. I got this... I got you." Roxxie whispered, brushing back her friend's hair. "The car is ready whenever you are, okay? I'll take care of everything." Despite hating to watch Rissa's heartbreak, Roxxie was so proud and glad that her friend was going to call off the wedding. She knew exactly what kind of man Elliot was, she'd known since she was a child. Roxxie didn't know about the physical abuse, but she knew that they would have very heated arguments. Both of the girls kept secrets about Elliot from each other, none of them wanting to relive or be honest about what had happened to them. "I need.. I need to get out of here." Rissa stuttered, standing up and smoothing down her dress. "I can't stay here.. I can't face him. I can't!" She could feel herself starting to panic again but Roxxie grabbed her face and stared her square in the eye. "I got you. Okay?" Roxxie reassured her, nodding her head. "The car is out front. It's ready to go whenever you are." Rissa's brows furrowed in confusion. "How did-" Roxxie cut her off before she could finish her sentence. "Ris, you're practically my sister, i know you better than you know yourself." Roxxie smiled at her friend before taking hold of her hand and leading her out of the big doors. The two girls ran through the hallway of the church hand in hand. Adrenaline rushing through their veins and high heeled shoes tapping loudly on the wooden floor. Rissa couldn't help but smile when seeing Roxxie's car parked directly outside the entrance to the church. She was finally going to be free! Free from Elliot, her mother, the abuse, everything! All thanks to Roxxie. She had no idea what she'd do without her. "Where are we gonna go?" Rissa asked her friend who was taking control of the situation. Roxxie quickly unlocked the car and the two of them hopped inside and put on their seatbelts. "I know a place. I'll explain on the way, but we gotta go now, okay?" The ignition came to life with a roar and Roxxie looked over to Rissa and raised her brows, as if to say 'are you sure you want to do this?' "Let's go." Rissa declared. And so, the car sped away from the church, their family and their home in Redding. -- 5 hours of driving and only 3 toilet stops later, the girls were finally at their destination, a town called Charming in California. Roxxie explained to Rissa about how before she came to live in Redding, she used to live in Charming with her uncle after her mother died. She kept out the part where her uncle was the President in an MC, she didn't want Rissa to freak out on their journey. Besides, she'd eventually find out when they got there. Roxxie also told Rissa that they'd be safe with her family and that Elliot won't be able to find her. Even though Rissa didn't know much of what was happening, she trusted Roxxie.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Roxxie turned off the ignition and looked over at her best friend. Rissa looked like a mess, a beautiful mess. Her mascara had ran when she cried earlier and it now stained her face. Her neat curly hair had turned into crazy curls that went in every direction. Despite looking so lost and broken, she still looked pretty. "What the hell is this place?" Rissa grimaced as she opened the car door and struggled trying to get out without ruining her dress. Roxxie smirked at Rissa's facial expressions she was pulling. It was obvious she did not want to be here. "This is our safe haven, the SAMCRO Clubhouse." Roxxie grinned taking it all in. It had been over 10 years since she had last been here and it hadn't changed a bit. Over by where some motorcycles were parked there was a small children's park enclosed by barbed wire fences. The play area had been updated with some safer and more varied play equipment, thankfully. Across from the kid's park was the infamous Teller-Morrow Automotive repair shop where some men in overalls were working on a couple of bikes. Roxxie remembered when she used to run around and play inside the garage and all the times she'd get told off for doing so. And last but not least, there was a big building near where they came into the lot decorated with the reaper logo all over it. That was the SAMCRO Clubhouse. Rissa rolled her eyes as she examined the location that would now be there 'safe haven'. It definitely wasn't her cup of tea. It all looked so dirty and gross... Probably full of diseases... "Okay let's go inside. I don't wanna stay out here for another second.." Rissa groaned, hitching up her heavy white gown. Roxxie nodded and led the way towards the entrance to the Clubhouse. The two girls walked inside the building, both of them suprised by the interior. It looked totally different from the boring warehouse-like look on the outside. There was a bar to their right with a bunch of tables and chairs around it. Rissa noticed several doors leading to different rooms and corridors. It gave off a maze kinda vibe. There was a pool table near the doors as well as the reaper sign everywhere. And not to mention the small stage equipped with lights and a stripper pole. Roxxie turned to her friend and sighed. "Okay, stay here, i need to go find my Uncle and explain what's goin' on." She pointed over to the couches in the corner of the room, indicating that Rissa should sit down over there. Rissa's face dropped as she looked over to the couches, they looked so disgusting, there was no way she'd sit on them without giving them a deep clean first.

Rissa watched as her bestfriend walked out of the main hall and down a corridor and let out a groan. She was now left alone in a bar like area, completely clueless as to where the hell she was. Suddenly something in particular caught her eye. By the two large wooden doors, there was a wall covered in framed mugshots. "Oh god, Criminals..." Rissa exclaimed, she couldn't believe the sitution she was in. Especially since Roxxie had brought her here! This morning she woke up thinking she was going to marry her fiance and now she was stood in a dirty and smelly place thats probably owned by criminals, alone. A couple of minutes later, the doors her and Roxxie entered the building bursted open. "Oh hell no!" Rissa whispered to herself as saw three men in black leather jackets walk inside. She stood awkwardly in her wedding dress by the bar wishing the ground would swallow her up. "Well well well, what do we have here?" The first man to enter said as he looked the girl up and down. His crazy, black, curly hair and matching tache was the first thing that the girl noticed. "Boys, i think we're a little underdressed." The second male said in a thick scottish accent. He was a handsome man, old enough to be her father but very handsome. He had grey and black shoulder length hair and noticeable scars on his cheeks. Rissa just stood in silence, taking small steps back. She looked from man to man, praying every second that her friend would return. The last male didn't speak, he just ignored her presence and went to make himself a whiskey. He had blond locks and stubble on his face, it was safe to say he was gorgeous and definitely more in Rissa's age rage. "So? Who are you and why you in a fucking wedding dress?" The blond man now spoke, his voice was gruff and scary... It was obvious he was not in a good mood. Rissa gulped, feeling extremely intimidated. "Erm...I'm just waiting for my friend Roxxie, sir." She said awkwardly, biting down on her lip after she spoke. All three men burst into laughter and she looked at them with a confused look on her face. What was so funny? "Less of the sir, take a seat darlin." Blondie spoke again but this time he sounded a lot more nicer. He patted the bar stool next to him and Rissa enhaled sharply. The girl looked down at the seat, eyeing it for a few seconds before wiping it with a rag off the bar. She finally took a seat and looked up at the males, who were all staring at her. "Fuckin' hell, why did no one tell me the queen of england had arrived in charming?" The black haired male scoffed as he spoke. He had a smirk on his lips and his eyes were travelling up and down her body. It made Rissa extremely uncomfortable. "Now now Tiggy, leave her alone. You know what kinda shit gets on them seats." The Scot said with a smirk, which made Rissa grimace as she thought about all the bodily fluids the chair probably had on it. "So what's your name pretty lady?" The Scottish man asked as he sat down beside her. He studied her face and knew that she did not feel at home at all. "Uh Clar....Rissa, Just Rissa." She replied with a small smile. The Scot outstretched his hand for her to shake. "Well just Rissa, I'm Chibs. The rude fucker that keeps checking you out is Tig and the pretty one is Jax." As he finished speaking Jax slid two beers his way, he took one for himself and he handed one to the girl. Rissa reluctantly took a sip, pulling a sour face as the liquid entered her mouth. It tasted bitter and awful. She would much prefer a bottle of her favourite champagnes, Krug 2003 Clos du Mesnil. "Not good enough for ya, princess?" Tig laughed, Rissa just rolled her eyes. She didn't like him at all. He was rude and sleazy. Jax cleared his throat. "So what are you and Roxxie doin' here?" Jax now spoke up, speaking like he knew exactly who the girl's bestfriend was. "Well erm, I left my fiance at the alter and we ended up here... So I don't actually know." Rissa pushed back tears as she spoke, two of the men noticed this and decided not to keep pressing. They didn't want to make her talk, it was obvious she wasn't in the greatest of situations. But obviously, the rude crazy haired man didn't notice, or care. "What did the unlucky fucker do to deserve that?" Rissa was taken to a dark place with that comment, remembering all the bad things he did. And before she could stop herself, the tears began to spill from her eyes. 'Oh god, I'm sat in the middle of some strange men, in a wedding dress, crying, probably catching dieses. Fuck.' She thought. "TIG!" Both Chibs and Jax shouted together, acting as a warning. "What?" Tig threw his hands up and chuckled. -- Meanwhile in the office, Roxxie had reunited with her Uncle Clay and was expressing the situation her and Rissa were in. She told him everything, even the dirty little details she'd kept secret all these years. She knew she could trust him to keep them safe from Elliot. But then, their conversation was interrupted. After hearing shouting and the sound of crying, Roxxie came running into the main hall to see three men surrounding Rissa who was crying at the bar. Roxxie stomped over to the men and folded her arms, giving them all the death glare. "What the fuck did you ass fucks do?" Roxxie snapped looking at the strangers. "Huh? Are you fuckin' mute?! I asked a question!" Her voice proceeded to get louder. She didn't know who any of them were but she didn't care. If they picked a fight with Rissa, they picked one with her too. All the men were wide eyed and looking at each other awkwardly, none of them having any idea what was happening. "Was it you? Did you make my best friend cry?" Roxxie exclaimed, pointing at the blond male who was nearest to Rissa. The man shook his head and cleared his throat, about to speak but Roxxie cut him off. "Oh no asshole, you don't get to speak unless you're confessin'!!" Roxxie was now shouting. All of the emotions from the day had finally caught up with her and she wasn't taking it well. She'd always been protective over Rissa, especially when it came to men. The man with the crazy black hair stepped forward. "I don't know who the fuck you are Red, but you need to lower your voice." The man told her, which only made her angrier. "Excuse me? Don't fuckin' talk to me like that!" Roxxie also took a step forward, squaring up to the man who would easily knock her on her ass. "I will fuck-" The feeling of a hand on her shoulder made Roxxie jump. Less than a second later, Roxxie turned around and punched whoever it was. She'd developed that reflex back in Redding when people would try to fight her. A loud groan came from the tall grey haired man who was only trying to help, he staggered back but regained his balance as his nose started to gush with blood. Roxxie's eyes widened when she realised who she'd just assaulted. "Oh shit, Uncle Clay i am so so sorry!" She stuttered, reaching out to help but he pushed her away. "Uncle Clay?" The black haired man said, more bothered about what she'd called him rather than her possibly breaking his nose. "You've done enough." Clay's voice was low and gruff. Roxxie knew that she'd obviously fucked up. Not only did she show up out of the blue with all this drama, she'd just punched him! "Go take your friend in the back, sort your shit out." He ordered. Roxxie sighed, nodding in agreement. "C'mon Ris, let's go." Roxxie took hold of her friend's hand and lead the way out of the main hall, down a corridor and into a dorm room. It was fair to say that neither of the girls weren't having a great day. -- An hour or so later, it was now 8pm and both Rissa and Roxxie were both physically and emotionally drained. After being sent to their new room like they were teenagers again, the girls hadn't really spoken. Rissa had just been lying in bed staring at the other side of the room. And Roxxie didn't want to force her to talk so she stayed quiet to. She wondered whether she should find Clay and apologise but she didn't want to make things worse so she stayed with Rissa. Being quiet meant that Roxxie was caught up with her thoughts and that always stressed her out. Especially since she wasn't well, mentally. She had her mother to thank for that. "I'm going out for a cig, i'll be back in a bit." Roxxie said, getting up from the bed. She could feel her thoughts getting louder and it was stressing her the fuck out. Without waiting for a reply, Roxxie put on her denim jacket and exited the clubhouse quickly. She really needed some fresh air and a cigarette. As she made her way outside, Roxxie noticed a ladder on the side of the clubhouse that lead up to the roof and she smiled to herself. The girl carefully climbed up the ladder, curious to see what the view of Charming looked like from up high. When reaching the top, Roxxie saw that somebody had already beaten her to it and her smile dropped. The blonde man she shouted at earlier was sat on a deck chair having a smoke by himself. "What are you doing up here?" He asked, noticing the girl who was glaring at him. Roxxie rolled her eyes and climbed over the ladder and onto the roof. "I could ask you the same thing." She grumbled, not impressed by his presence. He chuckled and patted the empty seat next to him. Roxxie sighed and walked over, moving the chair away from him and taking a seat. She sparked up a cigarette and exhaled loudly. Nicotine is just what she needed. The man watched Roxxie for a couple of minutes, realising that she did not remember him at all, even though they grew up together. He smirked and cleared his throat to get her attention. "Hey grumpy?" He called. Roxxie looked over to him and gave him a dirty look. "You don't know who i am, do you?" He asked her. Roxxie shook her head. "Am i supposed to?" She answered. "Well, i remember you." He stated. "And how you used annoy the fuck out of me. You'd always ask for piggybacks, throw things at me, and... Oh yeah and the time ya made me jump and i gave you a black eye?" The girl was confused and didn't know what he was talking about. But then it hit her. She used to terrorize Jax, Clay's step-son, when she used to live here. So that would make him, Jax? Roxxie's eyes widened and she let out a booming laugh. "Oh my god. Jax? What the.." Roxxie couldn't find the words to say. He looked so different! And he was now Vice President of Samcro! She didn't understand how he got away with that one.. He was such a mommy's boy. Jax grinned. "That's me, darlin'. The one and only." He was glad they were now on good terms and not acting like strangers. "Man, i can't believe you didn't remember me.. Kinda hurts." He pulled a sad face which made Roxxie laugh. "No, i remember you.. I just didn't recognise you. You look so different." Roxxie explained. She thought back to when she was younger and how Jax used to be small, spotty and moody. Puberty did well for him. Roxxie puffed on her cigarette and sighed. "Man, i'm sorry about earlier.. I was not in the best headspaces." Jax smiled and shook his head. "No need to apologise. You had a tough day. I remember you being pretty crazy but not... Y'know.. Kinda psycho." He teased her. "Oh that was before i got my ass beat everyday. Now i'm the one that does the ass beatin'." Roxxie smirked, winking at him. "Blondie if you thought that was psycho... Let's hope you never get to witness what Psycho Roxxie can do. Shit'll give ya nightmares." The pair of them laughed and caught each other up on their lives since they were now adults. Roxxie found out that she wasn't the only one who'd had a tough life. Maybe it was good for them to reuinte, maybe they'd be able to help each other? -- It had been a long day for Rissa and she was now enjoying some alone time while Roxxie had gone for a smoke. She was sat on the bed in a dormroom that wasn't far from the main area of the clubhouse. Finally she could take a breather and maybe start processing the day. Well that was until she heard a knock at the door. "Can't a girl get five minutes alone in this place?" She mumbled to herself before storming over to the door and opening it. "Yes?" When the door was opened, the Scottish male from earlier was stood holding a bottle of wine and a pile of clothes. "Sorry to bother you darl, but I thought you'd want to get out of that dress. Roxxie mentioned you had no stuff.. It's not much but it's all I could find that wouldn't be huge on you." The Scot told her with a friendly grin. For the first time all day Rissa let a genuine smile take over her lips. What a gentlemen, she thought. "Thank you, I really appreciate it... Chibs?" She said his name as more of a question, not knowing if she got it right. "Not a problem Lassie. Oh and I thought you could use the wine." Chibs sent a playful smirk her way as he handed her the things and went to leave the room. Before he left he turned back towards the girl. "I don't know you, or what you've been through but this is a safe place. I know you are probably way out of your comfort zone but we ain't all that bad when you get to know us." He paused for a short second as he watched her face. "We may be a bit crazy but we're just a big, happy, dysfunctional family darlin'." "I'm used to dysfunctional shit, I'm sure I'll be just fine." Rissa giggled. Chibs was shocked at the swear word coming out of her mouth, from first impressions she didn't seem the type of girl who likes to cuss. It amused him. "Goodnight sweet, hopefully tomorrow is a better day." And with that he walked away. Once he was out of her eyesight, Rissa closed the door, jumped out of the dress as quick as she could and threw on one of the shirts the male had given her. It was a navy colour, with the writing 'Property of SAMCRO' in white writing across the front. Rissa pounced back on the bed, opened the wine and began swigging out of the bottle. Lord knows she needed that wine. It was far much nicer than that beer she had ealier. For some reason the handsome Scotsman was not leaving her brain, no man had ever gone out of their way to be nice to her. Especially not a big ass scary biker trying to help her settle in after only knowing her for a mere few hours. She let out a small sigh before the day caught up on her and she drifted off to sleep with the bottle of wine still in her hand.

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blookmallow · 6 years

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so i downloaded an alternate program to play rpgmaker games on since ive been having SO much trouble with wine, and the one i got already had space funeral (which ive played already) and something called “schuld” which ive never heard of, so i figure, i got it, i might as well play it

so far its Okay, seems to be working well though so hopefully this program will work with my other games too but i got way too distracted with the Mysterious Game From The Void to mess with it yet

also any program that comes to me with space funeral pre-installed for some reason is a good one as far as im concerned

anyway heres schuld

i put that image as the preview bc its cool but also that thing hanging from. uh. the sky???? was a pair of pliers that i needed to get through a door covered in barbed wire

like. just. pliers, hangin on a rope. from the sky. for absolutely no discernible reason

a lot of this game feels very intentionally Constructed/intended to be metaphorical rather than logical/None Of This Is Actually Reality, Probably so on the one hand the solutions to puzzles being. bizarre shit like this could actually be intentionally strange to give that sense that things are being given or withheld from you by some omnipotent force that is pulling you through this experience, You See What We Want You To See, You Go Where We Want You To Go

on the other hand, pliers hanging from the sky is hilarious

anyway here we are

i know absolutely nothing about this game i just opened it because It Was There

this is very ominous ambiance i like it. the soundtrack sounds vaguely like labored breathing it is very, very unsettling

looks like we got a zombie apocalypse

not gonna like. tell me what the phrases are or anything. ok

hmm,

wh....what the fuck

IT’S........MONEY :’)

EVERY TIME I INTERACT WITH THE MONEY RIVER I GET ANOTHER THOUSAND DOLLARS :’ )

the only item you have to start off with is a book containing a list of the seven deadly sins, so this is almost definitely a very very obvious Greed Trap but i dont care lmao

oh. thanks

NICE

also this dude told me money is worthless now which comes as no surprise to me (as of where i am now, i never had any consequence or purpose for the money, im not even sure if i still have it i forgot about it until now)

we got an economy of FLESH and some dudes chased me trying to steal my flesh which is, I’ll be honest, a bit rude

you guys just gonna hang out there then

i cant interact with anything else in here or go back the way i came so you’re gonna have to move,

(turns out you have to outrun them, if they pass before you they get stuck in the wall and there’s no way to progress / you die if you touch them)

eew

turns out everyone has The Rot and are slowly rotting away, so any possible source of Clean Flesh to replace their gross bits has become incredibly valuable but its also assumed that Everyone has the rot and will die from it eventually, so im not sure whats even actually being accomplished by replacing gross bits with clean bits if the clean bits are gonna get gross soon anyway

shrugs. anyway it’s Not Quite a zombie apocalypse but its close. an interesting direction

OK APPARENTLY THAT’S AN ARM THEN

this is a hospital (and it’s still functioning, there’s patients here, there’s a nurse, there’s a doctor, and a kid went in for an amputation when i came in, it’s not abandoned or overrun or anything just in massive disrepair) why are they just leaving this shit all over the floor

see this kind of medical irresponsibility is probably why you guys are all rotting in the first place

strange man wanders into your hospital room, you immediately just start telling him your life story

ohhhhh it’s greed. the Rot is greed. they’re all rotting from the Greed inherent in human nature and their Envy for what other people have (unrotten flesh) is turning them into monsters and causing them to tear other people apart except now it’s literally. money is so worthless it now costs an ARM AND A LEG!!! to get anything, i get it. ok :’)

the allegory seems a lil heavy handed to me but, eh, still pretty fun

anyway then i had to distract the doctor so i could steal his ID and wander into rooms im not supposed to be in so i lit his trash can on fire, as you do,

just gonna stand there and watch it, then, i suppose. good thinking, doctor

the Enemy Encounters in this game are a nuisance to navigate but most of the like. logic puzzles/etc are kind of hilariously straight forward as far as “what do i need to do” even if the solutions dont. really make sense

like not to the point that it feels boring, i just set a garbage can on fire in some dude’s office while he was sitting like 5 feet away, it’s fun as hell, it’s just :’) when i interacted with this trash can earlier, before i even knew i needed a distraction or had any means of lighting it, its like “huh this trash would probably burn really well if it were to ignite” and im just like ok apparently im gonna have to set that on fire at some point for SOME REASON,

idk im too tired to write anymore i have more but ill go through the rest later. this game is weird but im into it thats my review goodnight ill have more adventures in flesh thievery, a LOT of cigarettes, and Gun City for you all later

#lucy plays schuld

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esquimaltnanaimo · 7 years

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Royal Rescue Ch.1: Island Morning

It was a spectacular February morning in Nanaimo. The engines of the E&N were all warmed up and ready to roll for the day's work, just poking their fronts out of their shop bays. Abigail's engine burbled, Chloe's air compressor thumped and Jordan's turbocharger whined as the trio awaited the morning work meeting with their yardmaster.

A set of footsteps signaled her approach. "'Morning, engines!" she sang cheerfully, stopping in front of the shop doors. "All set for today?" In turn, the three engines sounded their whistles as an enthusiastic "yes", all smiles. "Alrighty," began the yardmaster. "Abbie, you're on the refinery road-switcher job today. Jordan, you're on the barge run, and Chloe, you're on Comox supplies. Big shipment today, they've got a new log truck on one of the flatcars out there. Plus the usual stuff for the logging camp, of course." "I can handle it!" chimed the blue Geep cheerfully, revving her engine. "I know you can," said the yardmaster with a smile. "That's all, off you go!"

One after the other, the three diesels set about their work. Within five minutes, Abigail was gone south to the refinery, whistling for the crossings through town, and Jordan and Chloe were fetching their respective trains from the yard. Chloe's was twelve cars of mixed freight, destined for the logging camp in Comox. Her load was was quite substantial compared to Jordan's train, which was nothing but eight empty boxcars for the rail ferry. The big SD40 rolled away with them without a care in the world, just as Chloe coupled up to her train.

Suddenly, a portal appeared to the Geep's right, and out rolled a bright blue EMD switcher. Chloe was just about to get her train rolling, and faltered out of surprise with a yelp, her wheels slipping on the rails before she could calm her engine down. She recovered and looked to her right, and smiled with surprise. ”Oh, hey, Ellie!" she said, happy to see her cousin. "What brings you here?" The little switcher responded with a cheerful "Hello!" and a cute smile. "Just wanted to stop by and see if you need any help!" "Well, you have perfect timing," giggled Chloe. "I was just about to get rolling," she went on, looking back along her train. "Ooh! Can I help?" "'Course! C'mon and couple on, you can lead us to Courtenay!" said Chloe, shoving her train back a good twenty feet so Ellie could clear the switches. The little switcher trundled forward, changing to the proper track, then backed down in front of her cousin and coupled on. Her engineer, Duncan, climbed down and coupled the two engines' air hoses together, exchanging greetings with Chloe as he did so. Afterwards, he climbed back up into Ellie's cab and pulled out his guitar, leaning back in his seat. "I'm excited!" giggled Ellie. "I've never led a train on this line before!" "Hey, me too!" said Chloe. "I almost never get to run the supply train, and here I've got my cousin helping me out. Best day ever, you ask me!" "Any day's the best day if I get to help my friends out!" sang Ellie, giggling. "Well, if you're ready, I'm ready. Let's get a move on!" said Chloe, giving her big five-chime whistle a toot. Ellie replied with a honk of her own British-style two-tone horns, and the two cousins revved their engines and got the heavy supply train rolling northwards.

The train passed through town, the two cousins gently pulling it out of the yard. Their Electro-Motive engines sang together as they throttled up, accelerating the train onto the mainline. "So, anything new around here?" asked Ellie, once they passed the first level crossing. "Not really!" replied Chloe, a smile in her voice. "Just business as usual! But Felicia's been saying she's trying to get us more work, and the regular stuff's picking up again, which is great." "That's awesome, yeah!" agreed Ellie, smiling as she led the way. She honked her horns twice and revved her engine, wanting to pick up speed a bit more, and Chloe responded with two honks of her own before opening her throttle. Ellie backed off shortly after, eliciting a giggle from her bigger cousin. "It's forty-five mile-an-hour track here, Ellie! You can open us up more, if you want!" "I know, but this is good for now!" "Well, you're the boss!" "Not really—well, OK, maybe I am this time." Chloe laughed.

The train rocked and rolled along the E&N mainline, scampering north out of Nanaimo along the gorgeous eastern shore of Vancouver Island. Ellie led the train into a loose right-hand curve, and a sign reading "PARKSVILLE" played across her vision. Chloe saw it, too. "Parksville coming up!" she sang. Sure enough, up ahead a small station came into view, and the trees thinned on each side of the tracks as the train rolled into town. The ocean was over to the right, sparkling blue, with the mainland's mountains visible across the Strait of Georgia. Ellie blew her horns for a level crossing up ahead, smiling at the passengers on the Parksville station's platform. Chloe smiled too, whistling a cheerful hello to the ones waving as they passed.

After clearing the station, the train rolled through a large, open area covered in track ballast. A single passing track headed left off the mainline, with a pair of switches leading into a small two-track engine shed, and another single track making a sweeping curve to the west – but just at the edge of the ballasted area, the tracks were fenced over, barbed wire and all. Ellie was curious, looking over as they rolled by. "What's over that way?" "That's the old line to Port Alberni," said Chloe. "We're not allowed to go that way anymore… it's abandoned." "Oh…" replied Ellie. "It'd be cool to check it out sometime with portals! Hey, Duncan?" Duncan leaned forward in her cab. "It's all fenced off, Ellie… jail wouldn't be worth it." Chloe laughed. "It's not illegal! The tracks are just really old, they can't support engines." Ellie perked up. "Then we could go in as humans!" "Oh, good idea! We could!" Duncan's magic had given the two cousins the ability to change form temporarily – both of them had taken a liking to a human-like form, though Chloe had not had the chance to experiment with it aside from first learning how to assume it. Ellie, on the other hand, was quite experienced with it.

The train rolled out of Parksville, still heading northwards. "Chloe, how far are we going?" asked Ellie. "End of the line!" chimed her cousin, smiling. "We're taking this train to the Crown engines up in Courtenay, that's as far north as the tracks go."

The rest of the run, through Qualicum Beach and past Denman and Hornby Island, was uneventful, but beautiful. The train entered the Courtenay yard limit, and the two cousins braked gently, slowing the train. They broke through the treeline, rolling through the sleepy town of Courtenay and into the yard proper, which barely even qualified as a yard. There were only five tracks, and two of them had short cuts of empty freight cars in them. As Ellie lead the train in, she saw a familiar shape through an open boxcar's door, coloured bright orange and white, much like Abigail back in Nanaimo. Chloe saw, too. "Oh, the Crown engine's here already! Awesome, they're probably waiting to take the supplies."

Bringing the train to a perfect passenger-train stop at the far end of the yard, Ellie uncoupled herself from Chloe, pulling ahead to loosen her air hose from her cousin's. "Did I do OK?" she asked, worried. Chloe smiled. "You did perfect! Nice work, cous." Ellie smiled as Chloe went on. "You can go turn on the wye and get ready to head back… I'll shunt the empty cars for us to take with us," said the Geep, uncoupling herself from the train. Ellie trundled off to the end of the yard, finding a wye track. She made her turn, and rolled back through the yard facing south. Chloe was already busy shunting the empty train together, so she pulled to a stop out of the way at the other end of the yard.

A familiar engine sound approached her from the side, accompanied by a ringing bell. It was the orange and white shape from before, rolling backwards along the track beside where Ellie sat. They were an engine almost identical to Ellie, in size and shape. "Hey," they said simply, "I'm sorry to just appear and start talking to you, but your voice sounds really familiar—" they began, coming to a stop in front of Ellie on the next track over, completely losing their train of thought as they saw her. They were an SW7, just like Ellie – complete with freckles. The blue switcher blinked. "…I'm… familiar? I don't know, I can't remember a lot… But my name is Ellie." The orange switcher did a double-take. "Ell… Ellie??" they said, their face lighting up. "Like, ELLIE Ellie? Oh my gosh, I haven't seen you in years!!" Ellie looked overwhelmed for a moment. "Oh my gosh, please tell me you remember me! Kelly, from Atlantic Coast! Your sister!!" Ellie blinked. "I… I have a sister?" Kelly's expression fell. "…You don't remember?" She was too excited to hear Ellie the first time. "I'm sorry that I don't. I really wish I did…" Duncan exited Ellie's cab, going onto her side walkway to talk to Kelly. "Don't be too upset," he said. "From what I heard, Ellie was still a baby when she was Atlantic Coast." "Oh, well…" said Kelly, "that's OK. It's been years, anyway." Ellie grinned from headlight to pilot. "I have a sister!" Kelly smiled. "You have lots of sisters, El'!" "I mean… I know there's, like, more SW7s," said Ellie, "but I mean ones who knew me back then. Did I really say 'honk' instead of honking?" "Yeah! And it was the most adorable thing. You never grew out of it, even after me and the others did," Kelly said, smiling in memory. "I'm just gonna stop you for a sec before you go on though, and say I'm really happy you're OK." Ellie looked confused. "Well… when you got sold off to that rail services place, we kinda freaked out. We didn't know if you were gonna get resold, or… worse." Ellie laughed a bit. "Oh, well… They didn't want me after a while, so I got adopted by a preservation railway." "Preservation railway? Wow, lucky you. Which one?" "The Forest Valley. I'm Number 2 on the roster there." "That's so cool… You're better off than me, I'm stuck logging!" said Kelly with a laugh. "These people at Crown are gonna run me into the ground, I swear." Ellie looked worried. "Oh, no… I'm sorry to hear that." "Hey, though, it's all good," said Kelly with a smile. "They keep us in working order, at least." "That's good," said Duncan, leaning on Ellie's handrail. "It's good to be running hard all day, anyway," continued Kelly. "Keeps the oil flowing, after all," she said, with a wink. Ellie smiled. "Duncan checks me over every morning… then he kisses all my freckles," she said, giggling. Duncan smiled. Kelly looked back and forth between her sister and the human for a moment. "So… wait, you're in a relationship with your engineer?" "Yes, since last August." said Duncan, still smiling. "Oh, that's so cool! Congrats!" said Kelly, smiling in return. "Thanks!" sang Ellie.

After a short silence watching Chloe switch the train together, Kelly looked at Ellie. "So, sis, how's the preservation life, anyway?" "Oh, it's great! And I know someone really, really, really important! I mean… besides Duncan." replied Ellie. Kelly looked interested. "Well, she's known around here as the Queen Anne, but I know her as Tillie Senpai. She's so pretty and smart, and nice… and without her I probably, well… I wouldn't be here." "Well… wow. I don't actually know who that is, but that's awesome," said Kelly. "Oh! Duncan, show Kelly a picture of Tillie!" said Ellie excitedly. Duncan did so, pulling out his smartphone and walking over to Kelly, climbing up on her pilot to show her. "Oh, she's a… steam engine. Neat."

Before Ellie could tell her long-lost sister more about her Senpai, another engine sound approached. "Oh my god, is that Baby Ellie?!" said an unfamiliar, deep voice. "Oh, hey Bob! When'd you get here?" said Kelly. "Just did," said the other engine, rolling to a stop in front of Ellie on her track. He was an older model of switcher, an NW-2, painted in the same colours as Kelly. He looked a lot worse for wear, but he was just fine with that. Ellie looked confused. "Baby Ellie…?" Bob gave her a look, then his expression softened. "…You don't remember, do you?" Kelly cut in. "Hey, don't sweat it, B. She doesn't remember me either, and I'm her sister!" Bob laughed. "It's alright. Maybe she can make it up to us by honking." he said, looking at Ellie hopefully. Kelly's expression brightened. "Ooh, yeah, like on ACL! C'mon, say 'honk'. For old times' sake!" "…Alright. You wouldn't want to hear my actual horn, anyway…" said Ellie, trailing off. "Hey, why not? Could be fun to compare horns, see who's got what all this time later!" "It's not right to pester, Kell—" "HONK!" yelled Ellie, interrupting, startling her sister and cousin. Bob recovered, laughing. "There's our Ellie!" "Yes, oh my gosh!" said Kelly, laughing as well. "You even sound almost the same still, that's awesome…" "Ding ding ding!" Ellie sang loudly, giggling with her family's laughter.

Chloe rolled by on one of the other tracks at that moment, tugging a cut of boxcars behind her. "Ellie, what in LaGrange are you doing?" she asked, laughing a bit. Kelly looked over. "Chloe! Oh my gosh, stop for a sec!" she said enthusiastically. Chloe braked, looking over. "She's doing what she did when she was still a brand-new diesel," said Bob. "Heck, she's barely aged." Chloe uncoupled from the boxcars. "Brand-new diesel?" she asked, approaching. "What do you mean, brand-new diesel?" Kelly was all but jumping off the rails with excitement. "Chloe, you won't believe this. Ellie's my sister!!" "Wait, seriously?" asked Chloe, surprised. "Mm hmm!" giggled Ellie, smiling cutely. "Yeah!" said Kelly, excited. "We were part of the same EMD order, like… YEARS ago!" "That's right," added Bob. "She's Atlantic Coast, same as us. Well, former." Chloe looked at Ellie, then Kelly and Bob. "You're kidding… that's awesome!" Kelly started to laugh in agreement, but stopped almost immediately. "Wait. It just occurred to me." "Huh?" said Chloe. Kelly looked to the older switcher to her left. "Bob, you were built at LaGrange, right? Back before GM bought Electro-Motive?" "Guess I was, yeah." "And I know Chloe was, and I was, and Ellie was, too… So this is, like, a family reunion!" Ellie honked her horns cheerfully, smiling wide. "…Wow, that's new," said Bob, surprised. "Oh my gosh, that's so cute! Where'd you get that horn?" asked Kelly. "That's, like… British, isn't it?" "Mm hmm!" chimed Ellie. "At our railway you have to be really kid-friendly and non-threatening… This was a hand-me-down from an engine in Britain. Another shunter, a Class 04." "Huh… no way," said Kelly. "I'd ring my bell, too, but…" "But what? …It's not broken, is it?" asked Kelly, worried. "…Duncan accessed my records," said Ellie. "Apparently I liked to ring it too much, so they cut the power to it…" Chloe went wide-eyed. "…Rails above, and you were leading on the way here. We broke CROR." Duncan was shocked. "Wait, your bell is actually broken? We didn't get it fixed??" "Yeah… why else wouldn't I ring it?" "Excuse me," said Duncan, casting a portal open next to him and pulling an electrician's tool kit from it. Kelly and Bob watched, incredulous. The tall Scot quickly climbed onto Ellie's hood, approaching her bell and opening the metal panel close to it. "…Wait, shit," he said suddenly. "…What is it?" asked Ellie, looking up. "Your bell is air powered… It's not electrical," he said, looking around at the other three engines. "Does anyone here know how to fix a cut air line?" Chloe moved forward a bit. "The shop guys in Nanaimo can fix it!" Duncan was serious. "I need to help my girlfriend. Like, now." Kelly chimed in, choosing to not ask questions about the portal. "Oh, the machine shop in Comox! I can take you there with the supply train, they can fix your bell!" "Wait," said Chloe, "aren't the rails on your branch line super light? I thought only switchers can… wait. Ellie is a switcher." Kelly and Bob shared a laugh.

Meanwhile, Ellie was panicking. "Oh no… Oh no, I broke the law! I broke the rules… I'm gonna go to train jail!" Bob looked at her. "…Ellie, there's no such thing as train jail." "Yeah, it's no biggie! We just gotta get you fixed up, sis," said Kelly, laughing a bit. "But your boyfriend up there might end up paying a fine." said Bob. "Fuck," said Duncan simply. Chloe cut in. "Hey now, that's only if we got caught! And I don't think there's any RAC inspectors on Vancouver Island this week," she said, with a cheeky smile. "We're gonna be fine, so long as it's working by day's end." "…Okay," said Ellie, calming down. "Thanks, guys…" said Duncan. "No worries, friend!" chimed Kelly, smiling. "Nobody's going to jail, yay!" said Ellie cutely, drawing a giggle from her sister.

Bob lead the way to the front of the supply train. "Right then, little Ellie, let's go get your bell fixed," he said. "Then you won't have to say 'ding ding' like the old days." Ellie smiled, following her older cousin. Chloe honked her horn behind her. "Hang on a sec, Ellie!" Ellie stopped, looking back as Chloe rolled to a stop beside her. "Oh, yeah, Chloe?" "I'm gonna get the empties back to Nanaimo, since they have to go on the ferry soon… You gonna be OK to run back on your own later?" "Yeah," said Ellie, "I'll be OK!" "OK, awesome. See you in Nanaimo!"

After a short run down the branchline and what seemed like no time at all in the shop, Ellie's bell was repaired. The shop crew at the Comox logging camp had installed a brand new air line and cleaned out the motor, and now the little switcher's old steel bell rang with a bright, steady rhythm, good as new. After a cheerful send-off from her Atlantic Coast family, she departed south, heading back down the eastern shore of Vancouver Island as light engine.

When she arrived in Nanaimo, she couldn't see Chloe anywhere, but Jordan the big SD40 and Abigail the RS3 were idling on the shop leads. Jordan looked like he'd seen a ghost, and Abigail wore an expression of pure worry. "Oh no… something's wrong." thought Ellie, hurrying over to the shop tracks. "Jordan! Jordan, what's wrong?" she called, concerned as she rolled to a stop before the other two engines. They looked up, the older ALCo surprised to see her. "Ellie…? When did you get here…?" she asked. "Earlier, before Chloe left," replied Ellie. "I re-met Bob and Kelly!" "Oh… the logging switchers, yes… you know them?" asked Abigail, gaining a bit of a smile. "They knew me when I was a baby," said Ellie happily. "Oh, and they fixed my bell!" she went on, giving her bell a few rings. Abigail smiled. "Oh, that's wonderful—" she began, before the bigger diesel to her left cut her off. "Abigail, we have more pressing matters than Ellie's little trip down the Memory Subdivision here," he barked. "Oh… goodness, right, I'm sorry…" apologized Abigail. "Sorry… Okay, what's wrong?" asked Ellie, looking at Jordan. Now that she was closer, she could see the unfolded letter on his pilot. Jordan looked grim. "It's… Fuck. It's Gloria. Over on the mainland,” he said, looking down at the paper. Ellie looked worried. "…What's going on?" she asked. "The steam engine I worked with at Expo, the last working Royal Hudson, they're…" "They're gonna scrap her??" assumed Ellie, looking shocked. "Ellie, don't assume," said Duncan quietly. Abigail sensed that Jordan had just trailed off. "Well… you're half-right, Ellie…" she said, expression falling. "They're going to decommission her.”

#long post #esquimalt and nanaimo #ellie the sw7 #chloe the gp9 #abigail the rs3u #jordan the sd40 #royal rescue story arc #ttte oc

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katedoesfics · 4 years

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StrangerVille | Chapter 5

Though Kenny didn’t necessarily reveal anything Jayson didn’t already suspect, it was confirmation enough that something was going on in that secret lab, and somehow, Mayor Roswell was involved with it all.

“It’s been a while,” Erwin said when Jayson approached him the next morning. “I thought maybe you got scared off.”

“No,” Jayson admitted. “The opposite. I’m afraid I’m in too deep now.”

Erwin smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I figured a guy like you could help me break into that lab.”

Erwin hesitated. “Maybe I could. Why?”

“There’s a bunch of newspaper articles missing from the library.”

Erwin nodded. “Ah, yes. The… community… has had a hard time keeping tabs on those. There were a few blogs around, but they got deleted, and no one has heard from them in a while.” He paused. “You think there’s information in that lab?”

Jayson shrugged. “It’s worth a look.”

“Did you get a keycard?”

“Not yet.”

Erwin frowned. “We won’t be able to get very far. But I do know of a way in, assuming we can sneak past the guards.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

Erwin held his hands up defensively. “Woah, wait a minute. You’re on your own. I’ll tell you how to get in, but I ain’t going with ya.”

Jayson frowned. “Why not?”

“Uh, hello?” He gestured to himself. “I’ll get my ass thrown in jail if they catch me up there.”

“Then they won’t catch us.”

“You don’t need my help.”

“You don’t know that. What if I need to hack a computer or something?”

Erwin raised a skeptical brow. “What makes you think I can hack into a computer?”

“Can you?”

Erwin hesitated, then groaned. “Ugh. Fine! Fine. I’ll go with you. But you’re the one doing all the fighting, alright?”

“There won’t be fighting.”

“You better hope not,” Erwin muttered. “There’s an area at the back of the lab,” Erwin explained. “There’s a hole that’s boarded up, but it looks like it can easily be broken through. We can cut through the barbed wire fence there and, assuming we can steer clear of the security lights and cameras, get into the lab that way. We’ll just need to time it between guard shifts when no one is patrolling the back area.”

It was a plan. Jayson was in deep, and there would be no turning back once they put their plan into action. But as excited as Erwin was with their plan, he was level headed, and he told Jayson that it would be some time before they could get into the lab. Erwin went on about how he was going to study the schedule of the guards, memorize their routes and their shifts, and it all sounded very Hollywood to Jayson. But Jayson was a first timer at this sort of thing. Erwin had clearly seen enough movies to know what he was doing. Not that that made him qualified for this sort of illicit activity, but hey, it was more than Jayson had going for him.

And besides, Jayson had other plans. Plans that involved asking a certain damsel in distress out on a date.

“Well if it isn’t the conspiracy theorist,” Siobhan’s voice said when she answered his call. “I’m guessing you’re looking for my sister?”

Jayson smiled. “No, that would be weird.”

“Why would that be weird? I’m sure you have lots to talk about.”

“Because I’m calling to ask you out.”

The line was quiet for a moment.

“Or not,” Jayson started slowly.

Siobhan laughed. “What? No. Sorry. I mean. You just… surprised me.”

“Did you really think I was calling for your sister?”

“I dunno,” Siobhan said sheepishly. “I mean, it’s just funny, you know? You meet two random chicks who drag you around StrangerVille on some weird conspiracy theory mission and after three days they leave and one would figure that’s the end of that, especially after I give you my number and then don’t hear from you for a week and -”

“You’re rambling,” Jayson said.

“I’m just saying!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I got… distracted with some things.”

“Conspiracy theory things?”

“Are you interested?”

“No,” Siobhan said quickly. “So, you were asking me out, right?”

“Yes,” Jayson said. “Uh. Yeah. If you want.”

“Well, I have to bring Morgan to a conspiracy theory addict meeting tonight, but I could cancel.”

“I dunno,” Jayson started playfully. “That sounds important.”

“Yeah, but we might need a bodyguard, so you might as well pick me up tonight at eight.”

“I think I can pencil you into my schedule,” Jayson said. “But I might have to be a bodyguard for someone else later tonight, so we can’t take too long.”

“Wow,” Siobhan started. “I didn’t take you for a player.”

“Just business,” Jayson teased.

“Alright then, Mr. Bodyguard. I’ll see you at eight.”

“I look forward to working with you.”

*****

It was precisely eight when Jayson pulled up in front of the house, and Siobhan was eagerly waiting outside. He didn’t have much experience with dating, but he knew a typical first date involved going out to eat. Siobhan, it seemed, had other ideas of their first date, and gave him a look of disapproval when he named off a few restaurants.

“I had pizza for lunch,” Siobhan said, dismissing yet another suggestion.

“Well, you’re just impossible,” Jayson said in defeat.

“Chinese food?”

“I had that last night.”

Siobhan sighed. “We did it,” she said. “We’re already at the point in the relationship where we can’t agree on what to eat.”

“It’s all downhill from here.”

Siobhan grinned. “How about burgers? I could go for a burger.”

“You’re a cheap date. Can’t argue with that.”

“I’ll have you know I have very fine tastes,” Siobhan said. “I won’t eat just any burger.”

Within fifteen minutes, Jayson had paid the stoned teen at the window for two burgers, two fries, and two large drinks, and parked in an empty lot that boasted a scenic outlook over the city. They sat together on the roof of the car, and Siobhan made a pleased sound as she bit into the burger.

“Fine tastes my ass,” Jayson said.

Siobhan shrugged. “And what did you have for dinner last night?”

“Cup-o-Noodles,” Jayson said sheepishly, and Siobhan laughed.

“This is fine dining for you, isn’t it?”

“It’s certainly cheaper than my original plan of trying to wine and dine you.”

Siobhan scoffed. “Please,” she said. “I’m beyond that point in my life. I don’t get impressed by fancy dinners.” She stretched her legs out. “This is much more my speed.”

“So, next time, how about noodles at the park?”

Siobhan laughed. “Planning date number two already? What if this doesn’t go well?”

Jayson shrugged. “You’re still here.”

Siobhan nodded thoughtfully. “So, how’s the conspiracy chasing going?” She grinned. “That’s really why I’m sticking around. Gotta get the scoop on the latest rumors.”

“Morgan hasn’t been keeping you in the loop?”

“She’s moved on to something else.”

“That’s disappointing,” Jayson said. “Because, you know, she was probably onto something.”

Siobhan glanced at him. “Oh, no,” she started. “You, too?”

“Of course not,” Jayson said. “I’m just the bodyguard, remember?”

“Did that Erwin kid hire you?”

“I think he has a crush on me.”

Siobhan laughed. “He has good taste in men.” She finished her burger. “So, fill me in. What’s that group of weirdos up to?”

Jayson hesitated, then shrugged. “Got some plans to break into that lab.”

“Think they’ll find anything good?”

“Maybe,” Jayson started. “Why else would they be keeping it all locked up and guarded?”

“And what are you gonna do? Kick some military butt?”

“Unlikely.”

“Well, you’re a useless bodyguard, then.”

“I told him that when he hired me.”

Siobhan laughed. “Well, don’t get beat up too much,” she said. “You owe me a second date. Noodles at the park, right?”

They chatted as the night went on, covering all the basic topics that would be talked about on a first date. They discussed their favorite movies and shows, their childhood dreams and aspirations, and even debated the existence of aliens and vampires. Of course, there wasn’t much to debate when neither of them believed in the existence of either, though Jayson couldn’t help but to speculate on the possibility of aliens and how it connected to the weird things happening in StrangerVille. Though, he merely speculated, unwilling for Siobhan to know just how interested he was in it all.

Their evening together quickly came to a close, and Jayson found himself walking Siobhan to her front door to bid her a good night.

“I’d offer to let you come in,” Siobhan started, “but due to financial reasons -” She didn’t have a chance to finish, however, as the door was flung open, revealing Morgan.

“Back so soon?” she said with a grin.

Siobhan reached behind her and pulled the door closed with a slam. “I still live at home.” she offered him a sheepish and apologetic smile.

“If I had known that, I would have offered to take you to my place.”

“Right to the chase, huh?” she said with a grin. “That’s more like third date talk.”

Jayson considered this thoughtfully for a moment. “So, does that mean, like, the night of the third date, or does it have to be three full dates, and then the night after the fourth?”

Siobhan laughed. She stood on her tiptoes, her lips meeting his for a warm, soft moment before pulling away. “You think too much.” She turned and opened the door, slipping inside and wishing him goodnight before the door closed.

#the sims #ts4 #the sims 4 #fic #fanfic #strangerville

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jackfollmanwriter-blog · 6 years

Text

After-Party

The automatic light above the garage was broken again. A pale shock of illumination flickered through the open spaces in the blinds of my bedroom. Waking me in the middle of the night.

"Mother of fuck," I groaned and rolled out of the soft massage of warmth of my bed and out into the cold air of my bedroom.

The remnants of the half bottle of Wild Turkey I downed before sleep stoked me with a little bit of heat, but still couldn't fully comfort the pads of my feet when they touched on the hardwood on the way to the large window in the corner of my bedroom.

The auto light above the garage outside the house had been malfunctioning the past few nights. I woke a number of times in the middle of the night because it shined right into my room when it came on. It was only supposed to flick on when someone pulled into or walked up into the driveway, but it was coming on almost bi-hourly at this point each night. I had

I could see the light still shining through the blinds when I staggered up to my bedroom window and pulled the drawstring cord open. What the absence of the cheap wooden blinds revealed was not what I expected.

Walking away from the driveway towards the darkness of the road was a man. I only saw the back of his body - dressed in jeans, a heavy neon yellow jacket and white sneakers with a bushy head of brown hair sloppily tucked underneath a red and black flannel cap. I didn't get a great look at him, but definitely didn't recognize him from behind.

Last night's whiskey no longer kept me warm. My entire body went cold. My knees wobbled in my near-naked stance and every hair on my body stood up as if they wanted to run away from the terror in my heart and leave the blackness of the room.

My only salvation came in the red light of the alarm clock next to my bed which told me it was nearly five a.m. Light would come soon. Sleep would not. I laid tightly tucked into my bed, clutching a switchblade a friend had brought back from Tijuana years ago until the sun came up and the setting of the world became less frightening.

I suddenly wished my parents were back home. Never thought that would happen. I considered calling or emailing them, but knew they probably wouldn't get the message all the way down in the Bahamas for a day or two. I didn't call the cops yet about what happened. What was I going to say? I thought I saw some guy who I have no idea who he was walking away from our house last night who may have been setting off the auto light in the driveway night's before? By the way, I am having underage drinking parties at my house every night as well.

The heavy amount of underage drinking taking place at the house each night and the heavy continuation of it planned for the next four days before my parents returned, including New Year's Eve, kept my fingers away from the number which would connect me with the Lattingtown Police Department. The potential of a grisly murder wasn't enough to scare a 17-year-old suburban boy away from the chance to have parties at his parents' sprawling house tucked into the privacy of the woods at the edge of town.

Oh yes, the remoteness of the house. My parents' house was not in an area anyone would ever go just walking unless they had a very specific reason. On the very, Northeast edge of Lattingtown city limits, home rested on the side of a dark, lightly-trafficked highway which led out to a rocky section of the Atlantic coast which didn't feature a beach or park. The remote aspect of my parents' house made it perfect for high school parties, but also unfortunately made it fairly freaky to sleep alone there, even with all the doors locked and the alarm system on.

And the many doors. Living in a 5,000-square-foot house with six bedrooms was usually pretty sweet, but not when you were scared out of your wits. Instead of thinking about how I would show the house had I been a 2000s celebrity on MTV Cribs, I was now thinking of all the doors which led outside in the house which could be breached. The door which led out to the second-story patio outside my parents' bedroom and looked down at the pool seemed especially breachable. I knew the alarm system no longer worked for that door and the handle was pickable. We had broken into the house before that way when we locked the keys inside. I was infinitely grateful I had already had friends help me push a heavy dresser across the outside of the door to my parents' room to keep party guests out on the first night of our bender.

I usually dreaded the beeping of my 6 a.m. alarm, but it sounded as sweet as bubble gum pop when it blared out the blown speakers of my bedside alarm clock that morning. I shut it off and readied to brave the rest of the house outside of my locked bedroom which had a dresser pushed up against the door for an extra seal.

I slid across the ice-covered driveway towards the road where the man had been the night before waiting to hear the rumble of Clayton's monster truck. The handyman for my dad's construction company, Clayton was selected to check in on my parents' house each night to make sure a party wasn't going on. What my dad didn't think about though was Clayton was only in his early-20s and worked out a deal with me where I would hit him with twenty bucks, a bag of a weed and a pint of Fireball on his way to work first thing in the morning each day in exchange for not ratting me out when I had parties.

I clutched a 20 which had been given to me for Christmas just a few days earlier when I heard the purr of Clayton's F-350 coming up the highway. I shivered, readied the money and loot in a sack and watched his black truck race up to the edge of the driveway.

Clayton usually barely even stopped, just stick his burly, tattooed arm out the window, grabbed the sack and blew smoke and exhaust at me when he peeled away down the highway back to my dad's office in town.

I wanted Clayton to stop and chat today for the first time ever.

"Hey," I called out into his open driver's side window when he stuck his barb wire-tattooed arm out the window.

"What the hell you want?" He hollered back.

Looking up at Clayton's bearded face was even more intimidating from my lower vantage point on the edge of the road.

"Oh, uh. I was wondering if you wanted to be security at my party tonight? I can kick you some extra money and booze."

Clayton spit tobacco over my shoulder.

"Are there going to be ladies there?"

"Ladies? Yeah. For sure."

"Then shit yeah. I'll do it."

"Can you sleep in your truck in the driveway man?" My face blushed when I asked.

"What the fuck?"

"I'll get you some extra money and weed."

"Okay, I guess."

Clayton reached down and grabbed the day's sack out of my hand. Spit a thick glob of tobacco just over my shoulder again, and drove away.

The night stuck to the usual script since my parents left a few days ago on their vacation. Some friends trickled in around nightfall with cheap booze purchased by older brothers and sketchy cousins. We sat around the house getting buzz before the girls and more distant acquaintances filed in as the night went on. The party swelled at about 11 and people slowly trickled out around 1 a.m. until I was left home alone around 3 a.m.

The only difference was Clayton was parked out in the driveway this night semi-harassing everyone when they came in - drinking, smoking, catcalling girls and blasting David Allan Coe's most offensive songs. It was kind of shitty and everyone was thoroughly weirded out by it, but I couldn't have been more relieved when I went up to my room at the end of the night, looked out the corner window and saw his truck sitting there. This made sleep come much easier than I thought it would.

But it would not last for long.

I awoke quickly to the flickering of the automatic light from the garage.

Shit.

I staggered in the dark to the corner window and ripped open the blinds. I assumed maybe Clayton set off the light, just moving around, taking a piss or something. I was shocked when I laid eyes upon the driveway and didn't see his truck.

But the driveway was not empty. I jumped backwards in the room when I saw the same man from the night before standing right where Clayton's truck had been parked.

Facing me this time, I could see his cold face, tucked beneath the same flannel hat with earflaps. He didn't look up anywhere in my direction, just kept his eyes down and walked around in circles in the driveway like a dog sniffing for a place to mark his territory.

This lasted for about 30 seconds or so before he turned around and walked back to the lonely highway.

I needed to call my parents this time and at least leave a message. I dialed up my dad's cell phone as fast as I could. I knew he checked his messages at least once a day.

I was shocked when he answered after the first ring.

"Hello."

"Oh, hi, dad, it's Casey."

"Casey? It's like five in the morning?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm shocked you are answering your phone."

"Yeah, there was a bunch of drama at work the past couple of days so I have actually had my phone on the past day or so even though it costs a fortune. Seriously can't even get away anymore. I already got a call about a job in Alaska because it's still like midnight there. But what's up?"

"Uh, this is going to sound really weird, but some guy keeps coming and walking around the driveway in the middle of the night, every night."

"God damn't," my dad sounded thoroughly annoyed.

"What?"

"Percy is back," I heard my dad saw with his mouth away from the phone followed by a deep groan from my mom in the background.

"Who's Percy?"

"He's the Cassinger's, family down the road's, severely autistic son. He's like forty and lives at their house. He used to do this all the time, but we eventually got pissed at them enough to where they must have locked him up or something at night. He used to scare the hell out of us all the time in the middle of the night like that."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Oh no. He's actually pretty friendly if you go down and talk to him, but going and talking to an autistic guy at four in the morning is the last thing anyone wants to do. I'll call the Cassingers when we I get back. Don't worry about it. Just leave him alone and he goes away. You can turn the garage light off if you want. Maybe that will help."

"Thanks dad."

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

I waited for Clayton's next morning exchange with a surly demeanor. I bent over backwards to get the guy to be my low-key security guard and he bailed. I scowled when his burly truck slowed to me on the road.

"Hey man, you bailed," I started in before he even got his window all the way down.

Before I could say more, Clayton stuck his hand in my face.

"Smell my fingers. That's why I bailed. Your friend Tina or Tracy or whatever is great."

"Ugh," I yelled out, beyond repulsed.

"I had to drive her home after we were done. Sorry man."

"God damn't. Can you stick around tonight?"

"Sorry man. Me and her are doing a little camping by the river tonight. Private. Party."

"Fine."

I shoved the sack of loot into Clayton's window and walked away.

Maybe I could just have friends stay over tonight? I had avoided having them stay over because it was in the sleeping/barfing process that usually messed up things around the house at previous parties. The housekeepers also usually showed up around daybreak, and unlike Clayton, could not be bought off with cheap weed, cinnamon whiskey and underage ass.

The night couldn't have gone better. The relief my conversation with my dad about harmless Percy allowed me to get thoroughly drunk and fully enjoy getting to be a single high school boy with free reign of a mansion and a bevy of drunk high school girls around him.

The night eventually led to the hot tub where the heat of the bubbles and burning brown eyes of a classmate whom I had barely talked to, but had stared at all year, Lexy, made me forget about any fears from the past few days. We moved closer and closer to each other in the hot water as the frigid December Long Island air kept us deep under the surface of the water.

Lexy and I eventually slipped away to my room to do what drunk, unsupervised high school kids do together. My only regret was being so drunk I couldn't quite fully accomplish my ultimate goal. However, I was comforted by the promise we made to each other to take things further next time before Lexy was drug off by her girlfriends and I slipped away into a happy sleep on top of the blankets on my bed.

That god damn light woke me up again, but not in the frightening way it did before. Probably because I was still pretty drunk. Probably because I now knew who the mysterious stranger was. Probably because I was still on cloud nine from my encounter with Lexy.

I ignored the light and just laid in my bed for a handful of moments before I grabbed my phone from atop the pillow next to me.

A quick check of the phone revealed a couple new text messages which had come in while I was asleep.

The first text was a godsend. A text from Lexy.

Excited to see you tomorrow.

The second was a nightmare. It was from my friend Mallory. It was a photo.

I took this tonight. Who the fuck is the guy on the far right?

I looked closely at the photo. At first glance, it was just your typical drunk high school party group photo. Me and about six or seven of my friends were huddled up in my kitchen each holding different bottles of alcohol, mugging for the camera. Sure to be horribly embarrassing in a few years.

However, on the far right of the picture was the head and shoulders of a man I had never seen before. He stuck out in the picture of 16 and 17-year-olds like the most sore of thumbs. Dark eyes sunken into a skeletal face topped with a mop of dirty brown hair and dark stubble - the man looked away from the camera with a thousand-yard death stare.

The back of my throat began to bubble with vomit. I stared at the picture for a good minute or two until I was distracted by the garage light flicking on again through the cracks of the blinds.

I stumbled out of bed and staggered naked in the dark over to the corner window considering yelling something down at Percy this time. I had enough.

I whipped the blinds open and laid my eyes down upon Percy walking in circles in the driveway as a light snow fell and stuck to the asphalt all around him. He pulled something out of his jacket pocket. A folded piece of cardboard. He quickly unfolded it. Pulled out a felt pen.

He turned towards me, intensely focused on the cardboard, he scribbled writing across the board.

My fear starting to bubble. I heard the sound of something crash outside my bedroom door, but my eyes stuck on Percy and his writing.

Percy finished his scribe right after the crash outside my door. He flipped around the board.

HE IS IN THE HOUSE. RUN.

The room suddenly felt as cold as I imagined it was outside. I froze in my stance in the window until I heard another thump from outside my bedroom door.

I made an initial burst to the bedroom door, planned to flee through the house as fast as I could, before I thought better.

I stopped myself just outside of the closed door. Heard a hideous cough erupt from the other side.

I quickly shoved a heavy dresser in front of the door. Ran back to the bed where my cell phone was.

Still groggy drunk and fuzzy headed, I felt as if my brain was recoiling within my skull while I pulled up the call pad on my phone. Dialed 911. Quickly got an answer.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

"Someone is in my house," I said, breathless.

"Sir. Stay where you are. We are dispatching officers right now."

"Okay. Okay. Okay."

A stiff knock upon the door interrupted. Another.

"Shit. He's at the door."

"Sir. Do you have any idea who this is? Could it be someone you know?"

I suddenly felt incredibly stupid. It was entirely possible one of my friends simply stayed over and was trying to wake me up. I was distracted by Lexy at the end of the night so I wouldn't have known if anyone crashed.

"Casey," the familiar voice of one of my best friends Brandon shook me from my frenzy of fear.

"Oh. Yeah. It is."

"Excuse me sir. Are you saying the situation is resolved?"

"Casey, yo," Brandon's voice cut through the door again.

"Uh, yeah. I guess. It's just my friend."

"Sir, I need confirmation."

"Yes. It is resolved."

The line cut out.

"Hold on a second man."

My heart started rolling down to a steady pace. The newly-formed sweat upon my skin started to dry. The fog of confusion in my brain was hit with a sunny beam of relief. I walked over to the door. Pushed the dresser back out of the way.

I opened up the door to see the hungover young face of Brandon looking back at me in a tight squint.

"Hey man. I'm sorry."

"Hey."

Something was off about Brandon. His entire body shuddering. His arm crooked around his belly. He stood at a slight crimp as if he was about to give birth or had to take a shit really bad.

"Are you awake ye...

Brandon fell over on his side with a high-pitched squeak which sounded like the one a mouse would give out when attacked.

I looked down at his crumpled torso to see a deep, wet, stain spreading out from his side. He coughed and gargled on the floor in front of the door.

The sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway to the left of me distracted me from Brandon's dying form.

There he was walking over to me in the hallway. The man from the picture Mallory texted me, but he looked much worse for his wear in-person. His skin was horrifically dried out, looking like it might flake off his skin and softly drift to the floor like the snowflakes which fell outside.

I tried to back into my room, but didn't have time. The man was just feet away from me and I fell to the floor, still clumsy and drunk.

I tried to scramble back to my feet, but no luck. The man was now towering above me, peering down at me with dark eyes, I put my hands out in front of me in a pathetic defense, looking like a turtle stuck on its back trying to fight off a hungry wolf.

The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was the man opening his mouth wide to reveal a crooked set of yellow teeth which he descended down upon me. I could smell the hot stench of rot upon his breath in the darkness of closed eyes.

Just as I could feel that awful breath upon me. It was gone. I opened my eyes in a flash and saw a wrestling match taking place next to me in the hallway, literally on top of Brandon's bleeding body.

It took a few moments to fully absorb what was taking place, but the man with the stinking breath's opponent eventually became familiar.

Percy.

His red and black flannel cap almost falling off his sloppy head of unwashed hair.

I took the opening Percy gave me and ran past them, through the hallway. I didn't even think about Brandon.

I ran downstairs and out the front door into the heavy, falling snow sifting down from the sky which was just waking up with a pale shine. It must have been just around 6 a.m. and a familiar rumble from over by the road confirmed the time.

I ran out to the road and saw Clayton's heaving truck idling on the shoulder of the road. I ripped open the passenger's side door and jumped in.

"What the fuck dude?" Clayton hacked, having swallowed his chew in surprise.

"Just go. Go," I screamed.

Clayton obliged, still gagging on his chew.

We drove off into the cold, rising sun.

I paced the backyard for more than an hour with my phone in my hand. Coming up with excuse after excuse to keep delaying calling my parents. I dialed up my dad's cell phone number five times only to delete it again and tell myself I would call at the next 15-minute mark on the clock.

The trauma of what had just happened and what I knew was still resting back in the house with the cops – the cooling dead bodies of Brandon and my mystery assailant were pushing out any other clear thoughts in my head. How in the hell could I explain this to my dad while he sat in the Bahamas, probably poolside, his morning ice coffee rapidly melting?

I held off calling one more time and was quickly given a true distraction this time. A "psst" sound drew my gaze over to the thick bushes at the back of the yard.

Tucked between two bushy emerald greens was Percy. He looked at me with wide eyes and a twitching head.

"Come here. Come here," he said frantically with a voice that sounded like it belonged to a four-year-old with the shredded vocal cords of a burnt out rock star.

I fought my initial apprehension. This man had just saved my life.

I shot a quick look back up at the house. Didn't see any officers or officials within sight. I slipped over to the edge of the woods where Percy's head was still ripping up and down like a tweaker's.

"Thank you so much," I whispered when I reached him.

That head just kept shaking. He put a silencing finger to his lip and pulled out a raggedy piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He pointed to the smudged, sloppy penmanship on the paper over and over again then made a chopping hand motion that seemed to suggest our interaction was over.

He handed me the paper and took off as fast as he could into the deeper, darker woods which eventually led out to the ocean.

I watched him go until he was out of sight and turned my attention to his letter of sorts.

Sir -

Am sorry for walking around your parking lot. David was my brother. He was not supposed to be out ever, but my dad was letting him out each night because he thought it made him feel better. It was not good. He would go over to your house almost every night. He liked the house. Thought it was like one from a good movie. He said he just liked to look at it. But then I saw when he started to try and get in. He said he would go the beds and look around. That's why I walked around out there. He would leave if I came. Never liked to share. I know I wasn't supposed to do it anymore. Your dad didn't like it. But David told me not too long ago he knew your dad was gone and he was going to come back. He was going to move in. He was going to become the son. I had to stop him. I hope I did not ruin it for you. I saw the pretty girls each night. They were beautiful. I am sorry. I hope they don't find me.

Stuck to the bottom of the letter was your standard Hello my name is nametag with the name Percy scrawled in red crayon.

I folded the letter up and stuck it into my pocket.

I was ready to call my parents. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed up the numbers, finally hit that little green button to send the signal out to my dad.

"Casey. What's going on?"

I was relieved my dad actually picked up and sounded enthused. Some kind of authority must not have gotten ahold of him yet.

"Uh. Not too much. Something crazy happened though. Pretty bad. I have to tell you about it."

"Ah yeah? What you have a party get busted or something? I'm sure it can't be too bad."

I paused for a few seconds. Not really knowing quite how to put it. I looked up to the second-story deck of the house and saw officials wheeling out bodies covered in white sheets.

"Actually, yeah, it's, pretty bad."

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.

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