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deputystakes-arc · 2 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 2 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 2 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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n e ways. ashley’s now on @deputystakes.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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does this look ok. be honest.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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what if you liked this post for a silly little one liner on my new blog.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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i like to think i’m funny.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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i am once again begging my mutuals to make pacific rim verses.
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deputystakes-arc · 3 years
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@marshalpride said,   i should have known better.
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new moons were always especially bloody.   tensions build and levees break.   waters run red.   ashley’s grown accustomed to it, how violent the nights get at their darkest.   looking out into the parking lot, he lights a third cigarette, leaning against the doorway.   like he’s waiting for something to happen.   waiting for the seconds to tick and the minutes to collect.   waiting for the dawn and the day and a few moments of some genuine peace and fucking quiet.
and it’s quiet, outside the roadhouse, until it isn’t.   ashley’s crushing the cigarette under his heel as he watches the scene begin, as he watches the scene play out.   the town car pulls up.   shadows shift in anticipation, hiding someone awful, hiding a fanged maw itching to put something, anything into the ground.   and the moment the marshal steps out of the vehicle — well.   he’s doomed.   clawed hands wrap around givens’ collar as gravel crunches beneath one boot, and had ashley been a less sentimental man, he might’ve just let it happen, content to witness the bloodshed.   sorry, officer.   I couldn’t stop them in time, officer.   the lie could’ve slipped off, sugary, sickly sweet.   unfortunately, though perhaps fortunate for the marshal now bleeding from his temple, staring down a vampire acting only on instinct — ashley valued the man’s company.   so boots hit the ground, brisk, as ashley approaches, as he pulls the six-shooter from leather holster — and paints the windows of the town car crimson.   the body drops and ashley watches it hit the ground, motionless where he stands, revolver falling back to his hip.    slim fingers wrapped tightly around carved grip.    the flickering lights of the parking lot paint a halo around his face, pallid and scarred.   the image is ill-fitting. 
which brings us back to the shadow falling over the deputy’s face.   the thud-thud-thud of two animal hearts.   givens speaks, and ashley should give him credit for that, considering the sheer state of his being.   he was alive, but if he were a different man, ashley would dare say he looked unkempt, with blood trickling from his brow, his shirt untucked, a button now missing from his collar.   ‘ yeah, ’   blunt agreement.   it’s just the two of them in the parking lot with the body at their feet.    his voice is too dead to convey concern, but it isn’t without inflection — he isn’t cruel, he’s unmoved by the sight before him.   the kingpin extends no hand and offers no aid.   he imagines the script.   what might happen if the deputy attempted to smile this one off.   what might happen if he drew a bourbon-soaked rag over his brow, his voice full of threats instead of insincere reassurances.   or what might happen when the deputy realizes he’d taken the devil’s hand when he was looking for someone to pull him out of the turmoil.   ‘ you should’ve. ’   new moons were always especially bloody.   most folks knew better than to test their luck on nights like these.   ashley’s head tilts to the side, shadow moving across the deputy’s face,   ‘ you alright down there? ’
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