*this should totally be an earlier number, but it took me a while to get all the gifs together. They are not mine, by the way, if you see one that is yours, let me know, so I can credit. or credit yourself!*
“Clem! Clementine!” Javi comes running to her, waving his hands in the air like a maniac. “I have news! And it’s great!”
She drops the bag she was packing a moment ago to give him her full attention. “What happened?”
“I spoke with Lingard,” he says proudly, beaming. “He’s a moody son of a bitch, but he told me where he left AJ.”
If she hadn’t dropped her bag before, she’d have now. Yes, she was going after AJ anyway, but to have an actual location? Awesome. More than awesome. Brilliant.
“Where?” she breathes out, hands twitching with the need to hold AJ again. “Where, Javi?”
“McCarroll Ranch. I…I’m not sure where it is exactly, but Lingard said it’s not far from here. Said there was a woman taking care of him, but Lingard doesn’t remember her name. Probably was too stoned to remember. But Clem, did you hear me? He’s not far from here! We can get him back!”
In the town of Richmond, Halloween was surrounded with more anticipation than Christmas. It was a small town that rarely saw the sun and most people drove right on through with barely a stop at Mrs Hewlett’s bakery - even though she did bake the best savoury muffins. The people of Richmond weren’t vehemently proud of their small slice of the world but nor were they eager to escape. Some younglings left when they came of age but most returned after a few years in the world when realising there was nothing it could offer that their hometown could not. The only time Richmond showed any pride was during the Autumn months but especially the month of October.
Richmond was beautiful in the Autumn. A picturesque country bumpkin town that smelled of pumpkin spice and looked like the road was ablaze with fiery leaves. Mrs Hewitt would make her famous candy apples and Dr Arnold would become well acquainted with the cavities inside the children’s mouths. Richmond may have slept for most of the year but as the seasons began to die the town would come alive. It was the only time of year people were intrigued to stop should their journey cause them to pass through the town. In contrast it was the only time of year no resident in Richmond welcomed outsiders. They didn’t like the idea of city folks ruining their Halloween festivities. The people of Richmond were not a lot of things but they loved their traditions even if there was only one they upheld.
Most tourists that stopped in the city during October were normally grossly intrigued by what the people of Richmond saw as their landmark. Their Eiffel Tower, I once heard someone refer to it as. Something so peculiar and near disturbing a lot of those interested would soon turn away and leave behind tire tracks as the only evidence of their presence. The residents of Richmond liked those people.
The sight that both repulsed and intrigued was a field of pumpkin headed scarecrows that stood guard over nothing but the town itself. Rows upon rows of different shaped and styled scarecrows as far as the eye could see. All of them surrounded by a low wooden fence that acted more as a warning that any actual defence. The people of Richmond knew not to tread those fields but it was a warning too subtle for non natives.
The story I tell you now was not witnessed by my own eyes and therefore I cannot guarantee the accuracy of it. I can, however, vouch for the look of pure terror in Anna Langton’s eyes when she confessed all to me. Moments before they dragged her away to the nut house. Do not let Anna’s demise take validation away from her words but I also caution you against following in her footsteps.
With the voice of an angel and some serious guitar-shredding chops, Natalie Prass has been turning heads with her sweet take on classic 70′s soul pop. Her self-titled debut album dropped earlier this year and after seeing her play our House of Vans SXSW show, we were itching to hear more. Read on to find out Natalie’s fave spots in Nashville, playing keys for Jenny Lewis’ band and the unusual comparison she gets to Disney princesses and movies.
I’m going to try to start posting again soon, insha Allah.
I believe that this space has become an amana (trust) and that I have a duty to uphold that this space is important. A big part of me realizing that was an amazing letter from Australia and the people in Richmond who made me remember why I made this thing to begin with.
I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long. I will be–slowly–working my way back, insha Allah.
Please be patient with me. I might make things where I just post audio stuff that I record on Fridays or something. Maybe I’ll make this more of a podcast-type of thing? I’m not sure. I’m still figuring things out.
I’m open to suggestions, but again, I apologize for my absence, I will try my best to return as soon as possible, insha Allah.
Harry absolutely hated school reunions. Not because he had hated going to school, nor was it because he was unable to lie convincingly about what he did for a living (learning and falsehood were tools of his trade, and he excelled at them). No, Harry hated school reunions because he had gone to school with other people, and those people were bigoted rich snobs with too much money and not enough brainpower.
He had all barely resisted dropping to his knees and begging Eggsy to attend with him (his motives had been purely selfish - from what little contact he had maintained with his old schoolmates, a significant chunk were either on their second marriage or married to someone significantly younger, or both. Eggsy was prettier than all of them, and Harry had no qualms about showing off the other man as his own. Even if it was fake). He had agreed, in the end, but not before many, many promises of dinners and a visit to Harry’s family manor in the Leicester countryside. And possibly a car, though Harry had balked at the thought of the man behind the wheel of anything similar to that Bond cad, no matter how much thrill he got at the idea).
“Why couldn’t they have just held the damn thing at the school? It’s certainly big enough.” Eggsy mused from the passenger seat. Yes, Oxford was certainly large enough to hold a reunion of this caliber, but that wasn’t entirely the point.
“It’s about money, darling.” Harry chastised himself; how many times had he caught himself spewing endearments? If he wasn’t more careful, he would have to deal with the distance that Eggsy would put between them at the expense of the follies of a lonely man. Eggsy snorted.
“Yeah, if there’s one thing you posh blokes like to do it’s shower everyone around you in your self-imposed halos made of solid gold.” Ouch. Eggsy was silent for a moment, and rolled his lower lip between his teeth. Harry tried not to stare, not to think about what it would be like to have his own lip caught like that. “You think I’ll do okay? I’m not really cut out for this sort of thing.”
“You’ll be fine. You can play the rich man well enough to fool people who worked for Richmond Valentine, and many who are much smarter. I guarantee you that this isn’t going to be an issue, not with that suit you’re wearing.” He caught his eye. “But if it makes you feel better, if you’re uncomfortable with a question you can always play the power dynamic card and pass it off to me. My colleagues would expect nothing less.”
“Oh yeah, sure, I definitely look like the type of guy who has a daddy kink.”
“Young, almost excessively attractive man showing up on the arm of someone like me? It wouldn’t be a stretch.” Eggsy gaped at his self-depreciation.
“Yes, because I’m definitely the more attractive one here. Harry, you’re an idiot.” They were silent for the remainder of the drive, Harry mulling over what Eggsy could have possibly meant. Surely he was just being kind, he lad was known for it after all.
His thoughts soon turned to the reunion again, and Harry tried to apply the last layer of varnish to his reserve. He could do this. They could do this, together. It wouldn’t be any different than a mission. They would be fine, the two of them. He must have looked worried, because Eggsy laced their fingers together. Feeling a cold band press into his skin, Harry looked down.
“Hope you don’t mind, but I nicked this from the desk drawer in your office. Figured it would make it more convincing, having us be engaged. Would give you something to do, too - fabricate that story.” Harry looked at the ring again and swallowed thickly. It looked organic, natural, on Eggsy’s fourth finger, as if it had never meant to be anywhere but there. If he was being honest, he had never liked his father’s wedding band more than he did in this moment. Misinterpreting his silence, Eggsy made to take it off.
“No, leave it.” Eggsy smiled at him, and then without warning kissed him. Not hard, or sensually, just enough brush of lips that it could be called a kiss.
“We’ll be fine, yeah? It’ll be fine.” He nodded in return, not trusting himself to speak. Of course it would, Eggsy was there with him.