John J. Rambo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-08-23 10:45 am
theydrewfirstblood) wrote in ph_logs2024-08-23 10:45 am
we stand shoulder to shoulder (veteran's social)
Who: John Rambo (theydrewfirstblood) & The Pumpkin Hollow Veterans' Association
What: Leveling up veteran's poker night with a barbecue
When: post-Blight
Where: Baker Ranch
Warning(s): General warnings for John's canon: violence, police brutality, PTSD, torture, etc., and likely similar for many other veterans here, check for further warnings throughout
(NOTE: Treat this as a gathering, but I personally will be backtagging into this for the duration of September, so don't be a stranger!)
Poker Night is something John looks forward to every month, but he got it into his head that it could be fun to do a little more, so he talked to a few people, did a little extra work...
...then the damn Thatcher's Blight hit and everything went to absolute shit.
Fortunately, the whole thing's blown over now, and once he's sure everything around the farm is as clean as it's gonna get? John goes through his stores and decides he's got enough food and drink for all--and tacks up a notice on the bulletin board just below that for the regular poker night, with a date and time as well as his phone number and address.
VETERAN'S SOCIAL, BAKER RANCH--BBQ & DRINKS, POTLUCK OPTIONAL
The event starts a few hours before dusk. John's set up a ways from the house with some tables, chairs, and blankets for those who want to go full on picnic style. It wouldn't be a veteran's night without poker, so there's a game going at one of the tables while another holds plates of food--regular game coming off the grill, along with a few other pieces of meat he picked up for those who aren't fans of game.
And, because Co is around, there's no visible chicken on the grill. Ever the pragmatist, there's a couple casseroles of simple baked chicken on the table, alongside some sides John's put together or any offerings that come along as part of the optional potluck. There's not a lot of alcohol, but John's got the last bottle or two of his little dandelion wine experiment available, as well as a couple other things. Mostly it's water, tea, coffee--tamer offerings.
Speaking of the animals, John's turned loose the ones he treats as pets: Sam the rooster spends the whole night chasing after and trying to wrangle Co, who makes no bones about harassing newcomers for adulation. Those she knows, if they sit still too long, will end up with a happy chicken nesting in their lap...one that will remain quiet only so long as you offer the bare minimum of scritches and pets. Dare to ignore her, and angry clucking will ensue. John's mare, Helga, can also be seen grazing around the goings-on, shy but not unfriendly. If a hot breath puffs on the back of your neck, she's just curious--if you pet her, she'll swish her tail happily and move on.
There's also a newer member of the family, whose only just getting big enough to let socialize: Bao, a female cottontail rabbit whose still young, but no longer too much of a baby to keep isolated. Though she spends a good portion of the night in John's arms when he's not busy, she does hop around loose, sticking close to John and to Co, who can be found very rarely nesting in a patch of grass with Bao tucked against her feathery side, gently attempting to "preen" Bao despite her lack of feathers.
And while this is, ostensibly, the veteran's social, any of Baker Ranch's varying degrees of resident are invited to the party, so if there's new faces about? Relax, they don't bite--unless you have food, then watch your hands. They're probably teenagers, and they don't discriminate when it comes to their appetites.
theydrewfirstblood) & The Pumpkin Hollow Veterans' AssociationWhat: Leveling up veteran's poker night with a barbecue
When: post-Blight
Where: Baker Ranch
Warning(s): General warnings for John's canon: violence, police brutality, PTSD, torture, etc., and likely similar for many other veterans here, check for further warnings throughout
(NOTE: Treat this as a gathering, but I personally will be backtagging into this for the duration of September, so don't be a stranger!)
Poker Night is something John looks forward to every month, but he got it into his head that it could be fun to do a little more, so he talked to a few people, did a little extra work...
...then the damn Thatcher's Blight hit and everything went to absolute shit.
Fortunately, the whole thing's blown over now, and once he's sure everything around the farm is as clean as it's gonna get? John goes through his stores and decides he's got enough food and drink for all--and tacks up a notice on the bulletin board just below that for the regular poker night, with a date and time as well as his phone number and address.
VETERAN'S SOCIAL, BAKER RANCH--BBQ & DRINKS, POTLUCK OPTIONAL
The event starts a few hours before dusk. John's set up a ways from the house with some tables, chairs, and blankets for those who want to go full on picnic style. It wouldn't be a veteran's night without poker, so there's a game going at one of the tables while another holds plates of food--regular game coming off the grill, along with a few other pieces of meat he picked up for those who aren't fans of game.
And, because Co is around, there's no visible chicken on the grill. Ever the pragmatist, there's a couple casseroles of simple baked chicken on the table, alongside some sides John's put together or any offerings that come along as part of the optional potluck. There's not a lot of alcohol, but John's got the last bottle or two of his little dandelion wine experiment available, as well as a couple other things. Mostly it's water, tea, coffee--tamer offerings.
Speaking of the animals, John's turned loose the ones he treats as pets: Sam the rooster spends the whole night chasing after and trying to wrangle Co, who makes no bones about harassing newcomers for adulation. Those she knows, if they sit still too long, will end up with a happy chicken nesting in their lap...one that will remain quiet only so long as you offer the bare minimum of scritches and pets. Dare to ignore her, and angry clucking will ensue. John's mare, Helga, can also be seen grazing around the goings-on, shy but not unfriendly. If a hot breath puffs on the back of your neck, she's just curious--if you pet her, she'll swish her tail happily and move on.
There's also a newer member of the family, whose only just getting big enough to let socialize: Bao, a female cottontail rabbit whose still young, but no longer too much of a baby to keep isolated. Though she spends a good portion of the night in John's arms when he's not busy, she does hop around loose, sticking close to John and to Co, who can be found very rarely nesting in a patch of grass with Bao tucked against her feathery side, gently attempting to "preen" Bao despite her lack of feathers.
And while this is, ostensibly, the veteran's social, any of Baker Ranch's varying degrees of resident are invited to the party, so if there's new faces about? Relax, they don't bite--unless you have food, then watch your hands. They're probably teenagers, and they don't discriminate when it comes to their appetites.
no subject
A couple yards away, a pair of glowing eyes stare back from the hedges.
At first, they only reflect the porch lamp in a pale blue-green glimmer. A blink later, they're awash with pink light; another blink, and they're back to blue-green.
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"Hey," he whispers.
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Then, one careful step at a time, a bright pink fox slinks out from the brush. As the light moves off her eyes, the reflective glow vanishes. Behind it rises a tense uncertainty that could mean half a dozen things -- fear for herself, worry for Edgar, wariness at the little rabbit in his lap. A braced moment for somebody to shout in alarm.
"Hey Ed," says Nimona, low.
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And then holds out a hand, silently, in Nimona's direction.
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That outstretched hand is all it takes: she hurls herself toward Edgar, transforming to human mid-leap so she can tackle him in a hug.
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"Hey, hey --"
It's not a protest; it's almost the same soothing tone as the last time she heard his voice in person. Almost exactly the same, down to the painful thickness in the throat.
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That was the clearest part of the movie. It sounds and feels just the same as now. It's proof that thing really was her, all along.
And he didn't turn away.
...Which was honestly pretty stupid of him since Nimona was leaking a deadly virus everywhere, but look, one thing at a time. "You okay?" she asks, high-pitched and a little trembly.
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He tucks her head under his chin, and sighs. "You?"
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"I'm okay now." He might not sigh, but Nimona does, waterlogged. "Dying here's not as bad as the ship. I'm good."
Here, at least, she didn't collapse into nothingness. Being a ghost's just like shifting into something new. Sucks that you can't shift into anything solid for twenty-four hours, but still, Nimona sure as hell knows what she prefers.
Weakly, she balls up one fist to thump against his back. "You could've caught it from me, dummy."
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He sounds completely certain of the efficacy of the measure, hopefully enough so to convey the idea that he was every bit as certain at the time.
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She finally eases away from Edgar, just enough to sit next to him with her whole side pressed up against his. Maybe he'll notice, now that they're separated, but the black locket that'd been a permanent fixture around her neck since late spring?
It's gone.
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He glances down at her, fond and teasing. And yes, after a moment, he does notice.
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"What?" she asks. "I'm not still drooling, am I?"
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She touches her chest, and comprehension doesn't dawn so much as whack her upside the head. Nimona curls her fingers around the empty spot. After a beat, she shakes her head.
"No. It's gone." She swallows. "...It wasn't real. Just some demon fucking with me."
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And pauses, as some thought passes behind his eyes.
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Nimona glances up. It's her turn to pause, and frown again, as she studies Edgar.
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A beat.
"Cause he said some shite, when we met. Din't know what to think of it then. Like he was maybe just having a bad day and having a grouch about it, you know, like anybody might. But I din't like it, is all."
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"...What'd he say?"
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"If you leave it up to me, I'm not saying. You already know it was just to fuck with you, there's not gonna be anything real in it. But if it's gonna be worse not knowing ..."
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"Nah, you're right," she mumbles. "I bet it's just more crap about how he's miserable and it's all my fault, huh."
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She leans more of her weight against Edgar's side.
"Always talking about how bad he wanted to go home and how worried his boyfriend'd be. And the way he'd look at me every time I called him. He'd brush it off, but there was always a couple seconds right when he showed up..."
She trails off, stuck in her own misery.
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"So yeah, glad that was just demon bullshit and not really him. Cause you deserve better friends than that."