#{.carter.}

A good portion of what Carter learned from hunting he picked up during those first few years where he chased after the demon who killed his father.

Fictober22 (@fictober-event​) Day 31 — "I'm not alone and neither are you."

featuring Wren Ashley & Malcolm Carter — characters from The New Ashton Chronicles, written & role-played by F.R. Southerland (@normallyxstranger | @frsoutherlandauthor | www.frsoutherland.com) © November 2022

original fiction

general warnings: n/a

    Two nights and two days. That was enough. She’d given him his time and his space, as promised. Now, she could intervene. 

    She arrived at Safe Bet Security just after noon to find the door locked. Wren wasn’t surprised by that. Stepping back from the door, she peered up, at his apartment above the office. The lights were dark. Perhaps no one was home. Maybe he’d taken the space part literally and put miles between himself and New Ashton. She wouldn’t blame him for that. The town harbored some bad memories for Malcolm. 

     She’d never asked him about it because she’d never had to. For someone who was so closed off, his surface thoughts were strong. He projected. Wren never particularly liked to pry into a person’s thoughts without permission, but when they pushed them out there toward her, it was difficult to avoid. 

     It hurt to know he’d been wronged in such a way, that demons both figurative and literal still haunted him. It hurt to know he thought himself alone in this, that no one could help him. 

     Wren was here to tell him he was wrong about that—and to extend the hand of friendship in the process. Her brown eyes took in the lightless windows one more time. If he wasn’t home now, she’d have to try again later. She was tenacious, never one to give up so easily.

     Then there he was, coming up the sidewalk, a brown paper bag cradled in one arm. His face was downcast, hood pulled up over his head to partially obscure his lightly brown skin, his strong jaw, dark eyes. He had keys in his hands, fiddling with them. He hadn’t looked up yet, hadn’t seen her there on the threshold, not until he was right there.

     He stepped back in surprise, a startled look passing across his face. “Wren. Hello.” 

     “Malcolm.” She smiled at him, tucking her hands behind her back. “I was hoping you were home. I’d hoped we could have coffee together. Or tea. Whatever you prefer.” And to talk, if you want—but she didn’t need to add that.

     Immediately, he sighed. “Wren—” I’m not ready. I can’t do this. Why are you really here? His thoughts came at her in a jumble. 

     Her smile faded. “I just want to help you. Whenever you’re ready. No rush.” But the sooner the better, she thought. He didn’t look so well. His skin had a yellow cast to it, and the bags under his eyes looked like bruises. 

     Concern must’ve shown on her face, because he softened his gaze. “I know, but I’m not ready. I—” I might not ever be ready. 

     She closed her eyes at the projected thought and sighed softly. “All right,” she answered quietly. She reached out, gently placing her hand on his forearm in a comforting gesture. “I won’t push it. But soon, I hope.” A pause. “None of us are alone in this, in this town. I’m not alone and neither are you. We stand together.”

     Malcolm said nothing for a minute, keys jingling in his hand, his eyes going to the door. “You should be a motivational speaker. You’ve got the pep talks down.”

     “I might consider that,” she said, her smile returning. “Whenever I decide to step down as High Priestess.”

     “Yeah.” Then he paused, turning his brown eyes back to her. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

“I’VE TRIED TO DO ALL THOSE THINGS THE BEST I CAN.“

Ordinary? Never.

       Carter | Carla | Casey

“At least it can’t get any worse.” (#Fictober18 Day 29 Repost)

featuring Malcolm Carter & Patrick Jennings — characters from The New Ashton Chronicles, written & role-played by F.R. Southerland

( @normallyxstranger | @frsoutherlandauthor | www.frsoutherland.com )

© 2018, 2025 F.R. Southerland

original fiction (repost) | approx. words: 490 | general warnings: swearing, blood | reblogs allowed & encouraged

Some decades ago...

The car door slamming sounded like a gunshot—too loud and too close. Patrick pressed his bloodied hand against the dashboard. “Go! Go!”

Carter had the keys in the ignition and the engine roared to life. As he backed out, gravel crunched beneath the tires and they squealed before they grabbed traction. The car bounced over the bumps in the old dirt road.

Patrick looked back. He couldn’t see anything beyond the taillights. Thank God.

“That was—that was a demon.” No question about it. He’d seen it. He believed it. It was everything the horror stories had promised.

“Yeah.” Carter’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. There was tension in his shoulders. He knew better than to think they were in the clear just because they couldn’t see it. They had only wounded it, not destroyed it.

“That was–” Patrick was at a loss. The thing had almost killed him.

“Yeah.”

The man didn’t have much to say, but that was fine. Patrick couldn’t think of anything to say beyond a thank you, and something about all of this made him think now wasn’t a good time. The way Carter drove, speeding down the bumpy road, eyes constantly flicking to the mirrors told him they weren’t out of the woods yet—figuratively or literally.

Patrick noticed the blood for the first time, smeared across his hand. He wiped it on his jeans. Carter was bleeding too. A fine trickle ran down the side of his face.

“Hey, man—you alright?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah. Fine. It’s nothing. I’ll check it after we stop.”

“Okay.” Patrick sighed. “At least it can’t get any worse, right?”

“Wish you hadn’t said that,” Carter mumbled under his breath. With each mile they put between themselves and the demon, the easier he was able to breathe. He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. There was no way he would let his guard down yet, despite the danger being behind them.

Patrick sank back into his seat. “Are they all like that? Demons?”

“No. That was.. one of the worst. I haven’t seen a demon like that in a long time.” Carter glanced to the mirror again. His eyes widened. “Shit!”

Alarmed, Patrick straightened. “What?”

“Brace yourself!” The warning came only a split second before something impacted the back of the car and sent the vehicle spiraling. Patrick held on as best he could but his head smacked against the window. The world outside spun fast, trees lost in a blur. They came to a stop when the back end hit a solid trunk. The headlights illuminated the road they’d been thrown from.

“What—what the fuck just happened?”

Carter winced, putting his shoulder into the door in an attempt to force open the crumpled metal. His other hand grabbed for his gun. The demon moved in the tree-line across the road. He bit the inside of his cheek and tasted blood.

“It got worse.”

All places and organizations are fictitious, or used in a fictitious manner. Information is not complete and is a constant work-in-progress. Photos are approximations.

Pertains to the following characters:

Malcolm Carter

Safe Bet Security is a small, private security firm recently opened by Malcolm Carter. Because it is so new, there are very few clients. Carter is currently handling all aspects of the business. He hopes one day to expand, hire employees, and find more clients. He really wants to make it work.

The large window at the front of the firm is currently empty. Window shades are drawn. In the future, Carter plans to have the glass painted with the firm's name. He's still a long way from that.

To the right of the big window is the front door. Safe Bet Security is written on the glass of this door, alongside a posting of office hours. To the right of the firm's entrance is another door. This one leads to the upstairs apartment where Carter resides.

The office is not very large, but it serves. There's a desk on the left with a comfortable-looking rolling chair behind it. Behind the chair, against the wall, are two locked filing cabinets. Atop one sits an artificial fern in serious need of dusting. On the desk are folders of current cases laid out next to his work computer. A couple of mismatching chairs sit opposite the desk, for clients.

In the far right corner is a small and battered loveseat, next to a table with an old coffee maker and various coffee-related supplies. This serves as a waiting area of sorts. There are even old magazines spread out on an end table.

Directly across from this cozy waiting area is the door that leads to the backroom. As of now, with the firm being so small, it doesn't hold much besides cleaning supplies and boxes of stuff yet to be unpacked. There are also fixtures and shelves left behind by the previous owner. Carter hasn't yet moved them out. Also in the back is a small, private restroom. The door to it is on the left.

“No worries, we still have time.” (#Fictober18 Day 7 Repost)

featuring Mara Foster & Malcolm Carter — characters from The New Ashton Chronicles, written & role-played by F.R. Southerland

( @normallyxstranger | @frsoutherlandauthor | www.frsoutherland.com )

© 2018, 2025 F.R. Southerland

original fiction (repost) | approx. words: 280 | general warnings: none | reblogs allowed & encouraged

Patience was a virtue, they said, but Carter had never quite been able to grasp it. Oh, he could wait, if he had to, but it made him jittery, over-anxious—like he’d downed three espressos back to back to back. And, as always, when it came to his daughter, that feeling quadrupled.

So when Mara paused, fussing with her sweater, he let out a groan. “We’re on a strict time-table here. Jasmine’s flight will be here in an hour and it’ll take almost that long to get to the airport, then find our way to the terminal–”

“Relax, Malcolm. No worries, we still have time.” She took a moment to view her reflection in the hall mirror, adjusting the chain of her necklace, pushing red hair away from her neck. “First impressions are everything.”

“She’s eleven; I don’t think you have to impress her much.”

Mara smiled at herself in the mirror before she turned to him. “Oh, hush. Its my first time meeting her. Do you blame me for wanting her to immediately like me?" She placed a hand on his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles of his dress shirt. “I’m a part of her dad’s life, which makes me a part of her life. Impressing her is everything.”

Carter sighed heavily, eyes rolling up to gaze at the ceiling before he glanced back down. He managed a reassuring smile. “She’s going to like you. Everyone who meets you likes you.”

“Mm, I really hope so.” Leaning up, she placed a kiss to his full lips. When she drew back, she used her thumb to wipe away the lingering smudge of red lipstick she’d left behind. “Come on, then.”

“Finally.”