UNTITLED (Roseluck) by Unknown


                                            [Copied from https://pastebin.com/m914Xy70]


                                            >"motherfucker watch where you're turning with that stack or you're going to get us all killed!"

                                            "fuck off chicken head"

                                            >griffons were always a rare sight

                                            >the company that churned out pony slaves occasionally sold a griffon for an unreasonable price

                                            >they were high valued service birds due to their hand like claws and wings

                                            >even with the wings "decommissioned" they still fetched a high enough price to only be spotted alongside social elites and the Goldman Sachs types

                                            >their clipped claws tripled their work potential, often landing them more important jobs alongside humans

                                            >you wouldn't even call it slavery compared to the shit you've seen people do with ponies

                                            >"motherfucker swing the stack you're going to hit the c-train if you pull out like that!"

                                            >right...

                                            >you stare at the feathered creature in the forklift across from you

                                            >the oddity you'd never understand or wish too gave you a death glare as he idled his industrial fuck up machine

                                            >he was your bosses bird

                                            >a tan little griffon with a knack for calling every freight mover down here at the port a cunt

                                            >how his owner afforded him, you'll never know

                                            >despite his attitude you actually like the bird, he pulled his weight around the job and helped fix fuck ups

                                            >the sailor talk was more of a formality really

                                            >to an outsider the friendly banter would be confused with undeniable hostility

                                            "I can't swing it you cunt I'm already spinning out as it is with all the weight"

                                            >"fucker just turn it I have 3 pulls to get before we start on the c-trains and your lift is blocking my path"

                                            >you couldn't swing it out even if you tried

                                            >the soulless bastard that loaded the iron beams on the ship bundled one too many causing your back wheels to lose grip

                                            >the moisture on the ground didn't help either

                                            >you try to back out straight, gently easing the load away from the deck

                                            >just as you cleared it you dropped it down hearing the hydraulics whine and shutter as you brought it to a reasonable height

                                            >"there you go"

                                            "Fuck off"

                                            >Ryite takes this as a green light and pulls his machine around you, making sure to call you a faggot as he passes

                                            >you pull a three point turn after he clears you and slowly crawl to the staging area

                                            >you could feel the weight straining the lift in an uncomfortable fashion as you cruised down the stretch of concrete

                                            >you pull up to an empty lot before punching 15H and the di-code into your work phone

                                            >hoping out you stick blocks under the load so you can pull your forks out after you drop it

                                            >glancing up you see Ryite struggling to pick a double stack from the deck

                                            >is he retarded?

                                            >you hop back into your lift and lay on the horn

                                            >you start thinking of all the things you would call him once he was within ears reach

                                            >he sees you shaking your head and flips you off

                                            >lovely

                                            >you pull around after dropping the load and idle a good distance away from him

                                            >you watch in amusement as he tries and fails to clear the edge of a c-train

                                            >you assumed he gave up after straightening out again, a poetic series of vulgarities just barely audible above the machines dull engine roar

                                            >time starts to slow down

                                            >you watch in disgust as he guns it, swinging the load around

                                            >he clears the edge of the c-train only to back right into a yellow pylon with the back of his machine

                                            >the second crate, ever so delicately balanced on top tips back over the support

                                            >oh fuck here we go

                                            >the crate tips up over the left side and comes down with a horrendous crash

                                            >Ryite, the stupid ass bird... that chicken shit of a work partner had panicked and jumped out of the machines safety cage

                                            >in an instant, he was crushed

                                            >steel and wood splinters flew about as the box met bird and hardened concrete

                                            >he was dead

                                            >"Master you're home! Why were you so l-late, how was work?"

                                            "Not now"

                                            >"Master what happened?

                                            "I don't want to talk about it"

                                            >"awww come onn"

                                            "NOT... Fuck, just not now ok? Something bad happened"

                                            >"d-did you get f-fired?"

                                            >you gave her a glare

                                            >all of this was too much

                                            >you needed to go lay down... rest... something- anything to get your mind away from it all

                                            >"r-right"

                                            >you drop your keys and toss your jacket over on the couch before expiring to the bedroom

                                            >you lay there in the dark, the things leading up to the accident playing through your head on repeat

                                            >you should have fucking stopped him

                                            >you should have ran up and stopped him instead of just watching

                                            >fuck, you had never seen your boss cry before

                                            >the investigators

                                            >the policemen

                                            >the security footage

                                            >everything played through your mind like a night terror

                                            >you felt

                                            >guilty

                                            >just as frustration got the better of you, your cute little mare jumped up on the bed and snuggled up alongside

                                            >you clutched her with an arm and brought her in close, feeling her warmth

                                            >she knickered softly as you stroked her back

                                            >"I made mac n cheese if you want any, it's on the stove"

                                            "thank you"

                                            >you didn't move, your stomach still upset from earlier

                                            >these next few weeks were going to be hell

                                            >you wake up to the smell of food

                                            >glancing at the clock by your bedside you realize it's already tomorrow

                                            >taking in your room you look around and gain your bearings

                                            >rosy was making breakfast.. good. Work today.. Thursday... well, you don't know actually

                                            >you'd have to call and check at some point

                                            "Fuck"

                                            >you get up out of bed and rub the sleep from your eyes

                                            >you go to stretch your back and realize you're still wearing your clothes from yesterday

                                            >you get up and change, slipping on a t-shirt from the floor that probably wasn't much better

                                            >switching out gym shorts for pants you head out to the kitchen, the morning still in a haze of thought

                                            >"good morning master! I made you some eggs they're on the table already"

                                            >passing by, you give her a kiss on the cheek

                                            "thank you"

                                            >with a giggle she continues on stirring some sort of mixture

                                            >scrambled eggs and.. macaroni and cheese

                                            >quiet the combo

                                            >you dig in, not letting her food go to waste

                                            >halfway through the meal she sits down with you with a plate and eats as well

                                            >the morning is relatively silent except for the slight clattering of silverware and the news on the tv

                                            >she didn't bring up work again, that was good

                                            >you both just ate your food with the sound of president trump ranting about a wall between equestrian and earth in the background

                                            >after breakfast you had rosy join you in the shower for a quick scrub

                                            >you cleaned yourself off and got her a little heated as well which was fun

                                            >the rest of the morning would be dedicated to her and whatever she wanted

                                            >you couldn't imagine losing her like that

                                            >crushed under a container?

                                            >fuck that made your chest hurt

                                            >so close to deaths door

                                            >you needed some snuggles from her asap