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bless-my-demons · 1 year ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Ten

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Curse words, if that’s still a thing

Notes: Sorry this one is a little short, but I’ve got big ideas for upcoming chapters. Thank you guys for all the love so far, it means so much to me to hear your thoughts and see the notifications!

Word Count: 1900

Series Masterlist

• March 13th, 2005 • Cullen’s Garage •

Reader

Ever since Jasper and I left my house in a hurry, I felt like I’ve been stuck in a haze. Like none of this is real. And even though I snapped at him on the ride over, he’s respected my decision and kept me either within arm’s reach or a hand touching me in some form. It’s the only thing keeping me here in the moment while controlled chaos continues to explode in his family’s garage.

I feel deft fingers unzipping my, or rather Jasper’s, jacket and sliding it from my shoulders. I grab at the hands to stop them, but it’s Jasper himself.

“I need to give it to Esme, for her to lure him with your scent. I also need your hat, sweetheart.” He explains gently.

I release his hands and nod, allowing him to take the articles from me. I shiver without his jacket to keep me warm and he immediately replaces it with a different hoodie, this time slipping it over my head.

“Another one of mine that I don’t mind letting you borrow.” He winks at me and it draws out a smile from me. I feel at home cocooned in his scent.

On the other side of Carlisle’s car I hear Edward arguing with Rose about carrying Bella’s scent. Emmett squeezes past us to throw some supplies in the backseat of his Jeep and turns to me.

“Be safe, Y/n/n?” I nod and he turns to his brother, “Take care of her and watch your back, alright tough guy?”

“Likewise, big guy.” Jasper replies, pulling him in for a quick hug with a smile before parting and opening the passenger door for me. Bella and Alice already waiting in the rear as I climb in and buckle up.

• March 14th, 2005 • Outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona •

Reader

The entire trip south was a blur, what I assume normally is a two to three day trip, took us one day with minimal time for bathroom breaks and gas stops. Me being the designated one to refuel the car during the day since our protectors couldn’t exit the vehicle and Bella spent the majority of the ride in and out of sleep. I was grateful for the temporary duty, it felt like I was actually being helpful instead of sitting and waiting for something to happen, which I know might very well be my fate once we make it to Phoenix.

“All done, darlin’?” I shake myself from my day-dream, Jasper had cracked his driver’s side window and I meet his eyes in the side-view mirror.

“Oh shit-sorry.” I quickly put away the pump and screw the gas cap back on before hurrying back to the passenger side.

“You alright?” He asks quietly, giving me a sidelong glance as he directs the car back to the interstate.

“Mhmm.” I answer him, looking out of the window at the passing cars.

I feel a small hand slide onto my shoulder and give it a squeeze before it retreats to the back seat, Alice. I’m not really sure how to feel at this point, I mean - I am happy that Jasper is with me, lord knows I’d be a nervous mess worrying about him. But I can’t help it thinking of the others, Esme wearing my scent and Rose wearing Bella’s. Edward is the fastest and with his ability to read minds, he’s formidable. Carlisle is an extremely smart man and I know Emmett is strong for a normal vampire, but is he stronger than vampires that drink human blood? I shiver, human blood. The vampires after Bella and I want our blood. Just as I’m about to spiral down a path of panic for fear of not being able to protect myself, a large hand slides over my left thigh.

Raising his eyebrows in concern, Jasper gently smooths his gift over my panic to calm me down and combined with the distraction of his hand, it works. I don’t know what I would do without him, it’s like fate knew I couldn’t digest his world without his ability to control emotions. So I give him a sad smile and slide my hand on top of his, with him I can do this - we could do this.

• March 15th, 2005 • Hotel - Phoenix, Arizona •

Jasper

Alice and I picked a hotel for the four of us close to the international airport in Phoenix so that we might have an additional means of escape. That also puts us in the middle of a metropolitan area. Nowhere near a forest.

Nowhere near our food source.

And I’m confined to a room for who knows how long with my singer after having spent 24 hours with her in a car.

Yet another test of my precarious control.

Thankfully I fed myself before the baseball game and under normal circumstances I could go a little over a week until I needed another meal… but I exerted myself trying to mask the energy signatures surrounding the women in our group to the nomads to make them uninteresting. And staying in this room watching over the girls doesn’t help either.

“You won’t hurt them.” Alice tells me from her watchful position at the window, early morning light peaking in the crack in the curtains held open by her slender hand.

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” Taking calming breaths is a human technique, one that would increase the inferno in my throat. Meditation is all that can offer a modicum of peace, a skill I wish came easily.

I can feel her eyes assess me, even though my own are closed in concentration. “I can get us an adjoining room-”

I cut her off and crack an eye open, “And be further away? Absolutely not, I’d much rather suffer through hunger than adding a barrier from protecting you three for my comfort.”

“I’m not incapable of defending myself or the girls.” Her sharp tone makes me wince, so I give her my attention fully.

“I meant no disrespect… I know you are fully capable, but she is mine, Alice.” Surprise colors her emotions.

“She is your singer?” My sister questions in a gasp.

“You didn’t see that coming?” I joke with her, leaning back on the couch to stare at the ceiling.

She smacks my shoulder, “You know I’ve been preoccupied with Edward’s predicament with Isabella. The guy is as paranoid as they come!”

“I only figured it out Saturday, so it’s not like I’ve been sitting on the news for very long.” A sigh deflates my chest, “I haven’t told her.”

“You’ll find the right time when this is all over.” Her smile would be reassuring if I didn’t have the ability to sense the uncertainty in her emotions.

Reader

I spent all day yesterday sleeping while occasionally texting my mom to check in. I passed off another lie that we were just waiting on her mom to get here from Florida and that I’d be staying with Bella for a few days until then. I hope the others catch the nomads soon, I hate lying to my mom and I’m running out of material that’s legitimate enough to keep her placated.

The worry drags me from my shared bed with my friend, Alice got us a suite but with only one bed so our locations wouldn’t be spread thin. Fine by me, I wouldn’t be able to stand a room to myself just waiting.

Exiting the bedroom into the sitting room, I spot only Jasper with no Alice in sight.

“She’s acquiring food for you two, the lobby has free breakfast and the sun has barely risen.” He explains, lowering the newspaper in his hands.

I sit sideways on the couch facing him with my legs tucked in close, far enough away that I’m not touching him. Our confined situation mustn’t be easy on him and I don’t want to add to the difficulty, but I’m like a moth to his flame.

“Did you get enough sleep? I heard you tossing and turning.” A strong hand reaches up to gently run along the indentions my pillow made on my cheek, not the most attractive thing to wake up with in the morning.

“I’m fine, just restless and worried.” I caress the hand on my cheek and lean into it.

His brows furrow slightly, “You’re safe here with Alice and I-”

“No-no, I’m worried about Esme, Rose, your whole family, mom…” I glanced down at my lap and pick at the seam of my shirt, well actually Jasper’s shirt-I did a pretty shit job of packing and he let me borrow one of his to sleep in - I’m trying to not think about that too hard.

“My family can handle themselves, we’ve survived this long for a reason.” Jasper reassures me calmly.

“Yes, but protecting Bella and I has pulled you and Alice away from them-“

“And they’ll be alright. Besides, I have what they want and we’re across the country.”

“If they get angry and-and hurt one of them…” I can’t finish my sentence, anything happening to any one of them for my sake is too much to consider.

Jasper pulls me in for a hug, turning me so that I’m sitting in his lap with my face pressed to his neck and his hands rubbing my back soothingly. “Sweetheart, there’s more of us than them and we have more gifts, the odds are stacked in our favor. Especially with Alice-“

Just then the aforementioned vampire sweeps gracefully into our hotel room with a stack of to-go containers. “My ears were burning, do continue.” She teases us with a sweet smile as she sets the food before us on the coffee table.

“Jasper was just telling me there’s no point in worrying when we have a badass like you on our team.” I wink at her before opening a container with a waffle and bacon, cooked exactly like I prefer.

“You seemed like a soft bacon kinda girl,” I chuckle at her, amazed at her predictive skills. “I’ll go wake Bella.”

As she dances through the bedroom door, I slide out of Jasper’s lap and to the floor next to him, leaning against the couch I dig into my food. “It really is a shame you can’t eat, I’d miss bacon entirely too much if I were a vampire.”

“Something you’ll never have to find out, darlin’.” He chuckles as he goes back to reading the paper, but his words don’t quite sit right in my stomach.

Never have to find out? I suppose I hadn’t really thought of that. One day I’ll be old and wrinkly, meanwhile he will always be this, always be young. My appetite begins to shrink at the thought. Fuck - one day he won’t want me, I’ll be old and-

The newspaper rustles, “What-”

But Alice and Bella walk through the door and cut him off before he could ask what was bothering me.

I don’t even know what I’d say.

That I don’t like the idea that we’re on opposite ends of the mortality spectrum? That I won’t have forever with him? That I might be falling in love with him and I’ll just have to get over it at some point and let him go?

Wait-falling in love with Jasper Hale?

Shit.

#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper whitlock #female reader insert #jasper hale twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #romance

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

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For the Craftsman lovers, this 1905 home in Globe, Arizona is perfectly preserved. No stupid modern black & white remodel, although the owner did make it her own. You'll see what I mean. (Lots of paint & wallpaper stripping.) 4bds, 2ba, $489K.

Okay, a Craftsman is traditionally earth tones, not pink with foo-foo drapes. I hope there's no wainscoting under that wallpaper, and I would like to take the carpet up. But, the pocket doors are there, the stone fireplace, etc. Nothing was removed or remodeled. By the looks of the dark soot, that's a working fireplace.

Look at this heavy original ceiling fixture.

Typical Craftsman book cases and columns divide the living and dining rooms.

Wainscoting is intact and so is the beautiful built-in china cabinet. The carpet does look fairly new, but there must be wood flooring under it.

The kitchen has the original tile walls, floor and even the ceiling. The cabinets are original, except that they painted them blue & white. I wonder if it would be worth it to strip them.

I'm thinking that the sink may have been by the window and they replaced it with that metal unit so they could fit in a dishwasher.

Completely original bath, but there goes the blue paint on all the wood.

Ah, you can see how nice the floor is under the carpet in this room. I love pink, but even I wouldn't have done this.

Off this bedroom is a wonderful stone sunporch. I don't know what's going on with the floor, but it looks like they laid down plywood sheets and painted them. Up they would come.

I like the wallpaper in here, but the pink clashes with the peach. And, that blue on the wood, again.

I think that this is a family room that they were using as a bedroom.

Creepy basement stairs and the stairs to the next level are side-by-side. (That carpet. It's everywhere.)

Looks like the attic was finished at a later date, but it's nice up here.

A typical feature of Craftsman is a built-in dresser.

Nice bedroom with the dormer alcove and built-in shelving.

This original bath looks great- no blue paint!

Looks like a little courtyard.

The lot measures .38 acre.

#craftsman home #craftsman architecture #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

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snorky · 1 year ago

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You?

Hey y’all! I apologize for taking forever with this story, I’ve been extremely busy recently. This fic is a lot more “iffy” than some of my works, so I’ll be sure to write something much fluffier next time, I promise. Auston Matthews in this story is basically a personification of someone I know in real life, unfortunately, but I’m pretty sure the real Auston wouldn’t be such an a-hole. The title is based off of the song “You” by Two Feet. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and please remember to take care of yourself!

Pairing: Auston Matthews x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Angst, Friends-with-Benefits situation, A-hole!Auston Matthews, Toxic Relationship

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The rain poured down in Toronto. It always does at this time of year. But on this night especially, the rain just didn’t seem to stop. City lights hung outside, twinkling and glimmering, emphasized by the raindrops that rolled down her living room window.

They hung like the stars that weren’t present in the Toronto night because of light pollution. It replaced the gaseous stars with man-made ones. It was so breath-taking and yet, a horrifying thought to think about.

White noise flowed from the TV, a jumble of mindless words and sounds of whatever was going on in the world at the moment. A reflection of what it seemed to be like in her head. The bright screen illuminated her face, intensifying her tired, worn-out expression.

Sitting on the living room floor against her couch, her mind ran endlessly, wondering so much about how she got here. Here in Toronto, so far away from home.

‘It was only meant to be for school,’ she told herself.

Ambitious and unstoppable, she wanted to pursue something so big. So big in fact, that her parents didn’t want her to, but she didn’t listen to them. Never did.

“You’re a small girl with big dreams, huh?”

His words rang in her ears. A siren’s song that lured her in when she first met him at some cafe on a Saturday morning, their orders getting mixed up. They chatted for a bit, falling into a natural conversation about life in Toronto and how it felt far away from home for the both of them.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I grew up in Arizona, so ending up in Toronto was something new.”

She smiled, “Really? That’s neat,”

He hummed, looking up from his coffee and making eye contact with her, “I should take you there sometime.” He winked.

A laugh bubbled up from her throat, pulling a smile from him. She thought about it, visiting Arizona with a charming, handsome man seemed like a fun vacation. Plus, she hadn’t traveled much recently.

“Your laugh is sweet, you know?” His voice was weaved with a genuine tone. “I want to hear it more often, darling.”

Warm red crept up onto her face, blushing at his words. “Auston,” she let out a soft and yet warning tone. She didn’t want to fall for him. Her life was already busy enough with studying and working a job at a flower store downtown. Letting Auston in her life, her world, was a risky decision.

“Sweetheart,” he mirrored her tone, noticing her rigidness. “I mean it, I want to know you more.”

Silence fell between them, the whirring of the coffee machine and the chatter of other customers being the only noise in the air. Her gaze was directed towards her room-temp cup of coffee that she forgot to drink while talking with Auston, and he noticed it.

“We can take it slow, I’ll take you out and we can get to know each other more.” He smiled.

She smiled back and nodded, and they exchanged numbers and kept in contact over the months. More sweet coffee dates, more of him spoiling her with gifts, more of her energy being put into him, and more of their time spent together.

As they spent more time together, she started to fall for him, his cliche charming smile, his fast-paced life as an athlete, glamorous or not, and every detail about him. She grew closer and closer to him, but she kept her guard up.

There was no choice. Something inside of her kept nagging her to do so. She didn’t understand why she felt the need to, but she did, just in case. He knew some bits about her, and he noticed how she seemed quiet, but he never thought more of it. Maybe that’s where he went wrong, the fact that he didn’t think more than once or twice about something. Maybe she should’ve kept her guard up.

She was tired of Auston’s behavior. It was draining her, badly. Enough so, that her friends told her to block him, ignore him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Auston meant so much to her, or at least she felt like he did. It didn’t matter if he cared about her or not.

It didn’t matter that she had only known him for the past six months. There was something about him that drew her towards him. A moth towards a burning flame.

Radio silence was an ordinary thing to hear from Auston, however. She wouldn’t hear back from him for days and weeks, and then suddenly, just like that, he was back in her life. A flash of his message on her screen and she was a tangled mess for him.

She had her own life and she was aware, and yet her mind kept lingering towards Auston when it could, but Auston was just, beyond tempting.

The way his confidence never seemed to falter. The way his voice flowed smoothly as he spoke. The way he never failed to constantly wear his chain, no matter what. The way his mustache seemed to compliment his boldness. The way his warm, dark eyes lingered on her when she was wearing that one dress that seemed to captivate him.

“You look stunning, sugar.” He sighed as he leaned in to catch her lips with his, rough fingers grazing gently against her chin.

She kissed back, the slight taste of him on her lips, “You look even more handsome, Aus.”

The night sparkled behind them, a cool Toronto breeze brushing past. They stood outside a fancy restaurant downtown, slow jazz music flowing out of the doors. His navy blue suit seemed to fit him in all the right places, emphasizing his arms and broad frame.

He caught her eyes gazing at him and the sides of his lips curled upwards, “Like what you see, darling?”

A loud boom of thunder rumbled outside, snapping her back to reality. The TV was still on, her body sat on the living room carpet against the couch, and the sound of the dishwasher was running in the kitchen.

She sighed, thinking about everything she knew at the moment. Her mind was a raging storm, and she stood amidst all of it.

Auston was simultaneously both the most heavenly and haunting soul she had ever met. As much as she wanted to ignore his faults and wrongs, she so badly wanted to admire all the good things he had brought into her world.

Her world. It sounded so strange when considering the fact that she had her own life before meeting Auston. But now, he was all she ever wanted. His touch, his gaze, his attention, all of it.

And yet, she felt sick to her stomach thinking about him. Every text he sent made her nauseous. He was a sour taste on her tongue and she savored every bit of it. She spent all of her days and nights trying to spend time with him. So much, that she created her own radio silence with her friends.

“Girl, where have you been?” one of her friends questioned. “You’ve been so quiet recently,”

The sun shined down on the group outside, sitting under the large umbrella centered at the table of the restaurant served brunch. At this time of day, it was either old ladies gossiping religiously on a Sunday noon or families on vacation looking for breakfast.

“I’ve been busy, sorry.” She was busy, but maybe with all the wrong things.

Another one of her friends looked at her quizzically, “You’ve been talking to Auston, haven’t you?” She looked at her, taking a bite of her scrambled eggs. “You look tired, I can tell,” she said quietly.

Taking a sip of her mimosa, she thought about it. Maybe she had been spending too much time with Auston. Maybe it was wearing her down much more than she thought. Maybe she forgot to take care of herself.

“We’re here if you need anything, we mean it,” her friend spoke genuinely.

It made her heart ache to think that her friends had to worry about her like this. Nonetheless, she nodded with a gentle smile as a response, and continued to enjoy her brunch with her friends, indulging in the sweet french toast she had on her plate.

Her friends still worried about her often, texting her and calling to check in with her every now and then. She appreciated the gesture, but she assured them that she was doing okay, but was she really?

Was she really okay if it made her heart ache to think about Auston with someone else? Was she really okay if her stomach churned at the mere thought of him leaving her?

A message popped up on her phone that sat on the round coffee table in her living room. Her heart started beating quicker, wondering who it was that would text her at this hour.

You up? - Auston

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs #auston matthews angst #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #auston matthews fic

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spidercookie18 · 11 months ago

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𝕋𝕃𝔹 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕃𝕦𝕔𝕪

Summary: how Lucy wins over the boys

Tags: General mom behavior, implied drug use, fluff, mentions of loss of family

Asked by @ria-coolgirl

Lucy is the mom of moms. After the wildchild life she lived and the hardass dad that Grandpa E used to be, she wanted to be someone who took care of everyone. She wanted to make every young person who crossed her path feel loved, seen, and safe.

She is used to being a boy mom. But now that she's unofficially adopted all TLB as her own sons, she's got more than she can handle. She wants to be very hands-on with them in the beginning. Bringing them gifts, checking their clothes for holes, and sewing them, making sure they're eating and getting enough rest. But the boys have been on their own for quite some time. They're not so familiar with the motherly loving that Lucy tries to offer them.

After a while she realized, if they didn't want something from her, they just wouldn't take it. She took to leaving snacks and new clothes on the back porch of her dad's house as if the boys were wild animals. Sometimes they took jackets, or snacks and sometimes when she checked the next night, the gifts would still be there. She never knew when to expect them.

Lucy knew that Michael hung out with TLB pretty regularly, and that he would spend the night with them somewhere... but she didn't exactly know.

For the first few years she hardly ever saw the boys. She could hear them in the next room over, being loud and knocking stuff over whenever Michael had them over. But when she would try to go into the room to see them in a few moments they would be out the window and back into the night.

Now, this was not because the boys were scared of her. For the first few months, they were SURE she was some informant for Max so that he could spy on them. Then, after that, Marko had got it in his head that Lucy was actually a Martian who replaced Michael's mom when they passed through New Mexico. And Mike had to explain to him how New Mexico was, in fact, to the East of Arizona.

Then boys were just leery of her because she was "an adult," but mostly, they were just scared that she was trying to be their mom. They had their own mothers many many moons ago. They missed their human families, and Lucy offering her motherly love brought back feelings they had long since pushed away.

She didn't know this, and the boys especially didn't express this.

But Lucy, ever persistent, did her best to be kind to them. She made cookies and cakes, she left them scarfs she'd made, or anything she could think of that they might want or use. She left new socks, new gloves, sewing thread, new needles, and she tried her damnest to show them she wasn't there to be a mean stepmother.

Pau was unsurprisingly the first to accept her love. He was in Grandpa E's house in the bathroom, trying to get something out of his tangled hair to no avail. The other boys had left without him (unbeknownst to him), and Lucy was there doing Michael's and Sam's laundry, as she didn't like doing it at Max's house. (She says his machine is too complicated for her.) Lucy was carrying a load of laundry upstairs to Mike's room when she heard some grunting and cussing coming from the bathroom. Paul was too focused on getting the tangled mess of twigs and stickers (grass stickers) from the back of his head after he fell through a bush. He only heard someone coming up the stairs and figured it was David or Dwayne and called them into the bathroom for help. To his horror, Lucy came through the bathroom door carrying a load of fresh, clean, laundry.

He stood there, frozen, remembering how he and the boys had been so adamant about avoiding her for the past few years. Lucy didn't think of any of that, none of how they had been scurrying from her view had crossed her mind. All she saw was one of her boy's having trouble with his hair. She immediately put the laundry down and rushed to his side with a, "oh sweetheart, let me help you."

Paul was frozen with fear. Not because he was actually afraid of her, but because he worried what David would say to him when he found out that Paul let Lucy corner him. He couldn't see a way out of the bathroom without pushing her out of the way, and he didn't really wanna hit a woman (much less Mike's mom). She hused his concerns and turned his head to see what he was trying to get at in his hair. "Oh honey, this is not a one man job." She sat on the edge of the tub and called him to sit between her legs so she could try and get the burrs out. Paul eyed her and the door. He REALLY was torn between rushing out of the bathroom and letting her help him. If his head wasn't hurting him so bad he might have taken off, but he, defeated, walked over to Lucy and sat his butt down on the rug by the tub.

He was nervous, to say the least. "Hand me the brush, sweetheart." She called from behind him, and he put his arm over his shoulder with the hairbrush. She was very gentle, and she sat with him for HOURS, gently brushing his hair out and getting all the twigs and stickers out without pulling on his hair. After the first hour, he relaxed immensely. She talked to him about her mom and how she would brush her hair out. She told him how Sam and Michael used to have MUCH longer hair and how she would have to brush theirs out when they fought in bushes. Paul learned soooo many of Michael's secrets and childhood stories. He loosened up and let Lucy brush his hair out, and when he did, he started purring. It caught him and Lucy by surprise.

She stopped brushing and started at the blond boy sitting between her legs, and Paul stated straight ahead and the open door. He was embarrassed; mortified. He wanted to shrink away and pretend he never did that. Lucy could feel that he was ashamed, so she did what any mother would do to calm her child. She patted his head, continued to brush his hair out, and finished her story like nothing happened. This put him at ease a bit, and he let her continue. He tried his best to keep the LOUD purring away, but continued to vibrate softly while she brushed him.

After that night, Paul was around Lucy as much as Sam and Michael. He helped her with any chores she had and happily ate the food she made and kept the gifts she gave him. The other boys were still suspicious of her but soon Marko and Dwayne came around to her. After they ate some of the lasagna she gave Paul, they changed their tunes. Paul and Lucy got pretty close, the mama's boy of the group.

Marko and Dwayne sat with Paul and Lucy on one of their smoke sessions soon thereafter. Lucy and Paul chose one night a month for them to watch romcoms together. They'd watched about 5 at this point, and Marko and Dwayne got curious about what they were up to and decided to watch from a distance. The saw Paul rolling something and hand it to Lucy, and the both of them sat on the couch, smoking and eating popcorn while they watched their "girly movie".

They were watching 'Somethings Gotta Give'. Marko and Dwayne were miming Jack Nicholson putting on his driving gloves, making fun of David and the way he puts on his gloves.

By the end of the movie, they were sitting on the floor by the couch and crying.

David on the other hand does not want anything to do with her. He sees the boys hanging out with her as a betrayal to their mothers. He feels angry at them, and deeply saddened for the loss of his mother. It brings up feelings and memories for him that he has pushed away for centuries.

He stops hanging out with Michael as much and starts to stay in the cave longer. His depression getting the better of him. Lucy notices this immediately, and she understands his pain. She was lost when her mother passed. It was something that still hurts her deeply, and when she thinks of it, she has to stop and breathe deeply. She gives him his space. Lucy knows that she is not trying to erase the memory of their mothers, and that she is certainly not trying to replace them. She understands wholly that the boys loved them, and that they had their own lives before her. She is patient and kind with her vampire stepsons when they need it, but she takes pride in caring for them and guiding them when they need it. And in turn, they guide her as a fledgling.

Most days, she prefers to learn from the boys more than Max. He's a special kind of teacher, where you're thrown to the sharks, rather than taught how to do something.

David actually came around to Lucy when he saw her scolding him for being too harsh on the boys. David is incredibly protective of his clan, and anyone he has claimed as "his". He hates when Max yells or threatens his brothers or Michael, but when Lucy saw Max yelling at Paul, she stepped in and stopped him. David was actually impressed how instinctively stepped in between them-faster than he could. She gently scolded Paul and sent him on his way, and turned around and snapped at Max- very momma bear instincts.

David took to watching her more closely after that. He was intrigued by her and her "mom" tendencies.

He was always peculiar about how she behaved with his brothers. How attentive she was of Mike and Sam. She scolded them and teased them like any mom, and yes, when she needed to, she yelled at all of them. But mostly, she just wanted to keep them safe and happy.

While he wasn't entirely ready to accept her the way they had, he was likely never going to let her brush his hair like Paul did. On the next Romcom night, he sat on the arm of the couch and silently ate popcorn with the group. He didn't make any comments, he didn't get any closer to Lucy, but he sat and smiled with her, his brothers, and Mike and Sam.

Lucy is more than happy with this.

#the lost boys #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #tlb david #tlb paul #tlb marko #tlb dwayne #lucy the lost boys #lucy emerson #michael emerson #sam emerson

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ms-moonlight-inn · 5 months ago

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Weekly Tag Wednesday!

Thanks to @energievie for this week’s series of random questions, and to @mybrainismelted & @jrooc for the tag!

Name: Cyn

Age: Fandom granny

Location: New England

And now…

What is your DJ name? DJ Cleopatra Ice (I cheated & used the DJ name generator)

What would you title your biography? "I Didn't Do It, Nobody Saw Me Do It, You Can't Prove Anything: A Field Guide"

What are the first three things you’d do if you were invisible?

Take off any extra clothes I don't need.

Sneak into the dairy case & steal all the fancy yogurt.

Sneak into all the places that cost money to enter & enjoy the free show.

What subject do you wish was taught in every school? Honestly? A proper sex ed class that is based on hard facts, biology, and the emotional responsibility that goes along with participating in such activities. There's no reason why, in this day and age, any appropriately-aged person should be walking around completely ignorant about the human body. I feel like if we had proper, responsible, agenda-less instruction in this regard, there might be a little less hatred for marginalized populations.

When was the last time you tried something for the first time and what was it? Tried really hard not to stab my mother-in-law two days ago. It went well.

What is the most underrated city you have ever visited? I honestly don't know.

What day in your life would you like to relive? Ugh, the first one that pops in my head is not a pretty one. Maybe best to let that sleeping dog lie.

If you could eliminate one thing from your daily routine, what would it be and why? TBH. routines are good for me, but I really hate them. lol. I'd love to get rid of chores, but only if I could replace that routine with something else.

How long would you last in a zombie apocalypse? Long enough to miss my friends & wish I'd've gone with them. I have a bad habit of surviving.

What would be the most surprising scientific discovery imaginable? Limited telekinesis. Somehow, we develop the ability to move objects with our minds, but we still have to move our bodies to accomplish shit.

If you could have any view out your office window, what would you choose? Either the California ocean or the Nevada/Arizona desert. The ocean is my first choice.

***

I believe everyone's been tagged, but just in case. no pressure tags going to: @mmmichyyy @stocious @depressedstressedlemonzest @gallavichgeek @sweetbee78 @sweetperversiongirl @notherenewjersey @transmurderbug @jay-yyc & anyone else who wants to play

#tagged #tag game #wednesday tag game

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voidsdamned · 6 months ago

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Wicked Natures - The Ghoul/OC (Female Character) Chapter Seven

Summary: Bounty hunters are frequent customers at Mulholland's Saloon, and Rue's taken quite a shine to one gunslinger in particular: a cantankerous, old Ghoul in a tattered duster. Witness her unabashedly lust after him in all his irradiated glory (as we are all currently doing), as well as navigate the precarious relationship she unfortunately has with local law enforcement.

Minors, do not interact.

Content Warnings: plot, mentions of prostitution, swearing, dirty talk, drinking, and threats of violence.

Enjoy.

Chapter Seven: American Sweetheart

“You okay tonight, Rue?”

Rue, tied up in a fantasy of rolling through Arizona on the back of a bighorner with a certain gunslinger’s arms wrapped around her, slowly oozes back into her waking mind. Hal stands before her (and she has no earthly idea how long he might have been standing there), his tall figure blocking her view of the cracked window she likes to watch Dust through. His stubbly face frowns worriedly down at her.

Which is something she doesn’t like to be on the receiving end of. She perks, perpetual grin lazy. “Oh yeah. Just daydreamin’. Got a good one goin’ ‘bout bein’ a bighorner wrangler. You ever rid one? They’re grumpy guys. Most of the time they just sit down ‘til ya get off, but we had this one back on the ranch that’d let ya go for a bit before it’d start tryin’ to throw ya off.”

The bartender leans against the counter in a fashion similar to hers, worried frown replaced with an amused quirk. “I always forget ya worked on a ranch before comin’ here…. I just wanted to check on ya, though. You seem a bit more spacey than normal, and I….” The amusement fades into discomfort. “Wondered if maybe ya had Artie on the brain.”

Rue’s eyes tick away from the bartender, fingers tracing patterns on the bar. “I don’t wanna think too much ‘bout him, if it’s all the same to you.”

She watches Hal stiffen in her peripheries, the motions of him nodding quickly and too much. “Yeah! Yeah. That’s fine. I just…. I know the two of ya got along well, and… you’re always listenin’ to me and my ails, so I was gonna say I’m here if ya needed to talk.”

She smiles kindly at the man, really wishing she could, but she’s not trying to get anyone else in trouble. And again, Hal likes to yap. “I’m just gonna hope he got away, and that he’s settlin’ somewhere new,” is all she has to say on the matter.

“I hope that, too,” but his tone says he doesn’t believe that’s the case. “Didn’t know him particularly well, but he seemed nice. Just scattered.”

Rue’s lips quirk. She hears the same about herself quite often.

“Ooh.” Hal suddenly straightens, eyes fastening behind her. “Two tables in your section, Rue. Bo and the boys. Three out-of-towners. I’ll get ya the pitchers together.”

Rue straightens herself, smoothing out her skirt and already on the move. “Thank ya kindly. I’ll be right back with the other tables order.”

And so it begins, a drip of tables that fast turns into a deluge Rue allows herself to be swept away in.

Normally, Rue would go a bit numb in the brain when things get so busy, only listening for drink orders and other such requests, but she’s been paying closer attention ever since Artie made his escape a week ago. She wants all the snippets and gossip she can get just in case there’s something important mired in all the shit.

The consensus is that whoever originally beat up Artie came back for him (and that’s fantastic –exactly what Rue wants everyone to think). They figure he’s either been sold or his body drug off and left elsewhere –and if that’s the case, there soon won’t be anything left of Artie to find. Dust will be left to wonder whatever happened to their resident basket case (and it burns Rue up to hear him spoken of in such a way, so much so that she ends up spitting in a few people’s beers).

Plenty are upset about what probably happened, but precious few for the right reasons. Most worry what it means for the town. Is there some kind of storm blowing in or was it just a one-off thing? An unfortunate incident? And only a handful of people seem genuinely torn up about Artie. When they speak, they speak about him and how he didn’t deserve it. How nice he was. Bell O’Neil is particularly distressed. Artie saved one of her kids from choking a few years back, and she’s cared for him in whatever way she could since then. Most of the time with a friendly smile, a willing chat, and a few grocery items left on his porch.

Then there are the people who are glad he’s gone, who say he was useless, an aggravation, or secretly a menace. Rue takes special note of them. They get the dirtiest of mugs and tumblers that she may or may not have dropped in the toilet.

But the customers she pays the most attention to are Deck’s boys. Whenever they pop in, she creeps on them, hanging around close as she can without being obvious about it. Or straining her ears from a table or two over as she cleans it. She hasn’t gotten much from them. Deck apparently isn’t poking into it too much himself, he’s busy with Nighstalkers and bounty hunters, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have someone else looking into things.

Rue worries a bit over that, but mostly, she feels like she and Artie pulled it off. They got one over on Deck, and he can get fucked (by a Deathclaw, preferably, one with the biggest, most fucked-up dick).

She grins happily at the thought, winding her way through tables and chairs with a tray stacked full of beer pitchers and stout tumblers. The fantasy so absorbs her, Rue doesn’t notice the man who laughs so hard and tips back in his chair so far that he loses balance –not until it’s too late anyway. The chair and him connect with her side; Rue barely manages to jump back to avoid being completely crushed, but she can’t stop the resulting waterfall of beer and varied liquor that goes spilling in every direction. She’s soaked. The fella on the floor is soaked, and to punctuate the disaster, a mug rolls off her tray and lands straight upon the downed man’s groin.

His face goes red as a tomato, a strangled gasp wheezing out of him.

Rue is super professional about it. She manages to keep it together for fifteen seconds before she starts laughing. Only a few more seconds pass before others get in on it, too –even the guy with crushed nuts gives a pained sort of chortle as his pals help him off the ground.

Around giggles, Rue apologizes for the mess, but she doesn’t get to do much more than that before a vise-like grip locks around her arm and hauls her backwards. Her eyes find Adel, the viper shaking her head and grumbling something under her breath in aggravation as she drags Rue towards the stairs –up them. But there’s a curl to the corner of Adel’s mouth that tells Rue she’s… pleased. Maybe even a little excited?

Unease brews with Rue’s stomach, solidifying when she’s brought to the upstairs closet where all the extra clothes are stored: corsets, fishnets, skirts, boas, and lingerie galore. When Adel throws open the doors, revealing rhinestones, tulle, and see thoroughness, Rue’s heart thuds oddly. Her smile becomes shaky and confused.

“All ya do is make messes for me to clean up,” Adel grouses, “but I can make use of this one. Can’t have ya on the floor wearin’ soaked clothes.”

The statement explains the excited quirk of the lips, and Rue’s dread increases tenfold. She knows what’s about to happen. “I don’t think I can wear anything in here,” she tells Adel.

“Naw, I got a dozen outfits I know’ll suit ya just fine.” A massive plume of smoke exits the viper’s mouth as she goes through the racks of lingerie. “How big are your tits, Rue? Can’t tell underneath the sack you’re wearin’. Y’know what? Take it off. I need to see what I’m workin’ with.”

Rue holds herself close. “But I like my sack! I like what I’m wearin’! If I need to change, I can run home real quick or- or borrow somethin’ of Lara’s if she don’t mind. I don’t think she’d mind. I can ask.”

“Nuh-uh. I got a point to prove, and you’re finally gonna make yourself useful.” Adel reaches out, pulling Rue’s shirt tighter in an attempt to gauge the size of her chest. She makes a “hmp” sound and goes back to sorting through racks.

“I’m useful just like this!” Rue insists. “No one complains ‘bout me like this.”

Silky, purple fabric hits Rue square in the face, followed by a corset, bra, fishnets, and a pair of heels. And the heels really make Rue desperate. She’s never worn heels. She can’t wear them –she can’t wear any of this! She’s mere seconds away from some kind of conniption. She feels it coming up on her, bubbling out of her throat in worrisome laughter that has the viper looking at her sideways.

“Adel- Adel, I’ve never worn heels. I can’t serve in heels. I’ll be a mess all night. I can’t do it. Not any of it.”

The viper laughs, a harsh bark that ends with a short coughing fit. “You’re already a mess.” She snatches back the heels. “And ya can, and ya will. You’ll go barefoot tonight –you’re not wearin’ those ugly, fuckin’ boots. And you’ll be takin’ some heels home to practice in. Now, get fuckin’ changed and get back on the floor. And not a complaint outta ya. No one wants to hear it.”

“Adel!”

The call is sharp and angry. Both Adel and Rue’s heads snap in its direction to find Deck standing at the far end of the hall with a serious set of the face Rue seldom gets to see. His steps are slow coming towards them, his furious gaze fully on the viper.

And God, is Rue delighted. So delighted she wants to give a squealing, little giggle, clap excitedly, and sway.

She hates Deck, but she has to appreciate the way he handles Adel.

“I know you ain’t tryin’ this shit again.”

The viper snatches back the finery she tossed at Rue, mouth flat and eyes hard. She doesn’t say a word.

Deck does, the mask of barely-kept rage on his face becoming a very brief, coddling smile and a wink. “Rue, honey, why don’tcha pop in on Lara if she’s not busy. See if she has somethin’ you can wear.”

Rue doesn’t need to be told twice. She gives an “Okie dokie, Deck,” and heads straight on to Lara’s room.

Part of her is tempted to spy, to listen to whatever ass chewing unfolds, but the liquor soaking her through reeks and is uncomfortable and cold on her skin.

Lara must’ve been itching for a chance to play dress up, because she gets giggly and giddy when Rue comes in her room to ask if she can borrow some clothes.

It fast becomes an event. A slew of clothes thrown Rue’s way, then taken away, and then given back until the brunette decides upon a pair of tapered, cream trousers and a pretty, blue blouse with just enough sleeve to cover the slowly-healing wound on Rue’s left arm. Both articles of clothing promise to be form fitting (Rue is not too keen on that), but they’re much better than lingerie.

Rue doesn’t complain, and she tries to share in the brunette’s excitement over the whole thing. She strips and dresses, laughing at Lara’s comment about her actually having a body, and agrees to let the brunette pull her hair up (as well as tie a blue bow around the high pony-tail). After a bit more fussing and trying to tame her baby hairs, Lara spins Rue towards the vanity mirror, and with grand, wiggling finger and hand gestures, beckons Rue to, “Behold!”

The oddity of it is truly something to behold –a complete departure from what Rue typically looks like. Her outfits have always been loose and modest, for comfort and privacy, so it’s strange to see the inward slant of her waist, the outward curve of her hips, and general shapeliness of her legs. The dip of her cleavage. The arms that aren’t quite slender but not as toned as they used to be (she used to have muscles, goddammit).

“Need to work out some,” Rue decides, flexing and squeezing at her arms.

Lara’s beaming face falls into disappointed disbelief. “Really? That’s all ya gotta say?”

Rue turns to look at the brunette directly instead of the reflection. Her brows furrow. “Huh? Oh!” She dips her head gratefully. “Thank ya for lettin’ me borrow the clothes -and for fixin’ my hair.”

Lara drags her hands down her face. “No! ‘Bout yourself!”

“Oh!” Rue snorts. “I already know I’m gorgeous, Lara.”

“I love ya, but you’re infuriatin’ sometimes,” Lara mutters, breathing deep before a smile breaks across her mouth. “Get on outta here before those girls downstairs drown without ya.”

“Got Rina and Yumi to handle your tables,” Hal informs as Rue pops behind the bar to stash her ruined clothes. “All except one. That Ghoul’s back, and they won’t go near him.”

Rue tries to keep the pure excitement and delight from blooming on her face. She’s not certain she’s successful, but the fact that she’s always smiling probably helps hide some of it. “He been waitin’ long?”

“Mm.” Hal looks to the rafters. “Twenty minutes?”

“Gimme whiskey, neat –two.” She sneakily pulls a Vial from her skirt pocket. “He’ll be in a mood on account of waitin’.”

Hal hops to it, filling two tumblers with liquid fire. “He don’t ever… um….” The bartender’s face screws up, like he’s trying to decide how he’s going to say what he’s going to say. “Scare ya?”

Rue shakes her head, plucking up the glasses and grinning wide. “I ain’t scared of nothin’.”

“I know it.” Hal sighs. “Worries me for ya. ‘Specially with him. Deck said if he wasn’t so damn good at what he does, he wouldn’t let him come ‘round here.”

Yet another reason to hate Deck.

But speaking of Deck…. “Sheriff still here?”

Hal dips his head. “In the office with Adel. Both looked fit to be tied.”

Rue accepts that silently, though, a laugh tries to creep up her throat. She simply whirls around and weaves her way through tables and bodies, her destination set. Her whole self eager to see the grumpy, old bastard. She tries not to look too excited, though. Her smile is her normal smile. Her gait is a typical amount of bouncy. It’s just a regular night. He’s just a regular customer.

But he’s just so goddamn sexy and eye-catching he nearly takes her breath away. Especially when he’s fully kicked back without a care in the world –no worry someone might try to fuck with him. Like he owns the joint with his boots on the table and his head tipped back to gaze into the high rafters of the saloon. But there’s a tightness to his jaw, an impatience. It doesn’t disappear even once she’s placed his drinks upon the table and coos out her typical:

“Hey you.”

The bounty hunter says nothing but holds out a hand. Rue plucks up one of the tumblers and places it in his leather-gloved grip. He drains it in a heartbeat before holding out the empty glass. She takes it, replacing it with the other. Half of the whiskey goes down the same as the first before he pauses and lets a sigh slip loose.

His hollow, scarred face tips forward, his foul mood spelled out in the narrowness of his gaze and set of his mouth. But he goes still, completely, and suddenly there’s a twist to the corner of his mouth as his eyes sweep up and down.

“That your gimmick?”

Rue’s head cocks curiously. “Pardon?”

“Y’know, your shtick?”

Rue’s brows net. “You high? I ain’t got a stick.”

At this point, she’s lost count of the times the Ghoul has rolled his eyes at her. “Sometimes talkin’ to ya makes me feel like I am…. I’m talkin’ ‘bout the role they gotcha playin’. I’m guessin’ it’s the pre-war, American sweetheart. They ought’ve put some red on your lips, though. Paint on your nails. Really would’ve sold it then.”

Rue mulls that over for a moment, the meaning finally hitting home. “Oh.” She waves a hand, banishing the unfortunate thought. “Nah, they ain’t got me whorin’ yet. I got booze spilled all over me and had to borrow some clothes.”

The Ghoul nods slow, making a “hmp” sound as he leisurely nurses his whiskey. “Well… it’s not a bad look on ya.” And he takes him another, long, lingering drink of her that has Rue feeling hot from bow to boot.

She winks, grabbing the whiskey glass he shakes at her and slyly pressing the Vial into his hand. “I’m glad ya like it.” She skims her fingers against his as she pulls away. “I’m gonna guess at another whiskey, and then maybe… hm… maybe something fancier? Our ice machine’s workin’ again, and Hal bought these lime things he keeps mixin’ in with tequila. Salt goes ‘round the glass rim.”

A mild interest creeps over the gunslinger’s face, but mostly he’s looking at her like she’s slow. “That’s called a margarita, Rue.”

“Fancy.” Rue tries not to giggle at his casual use of her name, but the sound of him saying it pleases her to no end. “You want a margarita?”

“I guess I’ll try it.” He makes it sound as if it’s something she had to cajole him into, but she honestly thinks he’s a bit pleased with the way one of his boots idly bobs. “If it’s shit, I ain’t payin’.” He jerks his chin towards the bar. “Get on.”

Rue whirls around to do just that, chirping out an, “And you enjoy the show,” as she gets back to work.

He makes a “psh” sound, and Rue can imagine yet another eyeroll that has her feeling so tickled.

But she gets back to business, taking a fresh wave of orders as she returns to the bar. Hal loads down her tray, asking her for a few minutes on the margarita. Which is fine. She uses those few minutes to dole out drinks and make sure the Ghoul gets to see her cute ass here, there, and everywhere, looking like the pre-war, American sweetheart of his dreams. And he does watch her. She can feel his eyes, and they bore into her when she finally gets back around to him with a… shit, she forgot what they’re called already. She has the fancy drink in hand and gladly places it in his.

“You havin’ fun?” he asks. “Bein’ a dirty, lil’ tease?”

Rue feigns complete and total innocence. “Oh? Am I doin’ somethin’ to ya? I’m just workin’, sir. Honest.”

His ruined lips press to the salted rim of his glass, muddling his, “What you’re doin is askin’ for trouble.”

“Well, that’s what I want most.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get.” It’s a dark promise, scored by a leather-gloved hand sneakily feathering across her thigh. “Why don’tcha see if you can rustle up some red lipstick, and I’ll come by yours?” the suggestion is low, enticing. “Got this fantasy in mind of a ruby-red ring circlin’ the base of my cock that I’m bettin’ you’d eagerly fulfill.”

Rue makes a small sound at the back of her throat, something needy and high, that barest of touches running through her like electricity. And the suggestion, the mental image… it’s like he’s hooked a finger in her and pets already.

The Ghoul tuts, hand slipping away. “You can’t be makin’ sounds like that –not when I barely touched ya.”

Her eyes are half-lidded, glazed, and fastened on his mouth when she purrs, “Imagine the sounds I’d make if ya really touched me.” She watches with no small amount of satisfaction as his grip around his glass tightens. He sips deeper. “Where else can I leave red, cowboy?”

“Careful now,” he warns. “Your keeper’s watchin’.”

Rue’s eyes tick upwards, finding the sheriff immediately. He’s stepping off the staircase, beckoning to her with a smile and a wave that have her arousal flat-out gone. She returns both with forced excitement before tipping her head to the Ghoul. “I’ll come back to check on ya soon. Enjoy your drink.”

“It’s just passable,” he mutters around another slow sip. “Could do with more lime.”

“I’ll make sure the next one does!” And with that, Rue speeds off, knowing the sheriff wants her.

She meets him before the bar, rocking back and forth with her tray held to her chest and not flinching when his hand reaches for her face, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Ya let me know if Adel starts on that again. Ya got my full permission to just walk away from her and come straight to me.” The hand on her cheek slips down her chin, another soft, scant touch (she’s waiting, dreading, the day he boops her on the nose -she can just feel it coming). “Everything goin’ good tonight?”

Rue bobs her head, smiling away. “Mhm. People seem to like the lime and tequila drinks Hal’s makin’. …Hey, can I have tomorrow off?”

Her sudden question –and she did mean for it to be sudden and catch him off guard– has a baffled expression crossing Deck’s face, his brows drawing together. A sputtering escaping his mouth before he manages an, “Off? Ya got somethin’ goin’ on?”

“Mrs. Ira Jean invited me to the ranch,” Rue explains, body taking to vibrating in excitement. “She’s got calves droppin’ like crazy, and I really wanna see ‘em.” She really does. It’s been so long since she’s gotten to bottle feed little babies and give mamas good scratches. And she can’t even remember the last time anyone asked her over. She’s willing to give several of her toes for the opportunity.

The sheriff’s eyes leave her, going thoughtfully to the side as he scratches at the back of his head. A pensive, sort of clicking sound comes from his mouth. “I dunno, Rue. I’m not gonna be in town in the mornin’ to take ya all the way out there. Guess I could get Lucky to –well, no. He’s goin’ out south-ways for me…. And I know they need ya here with everything goin’ on.”

“I can walk myself! I used to all the time!” Rue makes her doe eyes even doe-ier, pleading and so sugary it could give someone cavities. She bounces on the balls of her feet. “And I know it’s busy, but they can handle themselves! I did it almost all by myself while ya were away! There was a night the both of ‘em were sick, and it was just me whirlwindin’ ‘round! I mean, not exactly. Molly and Nina tried to help, but they… they tried to help, y’know?” She pulls in a big, big breath. “Please, Deck? Pretty please? I never ask for a day off.”

Uncertainty is firmly rooted on the sheriff’s face. Rue’s not sure she can make her eyes any rounder.

“C’mon, Deck, let her go,” Hal chimes in from behind the bar, squeezing lime into an old, dented shaker. “She’s here every night, and I think Rina and Yumi oughta be given a chance to prove themselves. And if she’s just gotta have an escort, I don’t mind walkin’ her out there.”

Rue’s heart warms so much at Hal wedging his way into the conversation, pleading her case. Offering a hand. The curve of her lips becomes honest, softer, and she hopes he can see in her eyes how much she appreciates him. “Would ya, Hal? That’d be so kind of you.”

“’Course, Rue.” He smiles at her before his coal eyes fix on Deck. “I think she deserves it, don’t you? Things’ve been rough ‘round here lately.”

Deck’s cheeks puff up before he blows out a breath between tight lips. He dips his head quick, sighs, and then he nods in earnest. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right…. Alrighty, little bird, you can go, but ya gotta wait for Hal to getcha in the mornin' and for me to come bring ya back in the afternoon. No runnin' off early.”

Rue nods like crazy. She’d stay at Mrs. Ira Jean’s forever if she could. No worries about her running off in this case. “Thank ya. Thank ya. Thank ya!” She slaps her tray down on the bar and makes herself hug the sheriff. An action which has him chuckling, petting at her hair, but her soul wilting.

She’s tough, though. She can do whatever –hold out for forever– just knowing she has days like tomorrow to live for.

And a night like tonight if she can get her hands on some red lipstick.

Lara doesn’t ask too many questions when Rue approaches her at the end of the night, asking for red lipstick. All Rue has to say is she wants to practice a new look, and Lara excitedly hands the tube over, saying she can’t wait to see what Rue comes up with (and now she has to do just that).

Rue tucks the tube into her bra, bidding Lara a very good night before stepping into the hall and shutting the door soundly behind her. Her hands haven’t even left the knob when she notices Adel just a few feet away, leaned into the wall. The curl of cigarette smoke hangs around her head, hazing up the air.

“You must think you’re somethin’ special,” the viper’s tone is cutting, venomous. “Too good for this place. Better than the rest of us.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette before hocking a glob of thick, yellowish spit right at Rue’s feet. “Naw. You’re just goddamn lucky Deck’s got a thing for stupid, broken, little girls. You’re not nothin’. He’ll see that one day. He’ll get tired of ya and find him a new favourite. And then you’ll be on your back just like all the rest of us. Ya better start gettin’ used to the idea.”

The spit doesn’t bother Rue, neither do the insults, but the truth of the hateful statement does grind against Rue’s skin. Has her fingers curling inwards to bite at her palms and posture going ramrod straight.

Despite knowing she can die at any time and for any reason, Rue very much wants to live. Things have been miserable for a while, but she still wants to be here. She hasn’t given up yet. And that desire to live is the whole reason she does any of the things that she does, because this is the only way she knows to survive the right now.

But goddammit, she will not be a whore. She can survive everything else, but that would break her. She knows it would. And to be threatened with her undoing -and after that shit with the lingerie? Rue sees red.

She laughs, and if she could actually hear the sound of it, she might say it’s unsettling. She might say the same thing about the smile which crackles across her lips. But Rue’s not really thinking too much, not seeing or hearing. She moves towards Adel, shaking her head.

“I hate ya had to get on your back, Adel. I hate that’s what survival had to look like for you. I hate it made ya so mean and bitter.” She holds the viper’s glare, leaning further and further into Adel’s space. The viper doesn’t flinch, doesn’t give any ground. But that’s fine. Rue touches her nose to Adel’s, ignoring cigarette smoke and the heat of the glowing-red cherry so close to her face. “But you’re not takin’ your shit out on me. Not makin’ me miserable ‘cause you’re miserable. I’ll bite off your head and every dick ya try to force on me. I’ll make it hurt.”

She’s too busy maintaining eye contact to notice Adel’s hand rise, but she does feel the ear-ringing backhand when it connects, her head snapping to the side with the force of it.

But it doesn’t deter her.

Rue laughs again, the sound manic, head lolling back in Adel’s direction. “Woo! That was a good one! I’ll give ya another, but better make it hurt. Better make it count. ‘Cause my lick sure will.”

Apprehension crosses the viper’s face. A tremor of unease and a half-step back. Rue takes a full step forward, offering Adel the other cheek.

“Don’t be shy now.”

“Fuck is wrong with you?” Adel hisses, pulling back on her perpetual scowl and backpeddling –verbally and physically. “Get the fuck out -get your crazy ass outta here. God, you’re deranged. Fuck.” She stubs her cigarette out on a nearby wall, turning to storm away. “Lara! Lara! Get your fuckin’ friend outta here! Can’t stand the sight of her stupid, fuckin’ face anymore tonight!”

Rue watches her go, the fire of her temper cooling with each foot of space put between her and the viper, but she doesn’t really feel like herself until Lara pops her head out of her door with a confused, “Huh?” The brunette looks Rue’s way, brows furrowed and those darling, honey eyes worried. “You okay, Rue?”

It’s like a switch flips. Rue’s entirety unwinds, and she blinks as if trying to clear sleep-bleariness from her eyes. “I think so? …Did I grab that lipstick from ya?”

Lara bobs her head, smile kind and laughter soft. “It’s been a long night, huh?”

Rue rubs her temples, trying to chase away the headache blooming. “It feels like it’s been forever.”

#the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout the series #fallout 2024 #fallout tv series

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tucsonwindowanddoor · 8 days ago

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sicknessbysalem · 3 months ago

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Day Eight: “The Closest Doctor is Probably Hours From Here” | Sicktember 2024

I am once again posting a fic thats more puke with plot and less prompt adherence but can still feasibly fit the prompt if only barely.

its not wlw, it is cis woman x nonbinary lesbian so… yeehaw (i’m going to have some sick wlw fics this month! At least two… not counting the next one i have with meadow and river, this time sick meadow .)

if you have any requests, questions, comments, etc., send them my way!

tw emeto, chronic stomach issues, anxiety, vague references to trained behavior due to bad situations

Meadow’s car pulled up in front of River’s apartment, the soft rumble of the engine blending with the distant hum of city life. The day was warm, with sunlight filtering through the leaves of the trees lining the street, casting dappled shadows on the pavement. Meadow had the windows rolled down, allowing the gentle breeze to play with the strands of her sun-kissed hair, a peaceful smile gracing her lips as she spotted River waiting by the door.

River stood with their hands tucked into the pockets of their worn, dark hoodie, the fabric frayed at the edges from countless washes. They were a stark contrast to Meadow’s vibrant energy, their alternative style blending seamlessly with the more muted tones of the city. As Meadow approached with her usual lightness, River couldn’t help but feel a knot tightening in their stomach, an unease they couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t the trip itself—they trusted Meadow, and they liked April and Arizona well enough—but the idea of stepping into a family dynamic, something they had never really experienced, felt foreign and unnerving.

Meadow greeted them with a warm hug, her scent a mix of lavender and something sweet, grounding in a way that River desperately needed at that moment. They forced a smile, hoping it reached their eyes, not wanting Meadow to worry. She was always so in tune with the world around her, so full of life and color, and River didn’t want to dampen that with their own anxieties.

“Ready to hit the road?” Meadow asked, her voice as bright as the morning sun.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” River replied, their voice steady, though the fluttering in their stomach betrayed them. They threw their duffel bag into the back seat and slid into the passenger side, leaning back as Meadow started the car again.

As they pulled onto the highway, the city began to fade into the background, replaced by sprawling landscapes and the open road. River tried to relax, focusing on the music Meadow had chosen—a mix of indie folk and mellow rock, a playlist they’d made together a few weeks back. But the further they drove, the more that uneasy feeling in River’s gut seemed to grow, a gnawing discomfort that wasn’t just about nerves anymore.

The winding mountain roads didn’t help. The sharp turns and sudden dips made River feel as though their insides were being twisted and pulled in all directions. They kept their gaze fixed out the window, hoping the passing scenery would distract them, but the constant motion only made the queasiness worse. They could feel a cold sweat beginning to form at the back of their neck, their skin prickling with unease.

“Are you okay?” Meadow’s voice broke through River’s focus, soft and filled with concern.

River forced a nod, their grip tightening slightly on the door handle. “Yeah, just… getting used to the roads, I guess. I’m not really used to all these curves.”

Meadow glanced at them, her brow furrowing slightly, but she didn’t push. “We can stop if you need to, you know. No rush.”

River shook their head. “I’m fine, really. Just excited to get there.”

But even as they said it, River could feel their body rebelling against them, a low nausea settling in their stomach, making them swallow hard. They couldn’t let this ruin the weekend, couldn’t be the one who needed extra attention. They’d just have to tough it out, keep it together until they reached the cabin, and hope that once they were out of the car, the unease would fade away.

The cabin was cozy and inviting, with the scent of wood smoke lingering in the air from the fireplace. River couldn’t help but feel a small wave of relief wash over them as they walked in. April had already made herself at home in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she prepared a pot of tea. Arizona was sprawled out on the couch, flipping through a magazine but glancing up with a smile when Meadow and River entered.

“Hey, you two finally made it! How was the drive?” Arizona asked, her tone light and welcoming.

“Long, but we’re here now,” Meadow replied, setting down the bags. She shot River a reassuring smile.

“Good to have you both here,” April chimed in, looking over her shoulder with a warm expression. “I’ve got some herbal tea going if anyone wants a cup before bed. It’s supposed to help with sleep.”

“Sounds perfect,” Meadow said, slipping her hand into River’s and giving it a gentle squeeze. “What do you think, River? Tea before bed?”

River nodded, the motion making their head swim slightly. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

They joined Arizona on the couch, sinking into the cushions and trying to ignore the queasiness still simmering in their stomach. Meadow sat beside them, her presence comforting even though River felt distant, trapped in the growing discomfort they were trying so hard to conceal.

The conversation flowed around them like a gentle current, with Meadow and Arizona bantering about an upcoming music festival and April chiming in with motherly advice about staying hydrated and not forgetting sunscreen. River listened, nodding occasionally, but their responses were muted, more out of politeness than engagement.

Meadow’s hand had not left River’s. While she talked, River felt her hand move theirs when she started gesturing to speak, as if forgetting they were holding hands, or that River was an extension of Meadow. Rover didn’t mind, they never minded that.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, River,” April noted, her voice kind but probing. “Everything okay?”

River’s heart skipped a beat, but they forced a small smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired. It’s been a long day.”

“They had a gig last night, I think I woke them up to get us here,” Meadow giggled. River loved Meadow’s giggle.

April nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Well, you’re welcome to rest as much as you need. We’re just glad you could come with us.”

“Thanks, April,” River murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

The tea was served, and River accepted a cup, the warmth of it soothing in their hand even though their stomach churned at the thought of drinking it. They took a small sip, the herbal flavors soft on their tongue, but it did little to ease the growing unease within them.

As the minutes ticked by, the conversation continued, but River felt increasingly detached, their focus shifting inward as the nausea intensified.

Finally, April stretched and yawned, signaling the end of the evening. “I think it’s about time we all get some rest. We’ve got a full day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” Meadow said, setting her empty cup down and turning to River. “Ready for bed?”

River nodded, their relief barely hidden. “Yeah, definitely.”

They all headed upstairs to their respective rooms, with April giving them each a goodnight hug before disappearing into her room with Arizona. Meadow led River into the guest room they’d be sharing, the space cozy with soft, mismatched blankets and a couple of old lamps casting a warm glow.

River set down their bag, trying to ignore the way the room seemed to tilt slightly as they moved. The dizziness was getting worse, and now that they were away from the others, it was harder to mask how poorly they were feeling. They unzipped their bag, rummaging through it with increasing frustration as they realized their mistake.

“Damn it,” River muttered under their breath.

“What’s wrong?” Meadow asked, her voice laced with concern as she turned from the bed.

River hesitated, not wanting to worry her. “Nothing, just forgot to pack something.”

“Do you need it? Maybe we can get it tomorrow if it’s important,” Meadow suggested, her brow furrowed, “I think momma wants to go into town tomorrow afternoon.”

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” River quickly replied, forcing a smile. “I’ll be okay without it.”

Meadow didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t push the issue. “Alright, if you’re sure. Let’s just get some sleep. You look like you could use it.”

River nodded, grateful that she didn’t press further. As Meadow got ready for bed, River moved more slowly, the dizziness making every movement feel sluggish and disorienting. By the time they slid under the covers, the nausea was a constant, gnawing presence in their gut, and they prayed that sleep would come quickly and take it all away.

“Goodnight, love,” Meadow whispered, leaning over to kiss River’s forehead.

“Goodnight,” River whispered back, closing their eyes and hoping that the darkness would bring some relief. But as they lay there, the nausea didn’t fade; instead, it seemed to tighten its grip, making it difficult to relax. River tried to focus on their breathing, on the sound of Meadow’s steady breaths beside them, but it felt like their body was conspiring against them.

They didn’t want to ruin this weekend. They didn’t want Meadow to worry, or for April and Arizona to see them as a burden. So they swallowed down the rising discomfort, forcing themselves to stay still, to keep their breathing even, to pretend that everything was okay.

But deep down, they knew that this night was going to be much longer than they had hoped.

River lay on their back, staring up at the ceiling as the soft sounds of Meadow’s breathing filled the room. Meadow had drifted off to sleep easily, her hand resting gently on River’s arm, a touch that normally would have been comforting but now only served as a reminder of how restless River felt. The darkness of the room seemed to press in on them, making the gnawing nausea in their stomach all the more unbearable.

Every time they closed their eyes, the dizziness intensified, the room spinning slightly in a way that made it impossible to relax. River’s breaths were shallow, each one taken with the hope that it might settle the churning in their gut, but instead, the sensation only grew worse. It felt as though their stomach was a tight coil, wound so tight it was on the verge of snapping.

They shifted slightly, trying to find a position that might ease the discomfort, but every movement seemed to jostle their stomach further, sending another wave of nausea washing over them. Their mouth felt dry, and they swallowed hard, willing the sick feeling to go away, but it was relentless, gnawing at them with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

Beside them, Meadow stirred slightly in her sleep, her hand sliding off River’s arm and curling against her chest. River’s heart ached at the sight, knowing how much Meadow had looked forward to this weekend, how much she wanted River to feel like part of the family. But all River could focus on was the sickening feeling growing inside them, the way their body was betraying them at the worst possible time.

Minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last, until finally, River couldn’t take it anymore. They gently slipped out from under the covers, moving slowly so as not to disturb Meadow. For a moment, they sat on the edge of the bed, head in their hands, trying to steady the dizziness that had become a constant companion. The cold floor beneath their feet was a small relief, grounding them just enough to muster the energy to stand.

The room felt suffocating, the air thick and heavy as River made their way to the bathroom. They moved cautiously, each step sending a tremor through their body, as if even the slightest misstep might tip them over the edge. When they reached the bathroom, they quietly closed the door behind them, the click of the latch echoing in the small space.

The bathroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of a nightlight, casting long shadows on the walls. River leaned heavily against the sink, gripping the cool porcelain edge with trembling hands. They closed their eyes, taking a deep breath in through their nose, trying to push the nausea back down, but it was no use. The sick feeling surged forward, relentless and overpowering.

River’s stomach twisted painfully, and they felt their throat tighten in response, the unmistakable sign that this was more than just a passing wave of nausea. Their body was done fighting, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

They barely had time to reach the toilet before their body heaved violently, forcing up the contents of their stomach with a sudden, painful intensity. River braced themselves against the cold porcelain, their knees hitting the tiled floor as another wave of nausea gripped them, leaving them no choice but to give in to the sickness.

The sound of their retching was muffled, but the force behind it was undeniable, each heave tearing through them with a ferocity that left them breathless. Quiet or not, it hurt. It was hard and violent on River. Maybe more so as River tried not to make so much noise.

River squeezed their eyes shut, trying to keep as quiet as possible, not wanting to wake Meadow or alert anyone else in the cabin. They bit down on their lip, stifling the sounds that threatened to escape, even as their stomach continued to revolt.

The bitter taste of bile burned their throat, and they coughed weakly, trying to catch their breath between bouts of vomiting. Tears pricked at the corners of their eyes, both from the physical strain and the overwhelming sense of defeat that washed over them. This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go. They were supposed to be part of the family, enjoying the peace and warmth that Meadow’s found family offered, not curled up on the bathroom floor, fighting off waves of nausea that left them trembling and weak.

River was used to episodes. And maybe they shouldn’t have expected anything else. Half the time the episodes happened at the worst possible times.

When the worst of it finally subsided, River slumped back against the wall, their breathing ragged and uneven. They wiped the back of their hand across their mouth, feeling the clammy sweat on their skin, their body shaking from the exertion. The room spun around them, and they had to close their eyes to keep from losing their sense of orientation completely.

For a few moments, they just sat there, trying to gather the strength to stand up. Their stomach still churned unpleasantly, but the violent urge to be sick had passed, leaving them feeling drained and hollow. They knew they couldn’t stay there all night, not without raising suspicion, but the thought of standing and walking back to the bedroom felt like an impossible task.

Finally, with great effort, River pushed themselves up to their feet, gripping the sink for support. They stared at their reflection in the mirror, pale and drawn, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion. It was obvious, even to them, that something was wrong, but they were determined not to let it show.

River turned on the faucet, rinsing their mouth out and splashing cold water on their face. The coolness was a small comfort, but it did little to alleviate the lingering nausea that still gripped them. They took a few more deep breaths, willing themselves to pull it together, to get through the night without anyone knowing.

When they finally felt steady enough, River turned off the light and quietly slipped back into the bedroom. Meadow was still fast asleep, her breathing slow and even, completely unaware of the turmoil that had just played out in the next room.

River slid back into bed as gently as possible, careful not to disturb her. They pulled the covers up around themselves, curling up on their side, facing away from Meadow. Their stomach still felt unsettled, but they were too exhausted to do anything more than close their eyes and hope for sleep to take them.

River had finally managed to drift off into a fitful sleep, the exhaustion from their earlier ordeal temporarily overriding the discomfort that still gnawed at their insides. But the rest was short-lived. After what felt like only moments, River stirred again, a sickening sensation rolling through their stomach, pulling them from the fragile grip of sleep.

Their eyes fluttered open, the darkness of the room heavy and suffocating. The nausea that had been a dull throb earlier now surged with a vengeance, a relentless wave that left River no choice but to get up and move. They needed to get out of bed, needed to be anywhere but lying down where the sickness could take hold of them fully.

River shifted carefully, trying to slide out from under the covers without disturbing Meadow, but the movement, however gentle, was enough to rouse her. As River swung their legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand, a hand touched their arm, a soft, sleepy voice following.

“River?” Meadow’s voice was thick with sleep, but there was concern laced in it as well. “Where are you going?”

River froze for a moment, their heart pounding in their chest, both from the nausea and the fear of being caught. “Bathroom,” they managed to mutter, their voice strained. “Just need a minute.”

Meadow’s hand slipped away, but the bed creaked as she sat up, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice clearer now, more alert.

River didn’t answer, their focus already shifting to the growing urgency in their stomach. They moved quickly, more out of instinct than anything, crossing the room in a few unsteady steps and pushing the bathroom door open with trembling hands. They barely registered Meadow following them, the concern in her eyes hidden by the shadows, as they stumbled to the toilet, their legs threatening to give out beneath them.

As soon as River was kneeling on the cold tile, the nausea hit them with full force, their body convulsing as they heaved into the toilet. It was a quiet, almost eerie sound—no loud retching or gasping for breath, just a strained, barely audible expulsion as their body rid itself of what little was left in their stomach. River gripped the sides of the toilet, their knuckles white as they tried to keep from collapsing, their entire body shaking from the effort.

Meadow hovered in the doorway for a moment, her heart sinking as she watched River’s body tremble with each silent heave. She could barely hear the sound of them being sick, the quietness of it making her chest tighten with worry. Meadow moved forward, her bare feet making soft sounds on the cool tile as she approached River, crouching down beside them. The only reason she even knew River was vomiting was the way it splashed in the toilet.

“Oh… Riv,” she whispered, her voice soft but firm, reaching out to place a hand on their back. River flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t pull away, their body too focused on the task at hand.

“It’s okay, love. I’m right here,” Meadow murmured, rubbing small, soothing circles on their back, trying to offer some comfort despite the helplessness she felt. She hated seeing River like this, so vulnerable and sick, but she knew better than to overwhelm them with questions or fussing. River had always been private about their struggles, and Meadow respected that, even now. She brushed a few strands of hair behind River’s ear before rubbing her back.

River didn’t respond, their focus entirely on the quiet but intense battle with their stomach. Another wave hit them, and they hunched over the toilet, their breath hitching as they silently retched again, the sound barely more than a soft splash in the water. Meadow felt the tension in their muscles, the way their body shuddered with each heave, and her heart ached for them.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Meadow whispered, keeping her hand steady on River’s back, grounding them as best she could. “Just breathe, you’re doing great.”

River’s breathing was ragged, each breath coming in shallow gasps as they fought against the nausea that refused to let up. The dizziness from earlier had returned with a vengeance, making the room tilt and spin around them. They squeezed their eyes shut, trying to block out the disorienting sensation, but it only seemed to make the nausea worse.

Meadow’s presence was a small comfort, her touch soothing even as River’s body continued to betray them. They wanted to say something, to reassure her that they were okay, but the words caught in their throat, replaced by another sickening wave that forced them to lean forward again. This time, they were almost too weak to hold themselves up, their body trembling with the effort it took to keep from collapsing completely.

Meadow noticed the change, the way River seemed to sag against the toilet, and she gently shifted closer, her other arm wrapping around their shoulders to steady them. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, her voice filled with quiet determination. “Just let it out, don’t hold back.”

River’s body responded to her words, another quiet but forceful heave wracking their frame as they clung to the toilet, their breaths coming in shaky, uneven gasps. It was a battle they were clearly losing, each wave of nausea leaving them weaker, more drained, but they fought against the urge to give in completely, their mind a blur of exhaustion and discomfort.

Minutes passed, each one feeling like an eternity, until finally, the heaving began to subside, leaving River panting and spent. They slumped forward, resting their forehead against the cool porcelain, their body trembling from the exertion. The nausea hadn’t fully gone away, but the worst of it seemed to have passed, leaving them feeling hollow and light-headed.

Meadow stayed close, her hand still on River’s back, offering silent support as she waited for them to catch their breath. She knew River well enough to know that they hated feeling this way, hated being seen like this, but she wasn’t about to leave them to suffer alone.

When River finally found the strength to sit back, they leaned heavily against the wall, their eyes closed as they tried to steady their breathing. Meadow reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from their face, her touch tender and reassuring.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Meadow said softly, sensing that River was too exhausted to speak. “Just breathe, okay? You’re safe, I’m here.”

River nodded weakly, their eyes still closed, focusing on the rhythm of their breath and the warmth of Meadow’s hand on their cheek. They felt like they could finally breathe again, the nausea still present but no longer the overwhelming force it had been just moments ago.

For a long while, they sat there in silence, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the night beyond the cabin walls. Meadow stayed by River’s side, her presence a steady anchor in the storm that had just passed, her touch grounding them in a way that words never could.

Eventually, Meadow leaned in closer, her voice a gentle whisper in the quiet. “Do you want to try going back to bed, or would you rather stay here for a bit?”

River opened their eyes slowly, the room coming back into focus as they considered her question. They felt drained, their body heavy with exhaustion, but the thought of returning to the bed, to the warmth and safety of Meadow’s arms, was too comforting to resist.

“Bed,” River murmured, their voice hoarse and weak. “I just… I just want to lie down.”

Meadow nodded, helping them up from the floor with a gentleness that made River’s heart ache with gratitude. She kept a steady hand on their arm as they moved back to the bedroom, guiding them with care, as if afraid they might collapse again at any moment.

When they finally made it back to bed, Meadow helped River settle under the covers, tucking the blanket around them before sliding in beside them. She pulled them close, wrapping her arms around River in a protective embrace, as if shielding them from the world.

“Is that what you were looking for earlier? Your medicine?” Meadow asked curiously.

River nodded, lacing their fingers with Meadow’s.

“Yeah, I thought I grabbed it…” River said, “It’s fine. It’ll pass on its own…”

“Any trigger in particular this time?” Meadow asked, “Sometimes it gets triggeres, sometimes it happens…”

“Not that I can think of,” River shook their head, “Only thing out of the ordinary is being here.”

“Maybe your anxiety then? You probably also got motion sick a bit on the way up… bad combination that sent you into overdrive,” Meadow suggested.

River let out a shaky breath, their body relaxing into Meadow’s warmth, the last remnants of nausea slowly fading into the background. They shrugged to that suggestion, “It’s possible… I mean getting motion sick as is has triggered this before so… maybe.”

“Poor thing,” Meadow sighed, kissing the side of their head. They closed their eyes, the darkness now a welcome relief, knowing that Meadow was there, holding them close, watching over them as they drifted back into a much-needed sleep.

“Thank you,” River whispered, their voice barely audible, but Meadow heard it, felt the sincerity behind the words.

“Always,” she whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to their temple. “I’m here. Always.”

And with that, River finally allowed themselves to let go, to surrender to the exhaustion that pulled at them, knowing that no matter what, they were safe in Meadow’s arms.

The night had been long and restless for River. They had been up again, the nausea returning in waves that left them weak and drained. Meadow had been by their side through it all, offering quiet support, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm that River’s body seemed determined to put them through.

After a few more bouts of sickness, River had finally managed to find some relief, the nausea easing just enough to allow them to return to bed. Meadow had helped them settle back under the covers, her touch gentle and reassuring.

“Just try to rest,” Meadow had whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from River’s forehead. “I’m right here.”

River had nodded weakly, their eyelids heavy with exhaustion. It wasn’t long before they drifted off, their breathing evening out as they succumbed to sleep. Meadow had stayed by their side, holding them close, her own worries fading as she listened to the steady rhythm of River’s breath.

The night passed slowly, with Meadow dozing off for a few hours, her body finally relaxing after the long, anxious night. When she woke, the early morning light was just beginning to filter through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. River was still asleep, their face peaceful, though there was a slight tension around their eyes, a lingering sign of the rough night they’d endured.

Meadow slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb River. She padded softly across the room, glancing back to make sure they were still resting peacefully before she left the room and headed for the kitchen. Her mind was already on what she could do to help ease River’s discomfort when they woke up—perhaps some tea, something gentle that might soothe their unsettled stomach.

The kitchen was quiet when Meadow entered, the early morning stillness comforting after the long night. She moved to the stove, setting a kettle on to boil, her thoughts focused on River and how to make them as comfortable as possible. She reached for the loose-leaf tea that she knew would help—chamomile, with a touch of ginger—and began preparing it, her movements slow and deliberate, almost meditative.

As the kettle began to whistle softly, Meadow poured the hot water over the tea, the fragrant steam rising up to fill the kitchen with a soothing aroma. She was just about to set the tea aside to steep when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She turned to see April standing in the doorway, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, a concerned look on her face.

“Morning,” April said, her voice still a little rough from sleep. “What are you doing up so early, hon? Are you feeling okay?”

Meadow hesitated for a moment, not wanting to worry April but knowing that she couldn’t keep the truth from her, especially if River needed more care. “I’m okay,” she said slowly, stirring the tea gently. “Hey… do you have any fresh ginger?”

“What kind of tea are you making sugar?” April said, going to get some fresh ground ginger, “Your stomach giving you a hard time again? I thought you said your bug from a couple days back was good? Not that it’s a problem.”

“My stomach’s fine momma,” Meadow said, “The bug was brutal, but Houston took care of me. I should call him and see how he’s doing… case he got sick or something, but no, it’s not me.”

“If it’s not you then is it your…” April trailed off, Meadow giggled as she saw April was trying to come up with the right word, “River, is it them?”

“They weren’t feeling good last night,” Meadow said, “They don’t have a bug but they got sick a few times last night.”

April’s brow furrowed immediately, the concern deepening in her eyes as she stepped closer. “Oh no, what happened? Are they okay? Do we need to get them anything? Have you called a doctor? I mean the closest doctor is probably an hour or so from here but…”

“April, it’s okay,” Meadow said quickly, trying to calm her down before her worry spiraled into full-on mom panic. “They just had a bit of a stomach episode. This is sadly normal for them. I’m making them some tea now that should help settle things.”

April’s worry was evident, her eyes scanning Meadow’s face for any sign that things were worse than she was letting on. “Are you sure they’re okay? Should we be doing something more? Maybe we should—”

“Momma,” Meadow interrupted gently, placing a hand on her arm. “I know you’re worried, but River’s going to be okay. They just need rest, and I’m trying to keep things calm so they don’t feel more stressed. You know how they are—they don’t want to be a burden, and too much fussing might just make them feel worse.”

April sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly, though the worry didn’t entirely leave her expression. “I know, I know. I just hate the thought of them being in pain or uncomfortable, especially here. I want them to feel like this is a safe space, not somewhere they have to push themselves.”

Meadow smiled softly, squeezing April’s arm reassuringly. “You’ve done so much already to make them feel welcome. They know they’re safe here, but you know how River is. They need a little space to process things, and right now, I think the best thing we can do is be ready to help if they need it, but not overwhelm them.”

April nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “You’re right. I just get so worried, especially knowing they don’t always take the best care of themselves. I worry about all my kids, honorary ones too. But I trust you, Meadow. You know them better than anyone.”

Meadow poured the tea into a mug, letting it steep a little longer as she considered her next words. “I’m going to take this to them and see how they’re feeling when they wake up. If they need anything more, I’ll let you know, but for now, let’s try to keep things low-key, okay?”

April gave a small smile, the kind that was half-reassurance, half-resignation. “Alright. But if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know. I’m here for both of you.”

Meadow nodded gratefully, feeling the weight of the night easing just a little with April’s support. “Thank you, April. I know River appreciates it too, even if they don’t always say it.”

With the tea ready, Meadow carefully carried the mug back to the bedroom, leaving April in the kitchen to make herself some breakfast. As she re-entered the room, she was relieved to see that River was still sleeping, their face a little more relaxed than it had been earlier.

Meadow set the tea on the nightstand and sat beside them on the bed, brushing her fingers gently through their hair, the soft touch meant to soothe and comfort. She leaned down and placed a light kiss on River’s forehead, whispering softly, “I’m right here, love. Just rest, okay?”

River stirred slightly, but didn’t wake, their breathing even and deep. Meadow settled in beside them, ready to be there for them when they woke, ready to offer whatever comfort and care they needed to get through the day.

River spent most of the day in a restless sleep, their body too exhausted to do much more than drift in and out of consciousness. The nausea had never fully left, a constant weight in their stomach that kept them on edge, but sleep was a temporary escape from the discomfort. Meadow stayed close, watching over them with quiet concern, offering sips of tea or a comforting hand whenever they stirred.

As the afternoon wore on, Meadow grew increasingly worried. River hadn’t improved much, and the one thing that could make a real difference was sitting back at home. With a determined sigh, she decided to drive back and get it. The cabin wasn’t too far, but it would still mean leaving River in the care of April for a few hours.

She gently roused River, her hand brushing lightly over their arm. “Hey, love,” she whispered, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’m going to head home to grab your medicine. April’s going to be here if you need anything, okay?”

River stirred, blinking up at her with bleary eyes, their face pale and drawn. “You don’t have to… I’ll be fine,” they muttered, though the weakness in their voice betrayed them.

Meadow shook her head, smiling softly. “I want to. You need to feel better, and I’ll be quick. Just rest, and if you need anything, April’s here. Besides, the sooner you get your medicine in you the sooner you’ll stop puking and we’ll be all good, right? It’s okay.”

“Be careful please,” River said, knowing they would have better luck arguing with a brick wall than with their girlfriend. Meadow giggled softly and kissed their head and then their cheek.

“Hey, at least you don’t have a fever so we know it’s just a bad day,” Meadow suggested, “I love you. Go back to sleep and I’ll be back before you know it.”

River didn’t argue further, too worn out to resist. They gave a small nod, already closing their eyes again as they sank deeper into the pillows. Meadow leaned down, pressing a kiss to their forehead before quietly slipping out of the room. She met April in the kitchen, quickly explaining the situation.

“Just keep an eye on them. They’ve been sleeping most of the day, but if they wake up and need anything…” Meadow trailed off, her worry evident. “River doesn’t sleep much so this… is kind of good. That they’re resting.”

April nodded, her face serious. “I’ll take care of them, don’t worry. You just go get that medicine.”

With a grateful smile, Meadow hurried out the door, leaving April to look after River. The house fell into a quiet lull after that, the only sound being the occasional creak of the cabin’s old wooden floors or the soft rustle of leaves outside.

River remained curled up in bed, trying to ignore the nausea that still simmered in their stomach. They’d hoped sleep would be a way out, but it was no use. The gnawing discomfort in their gut wouldn’t let up, and they could feel it starting to build again, each wave of nausea stronger than the last.

They swallowed hard, willing their body to settle down, but it was a losing battle. The tightness in their chest, the queasiness twisting inside them—it all pointed to one inevitable conclusion. They needed to get to the bathroom.

Moving slowly, River pushed the blankets aside and carefully swung their legs over the edge of the bed. The dizziness hit them first, making the room spin slightly as they tried to stand. They paused, taking a deep breath before heading toward the bathroom, their steps unsteady.

Once inside, River shut the door as quietly as possible, gripping the edge of the sink for support as another wave of nausea rolled through them. Their stomach twisted painfully, and they knew they didn’t have much time before it all came rushing up again. Kneeling by the toilet, they braced themselves, trying to keep the sounds as quiet as possible, just like they always had.

The first heave was silent, nothing but a soft gasp of air as their stomach convulsed, forcing the bile up. River kept their lips pressed tightly together, swallowing down the noise, their body shaking with the effort. Another wave hit them, more forceful this time, but still, they made almost no sound, just the faint splash of liquid hitting the toilet.

It was a practiced silence, one they had perfected over the years. Their family had made it very clear that being sick was something to be ashamed of, something to hide. As a child, River had learned quickly to keep their sickness as quiet as possible, to disappear when they felt ill, to avoid the judgment and frustration that always seemed to follow.

They hated that the habit had followed them into adulthood, but it was second nature now. Even here, in a place where they knew they were cared for, where Meadow and April would never judge them, they couldn’t shake the instinct to stay quiet, to not be a burden.

Another retch tore through them, their stomach cramping painfully as they continued to throw up, their breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The effort of staying so quiet left them trembling, their body weak and shaky as they leaned heavily against the toilet, the cool porcelain pressing against their forehead.

They didn’t hear the soft knock at the door, or the quiet footsteps approaching. April had come to check on them after noticing their absence from the bed, her concern growing with each passing minute. When she gently pushed the bathroom door open, her heart sank at the sight of River hunched over the toilet, their entire body trembling as they fought through another silent wave of sickness.

“Oh, River…” April whispered, her voice soft with worry as she quickly stepped inside.

River flinched at the sound of her voice, their body tensing as if they’d been caught doing something wrong. They didn’t look up, couldn’t bring themselves to meet her gaze as another silent heave wracked their body, leaving them breathless and weak.

April’s brow furrowed in concern, not just at the sight of River being sick, but at how quietly they were going through it. It wasn’t normal—not the way they seemed to force themselves to stay silent, as if making any noise would be a problem. She knelt beside them, gently placing a hand on their back, her touch light but reassuring.

“Hey, it’s okay,” April murmured, her voice calm and soothing. “You don’t have to be quiet, River. It’s just me.”

River shook their head weakly, unable to form a proper response as their body lurched again, another quiet heave leaving them shuddering with the effort. April’s heart ached at the sight. She had never seen someone so determined to stifle their own suffering, and it worried her deeply.

April wanted to ask. To reassure River. This wasn’t just about being sick—this was something deeper, something rooted in how they had been treated before. April knew Meadow couldn’t have done this to them. That wasn’t Meadow. This would’ve been adapted long before her honorary daughter and River’s relationship.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice filled with compassion. “You’re okay…”

April’s face softened as wrapped her arm around their shoulders, pulling them gently against her side. Meadow said not to overwhelm them, but April was still a mom. River was her kid every bit as much as Meadow was.

River leaned into her, their body still trembling, but the tension in their shoulders began to ease slightly. They were still pale, their stomach clearly not finished with its torment, but April’s presence was a calming.

“You’ll be alright,” April said softly.

Another wave of nausea hit, and River, finally allowing themselves to trust the safety of the moment, let out a quiet groan as their body heaved again, their muscles tight with strain. April stayed close, letting go of River. She moved her hand to rub comforting circles on their back, offering silent support.

River continued to get sick, though it was quieter than April had expected—less from fear now, and more from sheer exhaustion. When it finally subsided, River slumped against the wall, their breath coming in short, ragged bursts as they tried to recover. April stayed with them, not leaving their side, her motherly concern unwavering as she gently helped them wipe their face with a cool washcloth.

“You did great,” she whispered, pressing the cloth to River’s forehead. “Just rest now. We’ll take care of you.”

River gave a small, shaky nod, their body too worn out to argue. They knew Meadow would be back soon with their medicine, but for now, in April’s caring presence, they felt safe enough to let their guard down, if only for a little while.

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emetophilia #emeto cw #emeto tw #emeto writer #sicktember 2024 #sicktember 2025 day eight

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 1 year ago

Text

This 1970 Pontiac GTO convertible was first delivered to the A.C. Morris Garage of Summersville, West Virginia, and during prior ownership it underwent a body-off rotisserie refurbishment that was completed in 2006. The car is claimed to be one of just 241 examples that were ordered with 455ci V8 and an optional automatic transmission for the model year, and it is finished in Burgundy over red vinyl upholstery. Other equipment includes a four-barrel carburetor, a Ram Air hood, a power-operated convertible top, power steering, front disc brakes, and a 12-bolt rear end housing a Safe-T-Track limited-slip differential. Acquired by the selling dealer in 2013 out of Arizona, this GTO convertible is offered in Missouri with refurbishment photos, manufacturer’s literature, build sheets, a reproduction window sticker, documentation from Pontiac Historical Services, correspondence with the GM Heritage center, and a clean Missouri title.

The car was finished from the factory in Burgundy, and the body was stripped, mounted to a rotisserie jig, and repainted during the refurbishment, at which time a replacement convertible top was installed. Features include a color-matched Endura front bumper, a chrome rear bumper, a Ram Air hood, and quad exhaust outlets with polished finishers.

Rally II 14″ wheels are mounted with 215/70 Firestone Wide-Oval tires. Braking is provided by power-assisted front discs and rear drums, and the car was optioned with power steering when new.

The cabin has been retrimmed with red vinyl upholstery (2254) as well as color-coordinated carpets and interior trim. Equipment includes front bucket seats and a rear bench, a woodgrain steering wheel, an AM/FM radio, and an 8-track player. A pre-delivery-style instruction tag is attached to the steering column, and Pontiac-branded rubber floor mats line the front and rear footwells.

The turned metal and woodtone trim-accented cluster houses Rally instrumentation consisting of a 140-mph speedometer, a tachometer, and a combination gauge. The five-digit odometer shows under 96k miles, approximately 50 of which have been driven by the seller. True mileage is unknown.

The optional 455ci V8 features a four-barrel carburetor and a Ram Air hood, and it produced a factory-rated 360 horsepower and 500 lb-ft of torque when new. The engine stamping shown within the gallery ends in 0P121234, which matches the final eight digits of the car’s serial number. Additional identification numbers are presented in the gallery.

Power is sent to the rear wheels through an optional Turbo Hydramatic 400 three-speed automatic transmission and a 12-bolt rear end housing a Safe-T-Track limited-slip differential. Additional photos are provided in the gallery to illustrate the underside, drivetrain, and suspension components.

Photos showing various stages of the refurbishment are depicted above.

Additional items accompanying the car include manufacturer’s literature, build sheets, a reproduction window sticker, documentation from Pontiac Historical Services, and 2012 correspondence with the GM Heritage center confirming the car’s specifications and equipment, photos of which are provided in the gallery.

#car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #pontiac gto #gto

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ruvviks · 1 year ago

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drastic + vincent please :3

DRASTIC [x] characters >> vincent mayer (oc), vitali dobrynin (oc) context >> july 2077; vincent and vitali are in tucson to try and figure out a way to stop vincent from dying after johnny silverhand has been successfully removed from his head total >> 1.6k words warnings >> death mention, hospital, needles, surgery mention

‘Vincent. Can you hear me?’

Wakey wakey.

Vincent could barely open his eyes, eyelids and head still heavy with sleep. The air surrounding him was surprisingly cool; as far as he was concerned it was the middle of summer, and he was in Arizona of all places. Wasn’t it supposed to be sweltering?

Someone gently took his wrist. The action itself did not hurt, nor did the feeling that followed– but it caused him instant discomfort that bordered on pain, the sensation cramping up his entire arm and it took him a second to realize it was the work of a needle that was stuck in the top of his hand.

He was in the hospital. He had just gotten out of surgery.

His eyes finally opened, bright light pouring in from the window on his left and momentarily blinding him as he groaned and tried to adjust. The nurse beside him gently placed his hand back on the mattress and hummed a song as she checked something on the screens, gloved fingers rapidly tapping on the keys of the digital keyboard as she typed in some information.

The soft hum of the devices around him was like a lullaby and Vincent slowly exhaled as he closed his eyes again; but a sudden weight on his chest– as well as the sudden realization of what the surgery had been for to begin with– violently ripped him back to reality and he gasped for air, as if all oxygen had suddenly been taken from his lungs.

‘Easy,’ the nurse said, placing a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from sitting up. ‘You’re alright, Vincent. Everything is fine. Try to breathe as normal.’

Easier said than done. He had a fucking cybernetic lung now– and sure, it worked, but the idea alone was more than enough to cause involuntary tears to well up in the corners of his eyes as he could feel his irregular heartbeat in every single inch of his body and his unstable breathing scraped painfully past the dry inside of his throat.

Ever since he had arrived in Tucson it had been one surgery after another. Preventive measures for the most of it– save from the removal of a bullet shard that had still been stuck in his head, the last bit Viktor hadn’t been able to dig out before– replacing damaged organs where possible and removing previously installed implants to minimize risks.

And none of it had helped so far.

Vincent was still very much dying, despite all their efforts. Initially thought to be the damage the Relic had caused in his body, irreparable at that; not so irreparable anymore but with all holes patched and the ship still sinking, he couldn’t help but wonder if Soulkiller was still working its magic.

Sure, the program had been on the Relic itself– but then again, all technology had gotten damaged by that bullet and with Johnny’s engram overwriting his psyche and then his psyche overwriting all of that to separate himself from the biochip, who knows what kind of malware had managed to sneak its way in in the meantime?

‘There’s a visitor waiting for you,’ the nurse said, shooting Vincent a gentle smile after he had managed to settle down again. ‘Would you like me to get him for you?’

‘Yes please, thank you,’ Vincent replied, not needing to ask for a name to know exactly who she meant, and he couldn’t stop his heartbeat from rising in excitement and relief when she left the room to call the man in.

It still managed to catch him off guard, to see Vitali Dobrynin out of his usual work attire. A sight he had gotten to grow more familiar with over the last few months– the whole situation with Johnny had driven Vitali out of the office often enough for Vincent to catch him in simple sweatpants and a hoodie on the regular– yet it still felt a little strange to him. “The man sleeps in a suit,” Jackie had once jokingly told him. Vincent wouldn’t have batted an eye.

‘How do you feel?’ Vitali softly asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, sleeves of his flannel loosely rolled up and only partially covering his forearms. His hands were clasped together on his lap– for once not a single ring adorning his slender fingers– and he nervously ran his thumb over the side of his index finger.

‘Little strange,’ Vincent admitted as he reached out to take Vitali’s hand in his own. ‘The more I think about breathing, the harder it gets. I know it’s just between my ears, but– you know.’

Vitali quickly nodded, a light smile on his face as he shuffled a little closer and leaned in to press a kiss on Vincent’s temple. Which, of course, also caught him off guard; with the complete chaos of the aftermath of the attack on Mikoshi he had continuously forgotten about the fact he was dating the fixer now, and now that they could finally have some time for themselves it still did not feel entirely real to him.

‘Don’t you think all this is– I dunno, maybe a lil’ drastic?’ Vincent quietly asked, allowing the other man to cup his cheek and run his fingers down his face. ‘I mean– I don’t feel much different than before. Just increases risk of cyberpsychosis if anything. Even with all the removed implants.’

‘You might not feel it now but something is still happening in your body,’ Vitali simply replied, the pre-programmed answer he had been giving Vincent for weeks now. ‘Sooner or later you will start feeling it. And then you’ll be glad we had precautions done before it got too bad.’

‘Costs a shit-fuckton of money.’

‘Which I have.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

‘You don’t need to.’

Vincent clenched his jaw and exhaled sharply, the action causing his chest to tighten a little and he winced, brief panic overtaking him; but nothing else happened, the cybernetic lung doing its job perfectly fine, and he allowed himself to relax again.

It did not feel right to let Vitali pay for his surgeries. He had done so from the fucking beginning, no less– when Vincent had gotten a correction surgery on his chest and Vitali had told Viktor to put it on his tab, despite Vincent continuously telling him he’d get the eddies himself after his recovery.

But Vitali was a stubborn man– painfully so, insisting on helping Vincent wherever and whenever he could. Out of the goodness of his heart, of course; but definitely so out of guilt as well, having to live with the knowledge he had not been able to save T-Bug and Jackie and because of that so desperately trying to save Vincent while he still could.

If he even could.

Vincent lowered his gaze, softly biting the inside of his lip as Alt’s words echoed through his head again. He was dying; there was no denying it, even if he didn’t feel it just yet, and if they wouldn’t figure out what exactly was going on with him he wouldn’t make it to the end of the year.

If he had done the calculations right, he’d be on his deathbed on Vitali’s birthday of all days. He couldn’t do that to him.

But perhaps Vitali was right. Perhaps the surgeries did help and would at least give him a little longer than what Alt had predicted. Perhaps Alt had not even told him the truth; perhaps whatever was going on with him in that moment was only temporary and the effects would wear off the more time would pass.

But with more and more of his body turning into a machine, Vincent could not help but wonder if it wouldn’t just have been easier to transfer his psyche onto a fucking biochip too.

Would’a been a copy, V, you know that. At least you’re still you, now.

But for how much longer?

Even Johnny– or, well the voice in Vincent’s head pretending to be Johnny– couldn’t answer that.

Vitali suddenly turned, pulling his legs onto the bed and moving closer until he was sat directly next to Vincent, leaning back against the raised mattress. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders– and Vincent in return moved closer without hesitation, burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest, grateful the painkillers were numbing most of the pain in his upper body.

‘We will figure this out, my love,’ Vitali softly mumbled and planted a kiss on the top of Vincent’s head. ‘I promise. I’m not giving up on you.’

He had paused all his business and tossed aside all his responsibilities to help Vincent find a cure. Had left Night City behind– had left his business in the hands of Mikhail– and even now weeks later he was still there by his side, paying for his surgeries and keeping him company through it all. Of course Vitali was not giving up on him– and Vincent had never received such devotion before, to the point he had no idea what to do now that it had fallen right into his lap.

‘I love you,’ he simply whispered in return, on the verge of choking back tears when he felt Vitali momentarily tense up. ‘I love you so much.’

He didn’t know how much time he had left. He didn’t know if Alt was right, he didn’t know if any of what they were doing there was helping him at all–

But at least he wasn’t alone.

At least he had Vitali.

#asks #faerune #writing asks #nuclearwriting #THANK YOU AND SORRY FOR THE WAIT. my brain is a bad soup lately i cannot get myself to write but i Did it #all of what they're doing there DOES eventually help out because vincent's body was very much just. dying. slowly #and the surgeries and all that stopped That specific process so that's a win. and then they get rid of the remnants of soulkiller #and then he's no longer dying :^) or well soulkiller is still there but it's dormant now. he's been given a stabilizer #so Technically soulkiller could still become a problem again in the future but i'm not gonna do that. he deserves a happy ending x

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