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miekasa · 5 years ago

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1+1 (levi ackerman)

↯ pairing: levi ackerman x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: modern au, fluff...... again....... is it getting boring and predictable yet lmao, once again the dog’s name is captain and no i do not regret it

↯ word count: 2.5k

↯ summary: levi ackerman is a cuddler, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. (aka me once again pushing my physical affection is levi’s love language agenda because he’s a poor, touch-starved little man).

i. the lap pillow: person A sits upright, while person B rests their head in person A’s lap. head pets and hair playing option, but highly encouraged.

Levi spent an obnoxious amount of time picking out the perfect couch for his apartment. He might have paid a little bit more than what he’d originally budgeted for, but it was worth it; his soft, plush couch and accompanying cushions were equally comfortable and beautiful, matching the interior of his living room, and posing at the perfect nap spot when Levi was too tired to make it to the bed, or wanted to lounge around with Captain for a while.

Or, well, it used to be worth it. Because now, Levi would rather lay his head on your lap than on his stupid, expensive couch and all its cushions.

Sure, the couch still provides comfort or refuge for the rest of his body, a comfy cavern to stretch his limbs or crash on after a long day, but with you there, all the benefits go to his head; literally, because when his head is in your lap, you stroke his face, comb through his hair, pad your thumb against his lips—whatever, Levi doesn’t really fucking care, because all of it is heavenly.

“Do you want to go to bed?” you question softly, hand raking through Levi’s hair. He’s lying on his back, not even pretending to have been watching the TV, as to let you have maximum access to his hair and face.

“No,” he says shortly, shifting his foot around to allow for your yorkie puppy to curl up at the other end of the couch, “Comfortable here.”

You try to hide the chuckle from escaping your lips. Levi certainly wasn’t shy about how much he liked your affections, especially within the closed walls of his apartment; but it always amused you just how simultaneously clipped, yet clingy he could be about it.

“Your neck is going to hurt, love,” you tell him, slowly moving your right hand from his hair to trace along his eyebrow, then down his cheek.

Levi huffs, ever so slightly. Then, gently, turns on his side, rotating his body and head, so that his cheek is now pressed along your thigh, legs curled up to his stomach, allowing Captain more space to curl into a ball at the base of Levi’s feet. He bends his arms, both coming to rest on your thighs as well, just an inch from his face.

“It’s fine like this,” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep—and a bit of frustration, because you’ve ceased playing with his hair at this point, “I’m going to take a nap, don’t move.”

You can help your laughter from escaping, “I don’t really have a choice, now do I?”

He hums in affirmation, shifting around just a bit to his comfort. You smile at the way he wiggles his toes, Captain taking it as an invitation to snuggle closer to Levi. You rest your right hand against Levi’s shoulder, lightly massaging his muscles as to not disturb his drifting to sleep, and resume your focus on the TV ahead of you.

Just when you’d thought Levi was on his way to falling asleep, he lets out a discontented grunt, moving his arm backwards to grab at your wrist, and with gentle, but firm force, moves your hand that was massaging his shoulder to the top of his head. He says nothing, only moves his hand back to its previous position, and once again shifts to readjust his napping position.

You get the message, and with a wide smile, you carefully begin to thread your fingers through his hair again; and with a satisfied purr, Levi snuggles his head into your lap, and finally drifts off to sleep.

ii. the half spoon/chest rest: person A lays flat on their back, while person B curls into their side, laying their head on person A’s chest.

Levi rarely falls asleep before you do, so he’s had quite a bit of time to observe your sleep habits—as non-creepily as possible, of course.

You’re a pretty normal sleeper—again, not that he spends his time watching other people sleep, or anything—but you do have your own quirks; most of which Levi finds endearing on some level or another. Like the way you always have to have a minimum of three pillows on your side of the bed, even if you don’t sleep with all three of them at the same time. And the way your arms subconsciously curl up, usually around a pillow if Levi isn’t there, or even around yourself if there’s no object for you to grasp.

One of your sleeping ticks he isn’t particularly fond of is the way you move around. Not sporadically, and thankfully, not to a point that leaves you sprawled across the mattress at an obscure angle, but just… around. He especially hates when you roll away from him, because you usually roll away and never roll back.

Which is why Levi is generally fond of cuddling positions in which he’s holding you, as to make sure you don’t, quite literally, roll out of his arms. Because nothing pisses Levi off more than waking up and realizing you’ve rolled away and taken to snuggling against your pillow instead of him. He’s much better than a pillow. Warmer, too. Not mention, a real, actual human being.

Right now, you’re tucked almost expertly into Levi’s right side, head laying on his chest, your right arm over his stomach, hand just barely tickling the exposed skin from his shirt riding up. Levi likes the feeling of your shallow exhales rippling against his shirt, and the warmth of your cheek pressed against his chest.

He’s about to fall asleep himself, when he feels you shuffling, and oh no, not on his watch. Before the worst can happen, Levi secures his right arm over your shoulder, as to hold you against him. The urge to roll seems to leave you then, the only movement is of your right arm, which you bend at the elbow, now laying your palm against his pecs.

Levi exhales, content. Now he can sleep peacefully. Well, almost. There’s one more thing he likes about this position, and it’s his ability to use his free hand to reach down, scoop under your knee and drape your leg across his waist—and he does so happily; smiling to himself as you subconsciously burrow yourself further into his side.

Much better, Levi thinks, letting his eyelids flutter shut. It was time for bed, after all, and he had a feeling he’d be waking up warm and cozy in the morning.

iii. full contact cuddle: person A sits or lays on their back, while person B rests almost directly on top of them.

“I don’t get why you like this so much,” you say, words mumble, as you shimmy up Levi’s body to lay your cheek against his chest, “How do you possibly benefit from this?”

If you asked Levi, this was probably his favorite way to cuddle. Something about having almost all of your body weight on top of him, your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped completely around you just made him feel warm, and cozy, and content. Plus, the added bonus of you laying directly on top of his dick.

He could say all of that, but instead he opts for a minimal hum, and, a simple, “It’s warm.”

“Yeah, because you’re warm, Levi,” you point out, but burrow into his skin anyway. You’re not exactly complaining, laying on Levi is nice; especially a shirtless Levi, with how warm his body runs. And, well, for other reasons, too.

Once again, you’re met with a non-committal hum. Levi just holds you for a bit, listening for the way your breathing slows and evens out, feeling for signs of your body slowing down against his.

After a while, he shifts his arms, moving so that they’re no longer stacked atop each other, but with his palms both resting against your back, creeping under your shirt. “It’s the weight,” he replies carefully, moving his right hand to rub against your skin, “It feels nice.”

“The weight?” you question, lifting your head to look at him, your chin poking into his chest. Levi looks down to meet your eyes, a small nod in reassurance.

“I can’t… explain it,” he tells you truthfully, “I just like the feeling of you against me. It’s not symbolic or any shit like that, it just, feels good. Sometimes feels like we’re… I don’t know, connected or some shit. I can feel you breathe when I breathe, and all that.”

It’s a poor explanation, and nothing close to what he wants to be able to convey, but you understand him anyways; you always do. You have to hold back your overgrown smile, just barely letting the corners of your lips turn upwards at Levi’s response. You extend your neck briefly to place a short kiss against his jaw, before turning to head to lay back on his chest.

“No, I get it,” you reassure him, snuggling against him for extra measure, “Feels nice to just know you’re there.”

Levi hums in affirmation, his hand squeezing at your waist affectionately—a silent thank you for being able to read between his lines. You lay like that for a while, your exhales tickling against Levi’s bare chest, while his hands massage at your back.

“Besides,” he says, his hands slowly venturing down past your waist; he squeezes at your hips, adjusting you so that your center is directly on top of his, and encouraging you to lift your upper half, so that you’re looking down at him, a full view of the wicked smile on his face, “I kind of have a thing for you being on top of me.”

iv. the seated snuggle: person A sits upright, maybe slouched a bit, while person B cuddles into their side; a hand wrapped around A’s waist or arm, and B’s head resting against A’s shoulder.

Levi likes his alone time, but even when he’s focusing on himself, he’s acutely in tune with you and your emotions. And to be honest with himself, he spends a lot of his alone time thinking about you—consciously or not, you find a way into his brain, and Levi has long since accepted that you’re a permanent, and very welcome presence in his life, one that can be more powerful and enjoyable that his own solitude.

Even when he’s sitting on the couch, right leg bent and tucked under his left at the knee, a book Hange had recommended in his hand, with a shitty hospital drama playing as background noise on the television; even then, when he’s relaxing and enjoying his novel, he purposefully feels out your presence and gauges your emotions.

Though, if you asked him, it shouldn’t have taken a rocket scientist to understand that you were feeling a little out of it today—maybe not quite sad, but moving a bit slower, perhaps tired, or annoyed by your day at work—despite the cheery lilt in your voice. But Levi knew, he could feel it, that something was off; but he could also feel that this something wasn’t getting talked about today, or that, perhaps you just didn’t have the words to express it right now.

Levi greets you as he would when you come through the door, tilts his head up when you lean down to give him a kiss, and lets you pad into your bedroom to change and shower. You shuffle around after that, making your way to the kitchen to reheat the dinner he’d cooked earlier, and flitter between your bedroom and the living room after that.

And Levi knows; he knows that you want to talk to him, but that you wouldn’t dare to interrupt his alone-time, because you know how important it is to him. What you fail to understand is that you’re just as, if not more, important to him because you give him space.

So, Levi waits until you’re hovering by the doorway of the living room again, and then, without looking up from his book, silently opens and extends his left arm. He counts three seconds before you come shuffling over to him, wasting no time tucking yourself into his side, and resting your head on his shoulder. Levi hums when he feels your cheek press into his neck, and wraps his arm securely around you.

“Long day?” he questions, eyes still on his book, but reading at a marginally slower pace now.

Your eyes flutter shut at the question, working harder to snuggle yourself into Levi, wrapping your arms around his waist, “The longest.”

Levi hums, finishing his page, and tucking the ear to mark his spot before closing his book. He turns his head to press a kiss into your forehead, and pulls you a little closer against him. “It’s over now, I’ve got you.”

v. the times together/pretzel: person A rests with back against a wall/couch/object, and person B mirrors their positions; both A and B’s legs are intertwined, while they look at each other.

Levi will only take a bath after he’s showered, because there’s no appeal in sitting in your own wet dirt. That being said, post-shower baths with you are something he looks forward to, especially after a long, drawn out work week.

You both sit facing each other, legs bent and intertwined, your empty champagne glasses resting on the tiled floor beside the tub. Levi lets you make bubble beards on his face, and smiles as you splash them away and placate it all with a crescendo of kisses.

“I love you,” you smile between presses of your lips, the palms of your hands squishing Levi’s cheeks together—and he just lets you, because he loves you.

Levi thinks it’s his turn now, though he has no interest in bubble beards, or mohawks, simply mirroring your actions to cup your face with his hands, pull you closer, a whisper on your lips.

Wet thumbs pad against your cheeks, and Levi thinks that even like this, with only the flicker of candle flames illuminating your face, that you’re beautiful, and the best thing he’s ever gotten the opportunity to love and care for in his life.

So he lets you know, “And I love you.” And he means it; and you know he does.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #aot fluff #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman smut #eren x reader

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dirk-has-rabies · 4 years ago

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Gender variance and it's link with neurodivergency

Okay so this is it going to be another long one

All quotes will be sourced with a link to the scientific journal I took it from

Okay Tumblr, let's talk gender (I know, your favorite topic) my preface on why this topic matters to me is: I'm autistic ( diagnosed moderate to severe autism) I'm nonbinary trans ( in a way that most non-autistic people don't understand and actually look down on) and I went to college for gender study ( Mostly for intersex studies but a lot of my research was around non-binary and trans identities) I will be using the term autism as pants when I have experience with however when ADHD is part of the study I will use ND which stands for neurodivergent and yes this is going to be about xenogenders and neopronouns.

autism can affect gender the same way autism can affect literally every part of an identity. a big thing about having autism is the fact that it completely can change how you view personhood and time and object permanence and gender and literally all types of socially constructed ideas. let me also say hear that just because Society creates and enforces an idea does it mean that it doesn't exist to all people it just me that there is no nature law saying that it's real and the “rules” for these ideas can change and delete and create as time and Society evolves and changes. gender is one of those constructs.

Now I'll take it by you reading this you know what transgender people are (if you don't understand what a trans person is send me an ask and I'll type you up a pretty little essay lmao, or Google it but that's a scary thought sense literally any Source or website can come up on Google including biased websites so be careful I guess LOL) anyway to be super basic trans people are anyone who doesn't identify as the gender they were assigned at Birth (yes that includes non-binary people I could do a whole nother essay about that shit how y'all keep spreading trying to separate non-binary people from the trans umbrella) some people don't like to use the label and that is totally fine by the way.

now autistic people to view the world in a way differently than allistic (neurotypical) ppl do. we don't take everything people teach us at 100% fact and we tend to question everything and demand proof and evidence for things before we can set it as a fact in our brains. This leads to why a lot of autistic people are atheist (although a lot of religions and this is not bashing on religious people at all I am actually a Jewish convert) this questioning leads to a lot of social constructs being ignored or not understood At All by a lot of autistic people and personally I think that's a good thing. allistics take everything their parents and teachers and schools teach them as fact until someone else says something and then they pick which ones to believe. autistic people study and research and learn about a topic before forming an opinion and while this may lead to them studying and believing very biased material and spitting it out as fact it can also lead them to try and Discover it is real by themselves.

because of this autistic people are more question their gender or not fall in a binary way at all as the concept of gender makes no sense to a lot of us. “ if gender is a construct then autistic people who are less aware of social norms are less likely to develop a typical gender identity”

no really look: “ children and teens with autism spectrum disorder ASD or Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder ADHD are much more likely to express a wish to be the opposite sex compared with their typical developing peers” That was posted in 2014. we have been saying this stuff forever but no one wants to listen. the thing is gender variance (being not cisgender or at least questioning it) has always been closely hand-in-hand with autistic and ADHD people I'm even the doctor who did that study understood right away that it all made sense the whole time: “ Dr. Strang said they were initially surprised to find an overrepresentation of gender variance among children with ADHD. However, they later realized that prior studies have shown increased levels of disruptive behavior and other behavioral problems among young people with gender variance” SEE YOURE NOT WEIRD YOURE JUST YOU AND YOURE NOT ALONE IN THIS!!

5% autistic people who did the study were trans or questioning. it was also equal between the Sexes fun fact. that may not seem like a lot till you realize that the national average is only .7% that's literally over 700% higher than the national average. That's so many! and that's just in America.

in Holland there was a study in 2010 “ nearly 8% of the more than 200 Children and adolescents referred to a clinic for gender dysphoria also came up positive on a assessment for ASD” they weren't even testing for ADHD so the numbers could be even higher!

now I want to talk about a certain section of the trans umbrella that a lot of autistic people fall under called the non-binary umbrella. non-binary means anything that isn't just male or just female. it is not one third gender and non-binary doesn't mean that you don't have a gender. just clearing that up since cis people keep spreading that. non-binary is an umbrella term for any of the infinite genders you could use or create. now this is where I'm going to lose a bunch of you and that's okay because you don't have to understand our brains or emotions To respect us as real people. not many allistics can understand how we see and think and relate to things and that's okay you don't have to understand everything but just reading about this could be so much closer to respecting us for Who We Are from you've ever been and that's better than being against us just for existing.

now you might have heard of my Mutual Lars who was harassed by transmeds for using the term Autigender (I was going to link them but if it gets traction I don't want them to get any hate) since a lot of people roll their eyes at that and treated them disgustingly for using a term that 100% applied correctly. Autigender is described as " a neurogender which can only be understood in the context of being autistic or when one's autism greatly affects one's gender or how one experiences gender. Autigender is not autism as a gender, but rather is a gender that is so heavily influenced by autism that one's autism and one's experience of gender cannot be unlinked.” Now tell me that doesn't sound a lot like this entire essay I've been working on with full sources…..

xenogenders and neopronouns are a big argument point on whether or not people “believe” in non binary genders but a big part of those genders is that they originated from ND communities and are ways that we can try to describe what gender means us in a way that cis or even allistic trans people just can't comprehend or ever understand. Same with MOGAI genders or sexualities. A lot of these are created as a way to somehow describe an indescribable relationship with gender that is so personal you really cant explain it to anyone who isnt literally the same as you.

Even in studies done with trans autistic people a large amount of them dont even fall on a yes or no of having a gender at all and fall in some weird inbetween where you KINDA have a gender but its not a gender in the sense that others say it is but its also too much of a gender so say youre agender. And this is the kind of stuff that confuses allistic trans people and makes them think nonbinary genders are making stuff up for attention, which isnt true at all we just cant explain what it feels like to BE a trans autistic person to anyone who doesnt ALREADY know how it feels.

In this study out of the ppl questioned almost HALF of the autistic trans individuals had a “Sense of identity revolving around interests” meaning their gender and identity was more based off what they liked rather than boy or girl. That makes ppl with stuff like vampgender or pupgender make a lot more sense now doesnt it? We see that even in the study: “My sense of identity is fluid, just as my sense of gender is fluid […] The only constant identity that runs through my life as a thread is ‘dancer.’ This is more important to me than gender, name or any other identifying features… even more important than mother. I wouldn't admit that in the NT world as when I have, I have been corrected (after all Mother is supposed to be my primary identification, right?!) but I feel that I can admit that here. (Taylor)” and an agreement from another saying “Mine is Artist. Thank you, Taylor. (Jessie)” now dont you think if they grew up with terms like artistgender or dancergender they would just YOINK those up right away????

In fact “An absence of a sense of gender or being unsure of how their gender should “feel” was another common report” because as ive said before in this post AUTISTIC PEOPLE DONT SEE GENDER THE WAY ALLISTIC PEOPLE SEE IT. therefore we wont use the same terms or have the same identities nor could we explain it to anyone who doesnt already understand or question the same way! Participants even offered up quotes such as “As a child and even now, I don't ‘feel’ like a gender, I feel like myself and for the most part I am constantly trying to figure out what that means for me (Betty)” and also “I don't feel like a particular gender I'm not even sure what a gender should feel like (Helen)”

Now i know this isnt going to change everyones minds on this stuff but i can only hope that it at least helped people feel like theyre not broken and not alone in their feelings about this. You dont have to follow allistic rules. You dont have to stop searching inside for who you really wanna be. And you dont have to pick or choose terms forever because just as you grow and evolve so may your terms. Its okay to not know what or who you are and its okay to identify as nonhuman things or as your interests because what you love and what you do is a big part of who you are and shapes you everyday. Its not a bad thing! Just please everyone, treat ppl with respect and if you dont understand something that doesnt make it bad or wrong it just means its not for you. And thats okay.

#autism #actuallyautistic #trans #nonbinary #xenogenders #neopronouns #lgbtq #adhd #nuerodivergent #gender identity

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moonknightly · 5 years ago

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Could Feel You Surrounding Me : Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.”

Warnings: Uhh mentions of injury, blood, cursing. That’s it I think? This one has a happy ending fellas!

The first emotion you experience is shock. It’s unfathomable, how someone you love and care for so deeply, with every inch of your being, could be at the forefront of a situation you thought only existed in dramatized TV shows — under harsh lights, covered in bandages that turn from white to red and only do so much to hide the cuts and the bruises that mark their skin. Attached to various tubes, drains, and IV lines. So many different wires.

The sight is near unbearable, and it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many hours or even days pass by in a blur of fast-moving staff wearing stethoscopes and scrubs. And everytime you close your eyes, you tell yourself that once you open them again, you’ll finally be used to it. You tell yourself it’s not gonna hurt as bad this time, but it’s even harder than it was before.

And the sounds. God, the sounds. The unfamiliar, almost haunting beeps and buzzes that start to become a comfort because they serve as the only reminder that they’re still there. The excruciating and traumatic cries of a family’s hearts breaking from down the hall mixed with rare periods of somber silence. The rapid-fire exchange of incomprehensible medical terminology, so many different medications and diagnoses and explanations that you just can’t wrap your head around.

It starts with the shock, because while you knew that this reality existed outside of those damned TV shows, and while you were aware of the possibility of having to live it yourself, given his line of work, you never thought you would actually have to face seeing Santi lying in the ICU like this.

Because he promised. Each and every single time he went out on a mission, he promised you that he’d come home to you, safe and sound and in one piece. And Santiago never broke his promises. Not a damn one.

But it had been a freak accident, and he hadn’t even been on a mission, and that was probably what freaked you out the most. The new realization that it could happen at any given moment, at any given time in any given circumstance.

All of the sleepless nights spent in your empty bed, praying to any divine being that would listen, worrying over his safety and just wishing him home, and he’d managed to land himself in this position during a boy’s trip into the mountains for a little leisurely camping.

They’d been rock climbing, something they were all five well-trained in, but the rope had been settled against a rock with a rather sharp edge, and the constant pulling of his weight had cut straight through it. It was a fall that he was lucky to survive. The paramedics who arrived on scene hadn’t expected to find him alive, and definitely hadn’t expected him to come back once he needed to be resuscitated.

His neglect to check the ridge was something that seemed so out of character for both him and the other boys. No detail was ever overlooked. It was hard for you to believe that he hadn’t noticed how sharp the edge of the rock had been, but you also knew Santi — he never would have thought it would happen to him

There were several things the nurses told you that you didn’t quite understand, and honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to ask them to clarify, or put it into words that actually made sense. As ignorant as it was, you almost didn’t want to understand. You didn’t want to focus on all of his injuries and the no doubt long recovery ahead until he opened those big brown eyes of his that you so adored and kept them open.

Thinking about the aftermath almost felt like giving yourself false hope. You didn’t want to think about the future until you knew for certain that Santi was in the clear.

What you did understand was that he had several broken ribs, some injuries to his spinal cord, and a moderate traumatic brain injury amongst other things blunt force trauma to his abdomen and chest caused. He’d needed a blood transfusion down in the ER, and he was on so many different medications, you couldn’t keep up.

They’d sedated him after a mild seizure, keeping him in a medically induced coma for the first two days before waking him again. He hadn’t been able to stay awake for long though, and while your eyes had briefly met, you don’t think he really registered who you were or what was going on.

It was day four now, and he was breathing on his own. He was waking up unprompted more and more, usually to vomit, but would fall back asleep after only a minute or two. Sometimes he would glance towards you as if to make sure that someone was still with him, sometimes he would only blink at the ceiling. He’d move, but only if a nurse asked him to touch his nose or wiggle his toes, and he hadn’t said a word.

But neither had you. Each time he looked at you, you could only stare back, blinking away your tears until you were sure he was asleep again. Only then would you let yourself cry, and fuck, did you cry. You were sure you had cried more in the last four days than you ever had before.

Only one person was allowed in the room at a time, and the only time you left his side was to let one of the boys visit. Frankie usually sat with you in the cafeteria while the other three took their turns, trying to get you to eat something, but he’d convinced you to use the time that day to run home and get a shower in, and grab yourself some clothes and other things you’d need since it was apparent you wouldn’t be leaving. He knew no one other than Santiago could convince you to stay the night in your own home rather than in the recliner by his bedside.

Frankie also knew that as brave as Pope was, he’d want you next to him through it all. He’d be heartbroken if he woke up and you weren’t there.

You’d be just as torn up over it.

A nurse checked on him every hour, and it was this particular nurse’s last round before shift change. You liked her. Her name was Casey, and she was always so gentle with him. It was obvious that she actually cared about her patients, not just for them, and you appreciated it to no end, words failing every time you tried to properly thank her. You knew the comfort was something he needed, something you were still too scared to give him. You were afraid to touch him, so terrified that you’d hurt him or cause him even an ounce of discomfort. You hadn’t even touched his hand.

But, it was something you needed to get over. You both needed it.

You watched as she worked around him, checking to make sure everything was still in place, double checking it even after she was sure nothing had wiggled its way loose. She peeked over her shoulder towards you. “The doctors are bringing in an occupational therapist tomorrow.”

“For what?” you asked, shifting in your chair, eyes flickering between her and Santi.

“We’re hoping to keep him awake long enough to get him to write a few things down. See if communicating that way is a possibility. And if not that, maybe we can get him to point at a chart with different letters to spell things out.”

You shifted again. “Is he ready for that?”

“The doctors seem to think so. The longer he stays awake, the better we can gauge where he’s at cognitively.”

You stayed silent at that, your stomach flipping as another bout of fear moved through you.

Casey seemed to know exactly where your head was at though, and she stopped momentarily to reach back and set a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“He’s expected to make a full recovery sweetheart. I’m not the type to believe in miracles and things like that, but given what he’s already pulled himself through, he’s one lucky man.”

You smiled gently, putting your hand over hers, but a frown quickly worked its way back onto your face. “I’m just scared he doesn’t recognize me. Every time he looks at me, it’s almost like he’s looking through me.”

“And does that make you love him any less?”

You were taken aback by her words, completely shocked. But you immediately shook your head, eyebrows furrowing. “Of course not.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s not his fault.” Your answer was again immediate. “Because he just went through some shit and it’s not his fault at all. I vowed to love him for better or for worse, and that wasn’t a promise either of us took lightly.”

“Exactly,” she shrugged, pointing to him. “Because that’s still your husband. He’s still your Santiago. There’s just a few kinks to work out, and even if those kinks did become permanent, you’d still love him, right?.”

“Absolutely.”

“Then there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

You knew she was right. You knew that even if he didn’t recognize you at first, the doctors were near positive that he would eventually. And even if he didn’t, and he had to relearn you completely, it’d be worth it. Because at least he was still alive, still breathing. You still had him.

“Thank you.”

Casey smiled, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently before turning her attention back to Santiago.

Once she was finished, she turned towards you again, tilting her head to the side. “You know, he could really use a bath. And I think he’d appreciate it if you were the one to do it instead of me.”

The smirk on her face was entirely noticeable, and you knew exactly what she was doing, but you still nodded your head, suddenly craving the physical contact, that connection.

“Great,” she hummed, leaving the room to grab the supplies you would need in order to give him a sponge bath.

She returned a moment letter with a cloth, some soap and deodorant, and a basin of water, instructing you to stay clear of any bandages, and to not worry about his hair. If he woke up, you could try to wash his back, but otherwise she didn’t want you to worry about that either. You nodded your head, listening intently even though it was all pretty straightforward. She turned off the bed alarm, showing you which button to press once you got up again, and left the room.

Once Casey was gone, you took a moment to just stare at him, even though you hadn’t truly looked at anything else in the last four days. He looked better than he had when you first saw him, really. He had some color back in his cheeks, and the lines on his forehead had smoothed out. He looked almost peaceful.

You sighed gently, giving yourself one final push before stepping forward, carefully peeling the blanket and the sheet away from his body.

Should you try to wake him? Or would it be better for you to just go for it? You decided on the latter, thinking it would be better if he woke up on his own accord. If he stayed asleep, then it was obvious his body needed it.

“Hey, sweet boy,” you whispered as you sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing a few sweat soaked curls away from his forehead. “I’d ask how you’re doing but that seems a little redundant right now.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you reached for the cloth, wetting it and applying a little bit of soap. You started on his arms, staying away from his IV and the bandage near his elbow. Your touch was gentle, slow, but the feeling of his skin under your fingertips after not feeling it for days set both your body and soul ablaze, chest so full of love and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Relief, maybe? You didn’t know.

“The boys have been in and out,” you continued, even though he couldn’t hear you. You just wanted to talk to him. “Frankie told me you woke up for a second the last time he was in here. He cried a little bit, but he’s never gonna admit it.”

You hesitated, moving to untie the hospital gown as much as you could, pulling it down just enough to reveal his chest, being extremely careful not to accidentally disconnect a wire for the heart monitor. You started on his upper arms.

“The boys feel like shit. They all think there was something they could’ve done to prevent it, even though everyone knows it was just a stupid accident. Benny’s taking it really hard.”

You brought your free hand to his lower stomach, your fingertips tracing random shapes and patterns into his skin as you moved the cloth over his right shoulder, your eyes glued to your movements.

“I miss you so much,” you sighed, shaking your head slowly. “I mean, I know you’re right fucking here, but you know what I mean. I miss your hugs, your kisses. Your voice. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes of yours.”

The tears started before you even had a chance to realize. You could feel them trailing down your cheeks, falling onto the sheets below.

“I just really need you to be okay, you hear me baby? I need you.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt yourself begin to shake, the sobs moving through your body with relentless force. You made yourself stay quiet though, not wanting to scare a nurse or a family down the hall, or even Santi himself.

Nothing had ever been so hard. This entire experience had been more than difficult, but as you sat there, thinking about how things could have gone in an entirely different direction, and how you could have walked away a widow instead of a wife, you realized exactly how true Casey’s words had been. Santi really was lucky, and so were you.

And if this was hard for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how hard it would be for him once he was fully conscious again, and able to make sense of everything that he’d been through. The doctors were still unsure of just how far his brain injury ran, but they were sure there were things that would take time to come back to him — like his ability to speak, possibly his ability to walk. They predicted that he’d have migraines for months. Light sensitivity, some dizziness and confusion that could last just as long. Fatigue, general weakness. Pain. His recovery was going to be hell, and there you were, having sat by his bedside for four days feeling sorry for yourself.

How could you have been so selfish? In a time where your husband needed you most?

You felt selfish even crying, but you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept pouring, and the hole in your chest grew and grew as you continued to spiral deeper and deeper into your thoughts.

You were only pulled from them when you felt a set of knuckles gently brush against your cheek, and for a moment, you thought one of the boys had managed to sneak their way in, or maybe it was even Casey coming to check in one last time before heading home for the night.

The last thing you expected to see when you blinked your eyes open was a familiar pair of warm brown ones staring right back at you.

Brown eyes full of recognition and worry.

You gasped, not able to stop the sound before it left your lips, but you did refrain from throwing your arms around him, knowing the action would probably hurt him or knock something loose. Instead, you reached up, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Santi?”

He blinked a couple of times, looking as if he wanted to say something in response, but he could only frown, and you knew him well enough to notice that his inability to speak was already frustrating him.

But you almost took that as a good thing, because it showed that he remembered waking up before, and how he hadn’t been able to speak any of those times either. The fact that he remembered was good, right?

And he might not have been able to verbally speak, but there were still so many things he could say without words. You felt him squeeze your hand, three times — a silent “I love you”, something he had started doing not long after saying it to you for the first time.

“I love you too, baby. I love you so much.”

He pulled on your hand, trying to bring you closer to him, and you started to shake your head, still worried about hurting him.

“Santi, no-”

This time he gently smacked your hand, effectively silencing you as he pointed to his shoulder, and you knew what he was trying to tell you — you wouldn’t hurt him if you were only lying against his shoulder.

He knew exactly what you were thinking without you needing to speak, too.

And you couldn’t deny him, not when he was looking at you with those puppy dog eyes he knew would get him anything he wanted.

You tossed the washcloth back into the water, and pulled his gown back up, redoing the ties before scooting further up the bed. You made sure that everything was out of the way before leaning back against him, keeping your eyes trained on his face the entire time. Only when he didn’t flinch did you finally relax.

And you both simply laid there, staring at one another, letting your eyes do all of the talking. Neither of you looked away, not even once. Not until Santi’s eyes started to close again, his exhaustion taking over once more. You kissed the corner of his mouth, and you watched as his lips twitched upwards into a small smile before he gave into unconsciousness.

He’d managed to stay awake for over half an hour this go around, and for twenty minutes the next time he woke up, and another twenty after that.

And when morning came and Casey walked into the room for the first round of her shift, all she could do was smile.

Santiago was awake again, and you were the one asleep, lightly snoring from your place on his shoulder, looking so completely at peace.

And he was looking at you like he was the luckiest man alive.

#santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier imagine

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joshslater · 5 years ago

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Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I would normally be able to roughly keep track of time by how thirsty I was. Master didn't usually tie me up, but there had been many scenes planned by others that had kept me in different kinds of bondage for many hours. This was different on a whole new level. The penis gag kept leaking small amounts of something not quite water. It was the same viscosity, but it tasted more like cum. Perhaps diluted cum, but that wouldn't taste as much as this did, I would guess. It would slowly drip from the end of the rubber dick, back in the mouth where you could easily accidentally inhale it instead. And since you are gagged you can only cough out the liquid through your nose. You quickly learn you can suck it and get a full shot at once, and then nothing for like a few minutes until it starts to trickle again. Makes it bearable, but keeps you awake. I'm getting off-topic I guess. I'm exhausted. I would think that's understandable as this has been by far my longest session, days possibly. I have no way to tell.

This isn't the first time they've changed something or moved my position, but this is the first time they are letting me walk. What a sight that must have been. I could feel them remove the restraints and the other things, one by one. All except the gag, the hood, and the chastity cage. God, that cage has probably been worse than any of the other stuff they did. I have no idea what nasty stuff they smeared on my dick, but I would happily fuck a tube of bengay instead any time. After they smeared the dick in whatever that was they slipped on the tight cage, the kind the also go up the urethra. I've been caged before many times, but pretty soon it just sits there, keeping you horny and impotent. But this shit, it acted as viagra gel, constantly keeping my dick struggling to break free. I can feel it's still trying. But I'm rambling again I guess.

It's the mental version of what pathetic spasms I do when they help me up to walk once the bondages were off. There are at least two of them I can feel, one on each side helping me up, and supporting my steps forward. I feel my mobility is getting back, though we are slowly going somewhere. I can't see where though, for the black sock or whatever covering my head. We are indoors, but it is a bit chilly. That might just be me being naked and suddenly have a blood flow. The floor feels like concrete, I think. Hard and cold.

We walk pretty far, only turning once, and the sound I hear sounds like echoes of a corridor. We turn right and walk into a new room. I can hear more people here, though no one is speaking. After a few turns my guides stop me and something is rolled towards me from behind. I can hear them fiddle with something, then they grab me again, and one of them tells me to sit down slowly. They still hold me, guiding me to whatever I'm supposed to sit on. I suddenly feel a blunt point going up between my ass cheeks. Another butt plug or similar. I slowly lower myself onto it. It is well lubed, and I have had far bigger things up my ass just in the last hour, so I manage to impale myself easily and sit myself down on the modified office chair. It might not be a very thick plug, but it goes deep. Hands grab booth my ankles and pull them backward on either side of the central pole below the seat and I can feel them being secured in some sort of padded, stiff shackles mounted below the seat. Finally I hear a wheel on the side of the chair being turned quickly. I feel the butt plug slowly expanding in my ass, forcing me to sit more and more upright. Certainly more than what I would have liked with the legs folded back the way they are. Then they leave.

I'm more or less naked, secured to a chair, but my arms are free for the first time in I don't know how long. I had cuffs on while master took me to this place. I'm fighting the urge to stretch my arms. I don't know what this is, but if it is a test, I want to succeed. I suppose I could remove my face sock in one quick motion, but that would definitely be a fail. I don't think I want to touch my dick. As painful as it is right now, I don't think it will be any better if I mess with it. Nothing will improve, and then someone will see it and punish me. Who are the other people in this room? I can hear breathing. Are they spectators, or are they secured to furniture like me?

This is worse. When you are tied up you are helpless. You can test the strength of your bondage, but they have so far been rated far above what I can muster in strength. But here you are just sitting almost free, with no idea what to do with your arms. Just waiting, listening, and sucking rubber dick. How is it still feeding liquid by the way? I try to lean back, to see if there is a backrest to the chair, but the buttplug makes it impossible to lean that far back. I know it isn't possible, but it feels like the plug is reaching all the way up to my lungs. Or is it possible?

There's a distant sound getting closer. Several steps getting closer and closer. Once they get into the room, somewhere to my right, I hear them walk to a spot just next to me. Then the same rolling sounds, and the same voice telling the person next to me to sit down slowly. I guess the other people in this room are in the same situation as I am.

They complete the same procedure as was done to me, best I can determine from the sounds. Then they leave, and it's all calm and silent again. You would think I would be used to that by now, after having master tell me to sit somewhere and wait, only to be gone for hours. He doesn't allow me to watch TV or read books, so all I have is to think about what has happened recently, what I'm feeling right now, and on the rare occasion what was long ago. That's on purpose of course, so my thoughts center on master, myself and nothing else, but I can't help thinking like something has been taken from me. Thoughts I might have had.

Footsteps again, lots of them. How long was it since they left us? I tried to keep count of how many times I suck the gag dry, but gave up when I came to about eighty for the third time. I think it was the third time. They don't talk. Their steps all sound the same. It must be at least four of them.

I'm completely unprepared when someone behind me pulls the sock off my head and the light of the room burns my eyes. I haven't seen any light since master put a gym bag over my head, however many days ago. The entire wall on the left is windows. This is a run-down classroom, almost stripped bare. The green blackboard is still on the wall in front of me, and on the small elevation where once a teacher's desk stood a man is standing. There is a desk in front of me, out of reach, with some papers and a pen neatly placed on top of it. There's a line of desks. I look to my sides and see five other naked men locked to modified office chairs. All have a gag secured around their head, with a transparent plastic tube attached to the gag in one end, and a drip bag hanging on an IV stand next to them. This isn't just a weekend at one of master's friend's home.

The man in front of us simply stands still, observing us. Handsome, muscular, short hair, black boots, blue jeans, and white T-shirt. Once bored with our puzzled looks he starts to speak to us.

"Congratulations. Your master has decided to improve you to better serve him. I don't know your master, or what he has done to you before, but I'm pretty sure this next part of your life is going to be your toughest so far. I'm not going to tell you how long this training program is. I'm not going to tell you what you will learn and unlearn. I'm not going to tell you what alterations will be made to your body. But I am telling you that your master knows the answer to these questions, and have handed over you and a sizeable amount of money to implement these changes."

He makes a sweeping gesture in our direction.

"These are your classmates. You will never learn their names, should they still have any." He made a crooked smile. "Though I guess you will be very familiar with what each and every one of them smells and tastes like. While the majority of the program here is the same for all of you, there are some customizations that are unique to you, as per your master's wishes. Parts of the program have already started. No doubt you have reflected on the uncomfortable feeling in your dick and balls. As you know all too well the point of a chastity device is not only to control when you get hard, but also to create an ever-present low hum of horniness, so you are always ready to please. A side effect, though some see it as a bonus, is the ever-shrinking dick size after prolonged wearing."

I wasn't sure what the rules were, but one of my hands sought its way down to touch my cage. I got a wave of dull ache in response. The man's eyes shifted to me, but he showed no change in expression and continued to talk uninterrupted.

"The process you have all started will rapidly accelerate this, both in terms of horniness and dick shrinkage. When you leave here you'll have not much more than a circumcised dick head rubbing against your panties, leaking precum, and keeping you horny. You won't need a dick cage. You'll be unable to play with your dick anyway without a vibrator."

Suddenly someone behind me pushes the chair forward, stopping just behind the small desk. Everyone else has been moved forward as well.

"In front of you is a contract waiving any rights and objections you might have to this education and to any modifications done to you. Nothing done so far is irreversible, but once you graduate we will have done our utmost to make it impossible for you to go back to a normal life. We're talking permanent physiological changes. You think it is water you're sipping on?"

He made a pause, letting it all sink in. I love my master, and this past year with him has been lovely, but is it all I want out of life. What does he mean by physiological changes? Can you actually develop a dependency for sucking dick? Is that what he means?

There is a spray of mist coming out of the man to my right. Sounds like he tried to not swallow any more of the liquid after what he just heard. He makes horrible noises while he recovers. No one moves an inch towards him to help him.

"Read the contract if you want. Put your initials on every page. Sign the last page."

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danideservedbetter · 4 years ago

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Day 7, 8, 9, and 10 / Elaboration

Hey y’all! I said yesterday I would elaborate a little more on what my doctor’s visit yesterday told me, and here I am to do just that! I meant to yesterday, honestly, but by the time I got home my medicine had worn off and that wasn’t looking very likely 😅😅 But regardless!!! Here is what my results look like and honestly? These things probably have been affecting my sleeping disorder to a degree I’d previously disregarded without detailed info I’ve gotten from these tests.

Full write up under the cut!

—I got two major tests done, blood work and a genetics test. Back in my hometown the nurses couldn’t even figure out how to open the damn swab, but technology here managed to map out my entire DNA sequence which is utterly NUTS to me.

—My body is deficient in almost every important vitamin known to mankind, which makes sense because my diet is not… the best 😅 So, I started on several (SEVERAL) supplements to start out.

—I say start out because it’s very likely that I’ll be taking vitamin C and some liver enzyme through an IV once a month. A younger me might’ve thought something like this was scary, but at this point I’m so desperate to be healthy that getting nutrients drip fed into my system for them to work quicker sounds just fine to me.

—Other than that it’s normal lifestyle stuff. Eat more fruits and vegetables (I’ve been eating olives by the can for like days and I intend to buy fresh fruit packets for breakfast whenever I can afford them) as well as staying more active— which I DEFINITELY have been since I moved closer to New Orleans, in Louisiana proper where my dad lives.

But enough of the boring medicinal stuff. I’m sure you guys are much more interested in the whys— is there a reason my hypersomnia is so bad? Is there a deeper explanation than “lack of vitamins bad and you should feel bad”?

Well, yeah. YES. The genetics test revealed a metric fuckton to say the least 😂😂😂 but the most important was what kinds of diseases I’m predisposed to or how my body can process certain types of hormones/enzymes/proteins. Things like why caffeine won’t work for me (my body processes it very fast but not very thoroughly) or my metabolism being the strongest recorded genotype (which is why it’s been so hard to gain weight). Below, I’ll go into detail about stuff my new general doctor’s in-office geneticist (I still can’t believe that’s a thing I’m typing) has revealed about my disorder.

Naturally, this is specific to me because of my parents and our family lines. Maybe if you see info pertinent to yourself, looking into genetic mapping may be a good idea for you?

We are pretty confident that I have Idiopathic Hypersomnia. The reason for this is that a tiny link has been found between individuals who contracted mononucleosis in their childhood and adolescence and individuals who fell within the sleep cycles indicating IH. Now, IH will be genetic sometimes, but considering I’ve tracked my disorder to starting around 14, the same year I contracted Mono, the coincidence definitely doesn’t seem like… well, a coincidence. My blood test shows that I do in fact have the antibodies in my system, and they’re doing something… odd.

The geneticist found some “active” antibodies. Well, not some, really 😅 Basically, she’s surmised that these antibodies have a hair-trigger response and can react to any given environmental factor (stress, hunger, etc.) to the point where they activate as if they think they’re **fighting off a virus that’s been out of my system for ten years.** Of course this takes up an inordinate amount of energy, which is her hypothesis as to why my hypersomnia is so random and varies in intensity. The goal for this summer is flushing these antibodies out of my system.

My previous neurologist tried out a couple stimulants and then shit insurance prevented me from trying any others. So I’m stuck on something traditionally prescribed for adhd. A narcotic. *However* since my body is severely dysfunctional in general, the way I describe it is I basically have to induce a high to stay awake and function normally. We want to eventually get me off of these kinds of drugs, of course, since prolonged exposure weakens their effects and they’re highly addictive.

Another in credibly interesting thing we found is that I'm lacking in three major hormones. However, it's not because I don't produce them. I've never identified with symptoms of depression (anxiety, certainly, but not depression) yet for most of my life my childhood general practitioner insisted I had it. Well, the geneticist found that while I'm lacking in serotonin, dopamine, and melatonin, which yes are the two major mood enhancers and then the hormone that induces sleep, it's not because I can't produce them. It's because my neural transmitters are so damaged from a less-than-good diet and years of exhaustion that they simply can't process them. Just as the antibodies can have a hair-trigger response to environmental factors, so too can these processors. Simple things like a good meal, my high from my stimulants, or even micro dopamine shots from getting things done can activate the transmitters. Another thing on the docket for the summer is fixing these permanently with treatments of vitamins and supplements.

My stimulants have caused appetite issues, unfortunately, and that plus Covid at the beginning of this year caused me to get down to my lowest recorded weight ever, 94 pounds, which I haven't weighed since before I hit my final growth spurt way back in middle school. My dad does physical labor (he's a contractor who frames houses in the humid heat of the Deep South lol) so he's used to feeling tired. When he caught Covid, he said that he'd never felt as tired, drained, or out of it in his entire life. He never gets sick and hardly goes to the doctor and NEVER takes off work because of health, but in his last few weeks before full recovery he had to take off early multiple times. He was floored when he described the brain fog and exhaustion and I told him that I had no idea I even had Covid, because I just thought it was my disorder acting up. It was only when my grandmother started feeling tired that we got tested and we tested positive.

All that said, we think that there's hope for a future for me. She said that while there's no cure for IH, the cause that I have may can be mitigated by changes in exercise, diet, routine, and medication,to the point where I may mitigate symptoms of my disorder entirely. I'm still setting up appointments with a new neurologist here in the city, though, because technology is of course more advanced here.

And again, taking all of this into consideration, while it was looking likelier by the day, we've both agreed that I'll be here in the city 'til New Years. Which means no school this semester, but if I can go back in spring at more than 20% functionality and maybe succeed, I'm perfectly fine having to remain on break.

However, another good update: I weigh 103 pounds! I'm steadily gaining weight-- which means the other medication, the one for my appetite, is working as it should and as long as I stay on-track I should reach my goal of 120 by the end of the year as well.

So, yeah! That's what it's looking like. I have another appointment to go more in depth with the results tomorrow, but for now I'm planning out my week since I decided to let myself rest all last week. I'd love to finish helping out for our current podfic, ACTUALLY start the damn 100 Theme Challenge (LOL), finish betaing something that's been on hold for months, properly reconnect with our discord, catch up on all the media I fell behind on, clean my damn room, and establish a budget for this week on what I can buy. A more specific plan for today will follow, but til then, I hope this gives everyone some insight on what I'm looking at and how I'm gonna try to fix it.

Xoxo

Dani

#idiopathic hypersomnia #TW: weight #TW: anxiety/depression mention #health post #genetics

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glowyjellyfish · 4 years ago

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I started writing down an updated collection of thoughts and plans about my Megakingdom project, but they got very rambly and so I am beginning anew.

And no, I have not forgotten about Grimwood Abbey, but for my undiagnosed but likely adhd brain I gotta follow the fixations where they lead. It’s actually quite helpful to have several different Medieval Sims 2 concepts I want to play with while working on the excruciatingly long CC Sorting portion of the project, because I can bounce around from one to the other to find fresh things to think about without abandoning the CC project. I got through all the Teen and Child clothing, and everything in Buy Mode! I am halfway through Walls in Build Mode! I have some broken things to identify, some Star Factory stuff to check on updating (accidentally overwrote my fresh install of all those with some older duplicates and could not actually undo, Mia culpa), and a bunch of empty folders to check and remove. Then comes the real sorting. And a backup.

But today I am here to talk about the Megakingdom. I have realized I can’t just play it as a straight MCC, because I already have a king. And yet the Warwickshire rules are wayyyy too complicated for somebody who has yet to complete an MCC. So I am going to play mostly MCC, with a few Warwickshire rules incorporated early, using the advancements to replace unthematic community lots and make sure the community gets well-rounded. I’ll also be using the social advancement rules to earn sims the right to fill in a few empty class spots (for example, Pleasantview currently has no Gentry). I will probably start using some of the Warwickshire title guidelines once each subhood has a reasonable amount of sims in each class and sims start purchasing titles outside the basic ones. And I am thinking I might roll a THS for babies born in-game, but avoid randomized health hits and pregnancy health concerns until I get used to the system and/or those babies grow into adults.

The big difference I am planning from both rule systems is… frankly, I want to use the colleges and the college sims. The college sims are going to be a flexible marriage pool, but also, three is too many for just a couple of social classes to attend, and it really bugs me that college sims get more lifespan than non-college sims. So each college is open to a different selection of social classes. Academie Le Tour is the upper class university, and only royalty, nobility, and heir/firstborn gentry may attend. La Fiesta Tech is for non-heir gentry and merchants, and Sim State University is the trade school for yeomen and peasants who are sponsored by a noble. I’m not sure yet about the other two colleges, but SSU will for sure have a strong tuition fee, which peasants may request from a noble in exchange for becoming their serf. There will absolutely be many sims who still cannot afford to attend, and for those I’ll get some YA mods, but this plan will ease me into that play method AND will prep up some serfs for the megahood.

(I… will have to reread up on the lower classes and determine exactly how and who I want to set up as serfs, if I feel I need to start with any. For some reasons, I am constantly assuming that the lowest classes in these challenges do not automatically equal serfs and I might also just be wrong on that, and if I am I’ll figure it out.)

Some story plans and concepts:

Faith and Herbert Goodie are going to be church sims, with the Newsons moving in as a collection of orphans being raised by the church. Coral Oldie, meanwhile, is going to be a midwife (probably not the only one, but I haven’t identified anyone else for the role yet); I have set the Oldies as Merchant class, and so I might have Herb run a small business that complements her midwifery, perhaps selling herbs they grow or something.

I’m trying to figure out what’s to be done with Jessica Peterson; without the game lore she’s just an obvious peasant, but with it she’s divorced from Armand DeBateau, a duke, and therefore must be at least Gentry. I feel like the thematic way to handle this would be having her join the church or become an outcast, but I haven’t decided yet. By a similar token, I really want to keep Alexandra Teatherton nee O’Mackey’s “left family to become a pirate” story, but then I’d have to set up pirates and junk. Otherwise, she’s in the same position as Jessica.

Cassandra Goth is betrothed to King Malcolm Landgraab IV. I think that Don Lothario, a yeoman at best, has been trying to seduce her and making all kinds of promises in his efforts to bed her, but he never intended to actually try to marry her and is shocked at how seriously she took all his talk of running away together. That is way too permanent for Don Lothario, he just wanted to WooHoo her.

I did this same basic setup for a Steampunk Strangetown I played a while back, but I think the quickest and most interesting way to set up a kingdom in Strangetown is a. Olive Specter is the ruler, b. Ophelia has been raised as her heir, but c. Nervous is the true heir, kept secret because of his parentage but Olive plans to officially recognize him before she dies, and d. Loki learned the secret a while back and has been holding Nervous hostage in an attempt to either marry Nervous to Loki’s sister Erin or otherwise gain power. So that’s essentially what is happening here, Olive is the Duchess, Nervous is her heir, Loki is a mere Gentry trying some ruthless means of acquiring power and advancing his family’s status. Erin is a viable match for Nervous, but in my experience they usually don’t like one another; I think generally speaking I’m not going to force sims with X attraction to marry just because they’re a good match. Maybe for story purposes or if the pickings are too slim, but not in round one.

Oh, and I have designated a few ladies to be Duchesses of their subhoods, and a Gentry lady heiress here and there, but for the most part I will be sticking to full classic primogeniture. This is mainly for setup; I just picked the best/most interesting choices to rule each subhood. I.E., I’m not gonna make the Roths be the Ducal family of Riverblossom Hills when the Goths are right there ruling over Pleasantview, that is dumb, and Catherine Viejo makes a very interesting setup. Is Betty Goldstein her secret lover and/or lady in waiting? Is Andrew Martin her secret lover and/or gardener/serving man/serf? ...so Cleo Shikibu, heiress to the Duchy of Riverblossom Hills, and Florence Delarosa, Lady of Bluewater Village, will both have to find second sons or college sims to marry in order to preserve their respective inheritances (meaning, basically, they can marry Kent Capp or a college boy, because maxis families are really light on siblings generally). Olive Specter is technically another example, but since she has a male heir in Nervous, Ophelia is not being treated as an heiress and will just get married off wherever. (...not to Johnny, unfortunately for them. Johnny is a merchant. And thanks to Johnny’s heritage, it will be Difficult to cheat discretely. Sounds like Fun!) But I will be avoiding situations like this in the future, and will only allow heiresses if there is no possible male heir, and even then her duty is to marry a hapless guy and produce a male heir as soon as she can to preserve her family line.

I’m also pretty excited about my spreadsheet for the Megakingdom, making pages for simple round info, a full resident census, individual families and family trees, records of deceased sims and events, the neighborhood and treasury, maybe one day including full economic notes on sensible pricing for SMSF goods. And charts on viable marriage prospects for each class, which I am pretty proud of. They’re sorted by rank, red means not allowed, bright green is preferred, and light green is allowed. Generally speaking, sims get bright green within the same age group and light green outside it, making it easy to prioritize same age marriages over, say, adult-teen marriages or teen-child betrothals. Both of those are allowed but not preferred. And these charts will change as sims age, and sims will be removed when they get married and added when new sims are born or rolled.

I am very excited. The spreadsheets also give me something I can work on during down time at work!

#the sims 2 #sims 2 medieval #MCC #the Megakingdom of Simland #god how did I even tag this before #simblr

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jenna-jayde-the-renagade · 5 years ago

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So my life has gone to shit.. I dont trust anybody anymore, and honest to god I cant help but keep thinking of ways to end it. My mom keeps telling me how to feel about this whole thing, that I should be grateful that i got in finally to see a specialist. Reality is I dont even trust those subhuman animals anymore, and frankly they're gonna have to earn my trust. After 4 fucking years, my life, my future being ruined. My mental health going downhill, all for the second time now. Add on to that, I dont get any meds for the pain so this has pushed me into addiction now for a second time. I've been dehumanized and humiliated, treated with nothing but the utmost disrespect while being stigmatized for being mentally ill, transgender and a recovering addict for most of it. They ignored me for 4 years, my body is damaged, and frankly help just might have came too little too late. I wont just suffer through the next one, the next time this happens I'm gonna end my life, my suffering on my own god damn terms. Atleast I still have control over that..

Fuck the canadian healthcare system. Some days I honestly just want to start selling drugs, and fly to a country where I can just pay to play and get the best care in the god damn world. Cause 4 years now I've been telling them to refer me to a specialist, I've been telling them that it's probably crohns or some other GI issue. They need to do a colonoscopy and a scope to find it, so that's what I would ask for. I would never get it, so i more or less gave up on the healthcare system. They would leave me on the floor thrashing in pain for hours. Treating me like a drug addict in withdrawal when I didnt even have any opioids in my system. I would be lucky if I got an IV for fluids, and even more lucky if they pumped me full of a bunch of over the counter drugs and others that didnt work like gravol, tauridol, buscopan, zofran, and haliperidol. I would tell them each time, that this was the hundredth time they tried gravol, and it doesnt help people when they're screaming in pain. They treat the nausea. Its bullshit because I am in so much pain that its making me nauseous and until they get rid of the pain, the vomiting is just gonna continue. They always treat me like I'm full of shit, and when I turn out to be right and continue puking, thrashing and screaming in pain, they just get angry at the fact they were wrong. Our doctors and nurses are a bunch of sociopathic, apathetic adult children who in my experience take pleasure in watching you suffer. The worse I get the more they smile. They are so stupid, blind almost because if their stupid fucking machine says I'm ok then I guess it's all in my head. They only think that theres nothing wrong with me because theyve only ever done a blood test or an xray. Never ever once have they done a single test that would have found the issue, crohns cant be found just on a blood test. The emergency room doctors think it can be, my family doctor and everybody else I've talked to says otherwise.

On January 1st I was having another flare up, and they shoved me in the psych observation room because they genuinely didnt want to deal with me. They ignore me, and I keep going in because I want help. I dont want to end up relapsing again cause I cant take the god damn pain! But nope, I get treated like a crazy person now.. they did it against my will. And they even tried to take my phone and my keys. I was puking constantly, I needed water to keep hydrated and they left me for 4 hours, locked in, no meds, no help or nothing. So I just cracked.. I had nothing to barf in, to wipe my nose with, or to wipe the cold sweat off me. So I puked in every corner of that room, I puked beside the bed especially because a mop wouldnt fit in there. I pissed in the corner, I would hack up some phlegm and spit it all over the floors and walls, I blew snot rockets on every surface too! After a while some nurse came in and gave me a barf bag. I threw it on the floor and just continued to puke over every hard surface in the place. I was puking every 5 seconds I swear, and the doctor finally came in at 3 hours and 15 minutes. At 3.5 hrs they give me two pills. I straight up tell them there is no point in even taking them. I couldnt even keep water down and these people are stupid enough to make me take pills? Come on. You need to hold it in for atleast an hour to see even the most minimal affects. I was puking every 5 seconds, to the point that I puked before I took the pills, and I puked them out the moment after I swallowed. They had given me a fucking gravol tab, and some Ativan, the latter of which I couldnt even hold under my tongue long enough. I barfed it onto the floor when it was half dissolved. They come back with this clear liquid shit in a shot glass. I swallowed it right after I puked. The liquid burned my insides, and i puked that shit out even quicker. I asked them to give me IV medications for that exact reason, I always ask for IV medications cause its literally a waste of your time and mine to just pump me full of pills when I can't keep them down and they hurt my tummy as they dissolve. They tell me to just "breathe deeply and relax" and to "just try jayden, you gotta try", so then I try, and when they end up being wrong, and I can't take shit. They end up saying that I'm manipulating, that I'm drug seeking or I'm not trying hard enough to make it work. Absolute bullshit, over the course of 4 years I have quite literally told them what to do. I have multiple family members with this disease, and my grandmother was ignored like this too. She told me to ask them for a colonoscopy and a scope, and to ask them to treat the pain, not the nausea cause the pain literally causes the nausea. The sooner the pain is gone the sooner I can be normal and tell them what's going on. Instead I'm left to suffer in the worst pain a human being can feel. I get treated like shit and told it's all in my head. I gave up on getting a diagnosis in year two. I just want to shoot dope whenever the pain comes. Dope atleast takes it away, after all they would be giving me some of the strongest shit they have at the hospital if I was some boomer with a sprained ankle. It would take the pain away. Thats for sure. Being a mentally ill, drug using, autistic tranny they just see that. I get nothing. No help, no answers, not even some relief when my screaming can be heard far and wide.

I want to die right now, and I keep trying to think of a painless way to do it.. buying $400 worth of street fentanyl and slipping into a nice, peaceful opioid coma seems like a wonderful idea right now.. that would end the fucking suffering atleast..

I wont be wearing a colostomy bag. Colostomy bags arent sexy, they are fucking disgusting and you cant just be body positive when you have a fucking bag full of your own shit hanging off you, and your only way of having penetrative sex sewed up permanently and taken away from me. Not like I could even be a decent fuck for anybody at this point anyways. Its painful to shit, let alone anything else. I dont want to give up food either. I love food, food is literally my life and the only way I have to bond with certain people! Like my family for example. Nothing makes me just want to slip.into that coma more then the worry of the future.

Will I be sitting at a family gathering eating bland gluten free, dairy free, all organic 100% vegan fair trade horse shit on a plate while my family actually gets to enjoy the food I used to be able to eat? Moms spaghetti, grandmas meat pies, the baked goods, fresh tomatoes out of my garden and others. A good fucking steak even? Cause honestly a birthday isnt a birthday if I dont have my birthday meal.

I know for a fact my body is damaged from 4 years of suffering. I used to bounce back, now it takes the wind out of my sails for a month.

Needless to say, I just want to fucking die more then anything else. Positivity and anything I love is gone, and all that I have left is knowing that Alberta health services, coast mountain health services, providence health services, and interior health services have all fucked me in the biggest way humanely possible. So thankful for free fucking healthcare!!

You get what you bloody well pay for!!

#thisiswhattranslookslike #girlslikeus #transgender #mtf #trans #transition #hrt #transgender girl #transformation #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically sick #crohns disease

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dragonrajafanfiction · 5 years ago

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Dragon Dancer IV: Memory Lane

Had this been any other scene, I would have thought the the two weren’t well matched. Lu Mingze, who looked like a middle school child on his way to prom, held a frigid and superior glint in his eye, looking at Lu Mingfei like a stork would look at a fish. Lu Mingfei on the other hand, a man in his twenties, held a resolute expression, but the twitch in his wrist revealed his nerves.

“Didn’t I promise you, brother, that you could have anything you want... almost anything, for the price of your body... your soul?” Mingze spoke softly, almost soothingly, like he was trying to persuade someone away from the ledge of a building, while at the same time, not really caring whether or not he jumped. “And haven’t I dealt fairly with you? Right after we got off this boat, did you save Nono and kill the King of Bronze and Fire?”

“Only... I couldn’t give you the credit. So you were still sad and lonely. Even if you couldn’t admit it.”

The young boy gave a bitter laugh, but his eyes were sad, his expression disappointed.

Lu Mingfei said nothing as he listened, but he didn’t smile or joke around. The turbulent wind lifted the waves under the boat and it crashed hard against the rough surf but both kept their balance.

“I could have killed Caesar and given you Nono, but you didn’t want that either. I don’t understand, brother. You could easily have the power to take the victory against all the hybrids in the world. But you would rather fight me to stay in your miserable life? Why?”

“Don’t act like you care about me, little devil.” Lu Mingfei finally spoke and his voice came out as a soft, hoarse whisper. “You only want my soul. You don’t care about how I feel or how miserable my life is. Or else you wouldn’t make such an unreasonable bargain.”

“How is it unreasonable? The amount of power I grant is the greatest in the world. It’s unreasonable to ask for a discount because you’re too cowardly to pay the price.” He said, his voice taking on a hard edge.

“Shut up.” Mingfei’s voice grew softer.

“Alright. You’re the big brother. If you want me to shut up, I will. But we don’t have to be enemies like this.”

I looked to Mingfei. Even though both brandished weapons, neither were eager to be the first to attack.

“Aren’t you going to take revenge on this world that ignores you, puts you down and manipulates you? What have I done to turn you against me and take the side of the world that mistreats you?”

Mingfei’s eyes, which had been downcast and pensive snapped into focus. He crossed the distance between them in a single blurred motion. The blades pressed against each other, squealing as they scraped along their length. “All of this is your fault.”

“Is it?” Mingze suddenly dropped to the floor, landing on the palm of his hand and lifting himself from the deck, drilling both of his feet into Mingfei’s stomach in a flying kick. He let his feet drop and leaped again, slamming his skull into his chin.

Mingfei staggered hard against the railing, dazed, blood tricking from his split lip.

“All of this is my fault?” Mingze stalked forward, crouching low like a prowling lion. “You have no idea of the ways of the world, and even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe it. Everyone around you is telling you... you almost believed them. But she dissuaded you. She lulled you back into your dream. And well... here we are.”

“It’s not me you’re fighting, brother. You’re fighting the truth. I think you know...”

Lu Mingfei wiped the blood from his lip. “If you have something to say, you should say it!”

Mingze stopped his advance. He straightened up, growing cool again. “No... you wont’ believe me. It’s easier to show you.”

He turned and looked at me. He moved unnaturally fast, like a pouncing eagle. But I wasn’t slow either. I caught his arm before he could plunge the knife into my chest.

His smile was absolutely delighted. “You’ve gotten stronger! Amazing!”

I pushed his arm away and kicked hard at his knees, but he was faster. My neck caught his forearm and I was knocked into rail and somersaulted overboard.

I heard Lu Mingfei calling for me but dark tentacles reached up and wrapped around my neck and arms, dragging me into the depths of the water. I could see the moonlight above my head shimmering in the water’s surface. The dark blue began to close in.

“Mingfei!”

I sat up. The world smelled of gasoline and garbage. Where was I now? An alley? I was in a city. A place I didn’t recognize. Across the street, a bright sign advertised an internet cafe in bright Chinese characters, but the cafe was closed.

“Mingfei?”

I gathered myself to my feet. This wasn’t my dream. These had to be Mingfei’s dreams. I was wet, but then again, it was raining. The dirt and the rain mixed together, staining my white skirt. I examined my clothes, wondering why I was wearing these.

Dark shadows suddenly appeared in the entrance of the alley. Four men approached, all of Chinese descent. They sneered at me, licking their lips. One snapped a pocketknife in his hand, opened and closed.

“I’m not a helpless girl.” I told them. “You’d best move along.”

They weren’t listening. They actually started laughing. I pressed my lips together and prepared to fight. Even in the dream world, I was still a hybrid.

I didn’t bother waiting for them to attack first. I went for the knife, grabbing the mans wrist and using his natural twitch response to propel my foot into his face. My momentum carried me over his head. I planted both hands on his shoulders like a gymnast on the bar. My legs opened in a full split, the heads of the men on either side of them making a satisfying crack.

I landed easily and turned to face them again. I expected them to back off but now they seemed to be twice as large. In the blink of an eye, thye’d turned into monsters with batlike wings and eyes that burned like torches. They screeched, lashing out with claws like meat hooks that tore at my clothes and ripped into my skin.

“Meixiu!” Mingfei charged into the group.

But Servitors were nothing to be fighting without heavy weapons or a Soul Skill. He threw a punch that could have split a man’s skull but the Servitor’s head was firm like granite. Instead, it grabbed Mingfei’s arm and sank its teeth into him.

“Meixiu! Run! Run! Get out of here!” Blood gushed down his arm and splattered on the ground. His arc knives made gashes in the flesh of the monsters but he was surrounded and seconds from being overwhelmed.

I couldn’t run. If he died in this dream, he might never wake up! As I ran back into the fray, I heard a voice. “You remember this... don’t you brother?”

Mingze was watching, standing the rain, positively gleeful. “Do you remember what happened?”

I had no idea what he was referring to and I didn’t care. I leaped onto the back of one that was sneaking up behind him and dug my fingers into its eyes.

“Argh!” A spine suddenly protruded from its back and pierced me about a half an inch. I staggered away and landed, falling to my side. The pain was unbearable.

“Damn it!” Mingfei’s voice drew my eyes open. It wasn’t a normal human voice, but deepening and snarling with hatred. I looked up.

Mingfei roared in a fury, his eyes burned molten gold. He grabbed the servitor that had injured me by the head and gave it a savage twist. My stomach turned at the dull gravelly crunch. The servitor collapsed, lying prone, but his head turned completely around, staring into the rain with a permanent expression of surprise.

Mingfei dismantled these creatures, striking their joints into unnatural positions. Each blow made the air tremble and the armored skin of his opponents shattered like glass until he alone stood among writhing bodies, his eyes burning, staring into space.

Mingze was silent, expressionless.

I opened my mouth to call to him, but nothing came out.

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Lu Mingfei #Lu Mingze

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strongsassysexysloane · 5 years ago

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Ain’t Life a B*tch - Chap 7

Well I want to apologise for the mistakes because ive rewritten this chapter a few too many times now and I can look at it anymore so I’m positing it instead.

. . . .

It wasn't the most peaceful sleep but you managed to sleep all the way through apart from the random check up in the early hours of the morning when the Doctors changed over. You weren't very coherent then to remember much of what happened but you do remember Jack was still sitting in the visitor's chair just like she is now. The lights were dimmed but you could see the sunlight shining under the curtains, it was probably still too early to be awake but no one ever slept right in a hospital. Jack was purring away still asleep in the chair with her feet stretched out in front of her. It reminded you of a time back in San Diego where you'd both fallen asleep at your desks at work and your boss had barged in slamming down coffees on your desks, waking you up. You'd both woken up with stiff necks and sore lower backs but the boss didn't want to hear it. That was the first and last time he bought you both coffees.

The breakfast trolley came by not long after, giving you a tray with strawberry yoghurt, toast with butter and some kind of jam to spread on. It wasn't much but you weren't expecting a three-course meal. Hopefully you'd be out of here by this afternoon and would pick up a pizza on the way home. There was a possibility of it coming right back up again but it would be so worth the taste on the way down. You laughed at that disgusting thought just as you saw Jack shift.

That's when Jack woke up, the smell of food and coffee bringing her out of her slumber. She probably heard your thought of pizza as well. "Coffee?"

You smirk at her first words. "Not enough sugar for your liking." There was barely enough sugar for your liking.

"I'll go get some from the cafeteria and check in with your team."

You watch as she stretches, twists from side to side. Most likely working out a kink in her back. "It's 0630 Jack. No need to wake my team up."

"Right. Coffee then." She hops up, bending over to touch her toes and then back up, placing her hands on her hips.

"Get some breakfast while you're at it." Jack salutes you and you laugh at her poor attempt at one before she walks out of the room. You wished she had gone home but part of you were glad she had stayed.

She was gone a while, enough time for the Doctor to come in and check on you. "Everything seems fine. I'd like you to stay another 24 hours just in case. Concussions, especially because you blacked out for a short time can be varying."

"I know Doc. Not my first rodeo."

"Then I definitely should keep you in for another 24 hours." He looked over your charts again before slipping it back on the hanger at the end of your bed.

"But you don't have to, right?"

"This isn't a flea market in Thailand. We don't bargain down hospital stays."

You sigh slumping back into your pillows. You really couldn't take spending a whole day and another night in here. "Come on Doc, I'm fine. Heads pounding less, got a reasonable full night sleep. Kept down some food. Haven't harassed the hospital team - yet."

"Threats won't work, y/n. You need to stay another 24 hours, you need to be under someone's care just in case."

"Someone's care, so not technically a nurse or doctor." You were slowly forming a plan. You half told the truth, your head was still pounding, just not as bad as yesterday.

"You got someone who can look after you for the next 48 hours?"

"I can."

Your gut dropped. You weren't even aware that Jack had come back into the room. Let alone thinking about her looking after you. You were going to call a friend and ask them to check in on you every hour, not stay with you permanently. "Jack you don't-"

"I won't let you leave unless someone promises to be with you for the next 48 hrs. No exceptions."

"I'll do it Doc. I can work from my laptop. Plus, I've put up with her complaints and seductions before."

The last part threw you off. She was smirking, sassing you. She hadn't sassed you in over five years. That part left when you broke her heart, since when had it returned?

"Alright Agent Sloane. I'd like to keep her here until 1200 just to be sure and then I'll release her into your custody."

"Hello, Hi. Do I get a say in this?"

"Would you rather stay here?"

You pout. Both of them looking at you with amused expressions. "No. Fine." You huff causing your audience to laugh and Jack follows the doctor out. Probably talking about what she needs to watch out for and do for you. This was a horrible idea.

The morning went quickly, Jack went back home and to NCIS to check in on things and talk to the Director on her new assignment which gave you a few hours to over think and figure out how the next two days were going to work. Jack came back in just after the Doctor was discharging you and ready to drive you home. The ride home was awkward to say the least, for you. You weren't in the mood to talk and she'd easily picked up on that. You hated this arrangement but here you were. She'd packed an overnight bag so even if you had managed to convince Jack to go home for the night, it wasn't happening now.

"I can sleep on the couch and you can take the bed." It didn't make sense when you thought it but ended up saying it anyway.

"Absolutely not. You will sleep in your own bed as it's yours and you're the one with the concussion. Don't be silly." She sighed. "I know this was a rash decision on my part and I should've asked you first but did you really want to stay at the hospital another night?"

The situation wasn't ideal but if you were being honest with yourself this could be a good thing. This was the most you had talked to Jack in years and this could be the turning point in your newfound friendship due to your injury. You just didn't want to get your hopes up. "Look Jack, I'm thankful that you offered and are doing this. Just trying to wrap my head around why the sudden change and how the next 24 hours is going to work."

"48."

"What?"

"48 hours."

"You aren't staying two nights."

She turned to look at you properly when she pulled up at the red light and smirked at how adamant you were. "Watch me."

"Fine. Hopefully the couch will be sufficient enough." You look back out the passenger side window as the car turned down your street. "Thank you." You whispered because you really were grateful for her even though this situation was going to be hell.

"Of course."

She pulls up her car along the curb in front of your building and runs around to help you out of the car but you push her away. "Jack, I can walk by myself."

"I just don't want you to fall and have to drive you back to the hospital. It really is a long way."

Her joke does what it's meant to and you smile. So maybe this would actually work out and you were over thinking all the ways it could go wrong. "Would be such a hassle."

She smiles along with you but grabs your bag along with her overnight bag before you can protest and runs ahead of you. "Can't get the bag if you can't catch me."

"Such a child."

Jack laughs and the sound wave hits you right in the chest. That sound always made you smile and melt on the inside, now it had the opposite effect. It tore at your heart because it was such a rare thing to hear, you making her laugh.

She opened the door to your apartment and dropped both bags near the foot of the couch and turned to watch you stumble into the room. "You sure you don't need me for balance?"

"I'm fine." You don't convince her by leaning against the wall because you were slightly out of breath from the short walk up the stairs and into your apartment. "I will be." Which was closer to the truth and Jack nods in response. "Now, bathroom is down the hall on the right, linen closet is the door on the left. Kitchen well you can see where that is and help yourself to anything. Other than coffee and some frozen pizza. There isn't much there I'm afraid."

"What happened to you cooking all the time?"

"Don't get much time lately, wanted to get back into it but there's not much fun in it when you're only cooking for yourself."

"Since when did that stop you? You loved creating meals even for yourself." Her hands shifted to her hips, trying to make more of a point but you weren't in the mood for this to turn into an argument that she would win.

You shrug finally finding the strength to shift and move a few steps to fall not so gracefully onto your couch. "Guess times change."

"That's for sure. Mind if I freshen up?"

"Go for your life. I didn't get the chance to clean so apologies if it's a mess or anything." All the possibilities of what she could find in your bathroom sprang to mind. Did you put away the vibrator? You might've prayed a little to someone to make sure you had because she was down the hall before you could change your mind.

"Nothing I haven't seen before." She threw back and you smiled. You had practically lived together for a month or so before the inevitable heart break.

To your surprise and you assume Jack's as well, the rest of the day was quite simple. You lounged on the couch watching tv while Jack sat legs crossed in the armchair and did some work on her laptop. It wasn't until dinner time that Jack insisted on get takeout and paying that a small argument happened but your head was pounding again so you just let her win.

"Wow the concussion is really working in my favour."

"If by your favour you mean getting two days out of work and babysitting me then yes, your favour."

"Take these and shut up." She walked back over with a glass of water and your medication.

Dinner was spent mostly in silence while you both watched TV. You weren't really concentrating on tv though because fuzzy memories were starting to come back. From the breach and moments in the hospital you forgot because you were high on painkillers. One particular memory you weren't sure about. You tried to convince yourself it must've been a drug fuelled dream but weren't 100% sure that was the case.

You'd been working up the courage to ask Jack when she decided to clean up the dishes from dinner and have a shower. It was probably for the best, gave you more time to over think it and make sure you were actually sure this was a conversation you wanted to have tonight when she was going to be at least staying for another one. You didn't want to make things awkward again. They'd been somewhat pleasant for the past few hours. But the feeling was there.

"Acted, yes. Felt, no?" You repeated and this time out loud.

"What did you say?"

You jumped and tweaked your side causing you to roll over in pain. "Ow."

"Sorry!" She rushed to your side, crouching down in front of the couch. "Maybe it's time you went to bed."

You nod and try and straighten yourself out as best you can. Your side was still hurting from the sudden movement but you knew it was best to go to bed and ignore the reason why this happened in the first place. "All the linen you'll need is in the closet. I'd help but -"

"No need. Go sleep." She smiled but you could see her eyes were searching again. She clearly hadn't forgotten what you'd said but you weren't going to break the ice now.

"Night."

"Good night."

Your dream wanted to curse you. They made you relive the hostage situation over and over and the last one your mind decided to be a cruel trickster. You weren't in the building, instead it was Jack inside and you on the megaphone. Everything played out the same. You gave the order to breach and came rushing in after S.W.A.T and found Jack on the floor covered in blood. She was gasping for air and you had tears running down your face.

"Stay with me Jack! Jack!" You yelled but she was slipping away, her breaths becoming more and more shallow. "Jack!"

"Hey!" A sharp voice rung in your ear, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder but when you looked around no one was there. "You're having a nightmare." The voice whispered and you shook your head. It was a living nightmare. "Wake up." The squeeze to the shoulder was a bit more forceful this time and a grace to your cheek had you squeezing your eyes shut. When you opened them again you were in your room, the lamp was on and Jack was sitting on your bed beside you. Her hand was cupping your cheek, wiping away a tear that escaped. "Hey." She whispered, running her thumb across your cheek one last time before pulling away.

"Sorry I-"

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nightmare."

"I got that much. You shouted my name?"

"You were in the bank, I came in behind SWAT and you were gasping for breath on the floor and then you-"

"It was just a nightmare." Her hand cupped your cheek again and you couldn't help but lean into it just to make sure she was really here. "I'm right here." She could always read you like a book.

"Jack in the hospital, you - "

"Acted, yes. Felt, no."

"I wasn't just dreaming that?"

"Well you might've been with the state you were in but no. I said those words."

"What did you mean by.. it?" At that question she got up, making herself pace back and forth in your bedroom because it was the middle of the night and neither of you were prepared for this conversation right now. But it just felt like the time to ask.

"Does it really have to be said?"

"Answering my question with a question.."

"Don't do that."

"Use your deflection tricks against you." You sigh, raising your left arm and tucking in behind your head. "If you don’t want to or can't I -"

"You don't understand. I was so angry for a long time. I hated you for most of it." She stopped pacing for a second to look at you but you didn't say anything. You couldn't, you needed her to finish her thought. "You broke my walls down but then broke me as well. The one person I trusted not to do that to me and you did." She choked and sat back down on the bed, tears falling down her cheeks and she buried her head in her hands.

You were expecting an admission, even anger directed at you but you weren't expecting this. It broke your heart all over again to see her like this. Like the day you left. You tried your best to sit up in bed but the pain to your side and leg were too painful. Jack felt you shift and immediately put a hand on your thigh to still your movements. "I'm sorry. I'll say it til the day I die to let you know how sorry I am for that night."

"I wish I tried harder to get you to stay or-"

"Jack you have nothing to be sorry for. That decision was all me. I put my career first and didn't want to drag you along with it. I was going to be gone for months on end and didn't want to leave you-"

"You left like I was never a reason to stay." The words just slipped out, like she'd been holding onto them for five years and finally had the chance to say them.

You could feel the tears building up again, the corner of your eyes becoming blurry. "I left because I needed to and you deserved better."

Tears still rolling down her face, you moved your hand up to wipe them away but she moved away. Her hand coming up to wipe them away herself. "I deserved a chance to give us a try."

"Yes you did and I'll regret letting you go and pushing you away for the rest of my life." You'd regretted it the moment you did it and saw her walking away but you'd made your bed and you had to sleep in it for the next five years.

Jack yawns, trying her best to hold it in but you can't help but yawn as well. "I should go back to sleep." Her walls were back, the only evidence of her emotional breakdown was her tear stained cheeks.

"Jack.. I really am sorry."

"I know." She nods, standing up and fidgeting with the hem of her top. "Try and get some sleep. I'll be down the hall if you need anything."

You just nodded and then she was gone. The emotions from the last few minutes still swirling around in your head. Did that all just really happen? You slump back into your pillows and shut your eyes, willing sleep to come but it never did. The clock on your bedside table read 0345 and you groaned. This was going to be a long few hours battling with your thoughts.

At some point you must've drifted off because the loud clash from the kitchen had your eyes springing open and your head pounding. You sat up slightly, propping yourself the best you could on your pillows.

Jack walked into your bedroom moments later and saw you were awake and concerned. "Sorry, just misplaced a glass in the sink." She placed a fresh glass of water on the bedside table and handed you your medication.

You took it and relaxed back into the pillows. Jack walked out of the room and with that the memories of early this morning flashing back through your mind. This was going to be a long day. Who was going to break first? Or were you both going to do what you did best, ignore it ever happened.

Ignoring it was. You managed to get out of bed once the pain medication kicked in and even slipped into the shower for a moment to yourself before getting changed and joining Jack in the lounge room. She was curled up in the armchair with her laptop and a cup of coffee.

"Want me to get you something for breakfast?"

"There's nothing in that kitchen other than coffee and maybe some milk, Jack."

"Look again." You saw her smirk before you wondered into the kitchen and saw a new box of cereal, bread and brownies on the counter. "Alex called this morning asking how you were and if you needed anything. I asked if she could pick up some necessities."

This only reminded you that you needed to call your team. Alex was sweet for checking in, the fact that she called Jack instead of you was something though. "Brownies are necessities now?"

"They are when you have nightmares early in the morning."

"Right." You agree before picking up at brownie and returning to the couch. The calories didn't count when you felt like this, that would just be cruel.

Jack smirked seeing you choosing the brownie for breakfast. "There's more milk in the fridge as well as some cheese, bacon and butter."

"You planning on making something Jack?" There was nothing about that list that was healthy and it made you smile. Same old Jack if she wasn't getting take out, she was making comfort food. There was one night early in your previous relationship that she made you dinner and there were some green vegetables on your plate. You wouldn't stop teasing her about it for the next week which ended with her elbow in your side and later her legs around your -

"Which leads me to the macaroni I found in the back of the cupboard."

Your prayers were answered. It was one of your favourite meals and no one could make it the same as Jack Sloane. "Ah, Mac and Cheese."

The brownie was scrumptious and the perfect breakfast after the night you had. The nightmares you could remember. Unlike a nice dream, nightmares you could always remember. You distracted yourself with a book for a while and then found a movie to watch and fall asleep to. Thankfully this time you just saw darkness, no dreams, no nightmares and were woken up to the sound of Jack moving around in the kitchen a few hours later. You didn't move, just looked over at Jack and watched her.

There were those feelings again. Bubbling up to the service, they really hadn't died down since last night or when you heard her voice over the megaphone, come to think of it they hadn't been far below the service since you walked up those stars all those months ago and there was Jack Sloane. She was here, after all that had happened and doing her best to ignore you, avoid you, she was here. She hadn't hesitated when offering to look after you and take you home, she hadn't backed out when she could've and now, she was cooking in your kitchen like she was meant to be there.

The image made you smile as she prepared the mac and cheese. The conversation from last night flooded your mind and how it was still left hanging. Did you make a mends? It was a step in the right direction, you hoped.

"You know staring is rude."

You couldn't help but laugh. How long had she known you were awake? Probably the whole time, she was just that good. "Just enjoying the view." It was so cheesy and you hoped cute as well. If it didn't then you could always fall back on the concussion as an excuse.

Jack turned and gave you a wink before turning back to the stove. "Think that explosion hit you a little harder than you've been letting on."

You laughed, shifting back down onto your back lifting your hands behind your head. She was thankfully in a sassy mood today. You flicked back through the channels and not finding anything satisfying to watch you turned to Netflix.

She walked into the lounge room and sat down in her chair. It was now her chair. "I watched that a few months ago." She commented as you clicked on Dead to Me.

"New season just dropped last week. Want to watch?" You quite enjoyed the first season, it was a bit dark but funny. Not to mention the slight crush you had on Judy.

The mac and cheese was crisping in the oven and was smelling delicious as you enjoyed the first episode and you watched the second episode enjoying the creamy heavenly meal. There definitely was something different to her mac an cheese and you were determined to get the recipe from her, one day. That was the realisation there. You wanted Jack in your life, not just right now but in the future, far in the future. You had started something last night and she had finished it or just put a cork in it for now. Was now the right time? Was there ever a right time? Time was usually wasted trying to figure that out and then before you know it, it's gone all together.

"Just speak."

"You're too good -." Of course, she’d caught you thinking, probably staring but some days you could’ve sworn she could read minds.

"Pause the show first."

You laugh and hit pause before shifting to face Jack a bit more. She's in the armchair with a mug of coffee in her hands and her feet tucked under her. You take a deep breath and try and pick up where you finished last night. "Last night.. We said some things, admitted more things and seeing you this morning. It just feels right." The words were all wrong and didn't sound at all the way you wanted them to but how were you meant to ask her out again? Like she would even give you another shot but the way she was watching you, the softness in her eyes. It was a look you hadn't seen in a while. "How do you feel Jack?"

Her eyes didn't leave yours, searching, she was always searching. Something she probably couldn't help from her profession. "That this, us has been considerably easier than I thought it would be."

"Minus all the tears and heartbreak from last night." You watched as she tensed again, she was trying her best to keep her emotions under control but her eyes were welling up. Her emotions always seemed to be right on the service around you lately, probably because of all the high stress and no space.

"It was needed."

"Definitely was."

Jack diverted her eyes, wiping a tear away before placing her hands together and looking back at you through her long lashes. "So where does this leave us then, y/n?"

"Where do you want to be, Jay?" You knew the use of that nickname would soften her and you watched as the emotion washed over her. The memories of when you used it in the past and all the happy moments it brought up. She softened in front of you, her shoulders relaxed as she took a deep breath.

"I want us to be able to be friends again. To go to the farmers markets on the weekends, to chat at the office, to chat about anything to each other. What do you want y/n?" Her eyes were searching yours, hoping you'd want the same.

Your head was pounding, the painkillers were starting to wear off and you'd need to take some more soon but that wasn't important right now. Jack had just laid it all out on the table for you, you could tell she wasn't telling you the whole truth. How could she? You'd ripped her heart out before and could never make up for that but maybe, just maybe one day you'd get close.

"I want to have all those things and more. I want to run my hand through your hair because I can, I want to trace the lines in your hands just to feel close to you, I want to just look into your eyes and see the possibility there, I want to trace my fingers over your soft skin any chance I get. I want you Jack. I never stopped wanting you." Drawing in a shaky breath as you watch a tear roll down her cheek. One would've rolled down yours as well but the headache was too painful for you to be able to concentrate on anything else. You were surprised you managed to get the words out.

She got up from her seat and joined you on the couch. Her hand cupping your cheek and drawing you in. You sucked in a breath, your heart pounding so hard because you couldn't believe it and before you could say anything her lips met yours. You both just stayed there for a minute, not moving because one if you did your head might explode and two you just didnt want to. This was perfect, you didn't need a deep, tongue driven kiss. You felt her emotions, the way she brought her other hand up to cup your other cheek and the tears that flowed from her. She was a mess but hopefully she was your mess now. You wrapped your hands around her waist and pulled her close. She broke the kiss and placed another one on your forehead.

"I hate to break up this out of the universe moment but I really need more pain meds or I'm going to chop my head clean off my body." You sigh, feeling Jack's hands leave your face, you close your eyes as she goes and collects the meds and a glass of water.

And it was really that simple. When she brings you the water and meds, she doesn't leave your side, even insists you move over so she can slip in beside you. The rest of the day and night spent watching Dead to Me wrapped up in each other's arms. She wouldn't stop touching you after that and you wouldn't dare stop her. You both fall asleep on the couch, mostly because you didn't dare move once you heard her snoring. You tried to wake Jack once years ago from a peaceful sleep and regretted it for a week.

The next morning you wake up to the smell and comfort of Jack wrapped around you and your nose pressed firmly into the base of her neck. "Morning." You mumble with a smile.

She wrapped her arms tighter around your waist at the sound of your voice. "Morning." She breathed, placing a kiss to your cheek.

Just like that life was right again. She took care of you for the rest of the day until you forced her out, only for her to get more clothes and check in on her apartment and then she came right back. You hardly spent a night apart unless you had a long case then she'd stay at her place but most weekends off were spent together and you started cooking again. The biggest reward was seeing her huge smile when you made her favourites and her moans of pleasure while eating usually lead to other activities. Sure, it wasn't perfect all the time, she was Jack Sloane after all but no one was perfect. Life was a bitch and in your profession that was evident almost every day.

. . . .

There we have it. That’s all she wrote. Hopefully it was worth the wait.

#jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #fanfic #aintlifeabitchstory #ncis x reader #fem!reader

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oldsaltychipp · 5 years ago

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I don't write much about me personally and my thoughts but I need an outlet so keep scrolling if you'd want. I'm just getting this all out here as I don't really have any other outlet. Bottom line is 2020 has been shit since day 1. Here's the last 20 months

Late summer 2018 a position I've been striving for opened up with my company, 1 catch I had to pick up and move away from everything I've known the last 45 years. I talked to my boys, my ex and family and they all supported this decision. Bottom line though was I needed a fresh start as I just felt like life had become groundhog day. So with that support I picked up my life and moved 900km away, oh and am 8 hour ferry ride in there as well. Thanksgiving day 2018 I got off the ferry at 7am to sunshine and great views as I traveled the rest of the way to my new life.

I had been seeing someone before I left and it was known we would be ending it. They actually did some work in my new city and came to visit for a week the week after i arrived. It was my birthday weekend and she left that Sunday morning. I wanted to meet people so I decided to go the dating route to help thinking it will be a while before i met someone i was truly interested in. I was wrong. I swiped on someone thinking they were out of my league, so beautiful and seemingly similar interests.

I was shocked she swiped right on me that same day. From our first conversation there was an automatic chemistry. We met that Friday night for appies and first quick kiss. We met twice more over the wkend. That Tuesday she had to go away for work and a planned vacation. We actually missed each other like crazy already. I had to go home to get more stuff and it went by where she was on vacation so she ended her vacation early to travel back with me. Chemistry was off the charts in every way.

She had ghosts from her past, her ex had committed suicide a few months after they got married. They were only together a total of 18 months. He gave her the life she was looking for. Her and her teenage son had found him. I can't imagine the trauma for them both. We met 2.5 years later and it was a constant in our relationship the love she had for him. I can't fault her for that. I loved her unconditionally. I had never loved like that before. She still lived in their house in the town she's lived most of her life. The ghosts were constant. Around Christmas she got a job offer in her field 700km across the island. We were only 2-3 months in. I was in no position to ask her to stay, i supported her. By March she was moved, she wanted to split but we agreed to try to make it work long distance. We truly loved each other and our times together was great. Only struggle was I'm a bit more introverted and she wasn't. Crowds and parties at times were a struggle for me and i didn't always handle them well.

As summer went on I traveled the island often to camp and hang out. My kids came for the summer, that added a bit of stress but managed it. So many times we shared how great and perfect we were for each other but the distance was the obstacle.. I had just made a major life move and wasn't in a position to rush into another one to be closer. She had bought a house there so this was a more permanent move for her as well. If she had known how strong our feelings would be i think she would've slowed the move down but I can't fault her for the excitement of a new place. I just did the same thing. I offered to move in a specific timeline but needed the commitment to move in rather than move and live in a more expensive place for me. 10 years with this company, it was too much risk as I'm trying yo get ahead in life and not always chasing mistakes.

Fast forward to fall, another gathering that I removed myself from to avoid conflict and it just caused more. It was my birthday and my present was a wkend getaway. We ended up canceling it. Then she began ending us. I didn't see her again until after xmas for a couple hours. We still talked often but we missed each other, she was eating her feelings. Menopause was in full effect, her father whom they had put in a home due to alzheimers was also a huge stress on her. We tried being friends, I went to help in that area during snowmageddon. I stayed the week with her and it was an amazing week for the most part. We got drunk one night and all the emotions came out, she confessed how much she loved me. I would do anything for her. I was supposed to come back for another week 2 week's later. On my drive home she said it was over and don't come back. It crushed me that i was trying to give her space to deal with it all but reminding her how I felt, always trying to support and encourage everything going on on her life. I held out hope she would miss me so much I'd be worth fighting for. It's never come, and now we don't talk. I'm crushed.

Ive tried to move on, date a bit but my heart just can't. My dating has been focused on activity like hiking and hanging out. Not about sex and such. I miss my best friend, the person i connected with better than anyone in my life. I'm trying to make friends here but it's a struggle for someone that doesn't really have great social skills. I engage people daily for work but for some reason people don't want to bring me in as a friend. Covid hasn't helped any of this and there's days the loneliness is crushing and i just want to hide when i can. I'm forcing myself to get out for hikes with a group but timing has meant it's been solo trips.

It took me all my life to find the connection i had with her I won't settle for anything less. Dating is a bitch right now. I love where i live but it's just lonely. I really don't know what the best move is for me at this point.

Thanks for letting me put my jumbled thoughts. There's so much i didn't write but i can't erase the thoughts, memories and feelings. They're too strong. I'll find my way but why can't life just throw me a bone and let me live a happiness i had found. Fuck i miss her, i shouldn't still feel that way but the energy of every day we were together was just magic to me.

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aurelacs · 5 years ago

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Ten of Wands

An Ezra/F!OC Red Dead Redemption AU

WORD COUNT: 3k

CONTENT: mentions of spousal abuse, drinking,

A/N: Thanks y’all for your patience! There’s only a chapter and an epilogue after this one! Hope you enjoy! Also next chapter will have smut I promise.

This is set in the Red Dead Redemption universe, however there’s no spoilers for either game, and you don’t need to have prior knowledge of the games to understand the fic. I’m just using RDR for the setting and the time period (1899). Hope you enjoy!

chapter list | masterlist | read on AO3

IV. The Hanged Man

West Elizabeth was far more frightening at night.

The way the moonlight bore through the trees cast long, ominous shadows along the worn path the two bounty hunters chose to take. Annie was tempted to talk, to ask the man where he was taking her, but she didn’t want to push her luck. The dignity he provided her by letting her ride with him was more than likely the only kindness he would afford. So she rode in silence. The sound of the horses hooves beating against the soil the only sound that late at night. It crushed her spine with the weight of the implication and dried up her throat. This was her death march, paraded through the state so far into the evening there would be no one to mourn her, to ask for her final statement, or write down her last words. The bounty hunters, referring to each other only as ‘Morgan’ and ‘Smith,’ talked idly, like she wasn’t there.

About halfway through the ride, Annie began to recognize her surroundings a little more. Panic began to set in. Even as she was being tied up, the concept of imprisonment and death was so foreign it did little to scare her. To be so close, to have the knowledge that it was, in fact, guaranteed, made her bottom lip tremble. In that moment Annie realized that she didn’t want to die. It wasn’t because of Ezra. Without him, she could live, and she knew that, but she wanted to feel his lips on hers. She wanted to make it to the end of her life fully experiencing what it was like to not have to look over her shoulder. It had been so long that she forgot the feeling. She wanted to reach Armadillo and feel the sand crunch under her boots. She needed to breathe long enough to forget her husband’s face, to make it to the point in her life where she could call him her late husband.

Her heart sank, low, further than the pit of her stomach, as they rode under the ‘Strawberry’ sign. She thought the river that ran through the town looked better in the moonlight. The sheriff’s office was located next to the hill that housed the hotel. The dark wood of the building blended in with the hill and made it look like the office and jail was built into the soil. It gave the building a foreboding presence, as though the hill and the office and the hotel were a solitary castle looming over her.

The porch light next to the door was the only light on across the whole town as the two men hitched their horses. Morgan grumbled a faint apology as he hoisted Annie over his shoulder to help her down off his horse. The three of them all stood by the door. Morgan knocked, hammering on the door until the sheriff hollered at them for waking him up. The transaction was nearly wordless. Morgan handed the sheriff Annie’s bounty poster, who then directed Morgan to lead Annie to the cell across from his desk before handing the men their bounty payment.

“D’you know anything about a bounty for the man she was with? Blonde patch of hair, looks like an outlaw,” Morgan asked.

“Nothing here, but you can always try Valentine. If you’re heading that way, can you let Sheriff Molloy know I got her here?”

Morgan grunted in response and left.

“Valentine is full up, so you’re gonna be with us for the time being. Sheriff up there’s supposed to come talk to you at some point, but he likes to take his time and who knows if those boys will actually let Curtis know you’re here.”

“What good will talking to me do?”

The sheriff shrugged before lumbering back to his cot and falling asleep.

Days and nights passed in near silence. Sheriff Farley, as Annie came to observe, wasn’t much of a talker. He snored, loud enough to occasionally shake the floorboards of the office. She learned that Strawberry’s jail had five cells, one upstairs where she was, and four more downstairs, out of sight. Annie overheard Farley one night, as he conversed with the mayor, mention that the downstairs cells were for the more ‘worrisome’ offenders. The statement gave her a spark of hope. She knew it wasn’t often that bounties were put out on women. Maybe he could read between the lines of a woman killing her husband. Or perhaps he merely saw her as less of a threat because she was a woman. Either way, Annie still felt mildly appreciative. If she craned her head hard enough, she could look outside and see wagons passing through the town. The same position gave her the opportunity to feel the sun on her face right before dusk. Her situation was already hard enough, she was grateful to not have to experience it with the ones she heard screaming below her.

A week into her stay, or what she believed to be a week, Annie gave up all hope in Ezra coming for her. It was a child’s fantasy, to think that he would risk his life and freedom just to save her. She couldn’t find it in herself to blame him, either, even though when she asked herself if she would have come to save him, her answer was a resounding ‘yes.’ What a fool she was to have waited. If she told him, then and there, as he waded out of the lake, how she felt about him, he might’ve been here. Or he would’ve left her. Either way her chest would have been stinging a little less.

More time passed with no word from Farley on the whereabouts of Valentine’s sheriff, or her life. As a nervous habit, Annie would undo and redo her braids constantly until her fingers ached. She paced around her cell. There was no clock in the office, so she measured the time by the sheriff’s actions. Everyday he followed the same routine: breakfast at the butcher’s stall, sit in his office and read the newspaper, smoke his pipe, taunt the downstairs prisoners, if the sun had yet to go down when he was finished, he would invite the mayor for a drink, where the mayor would talk about his grandiose plans for the sleepy, yet beautiful, town. His talk reminded her of Ezra: weaving tales of splendor, swearing up and down that Strawberry’s beauty could not be contained. The mayor echoed Ezra’s sentiments, convinced that the work he was putting into it would make a difference. Annie was sure that Farley was going to kill Mayor Timmins because he no longer wanted bounties to be advertised in Strawberry. It figured that she would be the last, she thought.

One morning, maybe three weeks since the bounty hunters had found her, sheriff Farley woke her by knocking on the bars of her cell. A man stood next to him, a handlebar mustache doing nothing to contain the permanent scowl on his face. Farley introduced him as sheriff Molloy, the one from Valentine and Annie’s blood ran cold. The one who would decide her fate stood there, looking unimpressed at the supposed cold-blooded killer before him, half-asleep and half paralyzed from fear.

“I hope you didn’t pay those boys the full bounty for this,” he gestured over at her, looking sullen and beaten.

“They didn’t seem to be the most innocent of sorts either. Didn’t wanna cause a fuss.”

Molloy laughed. Farley grabbed his pipe from his desk and made his way outside to give the two some privacy. He stood there silently with his arms crossed for what felt like an hour before speaking.

“Why’d you do it?”

“That’s it?” He nodded. Annie was confused. Weeks of waiting and that’s all he asks? No hint of a greeting, an apology. She was hoping that maybe the sheriff would tell her how her husband’s family was doing. They would probably be in the front row the day she hangs, but in an odd way her life had felt so sheltered in the months since she killed him that hearing something was preferred to this. To the brusque ire of a man that she knew had already decided that she was going to die for what she did.

“He hurt me,” she answered.

Molloy scoffed. “I was hoping for a more interesting answer. Not many lady killers ‘round these parts, but they all have the same reasoning.” “Maybe because they’re all telling the truth.”

“Maybe they’re all lying to try and gain some sympathy before they get hanged,” he said as he leaned in closer to the bars. The scowl on his face grew deeper. She started to wonder how many other women in her situation had the misfortune of seeing his face right before a hood was placed over their heads.

“My husband beat me. He would scream at me if there was a speck of dust on the floor when he came home from hunting. Chased me around the house with a knife if he didn’t like the way I sneezed or walked or spoke, when I did. I let him hurt me for over ten years. I had it.” Annie didn’t realize she had started crying until her voice broke. “It’s been months and I still call him my husband. I still love him, but I’d do it again. If you’re gonna hang me for that, then so be it.”

“I’m going to hang you for killing your husband, Mrs. Gray. I don’t care whether or not you regret it.”

Hearing her name felt like a whip cracking. She had gone so long without the sound of it that it was foreign in her ears, like the sheriff was addressing a stranger. For so long she referred to herself internally as Annie Cobb that it didn’t register. It was her trying to move on, trying to turn back into the woman she was before she married her husband, but it didn’t have the same spark. Her identity had always been ‘Mrs. Gray,’ her maiden name taken from her too soon, before she could form herself outside of her husband. But Cobb never resonated. Maybe in her next life she’ll have a name that fits her better, like Michaels, or Robinson. Or Bird.

The dread that churned in her stomach kept her from sleeping more than an hour at a time. It would jolt her awake with the sudden urge to run, and her heart wouldn’t stop racing until her brain finally managed to process that there was nowhere to run. At the third bout, Annie awoke to find Farley fast asleep, his snores once again bouncing off the wooden walls. Night had fallen, deep and heavily, on the town. It mirrored the night she was first brought back to Strawberry; the lantern once again the only thing illuminating the entire town. It was never intentional. Every morning he forgot, Malloy would grumble on for the rest of the day about the waste of oil. This night, this mistake, however, cost him more than a nickel’s worth of lantern oil.

Someone entered, not with a knock, but with a bang, stirring the sheriff from his slumber so harshly he wasn’t able to collect his bearings in time to demand an explanation. The glow of the lantern backlit the visitor and made it impossible for Annie to make him out until he spoke, and even then it was only a hunch. Sheriff Farley stumbled over towards the voice, eyes still crusted with sleep and legs uneasy. He managed his way over to his desk, propping himself up with an arm before asking who had the nerve to bother him so late at night. The man closed the door gently, opposite to his grand entrance. Out of the porch lantern light, the office was enshrouded in darkness until the sheriff lit another lantern at the corner of his desk. It wasn’t until the light illuminated the rest of the office that Annie realized.

“I do apologize for intruding so late into the evening, but I saw the lantern still on, and where I come from that means a gentleman is open for business.”

Ezra looked different from when she last saw him. He looked a little more ragged and worn down. The bags under his eyes had grown darker. His hair was unkempt and she didn’t see his hat anywhere on him. The blonde patch of hair caught the light just right. Ezra made no attempt to speak to Annie; he didn’t even look her way as he adjusted the heavy-looking satchel that hung upon his shoulder. His kept his deep, brown eyes focused entirely on the sheriff.

“I recently purchased myself a new abode in this beautiful little town here and my father always told me to start a new journey with alcohol. And who better among the locale to embark on that sojourn with than the sheriff himself?” Ezra reached into the satchel and forcefully placed two bottles of Kentucky bourbon on the sheriff’s desk. He pulled up a chair, not waiting for permission or refusal and sat down, eagerly awaiting his next move. Sheriff Farley eyed Ezra curiously. Nevertheless, he walked over to the cabinet by his cot and dug out two glasses. He smiled up at the sheriff. Not once did the two men take their eyes off one another.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“When I said ‘recently,’ it was not an exaggeration.” He leaned back in the chair. Ezra’s body language gave off a kind of confidence she had only seen from him once before: in Blackwater, towering over his debtor. Annie grew worried that he might try the same stunt again.

“I have always heard the people of Strawberry are of a hospitable color. At least, that is what they say in Saint Denis. It is possible that they simply meant poor,” the sheriff shot him an angered glance, “but hospitality is taught, never bought, wouldn’t you agree, sheriff?” Farley grunted in response. Ezra poured the bourbon halfway into both glasses before drinking his in one go, and encouraging the sheriff to do the same. Sheriff Farley’s eyes shot up to the blonde in Ezra’s hair. The coolness of Ezra’s composure broke for a second, not enough for the sheriff to notice, but enough for Annie to start worrying. She recalled the question the one bounty hunter had asked him when she first arrived and wondered if he made the same connection.

“Sheriff, please, I insist, drink! There is more than enough for the both of us and I want to make sure your graciousness is equally matched.”

“Is there no way to do this tomorrow,” Farley asked, choosing to match Ezra’s drink.

“Not according to my father’s superstitions, no,” Ezra chuckled. “It has to be as soon as you sign the deed, and the gentleman I was dealing with for this parcel was quite a character. He absolutely insisted we negotiate until the very last second of the day” He took another swig of the bourbon, this time directly from the bottle.

“Was it Mr. Rose by chance?”

“The one and the same!”

Ezra opened the second bottle of bourbon and passed it to the sheriff as he began to tell Ezra stories about the man. Farley eagerly grabbed the bottle by the neck. Engrossed in his tales, he continued to absentmindedly sip on the alcohol, his slowly inebriated mind searching for threads to connect his thoughts. On occasion, Ezra would take a swig from his bottle to encourage him. It was a lengthy plan, but one that seemed to be working. Every time the sheriff tried to stop, Ezra would bring up something else to try and get him talking again.

‘I have heard that your mayor is a curious one.”

“He’s trying to run me out of a job, is what he’s tryin’ to do!” He slammed the bottle onto his desk, and Ezra laughed as some of the liquid came sloshing out of the neck and on the sheriff’s hand. Annie’s worry grew again as she peered over to the window and saw daybreak trying to make its way over the horizon.

“I’m sure the mayor is only doing what he deems best.”

“The mayor is- he’s- the sonuvabitch-” the floorboards shook as the sheriff’s head slammed against his desk, just nearly missing the bottle. Annie wasn’t sure if he was dead or merely sleeping.

The first time Ezra acknowledged her was as the first snore ripped through Farley’s body. He looked over at her and held a finger up to his lips. As quietly as he could, he toed over to the sheriff’s slumped over body. He gently fiddled with the key ring that hung from his gun belt. Annie could see his hands shaking as he tried every key on Annie’s cell before finally reaching the correct one. She hadn’t realized how long she had been holding her breath until the cell door finally popped open, and the only thing standing between her and Ezra was a couple feet of empty, unfettered air.

“Missed you, little bird,” he smiled, breaking the heavy silence.

Tears fell freely from Annie’s eyes, the mix of emotions overwhelming her senses almost to the point of collapse, and she nearly jumped from where she was sat and into Ezra’s arms. Free not only was she of Strawberry jail, but also of any hesitation she might’ve been holding onto with regard to how she felt about him. She buried her face in his neck and took in his scent, something she didn’t realize she missed. His arms gripped onto her something fierce like she would float away and out of his grasp if he didn’t hold on. It was as though the time apart wore away any inhibitions they might have had. The sheer elation of their reunion being the only thing that was on their minds. Ezra came back for her.

That’s what mattered.

Tag List: @immundusspiritu @borderlinedindjarin @aforces

#ezra prospect #pedro pascal #prospect #ezra x oc #my fic

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uhxrp · 5 years ago

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wolves

I. OVERVIEW

therians gifted with the form of a wolf are known as wolf therians, werewolves, or, more commonly, just wolves. they have the ability to turn into wolves of slightly abnormal size, and with it many other abilities to go alongside this form.

wolves are known for having a pack mentality, of sticking close to one another and more easily clumping together. they are almost always social beings due to their wolf forms, though this can be limited strictly to their packs. for them, a "lone wolf" is less a rugged individualist, uncompromising and independent trying to forge their own path and more a wolf in search of something, typically other wolves that fit to their own ideals and ideologies. wolves form deeply emotional bonds and are known for being collaborative and communicative - though, again, this can often be limited strictly to their packs.

II. GOVERNANCE

therians typically govern themselves the same way their animals forms would. wolves have a hierarchy consisting of different positions within each pack, much like their wolf counterparts. this includes leaders called alphas, second-in-commands called betas, messengers known as deltas, guardians known as epsilons, and much more. a full list of positions within packs will be available on site once we open.

III. ALLIANCES

therians have a connection to those who also know what it's like to walk in another form, to have feet in two worlds.

shifters shifters and therians are branches of similar species and as such when it comes to their hatred against vampires, they can ally with one another. however, this is only under dire circumstances as normally the two species hate one another.

familiars familiars and therians both have animal forms, something that breeds a sense of understanding between the two.

merfolk merfolk and therians both can communicate with their respective animals and have two separate forms, something that breeds a sense of understanding between the two.

IV. FOES

therians have natural foes in any who stand against them, as they are typically fiercely protective and have enhanced survival instincts naturally.

shifters as the cursed version of shifters, therians are seen as lesser than. as such, therians rightfully take offense to this and the two species have been at odds since therians were created.

vampires for as long as anyone knows, vampires and shifters have been at war. one being around the other has always made them both uncomfortable, as if their very being is at war with the other. when therians were cursed and their species created from that of shifters, this behavior stayed as well.

V. PHYSIOLOGY

BEGINNER

- THERIAN PHYSIOLOGY therian physiology gives them enhanced features, such as strength, durability, speed, agility, etc, as well as allows them to transform into their therian form, a dire beast version of their animal spirit, something that occurs with the lunar cycle due to their curse. this also allows a therian to convert another being into a therian. therians can not turn to and from their animal form at will until mastering this at a higher level and they must transform under periods of extreme mental or physical stress, such as illness or exhaustion. additionally, they can sense directions like a compass, knowing where a specific direction is.

- REGENERATIVE HEALING this ability allows a therian to heal in half the time it might take a human. minor wounds such as cuts, bruises and light burns heal faster than normal and therians are easily able to recover from minor to moderate blood loss. critical wounds such as lost limbs, damaged nerves, and internal organs cannot be regenerated, as wounds would simply close up faster and lost organs remain lost, and cells that are fatally damaged, such as by burning, cannot be regenerated, resulting in permanent scarring.

- MIND LINK RECEPTION this is the power to link minds with other living being, sharing thoughts, memories, emotions or feelings. this is a pack or therian family connection. at this level, the therian is receptive of the mind link created by others within their pack if allowed but they cannot create that link on their own until a higher level.

NOVICE

- CANINE PHYSIOLOGY this power creates a link between the wolf therian and canines, such as wolves, foxes, jackals, coyotes, and domestic dogs. this can be used to calm these animals, to handle these animals, and can call these animals to them, something that can be scary when first encountered. it does not, however, allow the user to communicate with these animals.

- ENHANCED SMELL this power allows the therian to detect specific persons, objects, substances or even places, locate their origin, and track targets with nothing but their nose.

- TEMPERATURE REGULATION wolf therians have the power to maintain a certain body temperature for extended periods of time, allowing them to stay cool when in hot temperatures and warm in cold temperatures to a point.

- ENHANCED ROAR therians with this ability are able to shout so loud that the user can blow away objects or break objects with their ferocious vocal cords, if at an expert level and using this ability. this is most commonly used to alert someone of the user's location. for wolf therians, the roar comes in the form of a howl.

COMPETENT

- PREDATOR INSTINCT the user possesses predatory instincts, allowing them to become masters of hunting and tracking. one with this ability can discern numerous factors of a situation that make them a master of pursuit and capture, just like their animal spirit.

- FERAL MIND user can tap into primal, unstoppable rage that allows them to perform in vastly increased capacity, taking and inflicting damage that they wouldn't in their normal state. in some cases, the user's mind descends so far into the feral rage that, mentally, they are little more than animals. typically, this is saved for rare occasions when it is life or death.

PROFICIENT

- ENHANCED BITE the user has particularly strong bite, because of sharp teeth and strong jaw-muscles. their bite is like that of a wolf, easily piercing and tearing flesh and typically causing harm the same way their animal form would. this is especially powerful if when in animal form. they can also use this bite to infect others and turn them into therian, something also specifically powerful while in their animal form.

- MIND LINK CREATION this is the power to link minds with other living being, sharing thoughts, memories, emotions or feelings. this is a pack or therian family connection. at this level, the therian is can create a link on their own with any and all members of their pack that are receptive, including one on one conversations.

EXPERT

- PARTIAL TRANSFORMATION the user can partially transform their body, either by transforming certain parts of their body independently of the rest of it or into a "half-state" between two forms. in the case of therians, this is largely due to increased control over the transformation as well as having experience to get used to the pain that goes with their transformations.

- CONTROLLED TRANSFORMATION at this level a therian can control their transformation, regardless of emotions or nearness to the full moon. therians still need to transform with the full moon but can now transform at will in the time between and can keep from transforming when of high emotion.

VI. WEAKNESSES

therians are harder to kill than humans, but not as hard as the vampires. each have their own weaknesses and advantages, but all are supernatural and gifted in the power to transform, something that can make them dangerous opponents against any who do not suspect their true species. the reality of silver's effect on shifters and therians has been lost to the pages of history, but for generations, packs have passed down similar stories. it goes that judas, the follower of jesus of nazareth, was turned into a shifter in retribution to the lord's suffering. as penitence for betraying the son of man judas' bloodline was cursed with a dire weakness to silver, the very element for which he betrayed jesus, and those very same bloodlines are what make up the earth's modern population of both shifters and therians.

it is known that silver is a lethal conductor of the magic that turns one away from their human form, but the siphoning of said magic is extremely painful, so much so that it has been known to bring the even the strongest of either species to a crashing halt irrespective of age or ability. while brief exposure is painful enough to momentarily cripple an opponent, if silver were to enter their bloodstream they would experience the sensation of being set ablaze. as their body temperature rose, the heat they give off would be enough to boil their main organs, until eventually, they would be met with death.

(note: we would like to note that we do allow the use of creative weaknesses in play, such as a witch and human coming up with their own decision on how their abilities counteract one another, but we urge you to remember that we are trusting you to keep this balanced and fair. as such, the weaknesses we list will be minimal but are by and far not a full list of possible weaknesses. should we notice a character who seems too powerful, you will be asked to bump that character back down or be denied continued play here on unholy for the sake of creative freedom for all members. this includes the knowledge of the strengths and weaknesses of the species that your character would have here on unholy.)

#wolves #species #updates #unhxlyrp #therians

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galadrieljones · 5 years ago

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The Lily Farm - Chapter 46

AO3 | Masterpost

Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth

Rating: M (Mature) - sexual content, violence, and adult themes

Summary: After Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. What takes place at first is a simple love story: full of trials and journeys that they must endure together, as a team. But over time, things complicate. The gang is in trouble, and as Arthur and Mary Beth aim to set out on their own one day, they must find a way to help those they love while eventually, finding escape. Their ultimate goal is to go north with the Marstons, to find the bucolic stretches of Wisconsin where, rumor has it, there are lily farms. Will they make it? How will they survive when all hope seems lost? This is their story.

Chapter 46: The Widow of Willard’s Rest, Pt. 1

***BEGINNING OF PART IV: AMERICAN PASTORAL***

Most days at Deer Cottage, Arthur would wake up early. He would go outside to chop firewood, and then he’d kindle the fire and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes outside. Most mornings, he would fish, but as the days were getting colder and shorter, sometimes he would just set up a trap line on the Kamassa to leave out all day instead, and then hike back up the ridge to the wooded hinterlands and hunt whitetail. He always rode home with enough to cook, smoke, and cure. He would then come back down to the river, empty out the fish trap and with any luck find a sturgeon or a largemouth bass. His new filly Leah, who he named for another character that he remembered from the Old Testament, which he had learned to read from many years before, was a fast girl and even in her temperament. She did not always take well to strange animals, and she had a wary look in her eye upon most passers-through. But she was wise to predators and upon Arthur’s constant and gentle reassurance, mostly a brave and kind girl.

Mary Beth seemed to need a lot of sleep, meanwhile. But she would stay up late knitting sweaters for everybody she knew, as winter was coming now, and she was anxious, and she needed something to keep her hands busy. Most days she did not wake up until Arthur was already busy with his routine, elsewhere, having left her a note or sometimes a little drawing with a pot of coffee on the stove. She wanted to be useful. She was used to having chores, hence the sweaters, and they were scarce on laundry so she made sure to keep things clean. She tidied the cottage in its every corner. There wasn’t much for berries this time of year, but Arthur had found an apple tree and with the dwindling autumn crop, she would bake. She read everything she could find, over and over again, and she wrote prose here and there, but her mind was occupied with a lot of worry and restlessness those days. The baby, the gang. Arthur would take her out shooting, and this seemed to help. He taught her to use every kind of gun. She tended the horses in the barn, which Arthur had built with help from Hamish over a period of one week. It was ramshackle business, but it would do.

Arthur and Mary Beth had been lying low in Roanoke Ridge now for three months. Together they rode into Annesburg at the end of every week, on Sunday, to check the post for word from Dutch, and to buy supplies and the newspaper. Annesburg was a mining community, and its little camps of gutter homes all lined up in a row made Mary Beth sad. As a boomtown, however, Arthur had said it reminded him of Virginia City, Nevada, a place to which he had traveled many years before right after he’d been more or less adopted by Dutch and Hosea. “They took me there,” he told her one Sunday, as they rode into town, down from the hills, “and we set up shop for many weeks. I pulled my weight in the gang at the blackjack tables for a long time, and I knew how to wrangle, and looking back, weren’t nobody better at keeping his head down than me.” He then sighed and grew stoic with concern. “Virginia City is where Susan taught me a thing or two about dancing,” he said, too, chewing on a reed or a piece of bark, smoking a cigarette, wearing an old cowboy hat given to him as a gift from Hamish. He was trying to make her feel better. The gunsmith in Annesburg was chatty and liked their company, too, so they would often make conversation with him. He thought they were implants from the western plains, looking to start a new life, and they supposed it was not altogether untrue.

There was still no word from Dutch. But the papers were quiet, which was a good sign. There had been a story on the “riverboat massacre” some weeks back—that’s what they’d called it down at the St. Denis Times—but no civilians had been killed, and authorities did not seem to know who or what had caused the blow-up. It had been reported that Angelo Bronte, foreign national and local philanthropist, had gone missing for a time, but he was back now, and safe, having claimed to be on vacation up the river, and though this was suspicious, there was not much to make of the feeling. Meanwhile the Mayor was in trouble with the state government for something or other. It looked like he might even get ousted from office. But Arthur did not keep up with politics. He didn’t care what happened to Lemieux nor Bronte, for he and Mary Beth were long gone, and they were never going back to Lemoyne.

There had been one letter in all those months—from Ranger Call. He kept coy and symbolic in his language, but in the letter, he hinted at a complicating factor involving John and the federal penitentiary. This worried them both gravely. Apparently, there was a hold-up on moving the gang to a more permanent relocation, and they’d had to take temporary shelter in Lakay until the problem was solved. But this had been weeks before. The letter also said they were going west, maybe. Or continuing north. That was what Dutch had claimed, but there was uncertainty.

Some members of the gang had gone, claimed Woodrow. Namely, Micah. The asshole feller with the handlebar mustache, he wrote. He went by the wayside when the Man attenuated their plans to rob a city bank. Some wonder if he is even still alive, as a couple days before his disappearance, he had gotten in a tussle with Mr. Matthews, who threatened his life. He said there would be more news when the gang found camp once more. Do not come to Lakay, Mr. Morgan, said the letter. For the Man has sent scouts high and low, from the Grizzlies East to the Big Valley. There will be salvation soon. In the meantime, Mr. Matthews thinks it would be safest, per Mrs. Morgan’s condition, and for how recognizable you have become down here in Lemoyne, for the two of you to remain where you are. The letter also contained information about the Wintersons. They are okay, it said. They are in Chicago and will return in a matter of months. This was a relief. Of course, they tried not to fret too much over John, as all they could do from here was, ironically enough, have faith that it was under control, counting on both Dutch and Hosea as so often they had done in the past.

In the end, there was very little else that Arthur and Mary Beth could do now but survive, not until they got word on where to go next. Hamish had traveled up to visit them on a few occasions. He was doing okay, and he and Arthur would hunt big game during the day and then at twilight they would all go fishing. Other than the constant worrying over John and the rest of the gang, and the occasional fears for the coming winter, and the baby, the way they were living up there in the Roanoke Valley, it wasn’t so bad. There was so much solitude, privacy, time to just be together. It was a privilege they had not been able to entertain in a very long time. Sometimes at night, Mary Beth would cook up a fine dinner, and they would play music on the gramophone, dance as they had that first night they had admitted their love to one another so long ago. Of course they laughed while they did it. It was silly, and they were rare to approach these sorts of sentimental affairs without sarcasm those days. But that was the point. Arthur would fashion a flower from behind her ear, little magic tricks that he had picked from Josiah, and they would talk and play cards and sip whiskey tea. Arthur had a way of letting it all roll right off of him, like raindrops on a tin roof, and that reassured Mary Beth and got her to focus on the day-to-day. She knew how he held the big picture in his mind like a story, navigating the plot, keeping calm. He had not always been so calm, he thought. This was such a positive development for him that had taken some time, and a lot of work. She was starting to show a little bit now, under her dress. They both saw it. Whenever he himself wanted soothing, he would place his head in her lap in the evenings while they listened to music and looked at the fire. She would tell him stories she made up out of the ether. Stories about escaped princesses with swords and poison arrows, and the country knights who loved and defended them. In Mary Beth’s stories, the knights needed protection, too. They were not immortal, or demigods. Just men, she would say. Arthur liked her stories very much.

One day, when the weather was nice, Arthur and Mary Beth rode north up the river with a mind to do some fishing near Brandywine Drop. They kept riding as the sun was warming their backs from its place in the sky, and it felt good. There had been snow already up in these hills, but it was melting off the trees that day and muddy, and Arthur shot a cougar from a distance with his rifle and then together they observed a moose nosing its way through the pines. They decided to camp after clearing the area for Murfree Brood. There were none about that day. Before the sun went down that day, they were just riding up the river, looking for a place to camp when they came upon a woman up the hillside, under a ridge, crying. When they found her, she was sitting on her knees in front of a wooden cross stuck in the dirt, a grave. She was not dressed warm enough for the weather, and she was very dirty. She had dark hair falling apart all around her face in pieces. Both Arthur and Mary Beth were concerned. They approached on horseback. When she saw them, she staggered to her feet and looked terrified. She clutched herself. Arthur stayed back, but Mary Beth got off her horse. She went toward the woman carefully, with her hands in front of her. She said, “It’s okay. We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

The woman looked around, like she was hopeless. She seemed to trust Mary Beth, as most did. “Who are you?” she said.

“I’m Mary Beth, and this is my husband Arthur," she said. "We’ve been living in a cottage just down the river. We’ve been there a few months. How long have you been up here?”

The woman looked back to Arthur, who removed his hat in chivalry. He still did not dismount his horse. He knew what he must have looked like out here to a woman all on her own. He didn’t want to scare her.

“Um,” said the woman, as if gathering her faculties. “We came here—a month ago? Maybe more. I don’t know.”

“Who’s we, ma’am?” said Arthur. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“My husband and me,” she said. She seemed to brace herself, then looked back at the cross, the grave. She was crying, a little. “We came out here from back east, Philadelphia.”

Mary Beth got a little closer. She stood beside the woman. “What happened?”

The woman dried her eyes on her sleeve. She shook her head in a combination of sadness and shock. “A bear,” she said, staring at the grave. “It was horrifying. He survived, but only a couple of days."

“Oh my,” said Mary Beth, in near on disbelief. She placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder to comfort her. The woman did not protest.

“I buried him, maybe a week ago," she said.

Mary Beth glanced back to Arthur, who shook his head in sadness. This was worse than it seemed, they both thought together, and they were needed. He got off his horse and came over. When he did, the woman looked up at him. She was very small, smaller than Mary Beth even. But Arthur had a way of softening his demeanor when he wanted to. He took a deep breath. “We are very sorry for your loss, ma’am,” he said.

“Thank you.” She seemed confused, like she was getting lost in his eyes, or like somehow she had forgotten where she was.

“Is there a town, or a train station that we can take you to?" he said. "You shouldn’t be out here alone. I know you’re—I know you’re grieving, but it really ain’t safe.”

“What?” she said. She snapped out of it then, almost immediately. “No. No, I can’t leave.”

“All do respect, ma’am, but why not?”

"Because it was our dream.”

“Your dream?”

“Yes,” said the woman, almost defiant. “We came out here from the city in search of a different life. Something true. Something real. I hate to say that we found it, in the worst possible way, but we did. And I can’t leave now. I can’t leave him behind.” She looked back to the grave. She closed her eyes. "For you." She said his name then, which was Cal.

Mary Beth, still with her hand on the woman’s shoulder, was looking at Arthur like she didn’t quite know how to proceed. They couldn’t leave the woman alone up here. It was feral country, and winter was coming. Surely, she would die. Arthur shrugged. Mary Beth did, too.

“What’s your name?” she said, to the woman.

“Charlotte,” said the woman. “Charlotte Balfour.”

“Well, Charlotte,” said Mary Beth. “Maybe we can help you then, get back on your feet.”

Charlotte looked at them like they were crazy. “Help me?”

“Yeah,” said Mary Beth. “Me and Arthur—well, Arthur especially—we been living on the range a long time, and like I said, we’re so nearby.”

“You’ll starve out here,” said Arthur, watching the woman, closely. “That is, if something else don't get to you first. Bear, mountain lions, or worse. You know how to hunt?”

Charlotte laughed to herself then. It was a strange sound amidst all the sadness. “No,” she said. “Of course not. And of course, I’m nearly out of food.”

Arthur smiled at this. “Well, we’ll teach you.”

“You’ll teach me?”

“Of course,” said Arthur. “Mary Beth here, even she knows how to use a rifle.”

“Ain’t nothing to it,” said Mary Beth.

Charlotte watched them, like she didn't fully understand, but she was listening. Somewhere far away, there was a loon going off, ringing in the twilight. The air was getting colder as the sun was going down past the ridge line. “Okay,” she said, with hesitance.

“Good,” said Arthur, almost soft now. He was half-groomed that day. He’d let Mary Beth cut his hair, had trimmed down his beard. It was probably a good thing. When you could see his eyes, his whole face, he had a kind and a sturdy look that most people trusted. He really was a warm man. “You got a rifle?” he went on. “If not, that’s okay. We got guns.”

“I do,” she said. “I have a couple.”

“Where’s your house?”

“Up the ridge,” she said. “Come, I’ll show you.”

They followed her up a long path to a small homestead painted green. There was a barn and a chicken coup. The coup was bustling, but it looked to Mary Beth that the eggs had not been harvested in a while. “You got eggs here,” she said. “Do you mind if I bring some in for you?”

“Oh,” said Charlotte, like she had not noticed. She was so thin. It looked like she probably had not eaten or slept proper since her husband, maybe not since Philadelphia. “Of course not. Thank you.”

“Any time.”

Mary Beth gathered a dozen or so into her skirt. When she came over, Charlotte seemed to notice then that she might have been pregnant, but she didn’t say anything. They stood on the porch. Arthur was quiet and calm, chewing on a toothpick.

Before she let them in the house, Charlotte stopped with her hand on the door handle. She looked inquisitive and she said, “What—or, who exactly are you?” She seemed embarrassed by the question, like she’d meant to say something more formal. “I just mean—why have you come to the Roanoke Valley? What is it that you do here?”

Mary Beth smiled.

“We’ve had all manner of jobs,” said Arthur. “We been on the road for some time now, and the road gets weary. Like you, we’re looking for a new life.”

This seemed to reassure Charlotte. She smiled down at her muddy but elegant boots. “Oh," she said. "Well, I should say, you look like farmers, or ranchers, maybe? Salt of the earth, if you will.”

“You ain’t wrong,” said Arthur. But he said not more. They went inside then, where Charlotte showed them around her modest home. There was lovely wallpaper and heavy oak furniture. Charlotte was digging around in a big leather trunk by the window, and Arthur and Mary Beth were waiting patiently, but by the time she finally found the rifles and the bullets, it was getting dark, and too cold to go back outside.

“Oh, good heavens,” she said, looking out the window, then at her watch. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Arthur.

“Would you stay the night?” she asked them, like she was desperate. She’d been picking at the skin around her fingernails, Mary Beth had noticed. She was so nervous, and worried, and scared and sad and alone. Mary Beth had not met another woman like her since they'd picked up Sadie up near Colter. “I have an extra bedroom," Charlotte went on, "with a bed big enough for the two of you. I just—now that you’ve come, I—”

“Sure,” said Mary Beth. She went to the kitchen table to sort the eggs into a basket, and Arthur was just sort of wandering around with his shotgun still slung over his shoulder. There were some pictures hanging on the wall of Charlotte and the man who must have been her husband, pictures which he was looking at. “We’ll stay. Right, baby?”

“Huh?” said Arthur, only half-listening as he looked at the pictures.

“I said, we’ll stay. We can go out and have a fresh start in the morning. Right?"

He surfaced then, looked at her, easy-going. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

Charlotte was relieved.

She showed them to their room. It was simple but beautiful with a high, brass bed and a white comforter stuffed with down feathers. There was not much for food that night, so Arthur stoked the hearth and went back out in the dark to hunt some rabbit, alone, while Mary Beth fried a couple of eggs and made her famous whiskey tea. Charlotte ate the eggs hungrily, though Mary Beth could still sense her trying to be demure about it. They sat on the small sofa together, sipping the tea then, looking at the fire. Mary Beth felt warm and comfortable and though she felt bad for Charlotte, and she could not herself imagine losing her husband and still finding a way to survive, she tried not to pity her, for she, too, had once been a woman all alone in the wild, and after all, she was glad to have a job now, something to do, somebody to help. For a while there, it seemed she and Arthur were always the ones who needed saving.

“Your husband,” said Charlotte after a little while. She was distant, sobered. “He seems very…sturdy, and wise. And you do, too. Do the two of you always know exactly what to do?”

The question was earnest. Mary Beth found it amusing. “Of course not,” she said. “We have found ourselves in our fair share of trouble over the years. But when it comes to surviving in the wild, it's true that we’ve got skills.”

“How long have you been married?” said Charlotte. The fire crackled. The room was warm.

“Not too long,” said Mary Beth. “Maybe four or five months? I am losing track of the weeks now. But we have known each other for a lot longer than that.”

“How did you meet?” said Charlotte.

Mary Beth took a long drink of her tea. She looked at Charlotte and could tell that she was just desperately lonely, that she needed preoccupation and companionship. Mary Beth didn’t want to lie to her. “We met in Kansas City,” she said, shoving the hair out of her face. Her curls were messy from the day. “I was only nineteen, living completely on my own. I was an orphan, and I didn’t have nothing to my name. I was in trouble back then, and alone. Like you. But I met Arthur and his…well, his family, I guess. They took me in.”

Charlotte was listening, rapt. She seemed surprised, maybe, that it was so bad. Like she did not know what to say. It seemed her instinct then to back off. She didn’t ask for anymore details, but she did not close herself off emotionally. She just had a certain polish about her, a certain sheen, even despite her current predicament. For this, and coupled with everything else from the wallpaper to the fine quality of her leather boots, Mary Beth could tell she came from money. “You're so brave," said Charlotte, shaking her head. "It's terrible you had to go through all of that."

"I am no worse for the wear," said Mary Beth. "I found Arthur from it. But thank you."

"My husband and I had all the safety in the world,” she said then, shaking her head like it was just so stupid, so small and silly in comparison. “And still, it wasn’t enough. What a pair of fools.” She closed her eyes. A little tear plopped out. “This was his dream, to escape our lives," she said. "Our lives of privilege, of predictability. And I followed him.”

“I understand that,” said Mary Beth.

“How is it that you’re not afraid?” she said then, opening her wide, pale eyes. ��Living…on the range, as you said earlier. All alone? Everything you’ve been through. It sounds so hard, and terrifying. I’ve never known hardship before—before all this. I am a stupid woman, and I am starting to wonder now if I should have been smarter. Maybe I should have been more argumentative, said no. Maybe we never should have come here.” She looked away, at the hardwood floors, which looked new.

“Well, I do get afraid,” said Mary Beth, sincerely. She placed her hand on Charlotte’s hand where they sat in front of the fire. “I get afraid all the damn time."

"You do?"

"Yes. Mostly of losing Arthur," said Mary Beth, "as I have lost so much before him, and I know what that’s like. Losing. As I said, I understand. But listen, Charlotte. It don’t matter where you come from, or who you are. There’s always something better out there, waiting. That's what I'm learning. There’s always something to escape from, and there’s always somewhere better you’re trying to be. You should try not to regret what you did. You don’t know what might’ve happened if you’d stayed in the city. Life is so fragile, I think, and you got to do what you want. It’s easy to worry too much. We gotta...keep perspective. For as long as we can. That's what I'm doing right now. I'm keeping perspective. Arthur helps me with that. There's a lot going on in my life, that's scary, but you know, you don't really find the meaning in life on your own. It finds you. Like with me and Arthur. We was friends for…years, before love found us. Life can be real bad, I reckon, but you never know what’s gonna happen that’s good. Right? So you just gotta keep living, and that’s it, right?” She sat back and placed her hand on her little tummy, as if to reassure herself with the same words she was using to try and reassure Charlotte. "You just gotta try." She sipped her tea and smiled in such a way so that she would seem strong, and like she knew what she was talking about. It was true, she herself was struggling with such similar predicaments, but her husband was alive, and in that, she was the sturdier woman on the sofa that day, by far, so she acted like it.

Charlotte, meanwhile, was staring at Mary Beth, and then looking down into her tea and then back at the fire. They heard Arthur’s heavy boots then, out on the porch. They both glanced toward the sound with immense relief. Charlotte then suddenly looked back to Mary Beth, brightening up a little. She was not okay, but Mary Beth had hit on something it seemed—she was reassured. “Thank you,” she said. “So much. I hate to be a burden to strangers. But you are good people.”

Mary Beth waved her off as the atmosphere between them changed and grown more comfortable. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “And I hope we won’t stay strangers for long.”

Charlotte smiled. “Me, too.”

Arthur came in the door then. He took off his hat and shook the cold off. He had two rabbits, skinned and cleaned and tied together, laying over his shoulder. “Lord in heaven, it’s cold out there,” he said. He looked at them fondly then, huddled on the sofa, blowing into his hands. “But you two ladies look nice and cozy.”

“Is those rabbits ready to cook?” said Mary Beth.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you,” said Charlotte. She rose from the sofa. Went to him and took the rabbits off his hands. “Thank you, so much, Arthur.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. He rubbed his hands together and looked at Mary Beth. “You got anymore of that tea, my lady?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mary Beth. She got up to pour him some. He took off his jacket and went to warm himself by the fire, and when she handed him the mug, he thanked her and kissed her on the head. Then he came and sat at the kitchen table. Mary Beth helped Charlotte to prepare a stew and they all three of them chatted for a while. Charlotte had some carrots, cabbage, and salt in her pantry, which they chopped up and used generously. As they were sitting down for dinner a little while later, they looked out the window. It was starting to snow.

“Sweet Christmas,” said Mary Beth. “Is that snow?”

“I guess we’re in it,” said Arthur, amused. He seemed so relaxed there, so deeply in his element. He tucked one of Charlotte’s fine cloth napkins into his collar. “Winter is upon us."

“I guess so,” said Charlotte, like she was unsure. They ate their stew.

As they did, the wind howled through the chimney, filling the room with its strange reminder of all the uncertainty beyond, all of which seemed so inconsequential while they were safe and sound there inside those walls. So much had started, finished, been found, and lost. And yet, there was still so much to do, it seemed, to weather the storm.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur x mary beth #mary beth gaskill #the lily farm #happy valentines day!!#i am sorry for the long wait on this one #february has been insane #but i'm very proud of this chapter!!#i am excited to finally get here #<3

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