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myhauntedsalem · 3 years

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Real EMTs Share True Ghost Stories

Together Forever

“I’ve had a couple of weird calls. One was a major MVA-head on many, many years ago when we played M.E. as well. We had 2 DOA (husband and spouse) that were killed instantly in a head on collision. They had a 12-year-old daughter that was in between them and they actually took the impact, saving her life.

While en route, we noticed the husband’s arm had come loose so I went back to re-strap it. As I was doing that, the wife’s arm suddenly fell out as well, and her hand fell into her husband’s. My boss was watching in the rear view mirror and helped clear the way as I ran back into the front. It spooked both of us. Apparently the couple (mid 30’s), had just found out he was cancer free after his last treatment.”

Will I Go to Heaven?

“Had a young woman in full liver failure. She was orange in color and she was still conscious. She asked me what I thought it would be like to die. I told her I didn’t know but I hoped it wouldn’t be painful. She then asked me if I thought I would go to heaven. I told her that I believed I would. She asked me if I thought she would go to heaven, and I told her I wasn’t able to answer that question.

She then told me ‘I am going to heaven and I know it,’ and I asked her how she knew that and she told me something that I will never ever forget. She told me ‘I know I am because that man over there told me so.’ I asked what man and she said the man sitting on the end of the bench. I asked her what he looked like and she said ‘he looks just like the Jesus on the windows of my church.’

Well, to tell you I was pretty well affected by that statement. She then went on to say ‘And he says that you are going to go to heaven too.’

We then prayed and I will never forget that interaction between the two of us. About a week later she passed away. I hope she made it to heaven.”

Otherworldly Screams at the ER

“I have had fellow coworkers swear that strange things have occurred in the ER. Two people that I work with were charting at the nurses station when they both heard a scream followed by incoherent words come from one of our open bays. There were three patients in the room and they denied screaming or hearing anything. I have also had fellow coworkers talk about hearing strange voices especially after really bad codes and one person states she felt someone grabbing her shoulder after the doc pronounced a trauma code. These are all respectable people and I do not think they would lie.”

666

“We responded to a ‘sick call’ at about 4 a.m. Dispatch said he was a hospice patient with a history of cancer who had not eaten for a couple of days and had pulled out his medication port. We get there and it’s this poor guy in his early 40’s who is bald from chemo and sitting on his brother’s couch. His skin was blotchy, pale and purple, and he was hyperventilating and diaphoretic. His sis-in-law said he had been pacing from the bed to the couch all night, clearly agitated.

We went out to get the stretcher, and when we came back in he had crapped himself. He just kept saying, ‘Oh… ooooh. No. No. Oooh’ and looking around the room, flinching every now and then like he was waving away flies. We got him to sit on the stretcher, and he said, ‘No, not now!’ We assured him and rolled him out. The medic I was with asked me to get DNR papers, because, ‘He’s doing it right now.’

I walked up to his bro and sis-in law, got the papers, and returned just in time to see him cry a couple of big tears, sob a little, and then crumple. I had to tell his brother he had passed (not easy to see a man drop to his knees in a driveway and wail). Then I got in and prepared to drive to the ER. As I wondered if the man would go to Heaven, I got a bad feeling, like darkness was creeping all around us. I happened to look down at the volt-meter and I saw the number 666 flashing. This panel normally doesn’t flash at all, it just reads voltage. It went 666, then .1, then 666 then .1, then 666 then .1 and then it went back up to 1200 or so and stayed that way. The uneasy feeling went away, but I still prayed the whole way to the hospital. I felt sick as hell all that day, and had a violent vomiting spell later on.

The Haunted Ambulance Company

“This is a true story about an ongoing haunting that is occurring in Richmond, Virginia at a local ambulance company located just off Broad Street near the Willow Lawn Shopping Center. My 25-year-old son-in-law has been working at this company as an Emergency Medical Technician for approximately a year now and he comes home weekly with new haunting stories.

The small brick building was once a warehouse of some type, and during a fire many years ago several people were trapped inside and died. They were Hispanic migrant workers who apparently slept in the warehouse. It is now used as an ambulance company and during the 24 hour shifts, EMT people are required to spend the night in the building. There is also a dispatcher who is always on duty, even during the night hours.

When my son-in-law first went to work there, he wondered why the sleeping cots were set up in the smaller room rather than the larger bunk room. He was told that the larger room was haunted and if people tried to sleep there, they’d feel cold hands on them in the night. He didn’t know whether to believe this or not, but he did notice that whenever he worked a 24 hour shift and slept there, he had very bad nightmares and he’d wake up to a cold tingling feeling running up and down his spine.

They think there are at least two ghosts in the building. The first is an aggressive one who bangs the chain on the bay door, walks around the bay area, slams doors, and puts his cold hands on people. The other is a woman has also been seen in the office area. She was sighted recently when two ambulance workers walked by the office window and saw a short, dark-haired woman in the office. Not recognizing her, they went back to find out who she was but there was no one there.”

#Real EMTs Share True Ghost Stories #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and spirits #ghost and hauntings #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

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Emergency! Part 3

Summary: A woman comes back from her trip from Asia but isn’t feeling the best. And is rushed to the hospital. Her symptoms are that of the flue, but worse than. The virus spreads throughout the hospital, Jack falls ill collapsing in the break room. Dean falls ill on a rescue, Cas having to rescue the original victim and his partner. The reader, having to sit by and wait and pray for her friends pull through. But turns out the original patient with the virus got better, now her body has the antibodies to fight the virus.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: Scary Situations, Language, Mild Angst, Fluff.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I could use the corona virus or COVID-19 but decided to use the virus used in the Emergency! Episode of the same name. The virus being a strain of the Asian flu during a bad outbreak in the late 60’s. Also the drugs and measure mentioned are probably not accurate, I’m not a pharmacist.

a/n2: D.O.N = Director of Nursing, DOA = Dead on Arrival, BP = Blood Pressure, O2 Sat = Oxygen Saturation

“Dean,” Cas says, walking into the fire stations garage.

Dean was logging supplies in the squad truck when he heard Cas enter and got his attention.

“What’s up Cas?”

“When you started dating Y/N, when did you know she was the one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like Meg, and when she was taking care of me after that accident of mine I found that she and I have a lot in common and I want to know her more?”

“Well, Cas, it’s different for other people. Just ask Meg out. Talk to her, find out stuff about her that she likes, hates, and if you can find yourself still able to love her despite her flaws. Keep it going. Keep taking her out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Nothing in life is simple man.”

Cas nods in agreement.

The alarm sounded in the station.

“Squad 51, someone sick. Respond. 226 south Jasper’s Avenue, cross street South Walker boulevard.”

“Back at it again.” Cas says.

“Let’s hit it.”

Dean getting into his usual spot in the squad, revving the engine to life and heading to the location.

When they arrived, another station had arrived originally.

Dean and Cas gathered their tools and headed into the residence.

“Chuck, what do you got?” Cas asked.

“Kelly McMeyers, 22, her dad said she was fine at breakfast.”

They followed Fireman Chuck through the house to the girl’s bedroom to find her on her bed, sweating, pale and in obvious discomfort and pain.

Dean placed a hand on her head.

“She’s burning up, Cas, get the thermometer.”

Cas did as told handing the thermometer to Dean.

Dean placed in the girls mouth, under her tongue. Cas handing him the blood pressure cuff.

Dean began checking her Blood pressure.

“Get the radio, we need to tell the hospital.” Dean orders.

Cas, pulls out the radio of it’s holster on his belt.

“Rampart, this is rescue 51. Rampart this is rescue five one.” Cas radios in.

It was a normal slow day at the hospital, y/n having finished her charting, getting reading for her lunch break.

“Rampart this is rescue 51,” she heard Cas’s voice over the radio. “Rampart this is rescue Five one.”

She picks up the hand piece to the hospital’s radio to respond.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart we have a female, Kelly McMeyers, 22 years of age.” Cas transmits.

“BP is 129 over 80, O2 Saturation is…”

Dean places a hand over her chest, watching it rise and fall. Counting in his head. But scolding with the low number he came up with.

“Did you pack the pulse Oximeter?”

“I did.” Cas says, handing it to him.

“I got to double check before I give you the wrong number.”

Dean turned on the device, and placing it on her finger.

“Still reading low, O2 Sat, 85.” Dean says.

“O2 sat is 85. Temperature is coming up…”

Dean pulls out the thermometer.”

“105.” He reads.

“Temperature is 105.”

y/n was shocked she had a temperature that high.

“51, standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

“10-4.”

“I just don’t understand, she was fine at breakfast, it happened so suddenly.” The girl’s father expressed.

“Some of these things do happen rather quickly.”

“Could be the Asian Flu?” Chuck suggests. Playing with the girl’s pet monkey.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions until a doctor can see her.” Cas says.

“Kelly, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean asks.

The girl nods groggily.

“She’s really drowsy.” Cas mentions.

“Kelly, are you in any pain at all?” Dean asks.

“My head hurts, my chest hurts too.” She whines.

“She threw up a bit before you got here Winchester.” Chuck mentions.

“51, this is doctor Singer.”

“Rampart, we have new information, patient is experiencing head and chest pain, she’s drowsy and vomited a few times before we arrived.”

“Alright, start IV, lidocaine, two milligrams. And just in case what she has is contagious keep contact with the patient to an absolute minimum.”

“10-4 Rampart.” Cas says.

“I’ll get the IV going, if you want to get the ambulance here Chuck.”

“Already ahead of you, they should be here by now.”

Sirens are heard in the distance, as if on cue.

“How about that timing?” Cas says.

“Alright, she’s set, lets get her to the hospital.” Dean says.

Just as more paramedics came in, Dean grabbed the equipment as Cas walked out with the patient.

Chuck still petting the monkey.

“I love monkeys, bet he’d be a cute pet to have.” He says.

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to be pets Chuck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, cute little guy, isn’t he?”

The monkey sat on his pole that stood in the room. And the monkey started walking over to Dean, walking on his shoulder, messing with his hat.

“Hey, stop,” he told the monkey while trying to shake him off gently.

The monkey got back on his pole as Dean walked out to the squad.

At the hospital, Y/N, Doctor Singer assisted in the patient, Kelly McMeyer, as Doctor Singer preformed a spinal tap.

Just as he pulled out the needle, gathering spinal fluid, Doctor Kline walks in.

“What’d you got Bobby?”

“Possible strain of the flu, her symptoms are consistent with that of the Asian flu, but the incubation period is too fast. Her symptoms came up quick, she was fine at breakfast.”

“Do we know where she’s been lately?”

“All over southeast Asia, Kelly and her friends were part of her church’s mission trip in assisting kids in orphanages, and adoption homes. Fixing them up, helping kids get adopted. And her dad took her camping when she got back. Took her to the Black Hills in South Dakota.” y/n explained.

“That opens us up to a whole array of fevers, and of course flus. China is always riddled with noval viruses we’ve never seen nor dealt with. And of course, there’s ones we’ve dealt with her, rocky mountain spotted fever, lymes disease, or even parasitic infections. Fungal infections that could have originated from her camping trip.” Jack explained.

“Did Kelly have any kind of protection on either trip?” Jack asked.

“Her dad made sure she packed, bug spray, tick spray, and they had nets around their camp to prevent nats and other flying insects from getting in the tents.” Y/N says.

“So, in which case, we’re back to, what did she catch when she was in China. Because chances of her getting anything on the camping trip are slim I’m guessing.”

“Her dad was pretty adamant that they were covered for their trip. He didn’t want anyone getting sick.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s get some blood work, see if we can’t find the answer in there.”

“You got it doctor.” y/n says, getting her hands sanitized, and ready to draw some blood.

“Dean, your shift was done an hour ago, go home!” His father ordered.

“Just finishing up the logs for the day.”

“Cas can finish it up for you, he at least goes home in an hour. Now go.”

“Yes sir, you sure you got this man?” Dean asks.

“Dean, I got it. Go home and rest. See you in two days.”

Dean handed Cas the papers for logging their day, what all happened, their end result. He grabbed the keys to his Impala and drove on home.

He could tell he was exhausted. At a stop light he had to really will himself to stay awake just a few more miles.

But as he got to another stop light, he knew he was too tired to be driving.

Y/N’s apartment wasn’t far. He moved lanes before her street came up and Dean drove to her apartment. Giving her a call to make sure she was either up or home.

“Hey Handsome, how was your day?” she asked.

He could hear the background of the hospital.

“Exhausting. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, another late one. Why? Are you in the area?” she asked. Sounding concerned.

“I’m really exhausted, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it home. I was thinking on crashing at your place.”

“You can stay there Dean; my key is by my hanging plant. I think your clothes from last time are still there.”

“Thanks baby, where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch because you’ve run yourself ragged, now hurry to my place and get to bed. I’ll home when I can.”

“Love you sweetheart.” He says with a tired smile, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Love you more Winchester, sleep well.” She says.

He parked his car near where she parked. Walking up tiredly up to her apartment he found her key easily.

He headed inside, placing the key back but also locking up behind him as he got himself settled.

She had since gotten a new apartment since the plane crash; sure she was farther away from the hospital, but she was closer to him by several blocks.

He had gotten out of the shower, feeling a little bit better, but he climbed into his side in her bed. Pulling the covers over him, and falling fast asleep once his head hit the pillow.

She had hurried with her charting, her replacement nurse coming in late. But at least she showed up.

She hurried to her car to get on home.

She saw Dean’s car parked next to her spot on the street. She parked her car right behind his.

She quietly entered the apartment. Leaving the lights off she navigated to her room seeing his sleeping form in her bed. Sound asleep.

She made her shower quick and simple, washing off the stress of the day and relaxing enough so she could fall easily asleep.

She climbs into bed beside him. He tossed, turning towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Poor dude was exhausted. But Dean was no fool, he loved being the little spoon. Maybe too much. But when it was her, he didn’t care too much.

Days followed, and the original patient began to go downhill. Her fever wasn’t breaking.

Y/N had finished getting Kelly’s vitals, updated her chart. She headed back out to the nurses station when she saw an ambulance dropping off a new patient.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Fireman, Chuck Shirley. Stricken with a fever, 104 temp, slightly elevated BP.” One of the paramedics informed.

“He was fine at lunch time.” His wife said behind the paramedics.

“Are you his wife?” Y/N asked.

“I am, my name’s Becky.”

“Okay, I’ll escort you to the waiting room. I’ll keep you informed of your husbands situation.” y/n told her.

Becky nodded, and she was lead to the waiting room. Y/N walked back into one of the exam rooms.

Hours passed as the doctors looked over Chuck, they learned one thing in common.

He responded to Kelly McMeyers.

“I want everyone who responded to get checked out. Clearly we are up against something contagious.” Jack orders.

“I’ll get right on it.” y/n says.

As the day wore on, Y/N had called all the stations that responded, the ambulance and even called up her boyfriend personally.

“Afternoon beautiful.” Dean answers.

“Hey babe, you responded on the Kelly McMeyers right?”

“I did, me and Cas both, why?”

“Chuck Shirley is sick with the same symptoms as Kelly, and Dr. Kline has ordered you two to come in and get checked out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Dean, Chuck looked bad. Come in, please.” She practically whined.

“Okay, I will. Don’t worry sweetheart. I have to come down for supplies anyway, I’ll bring Cas along.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Just as Dean and Cas left the hospital after giving their blood samples to be checked for any virus or uprising in white blood cell count. Questions rose to how and where the original patient got sick.

“Whatever this Kelly chick has must be bad.” Dean says as he drove back to the station.

“Must be, if she didn’t get while camping then where?” Cas asks.

For a beat there was a pause.

“The same place where she got her pet monkey.” Cas says.

“You really think that monkey is the carrier?” Dean asks, unsure.

“Think about it Dean. It’s always animals in other countries that carry all these scary viruses. Swine flu came from pigs. Avian flu came from birds. The Asian flu came from, well, Asia but it was ducks. What if, this monkey one of those viruses and was somehow able to transmit it overseas?” Cas explained.

“You should really be a doctor something, damn Cas.” Dean says, impressed with the information Cas was able to share.

“Also think of the movie Outbreak.”

“Dude, that wasn’t even a real virus.”

“No, but it was a real situation that can really happen. It’s the worst case scenario. But it was a monkey carrying a mutated version of the virus.”

“I think you’re onto something Cas.” Dean says, digging around in his pockets.

“Here, call my girlfriend, tell her what you told me.”

“Okay.” Cas says.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Cas, you got a minute?”

“How’s Dean?” she asked concerned right away.

“Oh, he’s fine, we were just talking about the victims. She brought home a pet monkey from China. And Chuck was playing with it.”

“That is actually something Cas, thanks. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not really, but just for the fact that this monkey might carry a virus that could kill Kelly and our friend.”

“And you’re spot on, on that. I’ll tell Jack and Bobby. Thanks Cas.”

At the hospital, the two doctors were at the nurses station when Cas called. Their attention on her when she seemed surprised with the information he given her.

“Cas of squad 51 just told me Kelly brought home a pet monkey from China. And that Chuck played with it.”

“That’s something, Bobby, get someone to go with Kelly’s dad back to his house. Get the monkey and bring the little guy in.”

“You got it Jack.”

Cas had handed Dean his phone back.

“You know, Cas,” he says.

Cas doesn’t say anything but has his attention.

“I kind of played with the monkey too.”

The next following day, Kelly was slowly getting better. But Chuck was taking a turn for the worse. His fever wasn’t breaking.

Jack goes into Kelly’s room to talk to her about her monkey.

A nurse was already in the room taking care of her.

“Abaddon why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

“Oh, sorry Doctor its just—”

“No excuses, you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Not only would you be putting your life at risk, you’re putting everyone else’s lives at risk as well.”

With that she put her mask over her mouth and nose.

“Kelly,” Jack says.

She opened her eyes slowly giving the doctor his attention.

“We got your pet down in the lab. Now, was he ever sick when you had him?”

“Yes, just after I bought him. He had a bad cold, and threw up a bit too.”

“Well in order to help the fireman, and you as well, we may have to put him down so we can perform an autopsy.”

“No, you can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what I’d do without Oreo!”

“Kelly, it’s the only chance we have at saving lives.”

The tears that built up in the girls eyes fell. Jack took his gloved finger by her cheek, brushing away the tears that fell.

“If you’re right about that,” she swallows thickly. “Then you can take Oreo.”

“Could help you too Kelly.” Abaddon says.

“I know.”

Jack gave a sad smile through his mask.

He doffed off his PPE by the door and left her room to give the go ahead.

“Dean, we have a group of kids from Jefferson Elementary School to come in for a tour, can you help Gabe clean up the garage real quick.”

“Dad, I’m really exhausted, can you get Cas to do it?”

“It’s not like you to complain, come on now. He’s busy with the logs, come on it won’t take long.”

The alarm sounded.

“Never mind.” John says.

“Station 51, medical emergency. At the top of the Wells Fargo bank at 5535 Woodland Boulevard. Cross street Jackson Avenue.”

The men and women at station 51 jumped into action.

At the location they climbed up the stairs after they reached the max floor the elevator would allow to go.

“What happened?” John asked one of the men working on the roof.

“Jimmy was over the edge cleaning the windows and he let out a yell, and I saw him collapse. I tried getting him on this thing but it’s jammed.”

“We’ll get him, we’ll hoist one of my paramedics down to get a line on him and we’ll bring him up.” John assured.

“I’ll go.” Dean says.

“Why don’t we just swing the lift through a window?” Cas asks.

“There wouldn’t be a safe way to do it. Just, get me down to him. Drop a line for him and he’ll be up here before you can say Bobs your uncle.” Dean says.

“Just be careful man.” Cas says.

“I will dude.”

Dean has the ropes around him, his harness, Gabe, Michael and Raphael anchored his rope as they helped lower him down.

“Okay, more slack!” Dean shouts as he got closer to the victim.

He got safely on to the lift and began to work the rope around the victim so they could lift him up.

But Dean’s vision began to spin. His hands came up to hold the support of the lift.

“Dean, you okay!?” Cas shouts from the ledge.

“Yeah!”

Dean hurries to get the rope around the victim and tries to work on tying the knot.

His dizziness got worse, and worse. Just as he was about to ask for help, Dean passes out.

His body falling off of the lift, and hangs by his harness off of the ledge.

“Try lifting him up a bit!” Cas ordered.

The three brothers tried pulling the rope slightly.

Cas could see Dean wasn’t getting any higher.

“No, stop, he’s tangled. I’m gonna have to head down there.” Cas says.

He heads over to Charlie who handed him some rope, getting the lopes around him, and working his harness on.

Cas hurries over the ledge.

Gabe, Michael, and Raphael tied Dean’s rope to hold him steady as they lowered Cas down to the lift.

“More slack!” Cas ordered as he got closer.

Cas removed his work gloves to check the victims pulse.

“He’s in full cardiac arrest!” Cas shouts out, communicating.

Cas finishes what Dean had going. Connecting the loops around the victims arms and legs making a makeshift harness.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas calls out.

The victim slowly rising as Gab, Michael and Raphael pulled the rope lifting the victim up.

“Dean, can you hear me man?” Cas asked, trying to lift Dean onto the lift.

He didn’t respond. He was out cold.

Cas furrowed his brow as he grew concerned for his friend.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas ordered.

Cas seen the original victim made it over the ledge safely. And Dean began to slowly rise up to the top.

Once everyone was safely up, they got Cas up as well.

Cas helped with the cardiac victim while Charlie and the others assisted with Dean.

Y/N sat at the nurses station charting her days work about ready to head home when an ambulance and squad approached the door.

She quickly typed up her report, saving it and sending it to her Director, she went to assist the paramedics.

Her heart dropped when she saw one of the patients being wheeled in.

“Dean.”

“Patient one was DOA, heart attack. Dean has a fever of 104.” Cas says.

“Okay, there’s an exam room open, lets get him in there. I’ll page Dr. Singer.”

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asked.

“He’s sick too. He was about to treat Kelly and Chuck when he collapsed. His fever is 103 and climbing.”

“How is Chuck?”

“Not doing well. Let’s focus on Dean please.” Y/N said, keeping the tears of fear at bay.

Dean was all settled in a room later that night.

“Y/N.” Bobby says as he entered Dean’s room.

“Dr. Singer.”

“Your director doesn’t want you treating him. It’s against ethics.”

“I know. I’m off the clock.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me for staying by my boyfriend’s side.”

“Y/N, you’re D.O.N is on the other side of the this door. Relax.” He whispered.

“Bobby, I can’t think straight right now. I want to stay by his side, if that’s alright.”

“You can’t just stop everything because he’s sick. The CDC got back to us on the virus, you know this. It’s a strain of the Asian flu, a newer mutated strain. We have a drug we can use.”

She sighs, rubbing her face hard, trying to not get frustrated with herself.

“I know. I just want to know he’s going to be okay is all.”

“You love him. I know. But you have to still live life. Because that don’t stop. You got to keep going kid.”

She nods. “I’m guessing I can’t stay with him due to isolation protocol.”

“You got it. but once he’s better, you can.” She nods again.

“Please, keep me in the loop with him.”

“I’m sure Meg will. Cas was already on her case about him.”

She chuckles with a nod.

“Go home and rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

She nods, leaving with a slump in her shoulders. Heading to her car. Driving quietly home.

It wasn’t until she got out of her shower, and laid in her empty bed did she let her walls come crumbling down.

A sob escaped from her, shaking her to her core.

“God, Dean. Please be okay.” She sobbed.

The next day, she heads into work trying to focus on her patients.

She learned from one of the over night nurses that Chuck passed away.

Her anxiety already being high enough with her boyfriend being sick with the same virus, but the same virus that killed a fireman.

She headed up to Dean’s room where Meg walked out. Sweating after being in her PPE for some period of time.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Not good. His fever is not even breaking. He had the first 100 Milligrams of Idoxuridine.”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Close, it’s been about an hour and fifty minutes since last dose.”

“Give him another dose of it. Same for Jack if he’s not getting better.”

“Sure thing, I’m sure Bobby will understand.”

Y/N nodded as Meg went back inside to give Dean another dose of the drug.

Y/N headed back to the nurses station to chart her first half of the shift when her D.O.N approached the desk.

“Y/N, I was told you were by Dean’s room yet again. This time on the clock.”

“Sorry Jody, I just—”

“It’s okay, really. Bobby can be a hard ass sometimes, and I know I can be too. But my husband gets sick really easily. And I’d do the same thing you’re doing.” She says.

“Thank you…” she hesitates.

“I have your replacement coming in so you can see him and be with him. Once Donna gets here, go to him.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She says, as tears rise to the surface.

“It’s not a problem.” Jody smiles.

Days pass as the doctors and nursing staff cared for Dean and Jack for the virus.

Y/N stayed day and night, her D.O.N giving her the week off on FMLA.

She had lost track of the days when she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Kelly was fully recovered and the doctors and nursing staff encouraged her to donate some blood so they can use her antibodies in her blood to donate to Dean and Jack so they have a fighting chance.

His fever finally broke, he was getting better. She could close her eyes and he’d still be there.

She woke that night to a hand on her head, playing with her hair.

She stirred awake to find Dean awake and well.

“Hey.” She says tiredly.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He answers. “Babe, did you stay here all day?”

“Dean, it’s been a week. You’ve been out for a week.”

“Damn…but still, you’ve been here all week?”

“Yes. You scared me.” She says. Taking his hand and placing it on her cheek.

His thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Catching a tear that fell.

“Well I’m sorry for scaring you. But you’re worrying me, did you take care of yourself while you were here?”

“Not really. Haven’t been hungry. I’m not sick or anything.”

“I know, you’ve told me that you’ll get this way. Either in a good way, like an innocent way of binging your favorite show and forgot to eat. Or in a bad way, like this.”

“Let me get Meg and tell her you’re awake.”

Just as she says that, Meg comes walking in.

“Jack’s awake…oh Dean’s awake too.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N Says tiredly.

“I’ll get Dr. Singer so we can see when you can go home. And get Y/N to a bed, she hasn’t slept much since she stayed here.”

“Really, not eating or sleeping.”

“She was worked up. who could blame her?” Meg asked.

“True.”

Meg left the room to get Bobby.

Dean not saying a word, pulls Y/N’s arm guiding her in the bed with him.

She happily got in, curling into his side.

He felt a residual tremble shudder through her body.

“Shh, I’m here baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

Not even a tiny virus would tear up this team.

A/N: Did you enjoy? How are you liking it so far? Favorites yet? Feedback is fuel and much appreciated. :3

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @mlovesstories, @akshi8278, @flamencodiva, @anotherspnfanfic, @megzdoodle, @lyarr24

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/23/2021

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southernrays · 3 years

Text

location: Fairvale + Jesup/Atlanta in flashbacks date: The second week of July 2020 + Ray’s entire life availability: closed solo tldr: Ray ponders his love life before-during-after the apocalypse cw for: transphobia, disclosure talks, transitioning, divorce, drugs (mentioned not used) and all of the general heart break affiliated with young love.

000.

Ray fell in love too easily.

It had always been a problem, really, but there was no real fix. Ray loved deeply, easily, and with his whole entire heart. He had done so since he was a kid, and he would probably always do so, apocalypse or not.

001.

His first crush had been on Brittany Walker when he was six years old. That was before he was Ray, before he was even Nate, but a crush was a crush.

Brittany was the most popular girl in their elementary school. Jesup was a small town that only grew smaller the older they got, and Ray was one of ten in his class. Brittany was classically pretty - blonde hair, blue eyes, a big smile, and kind eyes - but Ray knew it was more that that. He didn’t want to be Brittany’s friend, he wanted to be her best friend, and got jealous of everyone else. When the town got a new set of siblings, brother and sister, and Brittany started hanging out with them instead of him, Ray’s father noticed the frowns and sad looks at the dinner table.

“What’s wrong, champ?” David had asked, the nickname sticking from a t-ball championship streak of two years. Ray had pouted over the okra on his plate, and not just because it was slimy.

“Brittany has new friends and likes them better. But I like her more than anyone else on the playground.”

“Is that right now?” David had amusement in his eyes when he tried to keep a straight face, and Ray was old enough to see it. He was deceptively perceptive for his age and already a good people watcher at the bar. David knew that.

“I’m serious Dad. I’d marry her, like you and mom.”

Ray was still just six, though. He didn’t notice the tense of his father’s shoulder, the way he glanced over to make sure that his wife wasn’t in the room. He didn’t notice the frown lines on his face or how unhappy he had been for the last six years. He didn’t know that the divorce papers will be signed before their next Christmas, and it will be spent without Regina Turner. That all of his birthdays and holidays and life events would be without her, forever, very soon.

“That’s a whole lot of like, kiddo.”

“I mean it, Pa.”

“That’s alright champ. You can marry whoever you want to when you get older, alright? I’ll love you no matter what.”

“Alright dad,” little Ray had said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Don’t make it weird.”

David’s laugh had filled the kitchen, and Ray felt better about it all.

002.

Ray didn’t have a type growing up. The people he liked, he liked individually, not because they fit into a mold that checked off imaginary boxes. In high school his eyes turned towards a new girl in town that’s aesthetic screams southern gothic in an unironic way. Hailee wore her eye liner too thick, kept her music too loud, wore too much black and metal, and glared at everyone at Jesup’s only high school like their mere presence bothered her. Ray had no idea, in retrospect, why he was drawn to her, but he was. Ray was finally Nate by then, finally himself in his own skin and his own clothing and no one could take that from him. Not the busybodies of Jesup, not his mother’s stinging palm on his cheek, and not any pastor of a Church he wasn’t apart of, praying to a man he didn’t believe in.

Ray was unapologetically himself, and maybe he was drawn to someone else like that, too.

Hailee avoided him like the plague, too, at first. She scoffed at his worn levis and dirty cowboy boots. She ignored Ray when the popular crowd stopped by his locker. Ray was popular, too, in spite of his transition and small town gossip. His father owned one of the only bars in town that made him cool, and a source of liquor for unage drinking and parties. Ray didn’t care much for that, but he did appreciate the socialization of it all.

“Hey, Hailee, wait up now,” Ray had called out, almost not recognizing his own voice after his second puberty.

“What do you want, Nate?” Her eyes had narrowed, pretty and green despite the kohl surrounding them.

“You to come to Nick’s party this weekend. What do ya say?” Ray rocked back on his heels, nervous of her answer. People in the hallway stopped to look at them, and Ray wondered what they saw. Was it the stubble on his chin, his recent growth spike, and the new squareness of his hips? Or was it the same kid that had been there since pre-school, unable to leave that old, uncomfortable skin behind.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah? You do that, then. I can pick ya up on the bike if you want?”

Her eyes flashed with something dangerous, then, and Ray knew he had hooked her. What kind of edgy girl could resist showing up to the party on the back of a sick motorcycle?

They find themselves in a closet, of all places, in the middle of the night. Ray tasted tequila on her lips when she slotted their hips together. He pushed back, pinning her against a wall as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The groan she let out was sweet music to his ears and she melted like putty against his strong frame.

“Worth comin’ out for the party?” Ray asked against her lips. She bit his lip in retaliation before deepening the kiss. Ray’s hands wandered, fingers trailing the skin exposed by the black crop top she had decided to wear tonight. They separate when Ray needed to come up for air, harsh pants filling the small spaces of the closet.

“I didn’t expect it to be so good,” Hailee mumbled against his lips, and Ray can’t help but freeze.

“What? Kissin’ a redneck?” He tried to joke off, desperate for her to make some small town hick joke. Because Hailee was from Indianapolis. She was supposed to be edgy and alternative and beyond all of the small town gossip. She was different from the other people Ray had been taking hayrides with since the days of diapers.

He expected more out of Hailee - maybe more than he should have, maybe more than what was fair - which is why the disappointment felt so much worse with her.

“No, you know...” A brief pause of hesitation and Ray prayed, dear God for her to say anything but what he thought she was going to say. “Kissing someone like you.”

Ray flinched back like someone had dropped a bucket of ice on him. His eyes sting for a brief second of embarrassment before the rage took over. He takes one deep breath, and then another. Man, testosterone was a potent thing, wasn’t it?

“I... I’ll see ya ‘round Hailey.”

“Wait - Nate - I didn’t ... I wasn’t trying to-”

Ray doesn’t hear the rest. He doesn’t need to.

003.

Dating Xavier was a mistake, plain and simple.

Ray was new to the area. He was finally free of his town, free of the stigma and the knowing looks, and the everything else that came with a town so small it felt like a fishbowl. Here, in Atlanta, he got to start over. He could be Nate from the beginning, without any need to pretend otherwise.

And Nate was a useless bisexual. Always had been.

Xavier was kind of a douchebag. He met Ray at a bar, of course, his band playing on the makeshift stage. Xavier was a drummer. He was so dang pretty, easy on the eyes, and kissed in a dirty, grungy sort of way that had it’s charms. He was nothing like Jesup kids; Xavier was spoiled, wild, a city boy through and through, and Ray craved the simplicity of it all.

Xavier (who went by X) was not a good guy and did drugs (most X) and got crossfaded out of his mind after shows. He stayed up crazy hours, usually high, and wrote all sorts of lyrics for his band. Their relationship, if you could call it that, was very brief and mostly physical.

“You should play guitar, babe, like for real, you know?” Xavier said, waking Ray up at five in the morning to tell him that.

“Why’s that, handsome?” Ray had answered, sleep still clogging his voice as he rolled over. It looked like X hadn’t been to sleep yet, which made sense considering the binge he had been on.

“It’d make you more edgy, right, like, you’d be hotter. Everyone’s hotter if they play guitar.”

“S’that why you’re a drummer?” Ray teased, but the fun nature of it went over Xavier’s head. He leveled a big scowl at Ray, and Ray sighed.

“No need to be mean, Nate.”

“Was just a joke, baby.” Ray opened up the covers of the bed, glancing at the clock again. Xavier’s pupils were so dilated that he couldn’t see his pretty brown eyes. “Come to bed soon?”

“You know I have to finish this song. We hit the road in three weeks for our tour.”

In that three weeks, Ray picked up a guitar and had his first lessons, broke up with Xavier, and never saw the guy again.

He was not more edgy, not in the slightest, but he did have a new guitar and a whole city to explore.

004.

Meeting Luci had been accidental in every way. He had picked up an extra shift at the bar that his manager forgot to write into the schedule, so when he showed up for it there was double staffing and no need for Ray to be there. Instead of spending a Friday night alone, at his apartment, he decided to stay. Ray nursed a couple of beers as the bar filled up and texted his friends to show up early.

The Drunken Crown was a sort of themed bar-slash-pub in Atlanta. It was smaller, which Ray appreciated, and had theme nights on the daily. A lot of the college kids from nearby spent their time there, and the average patron was generally on the younger side. On Fridays and Saturdays their theme rotated, and tonight’s was Historic Night.

His friends arrived a bit later, dressed in Spartan battle gear. They did a couple rounds of shots before most of them took to the dance floor, leaving Ray laughing as he refused at the bar.

Ray had come dressed in an honest to goodness toga, including a gold spray-painted leaf crown and golden accessories. His time in the gym had definitely paid off as he was finally bulking up and gaining more definition in his shoulders. One or two girls had been orbiting around him, but Ray didn’t make any passes at anyone. He sipped on his beer, watching his coworkers make their rounds, and decided to people watch for the evening.

A group of flappers were tearing up the dance floor. Ray could see his buddy, Blake, drunkenly approaching them and attempting some dance moves that made him look ridiculous. Some guys in three piece suits were making out by the entrance. A group of hippies were eagerly chatting and mingling at the bar. Ray saw at least three girls who looked like some extras in a Nirvana video begging for some kind of song change from whatever was on the speakers.

Luci had been dressed up as an old writer, someone Ray knew the name of but couldn’t remember, not truly and definitely not any more, and kept all to herself in the very corner of the bar. She was sipping on some mixed drink and Ray’s eyes stopped on her. What was her story? The quiet girl, alone at the bar, barely hanging onto the fringes of all of the activity.

He was intrigued, and he wanted to know.

A simple introduction was given. Ray prodded, trying to get a feel for the quiet girl, who opened up immediately when asked about her costume. Ray was no academic, but he appreciated the passion in her eyes when she spoke about something, voice louder than either one of them expected.

“I’m Nate, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

And it was. Luci was his opposite in so many ways. He hadn’t expected to see her again after that night, too shy to ask for her number and unsure if she was interested in giving it. His coworkers had given him hell for chickening out, and Ray just gave them a good-natured smile.

A week and a half later, Luci came in, dressed normally, while Ray was working. He spent the entire night neglecting his duties, trying to get a conversation out of her and working his own natural charm. And she came back the next week, and the week after, too. Soon Ray was brave enough to ask for her number. And she gave it to him.

Being with Luci was different. Their first date, Ray had taken her out of the city to a local dirt track. They went mudding in ATVs and Ray nearly fell off of his trying to impressive her halfway through. Luci’s eyes had been wide the entire time, soaking up the whole thing with a curiosity that Ray came to associate with her. One date turned into two, which turned into a whole series of exploring together.

They took turns taking each other outside of their comfort zones. Ray taught Luci how to have fun the country way, with mudding and camping, and picnics in the bed of his truck as they watched the sun rise together. Luci surprised Ray with her deep thoughts, her sharp mind, and the push to better himself with her. She didn’t let him keep up his self-deprecation. They would have late night conversations, under the stars, all alone, wrapped up in each other.

She met his friends, his family, incorporated herself in his entire life.

Ray fell head over heels. And he told her so, earnest and eager and open to love. Open to a lifetime of learning and exploring with her.

And she left him, at the edge of the cliff he was ready to jump off with no parachute, without so much as an explanation. And she took a part of him with her, whether she realized it or not, that never really came back.

005.

There were more. Some before Luci, some after. Each person was different - different backgrounds, ages, race, gender, personalities - but one thing always remained the same. Ray loved too hard, too much, too easily. Ray was open to the idea of commitment, and committed, too easily.

It didn’t matter who he was dating, he was the constant, he was the issue, and it hurt to admit.

Ray tried, and he loved, before-during-after the outbreak. And it went like this:

There was Rob, a brewmaster he met while at school. They dated for over a year, before graduation hit; Ray wanted to go to Atlanta and Rob wanted to go to family back in Miami.

“It’s like - you know - I really like you Nate. I like you a lot. But long distance? It never works. It’s better to end it now.”

There was Sage, a wild child trust fund girl that wanted to save the rainforest with Daddy’s money. She laughed when he asked her to be his girlfriend.

“That’s cute, you thought we were dating? It’s not that serious babe.”

There was Fi, a survivor in a camp Ray had stumbled across after leaving the Fort. She was the reason Ray stuck around for three weeks. They had had an awful fight before the camp was overrun, and she hadn’t made it out alive.

“You’re too soft, Ray. I’d chew up your sunshine and spit it out. I don’t want to see you again.”

There was Ronnie, the permanent student with four different bachelor degrees. He cheated on Ray with one of his roommates after six months of dating.

“I was bored, Nate. I’m not ready to just settle down, dude. You’re smothering me.”

There was Destiny, a small town, kindred girl he found in Atlanta not too long after Xavier. She had looked at him in the worst way when Ray had come out to her.

“I’m - I’m not - That’s not what God would want for you, you know?”

There was Jenny, a financial advisor that Ray had met through the bar and mutual friends. She had always been so carefree, maybe too carefree, maybe just too free in general.

“Oh Darlin’, I don’t think so. We’re not exactly endgame, are we?”

It didn’t matter who, when, where they were. Ray wasn’t worth keeping around - that was the universally proven fact. It was one he had to stomach his entire life, and well, it sucked, but Ray was not one to stay down. He washed off the mud, dusted off his boots, and got back up again.

000. +

Ray tried not to play the self pity card. It just wasn’t his style. But with the outbreak, losing his family, and trying to re-invent himself yet again? A relationship was the last thing he wanted or needed. Fairvale was a clean break, it was (mostly) mess free. He could be whoever he wanted or needed. He could start over, again. He could protect himself and his heart.

Love mucked all of that up. It always had.

So when he caught himself - again, Ray, really? - people watching with his eyes settling on one person, he ignored it. When he felt that small flip-flop in his belly at their smile, he pushed it down. When his day would brighten at the familiar face of a kind-of-regular-that-showed up, Ray decided he would not have a crush again, thank you very much, and make things uneven.

He could not afford to give up his heart any more than he already had. He couldn’t afford to be let down, disregarded, by someone again.

#solo para #027 #para #YEEHAW BUCKLE UP #about

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nineteenninety-six · 4 years

Text

Escapism

REQUEST: hi! could i please request tommy x reader, where reader is married to a very wealthy man in a position of power, and they both know there will be disastrous consequences should anyone find out about the affair?

So I feel like this will might need a second part since I barely even touched the request but hey tell me what you think.

I also saw 1917 on Saturday and it’s an amazing film, I definitely recommend you to go see it

Trigger warning; mentions of abuse, orgy, drugs & drinking.

WORD COUNT : 2260

[PART TWO] [PART THREE] [PART FOUR]

They shouldn’t be doing this, (Y/N) knew that, but she couldn’t find it in herself to stop the affair between her and Tommy.

(Y/N) was married to Stewart Langley, a rich and powerful man from high society who got anything he wanted simply because he had money. That was also the reason why he got (Y/N), despite the fact he was over thirty years her senior. It was no secret amongst the elite in London that Stewart had practically bought her. Her own family didn’t come from the same society and class as Stewart but they were still very rich since her father was a lawyer.

It was a charity dinner where (Y/N)’s father had introduced his family to Stewart Langley, who he had worked with a few times and it was not long after that night did (Y/N)’s life become a nightmare. (Y/N) had lost track of the number of times she prayed and wished to go back in time to before that blasted dinner before her life was ruined due to the greed and ego of men.

When her parents told her that they set up an arranged marriage between her and Stewart, she didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. She didn’t believe them at first, she had just entered her twenties and Stewart was the same age as her parents but she quickly realised that they were serious. (Y/N) was by herself, she didn’t know who to turn to for help and she was also an only child so she had no-one to stand up for her or for her to confide in. She was utterly helpless and alone, her own parents had thrown her away.

Two weeks after they told her, (Y/N) was standing in a church, trying her hardest to keep her tears at bay and her voice steady as she stood opposite Stewart reciting her vows. She never thought that her wedding day, a day that she had been dreaming about since she was a little girl, would be the worst day of her life and that she would be crying all day.

At first, she couldn’t understand why her parents had set up the marriage but after the wedding when she saw them attend gatherings and social events that they would never have been invited to beforehand, along with rumours that they had bought a new bigger house, it dawned on her that she was bought by her husband.

(Y/N) lived a luxurious life with her husband but that didn’t make it a good or nice marriage. Stewart was a verbally abusive man, he also became physically abusive on the occasion when he drank too much or had taken drugs, for the most part, she was able to lock herself in her room but it took a bad interaction with Stewart for her to realise that it was better for her to hide away in her room rather than to try and help him but the silver lining of the whole situation was that Stewart didn’t force himself on her, he told her that he was too old to have children so the only reason he got her, was to essentially show her off and besides, whenever he did want to sleep with someone, he would visit the brothel in town.

Stewart threw a first-anniversary party to celebrate their first year of marriage, though it was more like a business function where Stewart invited all his friends, co-workers and business associates and spent all night speaking with them, while (Y/N) was tucked into a small corner of the room nursing a glass of wine and occasionally talking to a wife of one of the many businessmen that flooded the room.

The party is where she first met Thomas Shelby. She had heard whispers about the newly elected MP and the rumours that surrounded him about how he was a gangster or at least involved with gangs back in Birmingham. It didn’t surprise (Y/N) that Stewart had invited him, he had been trying to get involved in politics for a while now and so it didn’t matter that Thomas Shelby was a Labour MP as Stewart thought he would be able to bribe him to change parties and join the conservatives.

“Congratulations.” A voice she never heard before brought her out of her people watching.

“Sorry?” (Y/N) cleared her throat and turn to face where the voice came from.

The man in front of her was handsome, with his dark hair that was shaved on the sides and his bright yet icy blue eyes.

“On your anniversary. Congratulations.” The man’s eyes bore into her, it was slightly unnerving.

(Y/N)’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, “Thank you….”

“Tommy. Tommy Shelby.” The man answered her unspoken question.

“Thank you, Mr Shelby.”

Tommy opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Stewart shouting out (Y/N)’s from across the room, motioning for her to join his side. Tommy could see (Y/N)’s shoulders droop at the command and he frowned at the sight.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening Mr Shelby.” (Y/N) gave him a small smile before walking over to her husband.

Tommy swiped himself another drink before tucking himself into the corner that (Y/N) just vacated and kept eyes on the couple, thoughts and speculations about them whirring around in his head.

The next time they met, it was at a fundraiser but unfortunately (Y/N) couldn’t run away and hide this time, Stewart’s arm was either tightly wrapped around her waist or tightly gripped around her wrist, so tight that she had no doubt that it would leave a bruise.

“Mr Shelby!” Stewart approached Tommy with a wide smile, a smile that meant that he wanted something and that he wasn’t opposed to bully or bribe his way to ger it.

“Mr Langley...Mrs Langley” Tommy shook Stewart’s hand with a tight smile and tipped his head at (Y/N).

Stewart opened his mouth but paused, glancing at (Y/N) “Darling, I’m sure I saw Mary-Anne around here somewhere, why don’t you go over to her whilst I talk to Thomas here”

“Of course.” (Y/N) nodded, she nodded at Tommy before she left them.

Mary-Anne was the wife of one of Stewart’s friends and was the only person that (Y/N) could tolerate even a little bit. It wasn’t like they were friends or anything but (Y/N) could spend time with her without having the urge to throw herself out of the nearest window but even so, she needed a drink or two get through an interaction with her which is exactly what she did. After quickly downing the glass of wine in her hand, (Y/N) picked up another before making her way over to Mary-Anne and the rest of the wives.

“(Y/N)! Oh there you are, I wondered if I would get the chance to see you today” Mary-Anne giggled as she spotted (Y/N) making her way over.

“I’m sorry, Stewart just wouldn’t let me leave his side” (Y/N) falsely giggled, acting as if Stewart and her were deeply in love. The rest of the women in the group laughed and giggled as well, falling for her lie.

(Y/N) spent the rest of the evening with the women, a headache slowly forming as time went on.

When the live band stopped and was replaced with soft music coming from the phonograph and the many tables of food were taken away and replaced with more alcohol, (Y/N)’s stomach twisted and she began to feel sick. She knew what was coming and she was desperately looking for a way out.

This happened every time these type of people met up, they spent a few hours getting drunk under the guise of a fundraiser or any other type of meeting before it became dark which is where the prostitutes were invited in along with drugs and more alcohol. For the most part, when this happened in the past, she was able to hide in an alcove somewhere and become invisible amongst the activities that were occurring in the room, though she really didn’t feel like hiding in the same room tonight.

She found a way to escape when the prostitutes both male and female were brought in along with the drugs and everyone was distracted. She quickly walked through the many halls of the mansion they were in, she didn’t want to run through them and catch unwanted attention, so she took her time. Once she found a door that led out to the back garden, she stepped through and took a deep breath of the cool fresh air. She tried her hardest to calm herself but she couldn’t stop the shaking of her hands or the tears that spilled over, she told herself that she shouldn’t be upset, she was living a better life than most people in the country and had more wealth than she needed but she would trade all of it to live a humble life with a man she chose herself and loved wholeheartedly.

Trapped in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until the person spoke.

“I’m guessing you’re not fond of the activities that are occurring inside either eh?”

(Y/N) whipped around the sound of the Brummie accent and stared in shock at the man who stood opposite her.

“Mr Shelby! I didn’t expect anyone else to be out here, I apologize.” (Y/N) quickly brushed away her tears as she spoke to the man.

“No need to apologize, I’m the one who interrupted you.” Tommy’s gaze was strong and piercing but (Y/N) didn’t feel uncomfortable.

“You’re not inside with your husband and the others?” Tommy spoke again, his eyebrow raising.

(Y/N) scoffed and let out a strained laugh, “No, not my type of scene. You?”

“Can’t say it’s my type of thing either.” The corner of Tommy’s lips quirked up as he made his way over to where she was standing.

“I don’t know much about you Mr Shelby but I feel like none of this is your scene. You know the fundraisers and charity balls with the upper class, no offence.”

“Please, call me Tommy but you’re right, none of this is me. Am I that obvious?”

“Probably not to the average person but I like people watching.” (Y/N) threw a small smile at Tommy who grinned back. There were a few moments of silence before Tommy spoke again,

“Your husband...how’d you meet?”

“You don’t know?” (Y/N) quirked an eyebrow.

“No, should I?”

(Y/N) smiled again, she felt comfortable around Tommy, “It was an arranged marriage but it’s a known secret that he pretty much paid for me. You know, as if I was some object.” “What do you mean he paid for you?” Tommy looked mildly disturbed, something that (Y/N) thought was something that didn’t happen often.

“He worked with my father a few times and at some charity ball my father introduced him to me and my mother and the next week I’m being told I’m getting married and before I know it, two weeks after that I’m in a church marrying a man who’ve I only met once. Then I start hearing whispers that my parents bought a brand new house along with the fact that they’ve attending private clubs, the types that charge you an exorbitant amount.”

Tommy let out a low whistle.

“I know right.” (Y/N) let out a small laugh, “I do wonder how much I cost him though. Not that it would have made an impact on his wealth, he’s still as rich as ever.”

“Hmm, I guess that makes sense, he does look much older than you.”

(Y/N) laughed again, “He is much older than me. He’s over thirty years older than me, around the same age as my parents.”

“How old are you?” Tommy asked

“Twenty-four”

Tommy let out a scoff of disbelief, she was only a few years older than his youngest sibling Finn. He’s never met her parents but he felt anger at them on her behalf.

“Do you still speak to your parents?”

“No, I was absolutely furious at them and refused to talk to them. They said that I was overreacting and that they were still my parents but...parents don’t sell their child off do they? But anyway, after a few weeks of weak attempts to reconcile they finally stopped.”

“You were not overreacting, you had every right to be angry.” Tommy consoled her.

“Do you have any children Tommy?” (Y/N) asked.

“I do. I have a son, Charlie.” Tommy smiled as he thought of his son.

“You’re married?” (Y/N) glanced at his hands, looking for a ring.

“No...Charlie’s mother died when he was young.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.” (Y/N) gave Tommy a sympathetic smile. “How old is Charlie?” “He’s seven, getting big now.”

“Mr Shelby!” A shout caught their attention, it was Tommy’s driver “The party is over now sir.”

(Y/N) turned to face Tommy and held her hand out for him to shake it, “I should leave now before Stewart gets impatient for waiting too long or becomes suspicious but it was nice meeting you and I thank you for your company.”

“Pleasure’s mine, goodbye Mrs Langley” Tommy shook her hand and watched as she walked away.

#peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #imagines #fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #x reader #Peaky Blinders

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trystofstarrs · 3 years

Text

[nuns] maria yumeji - 2

location: church

Mari: Oh my, it sure is lively here, isn't it? Kana: Hyah! You surprised me! Maria: Ah, you’re the Tennis Team’s… Hanaoka-sama. The mass already ended, though. Do you have something you need at the church? Mari: No, not at all. I didn’t come here to pray, since I’m not religious in the first place. I just swung by to see how you were doing, Maria-san. Maria: So that’s why? Mari: Yep. Azusa-san from my Tennis Team was worried about you. You caught a cold and passed out, didn't you? Azusa-san can’t come because she’s working in your stead at the infirmary. And so, I came to check on you instead. Maria: Ah… Thank you for taking the trouble to come all the way here. Fortunately, by the grace of God, I have completely recovered ♪ I have caused so much worry for everyone, haven’t I... I’m ashamed— no, it's unforgivable for me to have done so. I’ll need to property apologise to Azusa-sama as well… Mari: Hey, showing her a cheerful face is the best apology you could give her. If you’ve recovered, then that’s good enough ♪ I’m glad I’ll be able to give her a positive update too. Azusa-san should always have a sparkling smile on her face… ♪ Oh, yeah. While I’m at it, Kana-san, the dear children on the Volleyball Team were worrying over you, too. Kana: Eh? Me? Ah, right! I hurriedly ran to the church from the infirmary, and it’s just been so chaotic here… I forgot to tell everyone on the Volleyball Team! Mari: Yeah, give them a call at the very least. Apparently, the whole team went out looking for you. You shouldn’t make your friends worry too much, you know? I’m concerned, since you’re strict on both yourself and others. Don’t get yourself too worked up for everything, alright? Kana: U, uuu… You’re right, I’m sorry… H- How embarrassing! I ended up showing a pitiful side of myself to Hanaoka-senpai, whom I admire! Maria: Fufu. Ume-chan, you really are a clumsy person ♪ Kana: Look who’s talking! Better yet, this is all your fault~!! … Achoo ☆ Maria: Achoo? Kana: H, huh? Achoo, hchoo! Maria: Ume-chan, did you catch a cold? You must go to bed and relax! I shall nurse you back to good health… I’m returning the favor, since I caused you so much trouble… ♪ Kana: Come to think of it… You definitely gave me this cold! It’s said that you recover once you give the cold to someone else, and you look right as rain while I feel all sick~!? You're always like this, pushing all your troubles onto me! You always smile so peacefully and all, but I always get the short end of the stick! Achoo, aaaachoo! ☆ Maria: Ume-chan, you’ll hurt your throat if you keep shouting. Fufu. Taking in people’s troubles and impurities, and cleansing them even through suffering… Ume-chan, you’re really just like a saint… ♪ Compared to you, Ume-chan, I still need more faith. I feel like I just realized it… I’m a tiny bit frustrated ♪ I’m proud of you, Ume-chan.

Transfer Student-san, Hanaoka-sama too… Can we all pray for Ume-chan together? For my lovable childhood friend. Let’s pray, with all our hearts. It’ll definitely reach the skies, and the Lord will definitely, definitely give us his blessings. The Lord has watched over Ume-chan’s good deeds, after all… ♪

ch5

#kana umezono #maria yumeji #mari hanaoka #nunsgacha

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years

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I am Your Future, I am Your Past: Chapter 2

A Roswell New Mexico Soulmate AU

Note: So I’m clearly not following the themes for Malex week except for the AU but because I’m devoting all my time to this, the goal is to update daily for the whole week then every few days following.

Warnings: Abuse and homophobia

Read on AO3

Michael fidgeted in the hospital bed. He was sick of just sitting there. Maria had come back first thing in the morning and he appreciated it but there was only so much sitting still he could do. Maria was snuggled up with him on the bed as they watched some bad daytime television. Nurses came in and out periodically to make sure his vitals hadn’t changed.

“I swear if Isabel doesn’t show up soon, I’m gunna leave by myself,” he complained after another vitals check.

“They just want to make sure you’re ok. So please just listen to them Michael? For me,” Maria said, giving him a sweet smile. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Only for you. Thanks for staying though. You really don’t have to.” She raised an eyebrow at him, looking offended by the thought.

“I’ve told you before that I’m not leaving you. Not when you need me.” She pressed her forehead against his. He used his free hand to pull her close, kissing her gently. He loved her so much. She might have been perfect.

A small knock at the door forced them apart. Isabel stood there, an eyebrow raised.

“Really? In a hospital? This isn’t ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ or something.” Michael sighed and rolled his eyes. Maria got off the bed, crossing her arms. They had gotten along the night before, but the thinly veiled dislike seemed to have returned.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she pointed out. Isabel scoffed, shaking her head. She tossed new clothes at Michael.

“Let’s go. There are things that need to get done. Sanders mentioned that you were supposed to finish fixing a car this morning.” Michael let his head fall back against the pillow.

“Shit. He’s gunna kill me,” he mumbled.

“Don’t worry. He said being in the hospital is a good enough excuse. This time,” Isabel said, grinning. “I’ll send a doctor in to get all those tubes out of your arms.” She left the room, leaving Michael to wonder if his truck was still outside.

“Hey Maria, mind telling me where my car is? And where the keys are?”

“Oh, I think Alex drove it home yesterday. I’ll take you over there to get it if you want. I just need to be back at the Wild Pony for opening this evening.” Michael nodded as the doctor walked back into the room. He hadn’t seen Kyle since the previous night. He figured he should thank him for taking care of him.

Alex was going to be a problem. The doctors made him leave before he got to ask too many questions. That was probably why he drove the truck home. Forcing a conversation. Michael had no idea how to answer the questions without freaking him out. Hell, Alex might never want to see him again.

The doctor gave him the all clear to move around and he was up. He couldn’t sit in that bed anymore. Maria laughed at his impatience as he changed.

“Shut up. You weren’t forced to stay in the same position for fifteen hours.”

“Maybe not but you didn’t used to have a problem sleeping on my bar,” she grinned and crossed her arms. Michael laughed. She did have a point.

“Man. Picking on a guy’s low points? Not cool.” Michael pulled a white t-shirt over his head, trying not to flinch at the pain in his arm.

“Hey, wait,” Maria said, eyebrows drawing together. She stepped up to him, moving the t-shirt away from his chest. Oh shit. The mark. “Isn’t this… the same tattoo Alex had…?” She trailed off when she looked up at him.

“Uh yea. Guess you caught us. We um, knew each other back in high school. Used to be friends. Did some stupid stuff,” he said, thinking on his feet. The word ‘friends’ stuck in his throat, but Maria didn’t notice.

“No… You didn’t have this a month ago,” she said skeptically. Michael cursed how observant she was. “What’s going on Michael?”

“Ok, it’s a long story—” Isabel coughed behind them from the door. She was a life saver. He had never told Maria about the curse because it didn’t matter. He thought it wouldn’t matter. But now he has two explanations to give.

“Michael. We gotta go.” He took Maria’s hand and kissed her forehead.

“Give me some time and I’ll be able to explain. But I’ve gotta go.” She opened her mouth to say something but he was already out the door. Him and Isabel pretty much ran out of the hospital, hoping she didn’t chase after them.

“No outsider has ever known about the curse. You can’t just bring her into it,” Isabel lectured quietly. Not that anyone would even be listening.

“We’re dating. I can’t just hide it from her.”

“Of course you can. People do it all the time!” Michael shook his head as they rushed through the parking lot.

“That’s not a good practice to have. Especially for relationships.” He pulled the door to her car open, climbing in, trying to be careful of his arm. He relaxed into the leather, staring out the window. Isabel pulled the sun visor off the front window and started the car.

“Look. It’s dangerous for her to be involved. If she tries to protect you or Alex, she could die. You know the trials only get worse.” Michael could hear the worry in her voice. She was right. But keeping this from her would just lead to making assumptions.

Michael didn’t respond as she pulled out of the lot. He had been stupid to let her see the mark. Of course, she would have seen it eventually but now the conversation had to happen sooner than he wanted. He shook his head. He had to focus on Alex first. It affected him a bit more directly.

“Hey, you know where Alex lives?” Isabel glanced at him and nodded. Of course she does. She probably started looking into it as soon as she found out about Michaels mark.

“Have I mentioned how creepy it is that you can get information about almost anyone?” A smile settled on her face.

“It pays to be the town socialite.”

Dead

The word had been ringing in Alex’s ears since the previous night. He survived ten years of war and he might die because of some supernatural curse put on him and Michael’s family? It was surreal. And why his father wouldn’t tell him about it was just as much of a mystery. But his father refused to include him in most things so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.

He had driven Michael’s truck home last night in the hopes it would force him to talk. But if Michael really wanted to avoid him, he could just hotwire the car. Alex had watched him do it a couple times.

Back in high school, Alex found his willingness to break the rules attractive and fun. Then he started getting into fights. He wished he could have stuck through it. Maybe they would still be together…

Alex shook his head, not wanting to think about the past. Things happened the way they did for a reason. He wasn’t sure whether he believed in a God or not. The church was never exactly very welcoming to him. Even if they didn’t know. If a God that loved all his children existed, there would be no exceptions. Not for things that he couldn’t control. He just wasn’t sure. He hadn’t been to church in years, though he doubted things had changed.

A knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. He stood slowly, not bothering to put his prosthetic on this morning, though he kept it close. Leaning on the crutch, he hopped to the door. He hoped it would be Michael but something wasn’t sitting right in his head.

He opened the door to a green uniform that matched his own. He’d learned from his time in the army to trust his gut. Alex sighed and fought against rolling his eyes at his father. What he was doing here was any one’s guess.

“What do you want?” The spite refused to be contained.

“I was informed that someone saw you get shot,” he said, no emotion.

“Oh, spare me the fatherly concern,” Alex snapped back.

“I am a commanding officer in much higher standing than you. Show some respect.”

“Once I see something to respect I will.” Alex watched his father’s nose twitch. He should have slammed the door in his face right then. But of course he ignored his instincts.

Jesse grabbed the front of his shirt, putting him off balance. He stumbled forward trying to catch himself, only forcing him to rely on his father to hold him up. He was a teenager again. Helpless at the hands of a man who hated him…

Alex stumbled into the living room, his brothers nowhere to be found. His father grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back.

“Dad stop… please…” Alex cried.

“Not until you learn how to be a proper Manes man. You are a disgrace to this family.” He shoved Alex to the floor. Alex scrambled to stand up, knowing the ground was the worst place to be.

“You want to fuck around like you don’t come from a long line of respected soldiers then you’re going to learn the hard way. You’re lucky I let you live here.” All he had done was go out with some friends. His father had assumed it was Michael and that they were sleeping together.

His father grabbed him again, punching him in the gut and sending him back to the ground. Alex coughed but didn’t try to get back up again.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he mumbled, praying to whatever god existed that this would stop.

“Alex! Get away from him!”

Pulled back to reality by a voice dripping with fury, Alex stumbled backwards and fell as someone tackled Jesse from behind. Alex pushed himself away from the bodies on his porch so he could see what was going on.

Michael had a knee on Jesse’s back and was trying to get hold of an arm. Alex watched, wide eyed. He had never seen Michael look like this before. His face was twisted into a snarl. And for just a moment, Alex was worried Michael would kill him. He had pinned his arm with his other foot, holding his face to the ground with the hand not in a sling.

“Let me be very clear. You ever come near him again and I will end you.”

Jesse didn’t have time to respond before Michael was standing and walking into Alex’s house, slamming the door behind him. Alex could only stare at the closed door. He jumped slightly as Michael crouched next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, you ok?” Michaels voice had done a one-eighty. Gone was the rage only to be replaced with a gentle comfort.

“Uh… yea. Think so.” Alex tried to stand on his own but a missing leg and shaking arms made it difficult.

“Come on. Lean on me,” Michael said softly. Alex met his eyes and nodded slowly. Michael lifted his arm over his shoulder, standing slowly, letting Alex find his footing. He still had the crutch in his hand, but he hardly used it as Michael did most of the work.

Alex directed him to the couch where his prosthetic sat. He didn’t want to need Michael.

As soon as Michael set him down, he reached for the leg. He couldn’t meet his eyes, afraid he would see pity. Alex didn’t know if he could handle it right now.

“You don’t need to put it on if it’s uncomfortable. I’m here to help if you need it.” Alex paused in his movements. “Besides. I think you might want to stay sitting for this conversation.” He looked up at Michael. There was no pity. Not even the slightest indication that he thought any less of him. In fact, he seemed nervous.

Alex sat up, watching Michael as he paced around the room. He looked at photos of his friends. Liz, Rosa, Maria and others. He paused at the one on the end table. Alex wasn’t sure what emotions passed over his face.

“You kept this,” Michael asked, showing him a picture of the two of them, each holding guitars. Alex shrugged.

“It’s a good memory.”

They looked at each other for a moment before Michael cleared his throat and turned away. He set the picture back in its spot. He moved to sit next to Alex, though not close enough to touch him. He considered reaching out but it would be too obvious.

“I don’t really know where to start to be honest. Do you know anything? Did any of your family talk about it?” Alex tried to think about early conversations with his mother and brother’s but nothing came to mind. He shook his head.

“Nothing about curses. And definitely nothing about you.” Michael ran a hand over his face.

“Damn.” Alex opened his mouth to apologize but Michael spoke again. “Don’t say ‘sorry.’ It’s not your fault. It’s just kind of complicated. Now I probably won’t tell the history completely correctly, but I’ll give it my best shot.” Alex nodded, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“Well it starts kind of like a ‘Romeo and Juliet’ situation. A princess and a servant fell in love after being friends their whole lives. One night, the father caught them together and tried to force them apart. This is also the time where sacrifices were normal and the princess was set to be the next sacrifice. The servant boy broke her out and they ran away. Her father chased after them. Once he caught up, he shot his daughter in the back. He left the servant boy to suffer without her. He pleaded to the gods to take his life over hers. They did.” Alex’s eyebrows drew together.

“Ok. This is a good history lesson and all but what does that have to do with us?”

“The name of the head family was Manes. The servants were Guerin.” Alex stared at Michael. There was no way that was possible. Most last names don’t last that long unless the family was having no children other than boys. That was also assuming they all had children.

“And there were consequences for the two lovers. The condition for bringing her back to life would be a curse on the families. Every few generations, a Manes and Guerin would be drawn together and forced to complete trials. These trials get more deadly as they go on. No pair has ever survived them.” Michael moved his shirt to the side, showing the flower.

“A petal will disappear from one of us each time a trial is completed. This is like a connection between us. I can feel you and you can feel me.”

“Ok, that all makes sense… Sort of. But why did you take on my wound when I got shot?” Michael chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just another condition of the original curse. I will take on any injury you receive while we’re connected. That’s what the slave boy did when he first saved the princess.” Alex looked down at Michaels arm that was wrapped in a sling.

“I… I didn’t know… I’m—”

“Stop. No apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for. It is not your fault. Do you hear me, Manes?”

“But—”

Alex froze when Michael grabbed his face, callused hands holding him firmly in place. He had pulled his arm out of the sling. He wanted to look at the bandages wrapped around his bicep but Michael forced him to keep his eyes on him.

“I will protect you. With my whole life, I will protect you.” Alex didn’t know what to say. What could he say? All he knew was how badly he wanted to pull Michael closer. Alex reached up, laying his hands over Michaels cautiously, not knowing how he’d react. He looked over his face and glanced down at his mouth. He wondered if it still tasted the same.

When Alex met his eyes again, they had darkened. Maybe… just maybe… Michael was feeling the same thing he was right now. He pressed his forehead against his. Alex sucked in a breath and everything that was Michael overloaded his senses. The smell of rain and maybe still bourbon from the previous night. He was acutely aware of the way his hands moved. He had moved one to rest over his heart. Michael would know just how fast his heart was racing. Their noses brushed against each other.

“Michael.” Alex let his name slip out under his breath.

Suddenly he was gone. Alex almost fell forward from the lack of contact. He had stood up, refusing to look at him. He wanted to reach out for him but would that make him pathetic? He was clearly just rejected. He’d be a fool to chase after more.

“Sorry, the connection can uh… make you feel things. Like things you don’t really feel,” Michael said, voice shaking. Alex flinched at his words. He may as well have smacked him across the face.

“Anything else?” He tried to hide the hurt but couldn’t be sure if he succeeded.

“I only know the main story. If you want information about past reincarnations you’d have to come to the Evans’ house. They have all the history books and diaries.” Alex nodded, although Michael couldn’t see him. “Just let me know when and we can go over there.”

“Ok.” The awkward silence stretched longer than Alex would have liked. But there was nothing he could say. If he tried it would just come out as cursing Michael.

“I uh… have to go. I have to explain some of this to Maria so…” He trailed off, looking back at Alex with an expression he couldn’t quite identify. Maria. Of course. Michael was dating one of his best friends. He wasn’t allowed to care about Michael anymore. Their time had passed.

“Your keys are in the kitchen. Sitting on the counter next to the pile of mail. Sorry for taking your car but I figured you didn’t want to pay to park it at the hospital overnight.” Michael chuckled but it seemed forced. Alex ran a hand through his hair as he walked away.

Maybe Michael was right and the connection did make him feel things that weren’t really there. But it felt real to him. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling it beat, strong and steady.

Michael returned, keys jingling in his hand. He noticed Alex and a look of pain crossed his face. Alex could feel the shift in his mood. Maybe he needed comfort. That wouldn’t make sense, given he had just torn away from him like he was some kind of poison.

“Here’s my number. Changed while you were gone. If you need anything, just call.” He set a piece of paper down on the end table next to the picture of them. Alex held his gaze for a moment before nodding and looking away. “Right... So, I’ll see you later?”

“Yea. See you soon.” With that, Michael let himself out. Alex heard the truck start but then it just sat there. What is he waiting for?

He was about to look out the window to see what the problem was but then the sound faded as he drove away.

He was a liar. He lied. Right to his face. Even if the connection did make them feel things they wouldn’t normally, that didn’t make them less real. And even if the connection effected it, there was no mistaking the emotions he was feeling from Alex.

He wanted nothing more than to forget everything and just be with him in that moment. Hearing his name in that pleading whisper could have broken any man. He cursed whoever got to hear it next.

But he was with Maria. And he was happy. Happier than he’d ever been. And she deserved an explanation. He wouldn’t tell her the whole truth. It would be too dangerous for her. But he didn’t know how to make her not dig deeper. Or try to protect them. She was one of the most caring people he knew and if she thought either him or Alex were in danger, she’d fight God to make sure they weren’t hurt.

Michael’s arm started to ache. He had forgotten about it. Driving with one hand was no problem but trying to maneuver his arm back in the sling while also paying attention to the road was proving difficult. He didn’t want to rip the stitches. He didn’t exactly have the money to get them replaced before they needed to be.

Pulling into the Evan’s driveway, he pulled the seatbelt off to get his arm back in the sling. Damn prick. Why’d he even have a gun? New Mexico was an open carry state, even had one of his own, but he rarely brought it places.

Michael needed information. He needed to know what the other people did to get through the trials. Would it be best stick around Alex? Leave him in protective custody? Michael shook his head. Alex would refuse that one.

He stepped out of the car, slamming the door harder than he intended. Michael searched through his keyring for the spare to the front door. He didn’t see any of the cars but that didn’t mean anything. Max and Isabel’s parents were always all over him about learning the history. The last thing he needed was to have them breathing down his neck.

Once he located the key, he pushed it into the lock, though he found no resistance. Unlocked?

He pushed the door open slowly, cursing the door as it squeaked. Nothing looked out of place in the front room, but it was quiet. Michael doubted they forgot to lock the door before they left. He shut the door as quietly as he could behind him. Looking around for items that he could improvise a weapon from, he clenched his fists ready for a fight.

Michael stepped into the kitchen, scanning over everything. Again, nothing was out of place. He let his shoulders relax as he made his way through the rest of the downstairs. Nothing looked bothered but something was not right.

He made his way upstairs to where he knew their collection of history books was. The last door on the right was usually left closed to keep guests from wandering in. Michael stopped when he saw it propped open, like someone didn’t fully close the door as they were leaving in a hurry.

He still knew the places where the hallway creaked under pressure. He avoided them easily and he nudged the door open with his foot, grabbing the small statue on the coffee table against the wall.

His jaw clenched at the sight of the room. Books scattered the floor, some pages ripped. Bookshelves had been toppled. Drawers had been ripped out of their spot in the desk. Whoever was here was looking for something. Who knows if they found it.

“Damnit,” he whispered to himself. It would take hours to reorganize whatever was left. He carefully stepped over books and papers. There were scrolls that supposedly held all the original information. Those were locked in a safe behind another bookshelf. This one didn’t seem to be knocked over like the rest of them. Michael held his breath that they were still there.

He had never read the originals. Most people in the family hadn’t. Rumor was they stole them from the Manes family a long time ago. Why was never explained. At least not to him.

Michael did the best he could to move the bookshelf himself but without the use of his other arm, it was useless.

“What the fuck happened?” He jumped at the voice from behind him. Max stood there, taking in the disaster. Michael stood slowly.

“That’s what I’d like to know. I came to read up on some stuff and I just found it like this. Where are your parents?”

“They’re out of town,” he said slowly. He walked over to Michael. “What are you looking for?”

“The original scrolls. They’re in a safe behind this thing, right?” Max nodded and traded places with him. He shifted the shelf to expose the safe. It appeared untouched but that obviously didn’t mean anything.

Max spun the dial and pulled the door open. A second door inside made Michael raise an eyebrow. This one had a keyhole. Max stood and reached to the top of the bookshelf, pealing something off the top.

“You gotta come up with a better hiding spot.” Max rolled his eyes as he pulled the tape off the key.

“It’s still there isn’t it?” Michael shook his head. That didn’t mean anything. Max opened the second door, grabbing the plastic bags with the scrolls in them.

“How would you even know they’re all there? No one ever looks through them from what I remember.” Max sighed.

“Someone counts them on a regular basis. There’s six of them in total.”

“Ok… so are they all there or what,” Michael asked, impatient. Max shoved the papers back into the safe, slamming both doors shut.

“No. One’s missing.”

The fire burned as Jesse Manes moved the wood around. He would show that damn boy that threatening him will be worst mistake of his life. He wanted answers to the curse? He would never get them.

If their lines ceased to exist, then this would be over. No one was ever strong enough to prevent the original sin from happening again. He would end all of them. They were the doppelgangers of the original. It was sick. Wrong.

Sacrifices needed to be made. He opened the scroll to the drawing of the two original lovers. A prince and a slave. Jesse’s nose scrunched as he looked at someone the spitting image of his disgraced son.

Then he tossed it into the fire.

#malexweek20 #multichapter fic #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex20 #feedback always appreciated #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico fic

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barbaramoorersm · 3 years

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February 7, 2021

5th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Job 7: 1-4, 6-7

Job expresses such grief today, but the book finally tells us how he handles with his struggles.

Psalm 147

This psalm speaks of how God deals with the brokenhearted.

1 Corinthians 9: 16-19, 22-23

Paul reveals the secret of his ministry.

Mark 1: 29-39

This Gospel introduces us to Simon’s family and how they supported Jesus.

One of the topics of interest among Biblical scholars these days focuses on the women in the New Testament. Named and unnamed, they are a very interesting topic. Take for example, Peter’s mother-in-law. There are many questions we might ask about her and this Gospel. Did this unnamed woman have other children besides Peter’s wife? Did she have grandchildren? Was her home a typical gathering place for her extended family members and Jesus’ close friends? Was she a widow or, did she have financial means? Lovers of the Bible encourage us to explore the personalities in the stories and ask questions of them.

It is interesting that right off the bat Jesus is told about Peter’s mother-in-law’s physical problems. She was ill enough to “lay sick with a fever”. Did they miss the service she often gave them or were they genuinely concerned for her health? But once healed, she immediately assumed her assigned role. “The fever left her and she waited on them”. She had no time to relish what Jesus had done for her. And to top it off, we sense that her efforts went far beyond a meal for her guests. Her work continued as the sick and distressed kept coming to her door. In fact, Mark tells us that the whole town kept coming well into evening. Did she share food and beverages with them? She obviously opened her home to overnight guests because early in the morning, Jesus left the house to pray.

The whole experience had to be tiring for her and for him. I also wonder how the families of the other apostles fit into the picture of this itinerate preacher’s life? What about Peter’s wife? Did he have children? So many questions. But they raise an important issue for all of us. Many men and women worked behind the scenes and assisted in making the Gospel take on life. And they still do. We are also told that some women travelled with Jesus and supported him “from their means”. Think about why they did that, and what they left behind.

These days so many men and women, often unknown and “behind the scene", make heroic efforts to care for patients, the homeless and families who have lost someone. We see so much generosity and it helps us walk through this difficult time. There are individuals who open food cupboards in their garages, children who send cards to nursing home patients, and retired health care workers coming back to serve. Soon, folks will be enlisted to administer vaccine shots.

Today, Paul shares a beautiful message with us about how he envisions his own ministry. “Although I am free in regard to all, I have made myself a slave to all…. To the weak I became weak…”. I believe Paul is saying that our best service to one another comes when we make an effort to understand them and their struggles. And another time he called us to “weep with those who weep”. That is, to be with, listen to, walk with and try to understand the other’s life and journey. That is what Jesus did that day and into the evening. “When it was evening, …they brought to him…” all who faced illnesses and were suffering. What a tiring but thrilling thing to be part of this event.

But today, Jesus shares several other important lessons with his friends. First, after he took time to rest, he went off alone to pray. No matter our call or responsibilities, taking the time to rest and reflect on what is happening around us keeps us balanced. Action and reflection go hand in hand. Then, rather staying and responding to those who were gathering to see him, and perhaps honor and thank him, he continued on his way and ministry. “Let is go on to the neighboring towns…. For this purpose, I have come.” Jesus seems to be rooted in the message and his ministry rather than a fixed place or community. He also seems to clearly understand his call. “For this purpose, I have come.”

E. Elizabeth Johnson in “Feasting on the Gospels”, writes of today’s passage, “A contemporary church that thinks it has remained faithful by keeping its theological skirts clean without getting its hands dirty in the mess of a broken and suffering world neither hears nor follows the Jesus of Mark’s Gospel”. (49) The Jesus of Mark’s Gospel is so needed these difficult days! We follow someone who is found in the “mess of a broken and suffering world”. May each one of us do what we can to follow that example.

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plus-size-reader · 5 years

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Not as Savage as You Think

Ragnar Lothbrok x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1358 words

Warnings:none

Summary: Ragnar taking a beautiful christian woman from the ministry, who gets sick during the boat ride and calms her as best he can, in a very sweet, fluffy way.

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It was only fair that you were going to get sick when travelling on a boat for the first time.

You had never once been off of dry land, and your body wasn't even used to the swaying of the ocean, led alone the rest of the stress that you'd been through.

You had been kidnapped from your homeland by the vikings. In fact, Ragnar himself had practically dragged you from the church.

There were light stumbles in your steps as you tried to follow him toward the boat. He had a tight grip on your wrist, which he was using as a lead to pull you around. You had never dealt with this kind of aggression in your life, so you were understandably rattled...

Not to mention the fact that you were stepping over the bloodies bodies of your friends and acquaintances with every movement. There was blood everywhere, only further spurring on the fear you had toward these savages.

They had slaughtered your people, and now they were celebrating as if they'd done something worth being proud of. How had the almighty Lord allowed something so horrible to happen? After all the devotion and trust you'd placed in him, would he truly kill so many of your own on hollowed ground?

The fact that they had spilled so much blood in a church seemed to have no effect on the foreigners as they took whatever they could carry, hooting and hollering like beasts.

However, there was one thing that stood out to you, more than anything else.

The eyes of a single man, locked on your face as you sat down on the deck, careful to keep your dress bunched up around you to cover as much skin as possible.

There was something about him.

Something much more concentrated and focused than the others. He didn't carry himself in such a savage, animalistic manner. Instead, he looked to be more concerned for the wellbeing of everyone involved.

If it hadn't been for the fresh blood dripping from his weapon, perhaps you may have even ventured to say that he cared.

But you were no fool, you knew what they were. These men didn't care at all for what happened to you or any of your people. They only knew how to do two things, fuck and kill. It was all they had in them...

There was nothing more to be found within those empty eyes.

Never in your life had you thought about what it would be like to take life from another living thing. It seemed to horrible a thing for a lady to ever even consider, but something had changed.

Maybe it was the fact that most of your friends were now dead, or maybe it was the scattered splotched of blood that dressed your skirt. Whatever it was, you only knew one thing...there was no God in heaven that could protect you now.

You were in the hands of these savage men, you were completely under their control and there was nothing you could say or do that would change it. You simply had to pray that they wouldn't kill you, though it may be better than what they actual had planned.

You only wished you understood their language.

That would make this whole thing much more simple.

However, you didn't.

It was clear that there was no chance for any negotiation or escape, so you pulled your knees close to your chest and tried to calm your breathing. There was no use in getting all worked up when you couldn't change the situation.

That worked for quite some time until the weaving and rocking of the ocean started to make you feel ill.

You had never encountered anything like this feeling and you weren't sure what to do about it. It made your stomach feel as if it was doing flips, and you were getting spots in your vision.

It was clear that there was something wrong, but you didn't know what to do about it.

How were you meant to treat an ailment that you'd never experienced before? It wasn't possible.

And while it was true that you had no idea what was happening in your body, Ragnar had seen it a few times before. Usually, it was only in small children on their first long voyages but since you weren't used to the sensation, he understood why you were struggling so.

He knew that he should not have cared.

What should it matter to him if some Christian woman is feeling sick? It in no way affected him, however, that didn't seem to really matter. He intended to keep you around for quite some time, and he did have some sympathy for what you'd been through.

There was something about you that drew him in, and he wanted you to trust him. He wanted to get to know you, and a bond like that was going to take some work after everything they'd just done.

Now, Ragnar was no fool. He understood that you had no idea what he was saying when he spoke to you, so rather than try to figure it out, he simply headed toward you.

When he finally reached the side of the deck that you were sitting at, he sat down beside you.

You weren't oblivious to his close proximity to you, still you chose to ignore it. There was nothing you could say to him that would make this better, and you had no idea what he wanted from you.

Though, that question was answered pretty quickly when he bumped you with the horn full of water. He wanted you to drink it, though you weren't sure why. Of all the things you'd been through, your hydration should have been the last thing on his mind.

Still, you didn't want to look at him to find out.

In truth, you were scared to meet his gaze. Those blue eyes could have held a million different secrets that his tongue was never to share.

You knew better than to trust someone like that.

All that aside though, you took the water gratefully. It didn't matter how much you hated him or what he'd done, your body was begging for anything to make the sickness go away.

If you felt the way the whole voyage, you would throw yourself overboard. There was simply no way you could make it the entire way.

However, the longer you nursed the horn, the better you felt.

Eventually, you found your sea legs and stopped being so terribly nauseous.

And when the surrounding world stopped spinning, you could actually think about the man who'd reached out to you. He was the same man who had dragged you from your home, but there was something kind about him.

It was clear that he had some empathy for your situation, whether he had caused it or not.

It was very kind of him to react in such a way, especially when he had no need to do so. As far as the rest of them seemed to care, it didn't matter if you lived or died...

So why would he go out of his way to help you?

"Excuse me?" you hummed, making your way over to him as best you could on shaky legs.

Admittedly, this was not your finest idea.

There was no telling what the savage man would do, but you had to at least try to thank him. After all, he had helped you in a way that your own people may not have done, if they were still alive.

The man looked startled at your appearance by his side, but did nothing as you sat beside him.

"I wanted to thank you for the water" you started, meeting his eyes, though you weren't a hundred percent sure he actually understood what you were saying.

It was completely possible that you were thanking him for your own benefit only, but you had to at least try to let him know that you were grateful for his help.

"The water" you repeated, gesturing to the horn. You knew that he didn't speak your common tongue but attempting was good enough for now.

Perhaps if he didn't kill you as soon as you got where you were going, you could learn how to thank him in his language.

#ragnar #King Ragnar #ragnar x plus size reader #ragnar x ps reader #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings x plus size reader #vikings x ps reader #Ragnar Lothbrok #ragnar lothbrok x ps reader #ragnar lothbrok x plus size reader

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

The Starks at War, 1941 part 2

AO3 link

(who knew all I needed was something called the “Abandoned WIP challenge to finish another chapter of this?)

Arya doesn’t stop shaking the whole way home, through to the next day. Asha accompanies her, sympathetic, but distant. The bus ride is hell.

When Arya walks through the front door, Jojen and Bran are playing cards, but stop immediately to look at her.

“Arya-” Bran starts, stuttering, “Mother?”

Arya feels a sob choke out, then get stuck halfway.

“How did you know?” Asha asks.

“Radio,” Bran says, pointing at the wireless set by the front window, “It said that the Germans hit a military hospital- the one we knew you were going to.” His voice suddenly becomes thick, and Arya realizes he sounds double his newly fifteen years.

“We were scared, we thought it might be both of you.”

Arya slumps down in her chair.

“It was stupid, really,” Jojen comments, “painting crosses on the roofs of all the hospitals. Just gave them something to aim at.”

“If half the stories out of France are true, it is our error to expect any kind of fair play from Nazis.”

Arya feels like she can barely move.

After a time, Asha stands to leave.

“I’ll spend the night at the inn and leave in the morning.”

She leans down to clap Arya on the shoulder.”

“You know where to reach me.”

Once Asha leaves, Arya slumps and clutches her face in her hands.

“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it,” is all she can whisper to herself.

Autumn begins to turn over the coming weeks. Arya sleepwalks into it. Gilly ends up being the one who goes to the church to report. There are no remains to bury.

Sansa calls multiple times a week.

She keeps asking if they need her to come home. They all push her off. Winterfell isn’t home as it was, and they won’t bring her back if she is needed elsewhere.

She’s begun to settle in in London. The flat she shares with Margaery is tiny, just a bedroom and kitchen. The two beds they’ve managed to drag in barely have enough room between them to walk.The walls are papered, but it’s fading and peeling. The heating doesn’t always work, what with the coal shortages. Often at night, the two of them simply pull on all of their clothes before crawling into bed.

The tenement building’s shelter is outside. When the air raid sirens bellow, they have to shove on their slippers, grab their masks and barrel down the stairs among the other flat-dwellers. Praying that all they will hear is the sirens and not the whine of an incendiary or the gait shattering boom of an explosion before they manage to cram themselves inside.

Sansa’s begun adjusting to the work as well. She spends all day in the tiny gray office, editing and retyping papers, sometimes helping Margaery do translations. Sometimes, even work is interrupted by air raids.

She can’t stop thinking of what Catelyn would have said to see her now. With her short cut hair and simple office clothes, she looks nothing like the debutante she dreamed of being. This was not a world her or her mother would have even thought to be part of.

She’s good with idioms, her supervisor notes, so at least she can take pride in that. She was always good at French in school, longing one day to go there, to see the sights and the glamor for herself.

One night when they’re at home, eating some cobbled together vegetable medley, cooked in a pan, Margaery comments,

“I think I’m going to cut my hair. I’m sick of having to set the whole mess at night.”

Sansa nods. She had been surprised when watching Margaery do her hair the first time, to see how hard she worked to make it perfect. Without the curlers at night, one side would curl up perfectly, and the other would hang straight pin straight, stretched out by its length.

“They do say long hair is terribly old-fashioned.”

Margaery sighs when it’s finished, touching the ends as though she can’t believe it’s gone. But now the sides curl properly, and she won’t have to do anything but wash it and wrap it all up before bed.

“My mother used to put it up for me when I was little, the way she did when she went out,” she comments idly.

“You never told me what happened to your mother,” Sansa tells her, suddenly keenly feeling her own loss that she’s spent so much time shoving down deep inside.

“She died of the flu- not the big one, just the usual one- when I was ten. My father was never the same after that. I’m not sure any of us were.”

Sansa is quiet. She understands really. She’s almost appreciative that she hadn’t been at home most of this entire past year. She can’t imagine how her mother must have taken her father’s death. While the pair had never been the most demonstrative of their affections, their children were very secure in the fact that the two had loved each other, and that not all married couples were as lucky.

Margaery glances down at herself.

“She always wanted the best for me. Nothing specific, just that I would be happy and the best person I could be. She was the only one I think. Everyone else has their own ideas about who I am and exactly what I should aim for.”

“What do you want to do? What would make you happy?”

Margaery’s expression is pensieve.

“I wish I’d applied to go to university. I’d like to study political science. I’d like a proper little flat, near a park, one that’s not been bombed. Maybe I’ll marry, but only if I meet someone I want to. Maybe I will when the war is over.“

It has been strange, Sansa thinks, leaving school behind and seeing Margaery for who she really was. She had always thought they were friends, but here she’s stripped bare. She’s not a prefect, or head of the French club, or the beautiful polished girl Sansa had idolized. Here she chips her nails and ladders her stockings and forgets her hat just like everyone else.

That doesn’t mean Sansa doesn’t still look up to her though. She fits right in at the office, even with most of the others being London born girls who left school at fourteen and knew they would end up working if they didn’t marry. Many of them were pleased to work in an office, rather than in a factory, or worse, in service. Sansa sometimes feels tongue tied around them, and not just because the Starks have always had a few people employed in service.

Before October, both of them get letters inviting them for an interview with the same Baelish that Margaery had said recognized Sansa’s name. The instructions have them both come to a tiny, bare bones hotel room during lunch hour. Sansa’s stomach grumbles while she’s outside waiting for Margaery to finish her turn. Her stomach is not eased by her own interview.

Petyr Baelish isn’t a tall man. Sansa’s used to looking most grown men in the eye, and finds that when he stands, she’s actually looking more at his hairline. He has dark hair, going somewhat gray, a neat mustache and an overall aura of having everything under his control.

He asks her dozens of questions, some of which she doesn’t even understand. But by the time it’s done, she has a job offer.

And a new, horrifying, realization, about the nature of the office where she’s been working.

Her and Margaery both, are, on paper, enlisted in the FANY, the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry. In practice, they were brought aboard the organization that became known as SOE for secret operations, and being sent to Scotland for their training.

Sansa cringes at the slightest thought of what her mother would say. But her mother is dead now, and this gives her the slightest hope for vengeance. Vengeance. That was one of those words so beloved in those awful twopenny comics Arya and Bran devoured.

It doesn’t take long before she wonders what on earth she was thinking by accepting.

Even reaching the training school is rough. The terrain in Scotland is difficult. By the time they reach the facility, they are all exhausted, hungry, soaked through with rain and covered in scratches. And when they reach it, the real fun begins.

Sansa never once in her life thought she would someday learn to shoot a gun, or disarm a man, or be required to carry a suicide pill. These skills are not second nature to her, so she has to work at it. When her eyes threaten to prick full of tears and her throat threatens to close up, she thinks of her mother’s face, dead now for no reason, and no one coming to save her, or Sansa or anyone. No one is coming to save them.

She learns to parrot back the goal they are told. To resist the enemy by any means necessary. There aren’t a great many women in training with them, but there are far more than Sansa would have expected. Too many in England have lost loved ones in this war. Too many have seen their homes destroyed.

Learning telegraphy and morse code are much easier, even if they are still totally foreign skills for her. She goes back through Arya’s letters, remembering her speaking of learning these things for Girl Guides. These at least, don’t make the bile rise in the back of Sansa’s throat at even the thought of using them.

One night, she sits on the end of her bed and puts her head in her hands. Margaery has the bunk above her. There are bunks here, it’s like being back at school again.

“What’s wrong?”

Sansa’s shoulders slump as she responds.

“All I can think is how much my younger sister would prefer learning all of this than me. She always loved science fiction and pulp magazines and those awful two-penny adventure comics. And when I called home last, she sounded so angry...she needs to feel like she’s contributing as much as us, but she can’t. She’s sixteen, she’s tiny and she’s stuck at home still.”

Margaery frowns, deep in thought.

“Your sister Arya...you said she’s only sixteen?”

Sansa nods.

“She’ll be seventeen at the beginning of next year.”

“Then let her be a child if she can still, we don’t know how long this war will last. Besides, from your stories, she always sounded like such an impulsive and ill-refined girl.”

Sansa sniffs. Her stories had always been terribly unfair to Arya. She might still prefer running about outside, but she hadn’t thrown a tantrum in ages, and the shouting and even the insults were a thing of the long past. They might never have been as close as sisters in Jane Austen novels, but they hadn’t fought each other in so long.

Except when they did.

“She is.”

Margaery smiles, and plays with one of her gloves.

“Know why Baelish had been head-hunting us?”

Sansa shakes her head.

“Because aristocratic women are good at a great deal more than picking out dresses and fixing their hair. We know manners, and pick up rules of etiquette with ease. We are good at talking to people and getting them to tell us things. And we are excellent at keeping up appearances under pressure.”

Sansa nods, and tries to put on her face.

And it is very easy to see why Margaery was selected. Her French is perfect and she has a great deal of knowledge of French geography, culture and fashion. Information that it turns out, Sansa has picked up quite easily having hung on Margaery’s words when she was just the glamorous school prefect.

And it’s so much easier to keep her face on in the dorms than out in the training field with a weapon in her hands.

One of the instructor’s compliments Sansa on her accent.

“A bit breathy, true, but the disguise of an excited young girl can be very handy. Very few would doubt the intentions of one.”

When the both of them get near to finishing training, Baelish’s assessment claims they would both make excellent radio operators. Even Sansa’s not naive enough to believe that’s a safe occupation, like Baelish insists. Mum had seemed fond enough of him, but Sansa doesn’t trust something in his gaze.

This is what sticks in Sansa’s mind as Margaery and her are sent off to parachute school. The first day of training, she stares out the window and wishes she were more like Arya.

That same day, Arya gets the telegram.

The months since Mother had died were hell. Arya has kept up with the girl guides when she could. She helps out with the WVS, who seems nearly as lost without Catelyn as she does. She helps Bran stumble through the paperwork needed to keep the family affairs in order. She tries to help Gilly with little Sam and Weasel.

She writes Gendry whenever she can. His letters are always so sweet, so understanding, but he can’t write often. And she doesn’t know if her own letters actually capture even half of what she feels.

He writes that he wishes he could come see her, but the Navy is stingy with leave, and when he gets a day, he’s stationed too far away to make the train ride south in the time given. Sometimes, selfishly, Arya wishes she could ask him to come anyway, but she can’t. She won’t get him in trouble because of her.

The day the telegram comes, she’s about to burst as it is. It’s only a few days after America has entered the war, wrapping her mind around that was hard enough.

She’s in the kitchen, staring at the paper when the others trickle in for lunch.

Bran notices first, Arya’s stony white face.

“What now?” he asks.

Arya’s hands are holding the card still, but her fingers are shaking.

“It’s Robb,” her voice says, low, dead. “His plane was shot down over France. They have no idea what’s become of him.”

Without meeting his eye, she hands the telegram to Bran, puts her hands on the table. Then she lays her face down on top of them and cries.

None of them could have known what was going down in France at the moment.

Robb was a competent pilot. He wasn’t a natural like Jon was, but he was good enough. This was very little comfort when his plane was currently on fire and quickly losing altitude.

He tried to radio out assistance, but the controls are dead. Robb’s head is throbbing from where it slammed against the inside of the cockpit and he can hardly think. It’s only through sheer luck that he manages to get his parachute on and leap from the rapidly descending plane and pray as he bails out for the ground.

The air rushes around him for only a split second it seems before he collides with the ground so hard that it feels like he’s being manhandled. He thinks he hears something crack, but he can’t stop to think. All he sees is blurs, all he hears is ringing and all he smells is blood and smoke. He tries to stand and run, but his body isn’t listening.

Eventually, one of those blurs comes closer, and grabs him, by the arm, pulling roughly. His legs screech in protest, his lungs wail, but it keeps pulling, and eventually the world begins to return to him.

The figure pulling him, he eventually sees is a woman. Young, perhaps in her twenties, with dark hair. She wears a heavy, dark green coat and her footsteps are heavy.

Eventually, the image of a barn comes into sight. The woman pulling him stops, moves something, and the next that Robbs knows, he’s being shoved into what seems like a hole in the ground.

“Stay quiet. Don’t make a sound until I come back for you. Not a single word, or you’re dead.”

Robb tries to stop himself from blacking out, but he doesn’t succeed.

When he comes to, he takes inventory of his surroundings. Dirt, a lot of dirt. A couple of what look like potatoes in one corner. A root cellar, most likely. The inhales and all he can smell is dirt too. His leg is on fire, and much of his skin is too. He fears when he wakes up fully, the pain will be so bad it makes him pass out again.

He can hear people outside, somewhere, faintly. He follows the woman’s advice and pretends he’s dead. He hears planes overhead, and gunfire too. He hopes his squadmates are alright.

Robb’s not sure how long it is before the cellar door cracks open and he jumps, squawking in pain, but the woman from before pulls him out again and leads him to the farmhouse.

“I told them where I saw your plane go down. I told them I saw it on fire and was worried about the trees in the wood. I didn’t say anything about your chute, I burned it in the hearth.”

After she leads him in and lays him upon a wooden chair, she retrieves a glass and tells him to drink the liquid inside. It’s bitter, and he sputters, but she pushes it to his lips again, and after that, he fades in and out.

When he finally wakes, there’s the sound of a kettle whistling.

“Not real tea, I’m afraid, but dried mint is good enough to pretend.”

She sits across from him. Even still in pain, Robb can’t help but notice that she’s lovely. He sips the mint tea and tries not to choke.

When he finally gathers the mindfulness to speak, he picks his first question carefully.

“What’s your name?”

The woman sighs, before taking her own cup and sitting in the other chair.

“Talisa.”

“Talisa,” he says, feeling the name on his tongue, “I’m Robb.”

“I suppose we should use each other’s Christian names, given we’re going to be stuck here together for at least six weeks” she admits. Then she gestures at Robb’s leg, which she has immobilized with splints and thick rolls of bandage cloth. “Don’t try and move. I couldn’t set a proper cast, but I did my best. Don’t ruin all my hard work.” Dimly, Robb realizes he is covered in cuts that are also bandaged.

Robb is flush with gratitude.

“Thank you,” he says. He examines her bandaging. “Are you a nurse?”

Talisa nods.

“I was going to be, before-” she waves her arm out, “All of this.”

Robb glances around the farmhouse, and realizes the place is empty, but has the signs of other people having lived here before. Four chairs around the table, more cups than one person would need.

“Do you live here by yourself?”

Talisa nods, sadly.

“My father died when I was young, of a fever. I was born in Guernica. When Franco bombed it, me, my mother and my brother escaped and fled here. My father was French, so getting asylum was easier.”

“Guernica,” Robb muses, rolling the word around in his mouth, wondering where he’s heard it. “That’s in Spain right?”

Talisa purses her lips before answering.

“I guess it was too much to expect England to have reported too much on our own little war. But yes, Guernica is in Spain. The three of us came here and worked this farm. Then the Germans came. It had barely been three years. Seems like such a little time of peace.”

She turns away, and Robb chooses not to press her.

“Once your leg heals enough, I’ll pass you off to the resistance, and they can see about getting you home.”

“The German’s won’t get suspicious of you?” Robb asks. He doesn’t want to bring any trouble to her.

“That’s no matter,” she insists, “It’s not like you can go anywhere on your own, and anything I can do to be a thorn in the side of the Third Reich, the better.”

Talisa drains her cup at this point, pushing it back down against the table, and briefly shuts her eyes.

“It’s probably not good to admit, but I am happy that at least I’ll have someone here to talk to this Christmas.”

Christmas, Robb thinks. He hadn’t even realized.

Christmas 1941 is hellish for his own family.

Jon can barely eat any of the Christmas dinner the servicemen are given. It feels like ashes in his gut.

Sansa is given a break over Christmas, but the next day is when they’re supposed to be given their first parachute lessons. She cries herself to sleep, in fear. Fear for herself, fear for her brother. In her more fanciful moments, she imagines parachuting into France and one day bumping into him on the street. Perhaps he’d lost his memory, she wonders, her mind a Hollywood fantasy.

Arya and Bran are still at Winterfell.

Bran is overwhelmed. The work that has been left in his lap threatens to consume him, even as he had wished so hard to be useful.

Arya feels nearly dead inside.

The past two Christmases without Robb and Jon had been bad enough, but at least there were his letters. Now she can’t read them without wondering if they’re the last she will ever receive.

On Christmas Eve, no tree, no lights, no Christmas dinner, Arya stares out her bedroom window. Father, Mother, Robb gone. Jon, Sansa and Gendry far too far away. Bran overwhelmed, even Gilly, Sam and Weasel ash-faced.

They see Rickon so little it’s as though he’s slipped away.

It hardly feels like Christmas at all.

Maybe it would be better if she weren’t here too. One less mouth to poorly feed.

She leaves her bicycle, and her books. She takes Gendry’s letters, and she wonders if she’ll be able to receive any more of them.

The day Arya turns seventeen, she calls Asha Greyjoy, asking if her offer still stands.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #fic #ww2 au

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glowwormsmith · 4 years

Text

Ultimate Relationship Ask Meme

Tagged by @amistrio

Tagging @nightwingshero @thefathersbride @deputyash @bioshocking @punisherpage @chazz-anova @ja-crispea (no pressure)

I will do Jacob/Tess an put this under a read more, dang it’s long (but so good for oc development, I’ll do one for my other two pairings on my own)

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Both tend to do it if significantly stressed enough, since both are so quiet half the time, but Tess has a firmer edge due to being a mom.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Tess.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Neither, at the end of it all and despite their problems, they are with each other to the end of the line.

Who trashes the house? Neither.

Do either of them get physical? Neither do.

How often do they argue/disagree? A lot, due to the stress of their lives. Tess was guilt-ridden over cheating on her husband with Jacob, and then he ended up kidnapping her and having their kid all along when she thought her (now dead) husband had killed the baby. It got better as Tess developed Stockholm stayed in his bunker, but she never got used to his extreme tactics and cruelty.

Who is the first to apologize? Tess, and the first one to air out her feelings/concerns. Jacob even developed enough trust until his death to also talk things out with her.

Sex:

Who is on top? They switch it up, but it’s usually Jacob.

Who is on the bottom? See above.

Who has the strangest desires? Most likely Jacob; Tess is pretty vanilla after having only had one partner her whole life and never experimented with her boring husband. Not like Jacob knows anything too kinky (”that’s John’s thing”), but he does push Tess to try things she never did, such as outdoor sex and edging.

Any kinks? I guess Jacob has a breeding kink and likes doing it outdoors or if there is the risk someone can see them. Tess doesn’t have any specific ones and just goes along with whatever Jake wants as long as it’s not violent or demeaning.

Who’s dominant in bed? Jacob.

Is head ever in the equation? Tess does know how to give good head and Jacob tries his best with her, so yes, they do a lot of oral.

If so, who is better at performing it? Tess.

Ever had sex in public? Jacob introduced Tess to it: they had sex in the veteran center, out int he woods, in a church, near the window so the trainees could see...

Who moans the most? Tess, it surprises Jacob how loud she can get

Who leaves the most marks? Jacob.

Who is the more experienced of the two? Both have had sex, but Jake has had more lovers and exposure to different types.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? It depends on how horny/frustrated at one another they feel. Tess leans more to “making love;” Jake can see it as both.

Rough or soft? Like above, but Tess leans more toward soft sex, so he obliges. Tess had an unfulfilling sex/romantic life with her marriage and sex had even been painful at times with Logan, so she really wants sex with her new partner to be sex and long-lasting so she can get better pleasure and a better experience.

How long do they usually last? Poor Jake, he’s 47, so he doesn’t last long (especially with that good head lol), so he mainly spends time drawing pleasure out from Tess.

Is protection used? Lol, nope, that’s how they got Todd. After Todd’s birth, Tess does ask for protection more often.

Does it ever get boring? Maybe a little since Tess really likes foreplay, but Jacob is happy enough to help her so he goes for it.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? At John’s ranch of all places. They were there for a family dinner (pre-Reaping) so Tess could meet Jacob’s family (who semi-disapproved b/c she was still married, but they liked her nonetheless). Jacob wanted to get back at John for some bitchy comments, so he fondled Tess under the dinner table and then followed her to the bathroom and took her there. The other Seed’s had an inkling what was happening, but choose to do nothing and sat there until a smug Jacob and an embarrassed Tess returned. John still wants to mark the two with “Lust” to this day.

Do they plan on having children/or have children? They’ve had Todd and Tess wouldn’t mind one more if possible; Jacob is fine with Todd and adopting Tess’s daughters.

If so, how many children do they want/have? See above.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? Tess is the cuddler of this relationship.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Jacob, but Tess has gotten really teasing with Jacob in her bolder moments since gettign with him (he’s a bad influence!).

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves? Both, though Tess is slightly more needy.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? Jacob isn’t much of a fan of snuggles, but will allow it for a few minutes durign down time. Also when he’s asleep that’s when Tess chooses to snuggle the most.

Who gives the most kisses? Tess.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Walking in the Whitetails if they can avoid the Resistance long enough to do so lol. They can also just sit quietly in each other’s presence and enjoy the company, with Tess leading most conversation if it takes her to do so.

Where is their favorite place to cuddle? In bed.

How often do they get time to themselves? Not often, especially when Jacob is busy with his "cull the herd” schtick.

Sleeping:

Who snores? Jacob.

If both do, who snores the loudest? Just Jacob, pray for Tess.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? Share a bed, though it took Tess a while to get to that point (what with the guilt over their affair, his cult kidnapping her and ruining her family life, feeling horrified by his actions).

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Once Tess decides to sleep together again, Tess is the one who cozies up to him and in his sleep he ends up hugging her.

What do they wear to bed? If they’re together? Jacob simply either goes naked, or strips down to pants/underwear. Tess would prefer pajamas, but since it’s not an option, she’ll sleep in under clothes.

Are either of them insomniacs? Jacob.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Sometimes, if Jacob really needs them. Tess tries to limit his use by just talking to him until one or the other falls asleep.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Tess will snuggle, much to Jacob’s annoyance (though he secretly loves it).

Who wakes up with bed hair? Both, but Tess has nastier snags.

Who wakes up first? Jacob most often due to nightmares or his strict routine. Tess will follow shortly after be/c she’s been a mom and is used to it.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Neither, but it is Tess is more used to it due to her daughter’s surprising her.

What is their favorite sleeping position? Tess prefers her side, Jacob on his back.

Do they set an alarm each night? Not really, since Jacob’s brain is a pretty good alarm clock due to the military routine/PTSD keeping him up. Tess often ends up waking at 7 am because that’s when she got the girls up, unless her body really needs the rest. Also, they have baby Todd, that’s often their alarm clock.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? No, unless it’s one that hosts security cams around the veteran center.

Who has nightmares? Both, but Jacob has them more frequently on account of his barely treated PTSD.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Neither.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Jacob.

Who makes the bed? Tess does it like clockwork.

What time is bed time? Depends on the type of day they have; Jacob might still be working late into the night or might retire early to get needed rest.

Any routines/rituals before bed? None for Jacob, but Tess tries to keep to a routine despite the circumstances: she goes to sleep better after some tea and occasionally a shower.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Both, but people expect it from Jake, not from Tess.

Work:

Who is the busiest? Jacob, running a doomsday cult is hard work. Tess is more like a prisoner, but she tries to keep herself busy in the veteran center.

Who rakes in the highest income? Neither really.

Are any of them unemployed? Tess technically is during the events of the Reaping. She lost her job at the veteran center (which was more of a volunteer position, as her husband forced her to quit after they were married/Hazel was on the way) after the incident in which her husband found out about the affair and shot her, so she had been injured. Then the Reaping happened and she was kidnapped and force to be nurse to the cultists, which isn’t really a proper job.

Jacob technically has one, but does being a cult leader really count? Is he unionized, or getting proper benefits?

Who takes the most sick days? Neither, considering the circumstances.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Same as above, but Tess would take sick days if she couldn’t hid her bruises or when her girls needed her pre-Reaping.

Who sucks up to their boss? Neither.

What are their jobs? Jacob trains the soldiers for Eden’s Gate and keeps the Whitetail Mountains in line. Tess had trained to be a nurse (and even did some Doctors Without Borders/Peace Corps-esque service in her youth), but was forced to quit by her husband Logan. She took up as a nurse/helper at the veteran center when her husband lost his job and was secretly earning income to leave him/Hope County eventually). She is now semi-reluctant nurse for Eden’s Gate.

Who stresses the most? Both of them, but they are the types to keep it to themselves.

Do they enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Jacob simply feels this is his purpose; he doesn’t feel any which way about it. Tess loved nursing and had a strong desire to help people, so she was both sad when she had to quit nursing and happy when she took it back up at the vet center. As a semi-reluctant POW of Eden’s Gate, she isn’t sure if she should help the people who are hurting those she once knew and loved, but she does take her duties seriously and her compassionate heart leads her to help others again.

Are they financially stable? Tess was more stable than Jacob, but it didn’t last long.

Home:

Who does the washing? Tess.

Who takes out the trash? Both, but mainly Tess.

Who does the ironing? Tess (she likes to do domestic chores, it keeps her mind occupied).

Who does the cooking? Tess, she won’t let a Seed come near any kitchen on her watch.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Most likely Jacob.

Who is messier? Jacob; it’s not that he’s a slob, he just doesn’t try to keep clean it’s the depression.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Jacob.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Most likely Jacob.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither, but Jacob does forget to put the seat down.

Who is the prankster around the house? Neither, it’s not in their natures.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Tess. It’s what gets her caught if/when she tries to escape, since she can forget minor details and Jacob is just that much of a memory master.

Who mows the lawn? Neither, they don’t have a lawn. If they did, probably Jacob.

Who answers the telephone? Both.

Who does the vacuuming? Tess.

Who does the groceries? Both.

Who takes the longest to shower? Tess.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Tess.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Yeah. Jacob was homeless before his brothers found him and he tends to not think much about money, since John takes care of any expenses. Tess hit hard times when her husband lost his job and refused to get another one to dedicate his life to “writing” (and really, he just sat around the house to drink, watch TV, and later when he dedicated his time to the cult), which had her take up a job at the veteran center to earn extra money. Her parents and sister were her safety net, but she didn’t want to accept money from them (on account of her humility and her husband’s arrogant pride; he smacked her once when she even brought it up and she never did so again).

How many cars do they own? None. Jacob does have cult trucks, though.

Do they own their home or do they rent? Jacob had been living with his brother John at his ranch house, though he would drift around abandoned cabins and bunkers just because he felt like it. He then took over the veteran center as his new home lol. Tess’s husband owned the house, but had to abandon it after the Reaping and she’s now a “guest” at the vet center.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Country, in bumfuck Hope County (are there even any other towns in this county besides Fall’s End? No wonder no one came for the cult, I bet most Americans don’t even know this place exists!). Tess grew up in Montana and Hope County has been her home for most of her life. Both prefer country to city life.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Yep, though Jacob can’t enjoy nature as much since he’s got a cult army to build.

What’s their song? Cold Cold Man (Jacob’s perspective). I Walk the Line (Tess’s perspective). Otherwise, none they can agree upon or have thought about.

What do they do when they’re away from each other? They throw themselves into other projects or thoughts; Tess thinks more about Jacob than he does of her.

Where did they first meet? Tess met Jacob at the veteran center where she was working as a helper and he was receiving treatments (a cover for him scoping out potential bases). They quietly became drawn to each other and started platonically before they moved to an intimate relationship.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Neither.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Jacob, much to Tess’s consternation.

Any mental issues? Ummm, where to start? Jacob has PTSD from both his abusive family situation, being separated from his beloved brothers, and from his military days. Tess has low self-esteem and depression/anxiety due to being in a loveless, emotionally (and sometimes physically) abusive marriage; she recently showed signs of PTSD herself after her husband shot both her and her daughter after he found out about the affair and thinking her newborn baby Todd was killed by him. And that was before the cult broke her even more.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Jacob, because Tess would just trap and release the spiders if she encounters them.

Their favorite place? Snowshoe Lake has become a quiet place for the two of them to be together when there is a moment of peace.

Who pays the bills? Both, if there were bills to pay.

Do they have any fears for their future? Definitely. Tess is obvious (the father of her child helps lead a violent doomsday cult, how her family will handle this/make it out alive, the fact that she is genuinely becoming dependent upon Jacob as the events go on). Jacob is also complicated: he just assumed he would die in service of Joseph’s dream. Now that he has found some romantic affection and has a child, he is torn about giving up his life or somehow living to be with Tess and his son.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? None; John would end up doing it for them to “give them some taste of class” lol.

Who’s the tallest? Jacob.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Jacob.

Who wanders around in their underwear? Neither, but Jacob would be most likely if he was sure no one could see him.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Neither.

What do they tease each other about? Neither are the teasing type, but Jacob might make a few cracks about Tess’s soft heart (though he does love this about her, like he’ll admit it).

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither really care about fashion.

Do they have mutual friends? Nope, though Tess does try her best to get along with Jacob’s brothers.

Who crushed first? Tess, with Jacob following after he got to know her (the sexual attraction was there between them).

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Not really; Tess makes sure Jacob doesn’t slip into depending upon sleep pills or tries to notice any behavior (I imagine Jake would want to stay away from alcohol abuse so he doesn’t end up like Old Man Seed).

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? None.

Who swears the most? Neither of them swear a whole lot, but Jacob might swear more than Tess, who abhors bad language.

#ask game #Tess and Jacob #jacob seed x oc #fc5

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myhauntedsalem · 4 years

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Real EMTs Share True Ghost Stories

Together Forever

Will I Go to Heaven?

Well, to tell you I was pretty well affected by that statement. She then went on to say ‘And he says that you are going to go to heaven too.’

We then prayed and I will never forget that interaction between the two of us. About a week later she passed away. I hope she made it to heaven.”

Otherworldly Screams at the ER

666

The Haunted Ambulance Company

#Real EMTs Share True Ghost Stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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xhudgenssistersconfessions · 4 years

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I’m from Italy and I’m gonna share a few things since I’m reading on and hearing things that sometimes are soo wrong or fake about our situation with corona virus.

Mass graves? No. This is not happening. Right now here funerals are banned so this is how it works only close relatives can be at the cemetery for the last benediction and a pray. Sadly if the relatives live in another city they can’t even be there for the funeral so yes, people are passing away alone in hospitals and their families can’t even say goodbye. Right now there are cities in Italy that are facing too many daily deaths, the funeral home are working constantly, but as they’ve said and as some priests confirmed it takes around 30 minutes for every dead, this creates a long queue. But everyone goes in their own place in the cemetery. You can give a look to this video, only 25 seconds that even if it can be hard to watch people should see because it can make you understand how this isn’t ‘just a flu’, from Bergamo where since they didn’t know anymore where to put all the coffins that were waiting to reach the cemetery they’ve put some of them in a church www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFy9j1vtJ-4

Yes, the big blow up of cases should arrive between the end of this week and the beginning of the next one and right now some hospitals are already full, they are near to collapse, in the main hopsital in Bergamo they don’t have any more space, beds, in intensive care. Nurses and doctors and everybody else who works in hospitals are making eternal shift around 13 hours daily with basically no break. You can’t really imagine it untill it’s in your face. Right now Italy is counting over 31000 cases (and more than 16000 only in Lombardy). This is the main problem with corona virus, cases are growing too fast in a little time untill you reach a moment in which you don’t have any more security systems like face masks (sold out everywhere and the new ones that are arriving are going first to these that need them the most, to these people that are working in contact with sick people), glasses, gloves, etc beds for sick people, no more machines to keep them alive and it’s all a run against time.

People with no symptoms but positive to the test? Lost count of how many we’ve had. This is another big problem of this virus you can’t see it, and you can’t see it in some cases for days! So you can go around without knowing to have it and spread it everywhere! I mean think with how many people you can get in touch in more than 2 weeks!

Not only old people take it, in Italy there have been younger people also in their 20s, 30s that took it and sadly also children and newborns so don’t believe this big lie of only old people can get it (and also if it would be so, don’t you have a grandma or grandpa? Don’t you love them? Shouldn’t you do something to protect them from this?). And sadly some of these people that were young were/are in critical conditions. Also not only old people are in a situation of high risk, but aslo youger people who have diabet, who had to deal with cancer and the list goes on. Recently a man who was 47 passed away for the virus and he was healthy, no other conditions like diabets or cancer, nothing, still he didn’t make it, so don’t think to be safe from this virus just because of your age.

About the message that italians are the one that made the virus go all over Italy just let me tell you this little fact: Italy has been dealing with corona virus for about 3 weeks, day more day less, if I don’t rember wrong the first italian case was around the 20th february, since the very beginning we’ve been open and honest with numbers with the whole world, we never lied about how many cases, death and all. Saturday 7th March,when Italy had already some red zone and over 5000 cases, so at least 15 days after the first case in Italy, the State decide to close down all ski slopes (they should have done that before according to a lot of people) that were full of italians and people from all over europe that had arrived only a few days before so when the virus was already here and it was more than clear to the rest of the world, then on march 9th, when in the middle of the night Conte said that from the next day the red zone would have been the whole country and started talking about the whole lock down thing, all these people run off. So these people came her knowing about the virus and then went back, as fast as they could, to their country without caring about the fact that maybe at that point they were the first who helped the virus go everywhere, without even putting themself in a quarantine. Don’t blame only italians but all these people that can’t respect a few rules like don’t go out! I think we can see it everywhere now, I don’t know if people really don’t use a brain or if panic is taking all over them but in Italy when part of north Italy was announced to be in a red zone some idiots took the train from Milan in the middle of the night to go to some places in South Italy, in France people did the same and run off from Paris, in the States people run to buy eveyrthing and some videos went viral like people almost hitting each other for the last pack of toilet paper without caring about some simple rules like keep at least 1 m from everyone else, and in all this examples, just to name a few, corona virus was throwing a party! So don’t blame a person because is living in a country with the virus, blame those that can’t respect rules and don’t care about others no matter in which country they live or are from. I think it’s simple if they tell you don’t go out then stay in, if the rule is when you are out for grocery shopping or to go to work or on a bus or wherever you want stay at least 1 m from everyone else you do so.

About Vanessa’s live I honestly think that what she said was wrong, but not because she is a celebrity, but because yes everybody has to die before or later, but better later than now. Plus if you are dealing with something and your immune system it’s a mess and this virus has high chances to kill you or if someone you love like a friend, a parent or your child is the one who is in this situation hearing this, well you don’t want to. And right now passing away with corona virus means be alone untill the very end, next to you only a nurse or a doctor that still is a stranger for you. I think she simply shouldn’t have said that but this doesn’t make me hate her or wish for her career to end or anything like that. I’ll keep on supporting her as a fan as I’ve always done. Everyone has their own opinion and the fact that she is the first one that is not going out right now maybe, but just maybe, means that she isn’t underestimating the situation. To be honest I’ve seen and heard worst in the past few weeks, I mean half of our politicians here in Italy laugh off at the virus at the beginning “It’s just a flu, it won’t arrive here” and then not only they were sooooo wrong but they were the first one to be positive… I’ve seen celebrities acting like it’s all a nothing without caring, I mean the basketball player that touched all the microphones on purpose, he could have avoided it, and then was positive. But they weren’t all trashed like Vanessa, I think the fact that she, like before Kendall Jenner, were pointed out by Chiara Ferragni made people notice it more, I mean if you only search Ferragni on google now here in Italy all that comes out is Vanessa’s words. I mean she isn’t the first person on this world that said something like that so if people didn’t care about all the others they should drop down this whole thing now. Sadly since people have to stay in and they don’t know what to do, they like to hate on her more that usually, they have more time to do it. Plus people should also remember that Vanessa, just like any other celebrity, is a human and guess what a human does? Mistakes, so she did it, yes, but she also apologised so move on.

Untill July for The States? I think it’s more than possible. In Italy we’ve started around the 20th february, almost a month later we are still waiting for the highest number of cases that should be by next week according to some, by the middle of April according to others. We are on a lock down untill the 3rd of April but more than half Italy is waiting for that day for a new message that the lock down will have to go on longer because of the situation. Some doctors are talking about starting to get out of this situation not before may and for hospitals to go back to how it was all before only around july. So for The States that are just at the beginning now it could be possible. But as some doctors and researchers said it’s impossible to predict a day for several reasons, starting also from how we all act, I think we will all find it out in a few months.

All I can say to everyone is that this virus it’s not a joke,to stay safe and respect all the rules, if they ask you to stay in your own house don’t go out. If schools are closed this doesn’t mean that kids and teens can go out and meet up somewhere else, it’s easy to understand you have to stay in. Here in Italy the State had to go with total lock down because some old people weren’t getting the part of “stay in” as a caution for them, some other were taking the no schools, no works as a holiday things and wanted to go to the seaside or to ski and then teenagers, they acted like ignorant and selfish people, they were like we can only get it with some line of fever nothing more, we won’t die for it and so they were going out! Zero brain! In a few words since some people weren’t following a few rules the lock down arrived and now if you don’t respect it, don’t respect the law, you pay for your actions. Sorry Maria for the long,long,long,long text! Stay safe.

It’s all good! Hope you stay safe too as well as all of your loved ones!

#answered #submission

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cdrash13 · 5 years

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“And all at once, I came alive!” -Lauren Daigle

You are capable of change.

I’m going to do my best to summarize the most horrible moments in my life...and tell you how I got through them. This will be long and personal. Here we go :

I’ve always been in church. I remember attending with my parents and watching my mother as she softly prayed to herself. I admired how soft her features would become when in the presence of the Lord; how strong her faith is when faced with what appears to be a challenge a person should not be able to overcome.

I remember the glint in her eyes when she would reach out to my friends, love and a definite assurance that God loves them and has a plan for them. I remember how she would pat my head, gently running her fingers through my hair. She would smile sweetly at me, almost as if she had a secret that I wasn’t in on.

“God’s gonna be with you through it all. He hears you. He sees you, He sees all. Don’t forget him in your heartache.”

As a young child, I never fully understood why my mother would remind me of this regularly. Deep in my bones, I knew that life required heartache and suffering to create character; I also understand that when walking in faith, you’re going to be attacked. Forever. I waited...and heartache did in fact come.

My mother was diagnosed with Lymphoma.

I was raped at 15.

My father died of liver failure in 2016.

My childhood friend committed suicide last year, 2018.

I wailed, I wept and screamed. I begged God to hear me, I pleaded for Him to get me through this. Though I couldn’t see or hear Him...I knew He was there. You feel His presence in your bones, your entire being. I always felt Him there, in the depths of my heartache.

“Be brave, my daughter. Keep going. You will not fail, for I am with you...”

I kept going...but it was not easy. It was hell actually. I can truthfully say, I walked through Hell, but I persevered. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the Valley would end. I knew that my suffering would only make me into the person I needed when this all happened; I knew I was going to become a warrior. I’ve discovered that change can be both in an instant and a journey that requires years of work. I struggled, like so many before me to change. I look back to the girl I used to be three years ago, battle-worn and begging to be heard.

I am OFTEN told, even to this DAY...that I am an angry person. Let me ask you, friends, how would you react to my traumas? Be sincere with yourself, be honest with me.

My Mothers Cancer.

My mother's cancer took up most of my life. I have a small family, close-knit and full of caretakers. We worked together, my father and I, as the three of us went up against the sickness that was trying to take my mother from us. I remember so many tears...I remember my parents trying to prepare me for the day they wouldn’t be here anymore; I remember asking God in anger, “Why are you letting this happen?” I never heard anything. But I kept praying, we kept working together. And even though her cancer sadly went to stage four as of December of 2018; we’re still here.

I learned to be patient in my mother's sickness. I learned to cut myself off, that I would need to sacrifice my teenage years to support her. I accepted that my free time would consist of a church and a few weekends at the skating rink. I could maintain my youth while trying to grow up in the privacy of my home while I helped my parents. Did I lose it sometimes? absolutely. I snapped, screamed, and often had meltdowns with my parents, like any teenager.

But we got through it. We still loved each other. We still prayed, and we still believed that God had a purpose for this.

Coping after rape.

I was angry. I was full of rage towards churches in my town that I had trusted to come too with my heartache from being raped; I was slut-shamed. I was blamed. They asked me why I didn’t fight hard enough; I fought with everything inside of me. I screamed, I crawled, and I didn’t give up. I will never forget those in the church that looked at me...disgusted.

“What were you wearing?”

Were you praying enough?”

“God’s trying to get your attention.”

No. That’s not how God works. At least not the God I know. The Great I Am. He has claimed me for good, and He will ALWAYS hear me. He will ALWAYS love me. He will not throw me away. He is not you, and for you to be in church, and to blame a child who trusted you...it is not of God. I mourned the loss of my girlhood. I asked God to walk me through the weight of what was stolen from me. There was many times I snapped, There were many days filled with resentment and confusion as I transitioned into adulthood. I had to know and believe...that people, were not God.

I used my anger to fuel my will. I would stand against what these people thought of me and spat at my heart. I would say no, I fought...and I’m going to keep fighting.

My father's death.

Let me tell you...there has been no greater loss in my life...then the loss of my father. My father and I were a tag team, we did everything together. He made time every Sunday afternoon to have tea parties with me. He taught me how to shoot my first bow, an English longbow at the age of four; I still remember him cheering for me when I hit the target.

He taught me how to waltz in our living room. Always ending the evening to slow dance with my mother before bed...I remember thinking, “I hope I find someone who loves me the way daddy loves mama...” I remember my daddy setting me down as he told me what he wanted for my life.

“You become strong. You get smart. And you find somebody who loves AND treats you well. Don’t you EVER settle for less.”

He encouraged me to read constantly. He often would read with me late at night when he got back home from working late shifts at the hospital; he was a nurse. We read about everything! My favorite though was the galax. My father and I are a bit of Astrophiles. I remember being so excited when dad would ask me if I read anything about a constellation, he would follow up with, “You wanna go find it outside together?”

He would tell me about the stars, pointing out constellations and telling me the history behind them. He told me he love Orion...it reminded him of me. A hunter. I often thought of Artemis, the Greek Goddess when he told me this. I would swell with pride, determined to become the strong woman my father hoped I would be. I remember how much he wanted me to be my own hero, be my own savior. He didn’t want a princess for a daughter, he wanted a hero. He didn’t know...and I should’ve told him more often...but he is my hero.

His sickness came quick, too quick. Within a few months, I suddenly found myself clutching my father's hand. I remember telling him I loved him...we both knew it was the last thing we would ever say to one another. The next day, he was brought back to my childhood home; he was comatose. He died the next morning at 4 am.

I will never forget the sound that came out of my chest, my entire being. I ached with loss. I was willing to drown in the loss of my father and let it consume me whole. Over the next two years, I fought with my depression, my loss, my grief. There were days I couldn’t feel anything...I couldn’t see anything but a little girl who would give anything to have her daddy back. I cried every day. It took me a long time to see...but I wasn’t alone, my father was not gone.

He was still with me. I could see him looking back at me in the mirror. Bright blue eyes that screamed with intensity. I could see him in the way my friends loved me, the way they cared for me in my grief. I could find him in all the people he cared for, all the people he had saved as a nurse. I found him in the scent of pipe tobacco...I found him the heart of the woods where he taught me how to climb trees.

“You gotta be strong. You gotta make it to the top, sweetie. You gotta get above it all to see where you need to go.”

I took three years, but I can say without a shadow of a doubt...I’m okay. I’ve climbed a multitude of trees, I’ve read a lot of books, I’ve been star gazing for a while now, and I bought a lot of pipe tobacco candles. Dad, I love you I can never convey how much I love you. You take up every part of my heart, you are here. I know I’ve been a mess...but I’ve gotten through it. I keep going, and I’m gonna be the woman you wanted me to be. Your hero.

My friend's death.

Her name was Jenny. We grew up together. She was part of my family. We loved her...we loved her with everything we had. She came over to my grandmas and I remember always laughing with her. I remember lots of malt milkshakes and tv marathons of American Horror Story. Jenny was a ray of sunshine and a ball of fun.

Jenny battled with depression. She had suffered immense heartache. She drank to forget, she drank to cope. The drinking got to out of hand, and ultimately, it killed her. I remember my mother calling me the morning she died, I was at work...but it didn’t stop the gut-wrenching cry that escaped me. I cried the entire day...I cried and cried and cried.

But I had one hope, the ONLY hope that had gotten me through ALL OF THIS.

God. I had the Lord.

And I knew...I knew, that He had both Jenny and my father in His hands. I knew she wasn’t sad anymore. I knew I would see her again one day. There are still days I cry for her. There are still days I’m angry at myself for not reaching out enough. There are days I struggle with it.

But I know our days are numbered. I know and believe God’s word, His promises. He is with us...through the valley. Through the shadow of death. I remember every moment He was with me. I remember that He got me through all of this. I remember that He loved me despite every time I snapped and screamed. I remember that He loved me despite how hateful I could be. I remembered that He didn’t see my scars, my heartache; He just saw his daughter.

I say this with full and complete confidence: Any reaction towards anger and pain that I vocalized during these periods of my life, are justified. I will not ever apologize for the anger that seeped into my soul. I will not apologize for my defenses, I needed them. You might need them...and that’s okay.

Change is painful. It’s demanding. But it’s possible to be something different...you don’t have to be full of anger like I was. You don’t have to suffer find rage as fuel to fight for others; find goodness, find love. As sappy as it sounds...remember that love is the driving force that gave of Jesus. Remember his suffering? and how he endured? he endured for us, for you.

I kept my mind on him. No matter how sick and sad I was. I knew if I could just push through, just one more day...that it would be okay. And guess what? it is okay. Fight those battles...defend the weak and broken. Be the driving force, plant your feet on the ground and remember that you were born for this. You were born to survive.

People told me I was selfish for being angry. They told me I would always be the battle-torn girl. They are wrong.

Every time I need to remember that God is with me, I listen to Rescue <3 by Lauren Daile. He will always come for us, He will always fight for us, He will ALWAYS rescue us.

#sunlight #lookup #brave #bravery #loss #grief #coping #cancer #suicide #death #rape #survivor #iremember #blog #god #religon #faith #joan of arc

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marvelmymarvel · 5 years

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I Thought I Lost You

George Luz x Medic!Reader

Synopsis: You were stationed in Bastogne because they needed extra hands. When George finds out about the bombings though, he falls into a depression because he thought he lost you.

Trigger Warning: Depressing themes

A/N: This was requested but I seriously don't know why I do this to myself??? Like???? CRYING?! This is way sadder than I’m sure the person who requested it wanted buttttttt here I am </3 sorry world.

Also if you want added sadness, here's a good song so you can feel Luz and his emotions: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ws2Ne8TpKo (Lovely - Billie Eilish & Khalid)

“Bye honey” you whispered before pecking his lips softly. He grabbed your arm, pulling you back and kissing you deeper. “I better not see you there” you grumbled and he nodded. You pulled away and walked towards the Jeep that was waiting for you. They were moving you into the town, Bastogne, where you would aid the other nurses and medics with the wounded. Winters thought you would be safer and more useful there than in the freezing cold forest. The days passed, and you thanked God every day that you didn't see George. It wasn't because you didn't wish to see him, in fact, you missed your lover quite a lot. But you couldn't deal with the fact that the reason he would be there and in your care, would be because he was either wounded or dying. Every morning you went to the church to help, and you never missed a day. You were the best helper, but when you fell sick, the Medics sent you back to your housing family, who happened to live outside of Bastogne, to get some rest. The next day, you didn't feel any better so you stayed back. You were happy you did.

“WHERE IS SHE DOC” George screamed as he shook the shellshocked medic. He came back with news of the town being bombed and how the church was struck. George had one thing on his mind... You. “DOC-” “I don't know George!” Eugene screamed back, finally having enough of being manhandled. Georges anger rose and he slammed his fist into a nearby tree, nearly breaking his hand as he shook his wrist out. Breathing heavily he started to pace as the other soldiers watched. Lip stepped in, finally having enough of no one calming him down. “George” Lip stated as George just stopped and stared at the ground in shock and anger. “ I lost her” he whispered. It was starting to hit him and the anger flowed into a deep and dark sadness, “I lost my whole world” he sobbed out and Lip waved the other men away “Go to your holes men” he called out “We are heading to Foy tomorrow. Until then, rest up.” He led Luz away as he started to cry harder from the touch of a friend. He wished it was you. Darkness was coming upon them all and in the morning they would be in another battle. But the land wasn't the only thing that the darkness was falling onto. Darkness was setting onto Georges' heart the further the closer they walked to Georges hole, where you should be, but aren't. Lip didn't want George to lose his head, and then his life. They reached the hole and Lip helped George down into it carefully. George couldn't feel anything. He only felt pain. “Here Luz” Lip started as he unscrewed his canteen and extended it out to him, “Have some water bud.” George just stared at it as his purple lips quivered and the hot tears ran down his cold pink cheeks. Lip closed the canteen and let him just sit there. He sat there for an hour or two, silently crying into his hands and shirt. “You know what I hate the most Lip” Luz started and Lip looked over at him. His voice was broken and thick with tears. Lip didn't think this man could possibly cry anymore, but here he was. Three hours after the news and still bawling like a baby. “What do you hate the most George?” Lip asked quietly, he was scared to hear the answer, one wrong word and he would pull George off the line. He’d beg Winters, he’d do anything just to get his friend as far from danger to heal properly. “Heartbreak numbs everything but the pain” He whispered. And that's what broke Lip. “George-” Lip started but George’s broken sob made him stop, “All I feel is the pain” he sobbed out harder. At that moment, all Lip could do was bring the broken boy into a warm and comforting hug. Like a father to his child, he would be there. George fell asleep like that, and Lip prayed to God that you would be alright, for George's sake.

Lip let Geroge fight, but he kept a close eye on him. Foy was challenging, but luckily for Lip, George put aside the predicaments and focused on the task at hand. Lip was walking over to Winters when he noticed someone talking to him. You. “Y/n” Lip whispered and your head turned swiftly. “Hey Lip!” you stated before turning back to Winters “Mind if I go find my boyfriend Captain?” you asked and Winters nodded before smiling at you. You turned to walk to Lip, “Glad to have you back Y/n” Winters called out and you saluted him sweetly. “Glad to be back Cap!.” Turning back you stood in front of Lip. “He was so worried” he started and your heart broke. After the bombings, you couldn't find a jeep to get back nor could you find a way to get word to the company that you were okay in the first place. “Where is he?” you asked softly while looking around. Just then, gunshots rang out. Lip tackled you to a wall and you stared in shock as some men fell from a tank they were perched on top of. You saw as Shifty took out the sniper and cheers rang out, but the fallen men were on your mind. Pushing George out of your mind, you raced out from under Lip and ran over to the men. You slid down towards the first one that fell. “Doc take care of him!” you hollered, motioning to the other soldier with your head, as you began to tear the first one's shirt open where the gunshot wound was at. “Hey you’re gonna be okay kiddo, don't you worry,” you whispered sweetly as you dug for the bullet. He coughed in pain. You ripped your helmet off and tore the bandana from your hair, making your hair fall out along your shoulders. All the men went silent. They thought you were dead, but here you were. Saving this mans life. You wiped the man's mouth of his blood, “Just breathe....” you whispered softly in his ear as you got the bullet between your other fingers. Pulling it out, he sighed in relief. You opened your bag and searched for the morphine. Stabbing it into his arm, you felt his muscles relax under your fingertips where you were applying pressure. You sighed out in relief as you finally were able to sit him up and you saw Doc got the other man up and running. That's when you saw him. Sitting the man up against the tank, you handed him the bandana and Doc told you that he could finish him off for you. Standing up fully, you looked him up and down. George didn't change much on the outside. But you could tell something was off. Your eyes flicked back up to his and you saw it. The pain. “Hi baby” you whispered out. Your voice made his whole heart break again. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. “Please tell me... Please tell me this is real. That you're real” he whispered out as you stepped forward. The other men began to disperse, and you realized there was more to this than you thought. He wasn't just sad, something broke him. “You thought I died” you whispered out. Finally connecting the fact that he thought you were in that church when it was bombed. He nodded quickly “I thought I lost you” he cried out, and you saw his tears start to fall. “Oh honey” you whispered out as you stepped forward, grabbing his face, you realized you had blood everywhere. You pulled away and cringed at the fact that the blood was smeared on his cheek. “I’m sorry. Can I get washed up and we can talk-” But he just pulled you into him. He didn't care that you had blood all over your hands and clothes, he needed to feel you. He needed to know that you were real. That you were alive. That you were safe in his arms. You didn't leave his side ever again for the rest of the war. He didn't know whether you did it for your sake. Or for his. But he didn't care. He didn't want to lose you again, and if that meant that you stayed by his side till you were both safe in the states, then that's what it meant. As long as you would stay with him till the day he died. That's all he wanted. But he couldn't lose you again. Never. Again.

tags:

@hell-itwasyou @desired-love-

#george luz imagine #george luz imagines #george luz x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

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sancarlo · 3 years

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Teresita Castillo, a ten-year-old from Spain, died as a missionary. She saw Carlo in one of her dreams.

Keep her on your radar. She’s going to be canonized.

https://web.archive.org/web/20210315193346/https%3A%2F%2Fwww.catholicnewsagency.com%2Fnews%2Fteresita-the-spanish-10-year-old-who-became-a-missionary

The full letter:

Dear Priests,

This time I am not writing to call you to a meeting or to ask for statistics or communications. This time I am writing to you, plain and simple, to notify you of the death of a little girl who has had a great impact on my personal life and as Vicar. A little girl: Teresita; and parents: Teresa and Eduardo, a Christian family!

Let me explain briefly. Last February 11, Day of the Sick, this year I went to celebrate the Eucharist at La Paz Hospital. I celebrated the Eucharist accompanied by the chaplains and a varied assembly: doctors, nurses, relatives of the sick, etc. At the end of the Eucharist, I usually go with the chaplains to visit some of the sick to administer the Anointing or give them communion. This time the chaplains, knowing my habit, had suggested that I go to visit a seriously ill girl, who was to be operated on the following day for a tumor in her head. I gladly accepted the proposal. We arrived at the ICU properly equipped, I greeted the doctors and nurses, and then I was taken to Teresita's bed, which was next to her mother Teresa. A white bandage was wrapped around her head, but her face was sufficiently uncovered to perceive a truly brilliant and exceptional face. I greeted her with all affection, indicating that at that moment I was coming on behalf of the Cardinal Archbishop of Madrid to bring Jesus to her.

I now quote Teresita's expressions; she said to me: "You bring me Jesus, don't you?", yes, I answered her, I bring you Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit with the Anointing. Then she said to me: "Do you know what? I love Jesus very much". Her mother hears this and addressing her daughter, she says: "tell Angel what you want to be". She looks fixedly at her mother and says: "Do I really tell him?" and her mother says: "You will see". Teresita tells me: "I want to be a missionary".

I was so impressed by her answer, totally unexpected for me, that I took strength from where I had none, because of the emotion that her answer produced in me, that I told her: "Teresita, I constitute you right now as a missionary of the Church, and this afternoon I will bring you the document that accredits it and the missionary cross". She added: "Fr. Angel, do you know what: I pray that many children may come to know Jesus". Then I administered the Sacrament of Anointing, gave her communion and the Apostolic Blessing of Pope Francis. It was a moment of prayer, very simple but deeply supernatural. We were joined by some nurses who spontaneously took some photos of us, totally unexpected for me, and which will remain as an indelible memory. We said goodbye while she and her mother remained praying and giving thanks.

That morning I had a meeting of the Archpriesthood; as soon as I finished it I went directly to the Vicariate and helped by the secretaries Miguel and Mª Pilar, we prepared the missionary office under a truly precious parchment. I picked up the missionary cross and at five o'clock in the afternoon I returned to the Hospital of La Paz. The chaplains were waiting for me and we went straight to the ICU again. As soon as my mother saw me, she said out loud: "Teresita, I can't believe it! Mr. Vicar is coming with the gift for you". The little girl, who was half asleep, woke up immediately and took the document and the cross in her hands. The mother read it aloud to her, while she listened attentively and what we had imagined happened, she got excited until her mother consoled her, and Teresita said aloud: "put that cross on the bar so that I can see it well, and tomorrow I will take it to the operating room. I am already a missionary". We said goodbye with these words of Teresita: "So, Fr. Angel, am I a missionary?", and I answered "you are a missionary".

Here I could end the story of this simple and profound experience. What I could not imagine is that through the contacts of the fathers, this testimony reached the ears of the National Delegate of Missions. He called me the next day and asked me this question: "Have you constituted a missionary girl in the Hospital of La Paz?" Yesterday, after giving her the anointing and communion, I constituted her as a missionary with the mandatory prayer and then I took her the document and the missionary cross". Then she tells me: "this testimony has gone around the whole missionary world of Spain and they have already made Teresita a new protector for the children in mission". Subsequently the parents have been forwarding me messages from different people impacted by Teresita's testimony.

On Sunday, March 7, at 9:00 a.m., Teresita departed for heaven. A wake was held at the Funeral Home of El Escorial. While I was praying the Rosary with the parents and the maximum capacity allowed, Cardinal Carlos Osoro called me to be present. They have been words full of hope that have openly consoled the parents, relatives and children companions of Teresita. Carlos concluded by giving the blessing to Teresita and to all those accompanying her.

When I thought that everything was finished, Teresita's aunt told me in a loud voice and in front of everyone in the room of the Funeral Home: "Fr. Angel, would you allow me to play the audio that Teresita sent me the same day that you constituted her as a missionary? Of course, I answered, and textually we heard with a very soft voice, like someone who is tired, but who gets strength from where he has none, and says: "Hello auntie, let me tell you something very important: this morning, after receiving the Anointing and communion, the Vicar of Madrid has declared me missionary. So now, I am a missionary". As you can imagine, I was speechless.

The funeral will be tomorrow, March 8, at the same time as the Eucharist for D. Tomás Juárez. The parents have fully understood that I will not be able to accompany them physically. I will be at the Mass of Glory that they will celebrate at the end of March.

I apologize for the length of this letter but if I do not share this testimony with the priests, consecrated life and laity of Vicariate VIII, with whom am I going to share it?

I invite you, then, to pray for Teresita and, above all, to entrust yourselves to her intercession because I am convinced that she will protect in a special way all of Vicariate VIII, where she was declared as a missionary. I send you a strong and brotherly embrace.

Ángel Camino Lamela, osa.

Episcopal Vicar. Vicariate VIII

Source (in Español):

https://es.aleteia.org/2021/03/09/fallece-teresita-la-nina-con-cancer-que-murio-siendo-ya-misionera/

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