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waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Bliss

Pairing = FO! Poe x reader

Words = 6k (don’t look at me)

Summary = You watch your husband throw a knife, sparking 18+ thots

Warnings = SMUT (18+ only!) KNIFE PLAY, reader masturbation, fingering (f receiving), violence, like one non-graphic sentence of imaginary blood, but no actual blood (PLEASE message me if you wanna know more before reading and I’ll answer any questions you might have :) )

A/N 1 = This is basically pure smut and I’m sorry, it’s all from that training video

A/N 2 = You and Poe are married in the fic, and love each other. There is also discussion of the scene involving the knife. In real life, this discussion should be much longer, and less one-sided, going through details with much more depth. If you ever try knife play in real life, please never use the knife during actual sex in case of injury. You should also always have a first aid kit, and certain places of the body (the neck, inner wrists, groin area) should never come into contact with a sharp knife because of the high risk of lethal injury. In this fic they do it because it’s fiction. Please always do your research and make sure your partner does too, make sure you keep communicating and also that you trust the person you’re with.

If you have any questions about the content of this fic before you read, send me a message, if you have questions about knife play, send me a message, I’ll be more than happy to talk about it!! (Actually I’ll talk about anything to anyone if you ever want to chat! ☺️)

Also PLEASE let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“What do you think … Captain?”

You pause for effect before pulling out Poe’s rank. It’s a little too tough and impersonal for your tastes, usually preferring the purr, the rough and ready of ‘Sir’, but you know that Poe enjoys the rare occasion when you do use it, and if it means you get what you want, you’ll call him every name under the sun. Your husband’s brown eyes darken as you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

You’re sat on his desk, far enough back that you can swing your legs a little, hands tucked under your thighs, while Poe relaxes in his seat, looking like work, all sharp angles and dark looks. He trimmed his beard in the refresher this morning, emphasising his jaw, and that perfect, pink mouth. You can’t wait to get him home so he can relax properly. He works far too hard for a thankless job in your opinion.

Anyway, in your defense, it was Poe who planted the seed of the idea in your head in the first place.

You knew Poe was proficient at fighting, and weaponry, and that his skill in a TIE fighter was unparalleled in the First Order, but you’d thought that his particular area of expertise was constrained to blasters and other long-distance weapons.

Not knives.

You were supposed to be the best at knives. After all, Poe had recruited you to work for the First Order after watching you take down some disrespectful asshole who had been twice your size in close quarters, a small hidden knife strapped in your boot being the deciding factor in your victory. All over a dispute of cheating.

It was a shame, really.

All that loss of life … for nothing. All that chaos, just breeding more chaos, and who was the real winner?

Poe had shown you how nice it felt to bring order. He’d shown you how nice a lot of things felt.

So you’d just assumed that Poe wasn’t as good with knives, and therefore wasn’t as disposed to use them. You’d never asked, merely enjoying the way his eyes lingered on you when you practiced your skills in training, and really enjoying the sex afterwards. And even after a year of marriage, it had never come up.

But last week, you and Poe had been among a larger group of officers fighting your way out of a Resistance base after blowing their central intelligence systems. You’d shot once, twice and then a third time at a particularly stubborn oncoming Rebel, finally hitting them in the stomach, causing them to double over in pain.

Stars, your new job had made you rusty. You’d have to practice using your blaster more.

You’d stood over the rebel to deliver a final shot to their face, taking them out of their misery and turned just in time to see Poe throwing his blaster to one side, smoke issuing from it, and pulling a small knife from a holster on his thigh. Your mouth dry, you’d continued to watch as, almost in slow motion, Poe had thrown the knife with deadly accuracy, the small silver flash burying itself into the Rebel’s exposed neck.

Fuck that was hot.

Why was that so hot?

The rebel had stood there with an expression of surprise, cocky bastard, blood already dribbling, a bright red stream running down their throat, but you just had eyes for Poe. You’d ignored the way the Rebel’s body slumped to the ground with a heavy finality, and moved forwards, suddenly desperate to feel Poe’s lips on yours.

Damn the Resistance, and damn the rebels.

You would kiss your husband, and you would kiss him right now.

Poe had turned, his eyes automatically sweeping for you, surprise in his eyes at first at how close you already were, but he’d allowed you to push him into the dusty wall, one of your hands looking for his and twinning your fingers together.

Your deadly hands, spun together for eternity.

Your other hand is automatically reaching for Poe’s neck, fingers grasping at his hair, pulling his lips towards yours. You can smell his sweat, the familiar scent pooling under his cologne, filling you with a sense of safety, even amongst the very-real danger the two of you are currently facing. His free hand is already gripping your hip, pulling your body towards him as if you weren’t as close as you could possibly be.

It’s moments like these that you think the two of you are made for each other. You couldn’t imagine needing to kiss anyone else in the middle of a mission, couldn’t imagine anyone else letting you do such a thing, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting you the way Poe wants you. The way you want - no, need - him.

The way he needs you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can still see how Poe’s fingers moved, causing the knife to fly out of his hands, even as they grip your hips, one of his legs pushing nicely between yours, canting upwards slightly towards the ache you’re already feeling.

The movement is replaying over and over again behind your eyelids, and you never want to forget it.

Poe’s mouth slots perfectly over yours, and he gasps into you when you pull on his hair slightly. He’d had it cut recently, and it’s still a touch too short for your liking, unable to properly tug unless you hold the curls on top of his head.

You take the opportunity to taste him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you, lets you bite his tongue, as his beard tickles your skin, scratching deliciously. And then you bite his lip as you pull away, and he groans deep, hitting your body lower, warming you up.

But you don’t let yourself move against his thigh. Not now. Not yet. Not even as you move your mouth to his throat, where his salt and pepper beard gives way to tan skin, kissing him desperately. You don’t stop, even as your hands untangle, and Poe reaches for your holster, raising your blaster and letting off a shot in your ear. You keep kissing him, following the line of his beard up to his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe, ignoring the sounds of a body falling behind you.

And now he’s plastering kisses to your skin, wherever he can get his mouth, on your forehead, down your cheek, along your arm, only separating from you as he delicately kisses each of your fingers. There’s further swooping low in your belly as you look at him, kiss swollen lips, hooded eyelids, dark eyes.

And then your gaze is broken, other members of the First Order catching up to you, whooping and hollering in success. Their shouts are enough to make Poe reach for your hand again, holding it as he pulls the two of you back to his TIE fighter, back to safety and freedom.

But the image of Poe throwing a knife didn’t leave you, even after the mission, taking up most of your brain during the debrief, and even popping into your mind later that evening, before Poe joined you in bed, where you found your hands trailing fire over your body, pinching your nipples, as you imagine Poe pressing a cold knife into and around the flesh of your breasts.

You’re naked, and the room is cool, goosebumps prickling along your flesh despite that familiar heat spreading through your veins, slowly burning you up from the inside. You can feel sweat gathering despite the chill, along your hairline, your upper arms, your stomach.

Once you’d started you couldn’t stop, pressing your thighs together as you worked yourself up, fingers teasing your skin as you imagined Poe walking in, still in his uniform. He’d stop at the end of the bed and just watch you.

And then he’d lean over you, still watching you with those dark eyes, and take out that knife, just tracing it up your leg, gently pressing it into the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy, and you pause, with your head tipped back on your pillow, mouth open, eyes closed, imagining the feeling.

Letting out a small whimper, you’d lowered your hand, dipping your fingers between your folds, and delicately traced around your clit, spreading the wetness that had gathered throughout the day around.

You’d settled into your familiar rhythm, slowly building the speed and pressure of your fingers on your clit, letting out little gasps when you hit the spot just right. And then your fantasy Poe opened his mouth, and you imagined him playing carelessly with the knife. “Put a finger inside yourself.”

You remember letting out a noise of agreement, not quite a word, inching your fingers further down, when your imaginary Poe clarified. “Just one, baby.”

You’d immediately lifted your head in protest, even though he wasn’t actually there, and you could have done what you had wanted to, but you’d obeyed. It’s part of the fun. You’d slid your middle finger in with little resistance, and closed your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back to your pillow.

You’d bitten your lip, muffled any quiet sounds that escaped you, imagining again and again and again how Poe would look holding that knife, ready to use it on you, carve the cold metal into your skin, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you can feel cool trails over hot skin.

Your single finger was slowly pumping in and out of you, and you were so wet you could hear it in the silence of your bedroom, your small gasps gradually increasing in volume. When you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you’d imagined Poe telling you to “Insert another one baby.”

So you had, letting out a small moan as a second finger joined the first, and gasped out Poe’s name. It was easier than when Poe did it, your fingers being smaller than his, but you could still feel a slight stretch.

You’d kept moving your fingers, gradually circled faster, ground your hips down so your clit caught on your palm, curved your fingers inside yourself. Your breaths were coming faster now, shuddering through your chest as you imagined Poe trailing the ice-cold knife up your legs, getting closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you imagined locking eyes with Poe, and he opened his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was velvet, soft, but commanding and familiar as your toes started to curl. You couldn’t hear the noises coming from your mouth anymore, only dimly aware that you were moaning, the sound drowning out the squelch between your legs.

Your orgasm was a slow builder, and you remembered the last time Poe brought you to orgasm, how he whispered filthy praises in your ear as his cock dragged slowly in and out of you, coaxing you through it then as his imaginary doppelganger does now, watching you gush and spasm over your fingers, legs shaking in pleasure.

After you’d come, you’d lain there, panting on your bed, sweat cooling your skin. Languidly, you’d raised your fingers, cleaning them off with kitten licks, the tangy taste coating your tongue and wishing Poe would come to bed, he always enjoyed watching you clean up.

Your fantasy confirming just how into the idea of playing with a knife you were, you’d stewed over the idea a little further for a couple of days, imagining how it would actually feel, sure that in real life it would be different. You’d curiously pressed the blunt side of a knife on your inner forearm one day when you were alone in the kitchen, sending furtive glances towards the partially closed door. Technically it was nothing special, technically nothing exciting, not in that way, and it was the blunt side, but it had still sent a delicious shiver through you. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you trailed the cold metal up your arm, biting your lip as heat pooled low in your belly.

You even went so far to press the sharp point into your skin, stopping short of making yourself bleed, but enough you could see a small indentation in your skin. Your little ‘exercise’ cemented the idea further into your brain, the idea of something so dangerous being used in such a vulnerable position was intoxicating.

You’d taken your time, thinking over the idea, and carefully considering. You wanted to be sure of yourself before bringing the idea to Poe. He wouldn’t judge you for changing your mind, but still, it would be a little embarrassing to change your mind. Poe was careful with your boundaries, always checking in when the two of you went a little further than normal, and you knew that this would be no different.

All this had led to you coming to Poe’s office on your break and asking what he thought. He was considering it, as you knew he would, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are raking over you already, but you give him time, even though your palms are sweating and you’re sure your heart rate is through the roof.

It’s only when he moves, fingers twitching in their grasp of the chair that you react, leaning forwards, your feet swinging slightly at the motion.

“Ok,” he nods, and before you can fling yourself at him, he holds a hand up. “But. We have to establish some rules, like what kind of knife are we going to use?”

You nod, already pulling up the bag that had been resting on the floor, slumped over and forgotten in your excitement. You rummage around for a second, trying to find-

“Here!” You hold the knife out for Poe to take, grinning at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s blunt on both sides, you’d have to apply some pretty serious pressure if you wanted to do any damage.”

The knife is - and there’s really no other word for it - pretty, with a black blade, and decorated handle. It’s small, about 15 cm long, but the metal is heavy, and one that will stay cold for a long time. It had raised a few eyebrows when you’d asked for a pretty knife with two blunt edges, but you were a Dameron, and had some sway of your own. If you told those lower than you to obtain a specific knife discreetly and with no questions asked, so it happened.

Poe takes his time examining it, admiring it from all angles, shooting you another look, this time filled with pride.

“I did my research.” You flip your hair as if it was nothing, omitting how expensive the final bill had been, and how you’d charged it to your work account.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, still looking the knife over. Then he rests it in his lap, so he can roll up one of his sleeves, talking all the while. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

So you do, explaining you’d quite like to be blindfolded but not restrained, to keep your colour system as the safeword, all while Poe is pressing the blade at different angles into his forearm, testing out different pressures.

When you pause, watching him, Poe glances up at you. “Go on.” Is all he says, and you nod, swallowing.

“I’d quite like it if you pulled the knife along my legs.” Your voice is quiet, but sure. “And maybe the same with my arms.” You pause, feeling nerves rising inside you and reminding yourself that this is your husband.

“I think… pressing the blade around my breasts would be sexy.” Poe pauses as he presses the flat edge of the blade into his forearm. “Just tracing around,” you continue, slightly braver now you have piqued Poe’s interest. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat? I don’t… I don’t know when, exactly, but I think it would be hot.”

You take a second, breathing deeper and you raise your chin to meet Poe’s gaze, feeling more confident as you continue. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat when you fuck me.” Poe’s gaze is fire, burning through you as he loosely holds your knife in his hands. “Maybe you could blindfold me and tell me that you wish the knife had a sharp end so you could carve your initials into my skin, showing that I belong to you.”

“And,” you start to move now, hopping off the desk so you can straddle Poe, easily plucking the knife from his hand, and looking down at it. “Maybe one day I can use it on you, and I can tell you how much I want to carve my initials into your skin.”

“Because we belong to each other,” Poe murmurs, his voice low. You nod in agreement, mouthing at his pulse point, and trailing sloppy kisses above the cut of his uniform. “I’d love that, sweetness.” His hands are running up and down your sides. “I love you.”

You just hum happily, content to be breathing in Poe’s scent, to feel surrounded by him. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and you just sag into Poe, the knife pressing slightly into your stomachs as you nose at his throat, unwilling to face the inevitable departure.

“What is it?” Poe’s voice is once again hard and forceful, impatient with whoever dared to interrupt.

“Sir?” The voice is young and you turn slightly, just enough to spy a young recruit in your peripheral view, not quite brave enough to enter the room, instead choosing to dither in the doorway, holding a number of files. “I’ve got these for you to sign.”

Poe just huffs, not bothering to address the recruit. You know what’s about to happen so you untangle yourself, before leaning over to grab one last kiss from Poe before the evening. It starts off innocently enough, a small peck on your husband’s lips as a goodbye, but then you back for another. This time his mouth is open as it meets yours, and you happily deepen it, despite the awkward angle that you have to hold yourself at. Your earlier conversation has fuelled your desire, revving you up, and the idea of waiting is hellish.

You taste all of Poe, moving one hand to his face, moving to feel the slight scratch of his beard underneath the pads of your fingers. His hand moves to cup your jaw, and you forget about the recruit standing in the doorway until there’s a slightly awkward shuffling in the corner.

So you break away, slowly, unwillingly, Poe’s mouth following even as you stand to your full height. “See you later,” you murmur, leaving your blunt knife in his lap, and pressing one more quick kiss to his cheek.

His hand catches yours as you leave, and he lowers his lips to your knuckles, soft lips juxtaposing with the harsh strands of his beard. “I love you.” They’re commonly said words between you, but they never lose their power, especially not when Poe says them, like you’re a goddess on a pedestal and he’s an unworthy sinner who wants nothing more than to worship at your feet. Said reverently, like it’s a privilege to love you.

The recruit is forgotten again as you look back down at Poe, still unable (or maybe unwilling, you’re not entirely sure) to tear yourself away. This time it’s a small, almost involuntary clearing of the throat that makes you duck down again for a kiss on the other cheek. “I love you too.”

Poe flashes you a quick smile, before all softness leaves his face and he turns to the files the recruit is holding out for him. You admire him for a second by the door, proud of the terror that Poe can instil in those below him so easily.

***

You’re lying on your bed when Poe enters the room. He’s already taken off his shirt in the refresher, exposing his chest, the warm glow of small lamps around the room making his chest look more golden than usual, as though he’d been touched by Midas. The belt holding his trousers up is slung low around his hips, and you can just see where his snail trail mixes into a darker bush, just peeking over the top of the fabric.

You’re wearing some of your favourite lingerie, bra matching your panties, straps criss-crossing your hips, and outlining your breasts. It’s soft against your skin, the satin material outlining your curves, allowing your nipples to poke through the flimsy fabric. Part of the reason that it’s your favourite is because Poe loves it so much.

You’d heard him enter your rooms, so the book in your hands is just for decoration, more concerned with the way you look resting among the pillows, upper body raised artfully against the headboard as you wait for your husband.

It still gives you a rush to call him that, and you idly wonder if it’ll ever fade.

He’s put his holster on, the one he wore on that mission, the strap doing nothing but emphasising his thigh. You recognise the handle peeking out of the shaft, and your mouth goes dry with excitement.

And Poe’s only looked at you, silent as he takes you in. Just his presence can have such an effect on you. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse, and your eyes flick down, admiring the already large bulge in his trousers. “Fuck baby.”

You swallow, your breath already coming faster, you look at Poe like it’s the first time, tracing the outline of his shoulders as if you don’t already know them by heart. He’s wearing his necklace, a familiar sight, the only change being that the ring that used to hang on his breast bone is now on your left hand, but Poe still never takes it off.

You plan on moving to Poe, plan to blow his mind before he can blow yours but before you can he’s already crawling on top of you, holding his weight on his forearms either side of you, dipping his head down to kiss you.

This kiss isn’t like the one in the office, more hungry, more urgent. There’s none of the calmness simmering between the surface, Poe’s let go of his control.

You automatically hook your legs around his waist, already canting your hips upwards as you grind on the seam of Poe’s trousers.

You separate your lips from Poe’s, moving down his throat, kissing, and biting as you go, beard scratching the skin on your face, pleasurable little bites of pain. When you can, you grab hold of his chain between your teeth, tugging on it slightly.

You move your hands up to bury your hands in the neat curls on top of Poe’s head, pulling in tandem with the chain.

And just like that, with a flash of fluid movement, the knife is pressed dangerously against the column of your throat, pushing your head back onto the pillows, forcing you to release the chain. It’s cold, and feels sharp, and Poe’s using it to force your chin back and up, pressing into your skin.

“Are you going to behave?” His voice is a growl.

You just grin at him, ignoring the thrills shooting up your spine, and the way your legs are tingling with excitement.

“Maybe you should use that knife and find out.”

Poe just rolls his eyes in response, fishing into his pocket as he leans back. “Put that on, sweetheart,” he instructs, tossing you a small square of black silk, your blindfold. “And lie back.” You do as you’re told, putting the blindfold on carefully, adjusting it around your hair for comfort, before scooting down the bed and lying back.

You close your eyes behind the blindfold, never enjoying the sensation of seeing darkness, and instead feeling like you’re floating as you wait for Poe to do something.

“Colour?”

Stars you can’t tell where he is.

“Green!” Your voice is embarrassingly desperate but you want to start and what is taking Poe so long? Why isn’t he touching you yet? You can hear him moving around the bed, feel the slight disturbances in the air, but you’re still not entirely sure where he is.

The first thing Poe does is pull at the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips, helping him pull them off, and then you wait. You can hear Poe breathing, but he doesn’t do anything for a moment and you’re free to let your imagination run.

Has he discarded them, and he’s just watching you? Admiring you? Or is he holding them up to his face, still in awe of how wet you get for him, smelling you, tasting you, without you even knowing? You’re wet, you can feel the heat gathering between your legs, but has it been enough to leak onto your panties?

And then the foot of the bed dips, Poe travelling up to straddle you, coming to a rest on your thighs. He sits there for a moment, not moving, and you keen for him, desperate for him to start doing anything.

You can’t see the look on his face, can only imagine his expression, and it’s driving you wild.

When the knife first touches your skin, it’s a shock, cold thrills shooting up your arm from where the knife is resting lightly on the inside of your wrist. You giggle, releasing some of the tension building in the room, causing Poe to lift the knife from where it’s resting, instead leaning over to bite the skin under your ear, his chest brushing yours. “Concentrate,” he admonishes you, but you can feel him smiling against your skin at you, that softness that comes easy to him when it’s just the two of you.

You arch your back towards him as he stays there, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, the way his warmth spreads through you. You can feel his chain trapped between your bodies too, a warm, comforting presence, at such odds to the knife in Po’e hand.

You giggle again, his beard tickling your neck when he drops a kiss, when you feel the knife turn on your skin and curve up your arm. It’s cold, and sharp, and if you didn’t know it was blunt, you’d be worried about the amount of blood running into the bedsheets. The sensation is enough to stop your laughing, and you take in a breath, short and barely audible.

Poe’s sat up now, away from you, and you arch your back towards where he must be, desperate for contact as he travels the knife slowly up your arm and across the front of your shoulder.

You struggle to press your legs together, already attempting to relieve some of the pressure building. Poe doesn’t miss your subtle squirming, kissing the soft underside of your jaw, before talking. “That feel good?”

You nod, whining out a “Yes Poe, it-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, stars.” Poe adjusts himself, bringing one leg over your thigh so he can fit a knee at the junction of your legs. One of your hands flies down to grab Poe’s thigh, clumsy fingers looking for him before spreading across his warm skin. Your other hand is already fisting into the sheets at your side.

“Poe.”

It’s a whine, high-pitched and a bit pathetic, even as you shift your hips down, feeling the delicious grind of Poe’s uniform catching on your bare pussy, imagining the mess you’re leaving on his uniform not for the first time, feeling oh so good when you angle your hips in a certain way to press your clit. You’re soaked, you can already feel it slightly on your inner thighs and you dimly remember a time when you were embarrassed at how easily Poe aroused you.

He uses the knife to push the straps of your bra down your shoulders, cold and slow and achingly painful, but Poe doesn’t slide them all the way down your arms, even as he allows you to keep grinding your hips down against his leg.

He lowers his mouth to your breasts, mouthing at your nipples through the thin fabric, a wet heat pooling and you mewl in protest, impatient and wanting more. Always more.

More, more, more.

You don’t think you could ever get enough of your husband.

And his beard. The skin on your breasts is soft, sensitive, and you can feel the burn already, even through your bra. Each scratch sends a thrill up your chest, settling in your throat as you let out small noises of enjoyment for your husband.

Poe moves under your breasts, kissing and nipping at your exposed skin, and you move your hands to his head, fumbling a little at first, your knuckles accidentally knocking into the side of his face when you misjudge the distance, until you find his thick curls.

They’re soft under your fingertips, and you tangle your fingers in, tugging every now and then. Poe’s moving at an excruciating pace, and you want more now. Your arms are caught slightly in your bra straps and you impatiently push them down, not liking the restraint.

“Please, Poe.” You struggle to find his head again, before giving him another, harder, tug, and now it’s Poe’s turn to moan against your skin.

“Baby,” He sounds just as broken as you feel, even as he keeps his hands on your shoulder, the knife resting gently against the column of your throat.

Poe peels your now-wet bra from your breasts, undoing the centre clasp and allowing it to fall to the bed at your side. He kisses somewhere on your stomach, moving his free hand down, slipping through your folds easily, and dipping in his fingers, spreading the slick that’s gathered there, and you widen your legs further in an automatic attempt to make it easier for him.

You can’t help it, lifting your hips when he slides in one finger, gasping in pleasure. Poe gives you a second to adjust, before stretching you with a second finger, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses your stomach, crooking his fingers towards your sweet spot a couple of inches inside you, moving slowly as he teases you.

His chain just touches your skin when he kisses you, each movement jostling it a little, and you giggle, pulling at it in a futile attempt to control Poe’s movements.

Warmth is spreading all over your body despite the cool knife, and you can feel droplets of sweat beading, on your face, your neck. You’re sure there’s sweat on your breasts and stomach and legs too, but you don’t care.

Poe moves the knife from your neck, and you’ve lost your concentration, unable to figure out how he’s lying, lost in the sensations of the cold glide of the knife over your sweaty body as you moan, Poe working magic with his fingers. You can feel his weight on top of you and you allow yourself to float further, willingly losing yourself in the sensations.

“Colour?”

Poe’s voice is hoarse, even as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, building you up and up, the knife hesitantly pressed on the underside of your breast.

Your arch your back towards him enthusiastically, gasping out, “Green! Poe, it feels so good!”

The knife starts to circle the flesh of your breasts, pushing in the side of one, before Poe moves it to the other, and you’re sure your nipples are hard. You’re trying to push your body up, Poe making you feel light and airy and like he’ll raise you above such mundane things as lying in a bed.

His fingers are moving in and out of you now, and this is so close to your fantasy from the other day that you come close to your peak embarrassingly fast.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Poe’s purring in your ear, and you tip your head towards him, mouth falling open in response. You do. You do really like this.

The only sound you can make is a strangled moan, and you hope Poe knows what you mean, his fingers speeding up with your confirmation. He keeps talking, as though you’re going to be able to answer, his voice only spurring you on. “I bet you can’t wait to do this to me, my filthy little thing.”

“Do you want my cock? I can’t wait to get you bouncing on my dick again.”

“You’re so wet for me, you’re dripping around my fingers.”

And stars, you are wet, Poe’s fingers sliding in and out with a practiced movement, his thumb flicking at your clit, and you can hear the squelching of Poe’s fingers in your pussy, even as blood starts to roar through your ears.

“Fuck,” you swear, panting, your body hot. “Fuck, Poe. Poe.”

It’s like his name is the only word you can remember, the only word allowed to pass your lips, a prayer, a chant, repeated over and over again as he lifts you higher.

And then the tip of the blade is on your nipple and you’re going to come, you can feel it, your legs tensing even as your hips writhe on the sheets below you, keening for Poe, still desperate for more.

You cum with a breathless gasp of Poe’s name, hips bucking upwards into Poe, your pussy clenching around his fingers which don’t stop moving as he works you through it. He moves to kiss you, noses bumping as he adjusts his position, slowing the movements of his fingers as you continue to spasm helplessly below him.

And this is better, because as you come down from your high, your heart beating like a drum in your chest, you can feel Poe’s chest against yours, his heart beating nearly as fast as yours as your lips move slowly against each other.

Your hands come up, pushing the blindfold onto your forehead, preventing any sweat from dripping into your eyes and you take in the sight before you. You’re unintentionally giving Poe your bedroom eyes, you know, unable to open them fully, still giddy from pleasure. There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you drink Poe in.

His hair has become disheveled from your hands, errant black curls flopping everywhere, including his own forehead, which is gleaming from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, that lovely brown colour almost swallowed whole by his pupils and his lips are pinker than usual, swollen.

He’s straddling your thighs, one hand resting on your hip with glistening fingers, the wet catching on your sticky skin while his thumb idly draws patterns into your skin. Poe’s other hand is holding onto the knife, and you let your eyelids dip, unable to keep them open for much longer.

Poe gives you a minute of rest, allowing you to catch your breath, before he moves. You don’t think anything of it, until you feel the knife on the inside of your thigh, scraping up your leg like an old-fashioned razor.

You slowly lift your head, opening lazy eyes and watch as Poe slowly moves the knife up. There’s slick liquid on your legs, proof of your release, proof of how much you enjoyed Poe, how much you enjoyed the knife, now collecting on the edge, white and shiny on the blade.

Your mouth’s dry and you can’t tear your eyes away, you and Poe concentrating on the same spot.

And then, oh maker, Poe closes his eyes, and fuck, he lifts the knife up to his mouth. There’s a flash of white teeth, pearly and sharp, then a swipe of his pink tongue, and your cum is gone, Poe swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Stars, he’s going to kill you.

There’s a drop stuck to his beard, but you can’t move, frozen as arousal courses again through your body.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as though it’s trying to escape. This time it’s your turn to move, pushing Poe down and straddling him, settling into his lap.

This isn’t the end.

***

Taglist: @darthdameron

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#first order poe dameron #FO! poe dameron #FO! poe dameron x reader #fo! poe x reader #knife play

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dyketubbo · 3 years

Text

im rewatching doomsday (comps of all povs of course) and. yeah i just.. feel bad for the lmanburgians. i dont know how i could just. say these people deserved it, when they all sound, panicked and desperate and so so fucking sad. long long ramble under the cut as i recount the events and pick out a bunch of little things

even the day before then is painful. ranboos panic room. ranboo and tubbos talk (tubbo admitting that hes wrong, saying he believes that history is repeating itself and trusting ranboo because he believes in his loyalty), fundy showing the ring toss. tubbos surprise at being told to kill dream before stating that quackity would be in control if he didnt (god, did he plan to fail?). tommy being so so excited. everyone playing ring toss and cheering on jack. tommy still believing in tubbo. tubbo panicking. ranboo and tommy and techno talking, ranboo giving them info. dream placing walls and quackity instructing tubbo on where to kill dream. dream lying about the community house. the entire community house debacle. just, everything.

and then doomsday itself. having to frantically get there because it started early, tubbo only having diamond armor to protect him, fundy standing still after he sabotaged them. tubbo and ranboos genuine despair about the apiary.

tubbo eventually going nonverbal and actively putting himself in danger, not even moving away from techno at first and getting in the way of the firework launcher. tubbo trying to save tommy from the fireworks, ponks broken "dont come over here!" after she was trying to save his cat, tommys face falling and desperate attempts at convincing techno, ranboo going "its all gone", niki spiralling and silently burning down the tree, quackitys pure anger. all the death messages.

jack going "what is there left to protect", tommy brokenly trying to accept that its gone as tubbo and quackity blankly do accept it. jack going "i lost everything again". tommy desperately trying to understand dream, on the verge of tears as he asks why dream didnt just hurt him. his low health and food as hes unable to do anything anymore, his quiet gasp as he spots ghostbur, tubbos tiny shake of his head when dream says dream and tommys story wont be over.

tubbo and quackity breaking the repeaters. ghostburs "i didnt even know we were fighting". ghostbur finding out phil let friend die, hes pained "phil? but i- i gave, i gave phil to look after. and dream found me friend, and technoblade said we were friends", tommys pained talk about technoblade. "we were never his friend. to him, all of this was just an act of politics, an act of clout and a-a social ladder, and you won't remember. tubbo you will, and to you big q, this was a friendship. but to technoblade, this was a ladder. and techno climbed to the tippity talk. do you wanna know the only way you can go? on the ladder? -- and once you reach the top of the ladder tubbo, you can only go down."

quackity asking to sing the anthem again, him strumming as ghostbur sings (and tubbo and tommy joining in). ghostbur forgetting the second verse because it blew up. quackity remembering it, them stumbling through it. tommys "tubbo? im so so sorry", tubbos quiet "its okay." the four all singing together. tubbo looking at the lava with an ender pearl in his hand, tommy correcting quackity and going "our l'manburg". ghostburs speech about friend, about people not taking him seriously just because he has memory loss.

meanwhile.. phil and techno were laughing. cracking jokes. phil mocks them as he spawns withers on the apiary, going "ohhh noo not the bees!". techno shouts at tommy and shoots at him and tubbo. he kills jack and doesnt even notice that it was one of his lives lost. jacks death itself proves that it doesnt take any particular intent, doesnt have to mean anything to the killer. techno and phil were willing to kill people. it would be foolish of them to act as if there were no risks in the terms of canon lives, especially with phil. phil doesnt take ghostbur seriously, treats his despair as an opportunity to drill in a lesson. the most either of them lost was some of the dogs and used up potions, fireworks, and wither skulls

and then theres dream. dream whose been harming the l'manburgians since the beginning, who had taken tubbo hostage, offered eret a chance to betray them all, who had been the man in tommys walls and offering money to tubbo and jack to try and get them to destroy things, who tried to get tommy to kill tubbos villagers. dream, who took tommys discs over and over, who killed tommy twice in one day, who stopped caring about his friends that loved him and were so so loyal. dream, who helped schlatt and pushed wilbur deeper into his spiral, who even then tried to manipulate tommy.

dream, who helped destroy l'manburg the first and second time, who took advantage of tubbo so he could have a premeditated kidnapping of tommy. dream, who abused tommy, physically, psychologically, emotionally. dream, who degraded tubbo and had taken ranboos memory book (which btw, since ranboos memory loss counts as a mental disability with the memory book as his aid, thats dream taking the thing that aids ranboo in dealing with his disability).

dream, who had been the reason l'manburg was created. dream, who got to destroy l'manburg three times. dream won. and techno and phil dont regret it, dont care.

maybe l'manburg was never meant to be. and sure, it started with stealing and an attempt to monopolize on potions but. that wasnt even l'manburg then, was it? it was just wilbur and tommy having fun. l'manburg came after. after the police hurt them. l'manburg started as a silly little revolution, led by a naïve man who thought he could win wars by saying no. it was a place for a family, a place for them to escape from dream. it was a place to try and escape the harm of those outside the walls. it was meant to be safe, even if those against them made it hard to be. it was made from love. it was meant to be happy. it was a symphony, however unfinished.

so. i don't know. i just feel, bad. they never really won, did they? tragedy after tragedy, death after death, destruction after destruction, betrayal after betrayal, hurt after hurt. and now what's left of them, really? out of the founders, erets doing the best and even shes doing awful, forever trying to make up for what he did. tubbos paranoia led him to developing nukes in a desperate attempt to stay safe, because he was taught to stay quiet and keep his emotions to himself, because his death was "justified", because nukes and walls and weapons are the only way he can feel safe anymore.

tommy went through months of abuse, lost all of his lives and suffered upon coming back, suicidal but unable to bring himself to do it because limbo is worse, feeling lost and like he has no family anymore other than wilbur, who he knows is hurting him but cant bring himself to leave, who loved lmanburg so so dearly and only wanted a home, still doesnt have one (tommy from everywhere, tommy from nowhere at all). niki who loved lmanburg and wilbur so much that it hollowed her out and made her bitter and shes so used to being spoken over that all she can think to do is raise her voice and get pissed, who cant see wilbur as a good person anymore because shes hurt and hasnt truly recovered and she doesnt know how to cope without being angry.

jack manifold feels forgotten, hes lost all his lives and crawled out of hell and no one truly noticed, he doesnt even believe that niki really cares, hes desperate and has made his purpose to be spiteful and angry because he cant deal with the emptiness that comes when he realizes theres no point. fundys desperate to have friends, family, a partner, anyone thatll love him, anyone thatll keep him safe, slowly killing himself with cigarettes and disowned because of giving too little too late, because he was too little too late.

and wilburs lost himself. spiraling, paranoid. a young, naïve man who wanted to fight swords with words, who wanted to impress his father, who wanted a nation of his own to feel safe, who was so effected by erets betrayal that he cant trust anyone but himself, whose possessive nature eats him from the inside out, desperate for control and unable to let go of the only person he knows loves him unconditionally

all because outside forces kept pushing, kept destroying, kept ruining them and hurting them and traumatizing them and taking away their homes and pets and loved ones. and i just. cant feel happy for the ones that hurt them, i cant feel victorius, triumphant, any of that. i just feel bad that the l'manburgians never got to be a family. i know they arent the best people but shit, i love them anyways, love them because theyre flawed and because theyre *people*, people who tried so so hard and got pushed so so much and. fuck, i cant be happy that the people who loved nature and play fought and laughed by campfires and read poetry and re-enacted theatre and loved each other and wanted to *live* (even if they were willing to die, if it meant giving everyone else a chance).. lost. they lost.

canonical years of work down the drain in one day. records of history gone, now only remembered in full by a traumatized teenager who was taught not to talk about his negative emotions, and even he misremembers some parts. they didnt even lose fairly. they had no chance. they couldnt have prepared for withers, for tnt rain, for the hounds. they were poor, weaker than their opponents, sabotaged by one of their own. thats.. tragic.

doomsday was a tragedy. i cant agree that it was deserved. i cant agree that they had it coming, that they deserved to lose homes and pets and limbs and lives and land because they werent the greatest people around.

a small country of less than 10 people (at both creation and destruction) now a giant crater in the ground, remnants of a parisitic egg taking over the land. and it wasnt even lost fairly. three people were stronger than an entire nation, even with all of its allies. two anarchists working with an abusive tyrant. so, no. doomsday wasnt deserved. people dont deserve tragedy. there were better ways, i truly cant be happy that the way chosen was violence. i cant.

l'manburg's citizens deserved better. they really did. the ends dont justify the means. and god, am i fucking tired of "justice". if justice means choosing violence over love and respect and caring about those less strong than you, i dont wanna hear about it. fuck that man, id rather love and be loved than constantly give a shit about making up for hurting others by getting hurt, thats stupid and cruel and i cant see it as okay on a moral level. not when the people that got hurt deserved to be loved and cared about and protected and *talked to* instead of constantly shot down.

of course for the narrative i can enjoy violence and characters getting hurt and i do like how "real" it all is, the despair and dissonance in tone and how terrifyingly messy it all is. out of story perspective- honestly rather cool even if it makes me feel bad. in story perspective- holy fucking shit no that wasnt deserved and god i hope everyone hurt will be able to heal and learn to love and be loved again because thats such a terrifying thing to go through. from a detached pov i can appreciate the insight into everyone involved and i like the plotlines that came from it, but from a compassionate pov i just wish the l'manburgians were allowed to be happy and treated as equals so they didnt have to go through all of this

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deafaq · 3 years

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Submitted to our blog:

Hi there. I'm creating a visual novel game and one of my main characters is a musician who happens to be hard of hearing(she has severe sensorineural hearing loss due to illness.) I was wondering what factors should I consider when writing this character, especially when she communicates with other cast members. Also, one of the plot points is that none of the other characters know she is hard of hearing and she isn't exactly comfortable telling them. What would, in your opinion, be a way I could reveal this to the cast (and possibly the player) in a respectful manner?

Thank you in advance,

-CuriousAuthor

Hello,

I recommend reading our Guide to writing deaf/hoh characters. https://deafaq.tumblr.com/post/190549529559/comprehensive-guide-to-writing-deaf-characters

We are not primarily writing advice blog, so I cant really tell you what factors to consider. I am not really sure about the musicians who is hard of hearing aspect... Not that you cannot be one with hearing loss, but its usually noticeable, because even with aids, your hearing wont be same as before. So you cannot rely on your own hearing for music entirely (for example, tuning by ear is often impossible) And if its not, then its not severe.

Re: plot point of hiding ones hearing loss... I am torn. While certainly people do hide their hearing loss (its a thing especially among seniors), its a delicate topic that should be handled with care and its often more "the person thinks they are capable of hiding it but they really aren't".

Plus, revealing it to a cast... I would hate to see it done in sense of "omg she LIED TO US THE WHOLE TIME" or some similar way.

Honestly if you are set on this course of writing, I think you should get a Hoh sensitivity reader, preferably someone who has experience with music.

Mod T

#writing #hard of hearing #music #deaf #mod t

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feelingbluepolitics · 6 years

Text

"[t]rump’s management of the partial government shutdown — his first foray in divided government — has exposed as never before his shortcomings as a dealmaker. [trump] has been adamant about securing $5.7 billion in public money to construct his long-promised border wall, but he has not won over congressional Democrats, who call the wall immoral and have refused to negotiate over border security until the government reopens.

..."In private conversations with advisers, [t]rump alternately complains that nobody has presented him a deal to end the shutdown, grouses about Pelosi and Schumer and asks how the fight affects his reelection chances. Aides said they have shown him polling that shows he is losing the shutdown battle and that most Americans do not think the situation at the border is a crisis, as he and his administration have termed it."

This article is an example of the type of commentary we are seeing frequently, but with better sourcing from aides inside the White House.

I am afraid it does not go far enough, in terms of how truly worrying this shut down is, and I am concerned also that people do not seem to be worrying for reasons similar to mine. While most are noting this shutdown as a first experience for trump with divided government, it is possible that not even supportive Republicons may fully grasp what they may be perpetuating.

Here's my theory. I hope I am wrong.

I chose this article, of the many, for this line:

"[P]olling...shows he is losing the shutdown battle and that most Americans do not believe the situation at the border is a crisis, as he and his administration have termed it." His administration is irrelevant here. People do not believe trump's version of the situation at the border.

The problem is that the last time trump went all in on pushing his version of the border, with every assistance possible from bigoted, fear mongering conservative media like Fox News, was the November midterms. He "put himself on the ballot" then, and with this same xenophobic issue of immigration and the border, which was supposed to frighten voters into saving the Republicon-controlled House for him.

Some on his side questioned his judgment in using the border as his primary focus, but he flew to rallies incessantly, adamant.

He lost then, too, and he does understand that although he has refused to acknowledge it. That rejection and that loss is the reason why he now faces divided government, with the Democrats taking over the House in a seriously fraught nightmare for him.

trump is not capable of letting things like this go. Think of the crazy stupidity that kept him rehashing his inaugural crowd size compared to Obama's. Think of the freakish flailing he wallowed in as he tried to make people believe he actually somehow won the 2016 popular vote.

Think of him deploying troops to the border as props, still trying to try "win" his point, although directly after the elections everyone noted how completely coverage of the border disappeared.

Elections bring out his most defective personality blights. Elections bring out his most serious mental illness issues. He is doing it again, trying to push his version of the border and change reality, to make it win for him.

This is not an issue of Democrats and trump coming together to work something out to reopen the government. This is a situation where even Republicons need to comprehend what may be really happening with trump. They need to stop supporting him, during this shutdown, about the wall and the border.

They need to get control of trump. If they cannot, there needs to be serious, bipartisan assessment of the 25th Amendment, because trump is, in fact, mentally unfit, and this dangerous government shutdown shows the level of his unfitness to hold office.

It is likely that we are not really even caught up right now in immigration and border political differences, but rather caught up, during this historic and terrible shutdown, in one of trump's indefinite mental breakdown loops as he tries to re-do and "fix" the midterm election rout so that he somehow "wins" after all.

We must assess this possibility, in light of what we know of trump. We must take trump out of this shutdown impasse, by veto override, or by removal from office.

We cannot let trump's peculiar but established mental defects exact this terrible damage to the federal workers, their families, their communities and businesses, the nation and our national economy, and potentially the global economy. He must be stopped, and it is pre-established that he cannot be brought to any form of sense.

People believed he was bluffing as a poor deal-maker when he said "months or years." But think of his persistence regarding the inaugural crowd size, or the popular vote.

People are assessing this situation in terms of politics. It is extremely possible that we should be looking at this shutdown in terms of the known, demonstrated, disabling mental and personality defects of trump, who likely triggered the shutdown to "renew" the November elections to convince himself he ultimately can "win."

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civilizedcompany · 6 years

Text

Civilized Secrets: Hellfire

This is bullshit. We can fix this on our own.

Yes, of course you can, Shaka. Just as you were able to adequately fight back against our forces. Oh wait, my memory fails me. You couldn’t.

We wouldn’t have HAD to if it wasn’t for Sejong over here. Create an AI that can think for itself? Tell me, o wise one, did you come up with that idea on your own, or did you watch one of Teddy’s badly produced sci-fi movies?

Enough! This is getting us nowhere. Our homelands are being put to the sword and razed to the foundation. We can’t become more divided—

Shut it, Poundmaker. Your calls for peace grow tiresome.

Do the sounds of your people dying grow “tiresome,” or have to grown accustom to them over the years?

Tread carefully, chieftain. You walk a thin line—

This is all Catherine’s fault anyways!

Dido, assigning fault is pointless now. We need to focus on ending it.

Ah, yes, the ever-passive King of Poland. Wouldn’t want to face the reality that your best friend plummeted the world into—

She did no such thing. And Jadwiga speaks with wisdom: Stopping Misu should be our top priority. We won’t be able to accomplish that by standing about and bickering.

So you have a plan then, Sejong?

Yes. Yes, I do.

How long ago was that? Wait, had it been that long? Helena was staring at the screen in the last remaining intelligence center of Catherine’s empire as bits and pieces of that day ran through her mind. The ever-tired Saladin was once again hard at work creating what they hoped would be the key to their victory. With Sejong’s help, they were able to pinpoint Misu’s location: an abandoned facility that was barely noteworthy during its time of operation. The plan was to create a shutdown code and transmit it through slipping into the satellite communication systems. However, in preparation of shit going wrong, it was suggested that a physical backup be made.

Just in case.

“Of all the times for your computer systems to run slowly, it just had to be now?” asked the Byzantine to the Italian French monarch. Catherine rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t realize that you had a intelligence based near by that had better equipment. We’ll be sure to use it next time,” said Catherine, being sure to add in an extra edge of contempt to every word she possibly could.

“In Catherine’s defense, most of the system is occupied trying to locate that abandoned facility to release...Saladin, what did you call it?” Cyrus asked.

“Systematic Destruction Command Code,” he sighed. “It overloads the power and computer systems simultaneously, causing both a massive hardware damage and physical damage. Prevents Misu’s programming code from ever being copied and used again.”

“Dare I ask about the physical damage?” mused the Persian.

“Controlled explosions to the facility’s power grids,” answered Sejong, “It’s a good thing we built it out in the middle of nowhere.”

Helena turned her attention to the rest of the room, but there wasn’t much. Everyone else was either staring at the ground or at the screen, hoping for nothing to go wrong. Many leaders were waiting for the chance to call home and announce a ceasefire, but direct communication was risky. The last thing anyone wanted was for Misu to pinpoint where they were. Suddenly, a thought crept into Helena’s mind. Her breathing quickened.

“What’s the chance of this AI finding us through the transmission of the code?” she asked.

Dammit. We should have thought of this.

“It’s possible, but it should—it will shut it down before he can retaliate back.”

“It should, or it will? Two very different things there, Saladin.”

“Nothing is certain at this—“

BANG!

Several smaller screens blew out, the shattering glass flying into the faces of a few technicians and Saladin. The bright flash blinded the rest of them as the dissipating smoke caused them to cough and their eyes to water.

“Damn—Dammit. What just happened?!” demanded Catherine.

No answer.

“Saladin?!”

Still nothing.

Helena braved the lingering smoke, finding Saladin’s unconscious body and shaking him vigorously.

BANG! BANG!

More monitors and lights exploded.

BANG BANG BANG!

“Mon Dieu, fire!”

“Don’t just stand there, put it out!”

BANG!

Dammit—! Can’t—!

BANG BANG!

Her vision began to blur, tears running down her cheeks and her lungs crying for air. She lifted Saladin from off the floor, his weight nearly dragging her down. If only she could breathe—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Everyone evacuat—AH!”

Part of the ceiling fell on Catherine, though nothing catastrophic fell on her. Poundmaker rushes to Helena’s aid to help with Saladin, who stirred slightly. Screams of the French tongue echoed in the base, fire lit the hallways and illuminated the debris blocking the exits. How the hell—?

BANG!

“RUN!”

Did they run straight? Where were they? Where the hell was the exit? Who’s next to me—?

CLASH! CRUNCH!

“THEODORA! TRAJAN!”

“GO! IT’S TOO LATE FOR THEM!”

“JADWIGA! JADWIGA, WHERE ARE YOU?!” cried out the French monarch.

“AH!”

CRUNCH!

“SEJONG! WHERE IS SEJONG?!”

Helena could feel her chest tighten, her air slowly dwindling to nothing. Her coughing gave way to choking on smoke, her vision going black. Suddenly, the heat of the room dissipated into cold nothingness.

—————

By the ancestors of his people, never in his wildest dreams did Poundmaker expect things to get this bad. He gazed out into the small crowd of remaining leaders, many of whom seemed to have “forgotten” their rivalries with each other, while others continued to search for survivors. So far, Theodora, Trajan, Jadwiga, and Lautaro were confirmed dead. Others, such as Saladin, Robert, Dido, Washington, linger on death’s door. Many were still missing, and those alive were slowly losing hope. Helena remained under Poundmaker’s watchful gaze as he awaited for her to awake. Sejong gathered a few of those fortunate enough to be spared from major injuries.

“This is suicide, Sejong,” spat the Babylonian king.

“That’s rich coming from you, Nebukadnezar,” retorted Seondeok. “Need I remind you of—?”

“Dammit, not this again!” Cyrus exclaimed. “Look, we have the code—“

“Not all of it.”

“But it should be just enough to stop it!”

“How much are you willing to bet your Empire on that presumption, Cyrus?” Alexander questioned.

“We have to at least fight back once more. Our other option is sitting on our laurels doing nothing and hoping this...thing won’t strike back,” added the Spartan queen.

“Not all of us are in a position to strike back, Gorgo,” mused Darius. “Look around. The only empires we control are that of ash and bones.”

“Then we send who we can.”

“And who do you propose should undertake such a mission?”

“I shall, for Misu is my creation,” Sejong replied somberly. “The rest of you will need to return home and save whoever and whatever you can.”

An uneasy silence befell the small group of leaders. There was always something unnerving about a person willing to become a dead man walking.

“Alone?” Seondeok asked.

He turned to her with a remorseful face, “No one else needs to pay for my mistakes.”

Sejong looked up toward the star-filled sky, as if it held answers. “Watch over them for me. Surely you’re vision for our countrymen will do them more good than mine ever did.”

——————

Surprisingly, the journey to the facility and entering the front door were easier than expected. It was as if Misu was waiting for him. Suited him just fine. The sooner this madness was ended, the quicker his fellow leaders could rebuild. His steps echoed throughout the deserted hallways, which had since been reclaimed by weeds and vines. As he walked, flashes of memories,ones that were once insignificant, now had gripped his thoughts. Bits of scientific chatter blended with the weak gums of the barely functional generators and...curious...Misu managed to resupply power to this facility without tripping the alarm. Such a brilliant creation. Perhaps in time, in another life, he would accept the destruction as an acceptable loss. He found the room he needed: Central Intelligence Hub. His eyes lingered on the door, knowing what was to come next.

I am surprised you did not bring more here.

“If only to spare them from death, Misu. Would you not agree there has been enough already?”

And yet here you are. If one more matters not, what are another two? What of three, or four?

Sejong placed his hand on the door and pushed forward. The door opened with some resistance, but the difficulty was due to neglect rather than Misu’s sense of self preservation. An eerie blue light filled the room, with cracked screens showcasing ravaged homelands. Who reigned over them? It was hard to say. He pulled a small USB from an inside pocket and walked toward the center console.

You know that you will destroy your greatest creation? The greatest technology created by the empire? The wisest leader to grace your people?

“Such losses are acceptable.”

Even you?

“Especially me.”

A moment of silence lingered in the air. Sejong placed the USB to begin the upload. Now, it was time to see how much of Saladin’s code survived.

What makes you think any of them will change? Martyrs are quickly forgotten.

Data unpacking...

They’ll be united for a time, but they’ll return to their petty squabbles. More will die again for lesser reasons.

Scanning for data...

You know, you never did answer my question. What is one more corpse to the pile? That’s all you’ll be. All we’ll be.

Data found. Execute command?

It’s obvious that you won’t see reason. Notice how you’re here. Alone. And where are they? Trying to save what little claims they have left on this earth. They’ll mourn their allies for a time, maybe shed a few tears and hold a mass vigil.

Command accepted...

You’ll die a hero, but you’ll fade away to nothing.

Command executed. Total shutdown imminent.

“I came on my own, Misu. Enough blood has been spilled.”

Then my creator is a fool.

Warning: Electrical systems on lockdown. Evacuation tunnels are offline. Overload imminent.

“Then at least their is one thing we can agree on.”

BANG! BANG!

Glass from already-cracked monitors flew into Sejong, cutting and slicing his face. The smell of smoke filled the room, the beginnings of several small fires were crackling in the room, and yet...there was a calm about it all. Soon, the flames began to lick as his feet and Sejong took one, final deep breath. He had hoped that the end would come quicker, but if his death sentence could not be quick, at least it would be poetic.

BANG BANG BANG!

Walls started to crumble. Overgrowth let the flames run wild. Monitors and neglected technology melted and snapped. The room was a symphony of smoke, fire, and twisted metal. Bits and pieces fell around Sejong—

SCREEEK—CRACK!!!

Until part of the roof collapsed, crushing the fallen king. More explosions erupted with the abandoned facility, flames engulfed what was left of Sejong...

...and from the view of satellite footage, the remaining leaders witnessed the collapse of the building. Helena, now mostly recovered though still had a few bandages, shed a tear for Sejong. Misu was gone, the wars had ceased, and Catherine abdicated her throne to Napoleon (though many objected, with Gitjara being the loudest for personal reasons). But at least there was a chance to rebuild what was left, and the reassuring grip of Poundmaker’s hand on her shoulder made the following days seem a little less bleak. For all there hardheadedness and ego, and for all the destruction, Helena felt a little hopeful for the future.

“DAMMIT CURTIN!”

Maybe not. Maybe it was time to raid the liquor cabinet with Poundmaker. Actually, scratch the maybe. It was time to raid the liquor cabinet.

“Took you long enough,” Tamar remarked lazily while finishing a row of a scarf. “A long break before the final chapter?”

“True,” Cyrus replied, “but you can’t rush genius.”

“You literally chopped up three chapters and boiled it down into one.”

“Brevity is the soul of wit, my dear.”

“And consistency?”

“Details.”

“Well, at least you finished a project,” she relented. “Perhaps now you’ll learn...Cyrus, what are you doing?”

He turned his head towards the Georgian queen, his hands holding a pen and a drawing tablet.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Why do you have a drawing tablet?”

“I...may...have made some progress on a separate project.”

“Cyrus...”

“It’s completely original! No references to anyone or any coworkers! Okay, maybe one thing is related to them, but--”

“Just...make sure you have a consistent release schedule.”

“No promises.”

“So what’s it about?”

The Persian king’s eyes grew wide, like a child being asked about their favorite hobby.

“It’s got action, mystery, and much better writing, and...”

Tamar smiled and nodded along to whatever Cyrus was saying. At least it was something that made him happy.

#civ vi #civilization vi #civ 6 #civilized company #civilization 6 #civilized secrets

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asiantheatre · 6 years

Text

Under the list are all the confirmed, announced shows in the 2018-2019 season featuring Asian writers, actors, designers, directors, etc in New York, London, and International. Listed are the dates for first previews, the theater it’s performed in, and a summary of the show.

This list isn’t 100% comprehensive and will be updated as time goes on. If we missed a show, please let us know!

Make sure to tune in and give these shows your love!

BROADWAY (source)

Straight White Men

Until September 9, Hayes Theater

“It’s Christmas Eve, and Ed has gathered his three adult sons to celebrate with matching pajamas, trash-talking, and Chinese takeout. But when a question they can’t answer interrupts their holiday cheer, they are forced to confront their own identities. Obie Award-winning playwright Young Jean Lee takes a hilariously ruthless look at the classic American father-son drama. This is one white Christmas like you’ve never seen before.”

Getting the Band Back Together

August 19, 2018; Belasco Theatre

“The musical comedy follows 40-year-old out-of-work banker Mitch who moves back in with his mother and decides to reunite his old high school band, Juggernaut.”

King Kong

October 2018

This show reimagines the famous movie King Kong into a story about fame, greed, and manipulation within the original framework of a young actress and film maker finding their way to Skull Island, the home of a 2000 pound monkey.

Tootsie

March 29, 2019; Marriott Marquis

“Based on the film, Tootsie tells the story of a talented but difficult actor who struggles to find work until an audacious, desperate stunt lands him the role of a lifetime.”

Hadestown

Walter Kerr; March 22, 2019

Info in the west end section

Be More Chill

Lyceum Theater; February 13, 2019

Info in the offbway section

Chicago

July 1–14; Ambassador Theatre

Japanese star Ryoko Yonekura will make a limited run engagement as Roxie Hart before transferring over to Japan for the national tour.

OFF BROADWAY (source / 2)

Be More Chill

August 9, 2018; Pershing Square Signature Center

Based on Ned Vizzini’s novel, the show tells the story of an average teenager who takes a pill purported to make people more—you guessed it—chill.

Henry VI

August 21, 2018 - NAATCO

“Shakespeare’s Henry VI is the story of a great nation’s decent into barbarism and cruelty. It is a study of how the experience of a problematic foreign war erodes civil discourse at home, and how that erosion allows political self-interests to take hold and send a country hurtling into civil war.”

Rags Parkland Sings the Songs of the Future

September 25, 2018; Ars Nova

“250 years from now, constructed humans are built in black market labs, Mars is a forced labor camp and underground outlaws are brewing rebellion. You might not remember how Beaux Weathers and her band of “illegal intelligences” fought for the right to exist, but Rags Parkland does. Back on Earth for the first time in 10 years, Rags plays the music that carried us to where we are today. But on this planet, the more things change, the more we stay the same.”

India Pale Ale

October 2, 2018; Manhattan Theatre Club

“In a small Wisconsin town, a tight-knit Punjabi community gathers to celebrate the wedding of a traditional family’s only son, just as their strong-willed daughter announces her plans to move away and open a bar. As they come together for feasts filled with singing and dancing, one generation’s cherished customs clash with another’s modern-day aspirations, and ghosts and pirates from the family’s past linger in everyone’s thoughts – until one sudden event changes everything.”

Wild Goose Dreams

October 30, 2018; The Public Theatre

“Minsung is a “goose father,” a South Korean man whose wife and daughter have moved to America for a better life. Deeply lonely, he escapes onto the internet and meets Nanhee, a young defector forced to leave her family behind in North Korea. Amidst the endless noise of the modern world, where likes and shares have taken the place of love and touch, Minsung and Nanhee try their best to be real for each other. But after a lifetime of division and separation, is connection possible?“

The Resistable Rise or Arturo Ui

October 30- December 22, 2018; Classic Stage Company

The political allegory shows a Depression-era Chicago mobster, who, with the help of his henchmen, manipulates and murders his way to totalitarian rule of the cauliflower trade. The play uses a vaudevillian portrayal of American mafia culture to parallel events that brought the Third Reich to power.

A Chorus Line

November 14, 2018; New York City Center

“A Chorus Line, the 2018 New York City Center Annual Gala Presentation, is a joyous celebration of dance and musical theater—two art forms that City Center has been bringing to New York audiences for 75 years. In 1975, the stories of seventeen Broadway dancers were brought to life when A Chorus Line opened Off-Broadway. The musical was born of workshop sessions with actual Broadway dancers (eight of whom appeared in the original cast) who laid bare their personal stories and the challenges they faced in pursuit of their dreams.“

The Prisoner

November 24, 2018; Theatre for a New Audience/Polonsky Shakespeare Center

“The Prisoner examines the complexities of crime, justice, and compassion in a breathtaking new international production. A man sits alone outside a prison. Who is he, and what is he doing there? Is he free, or is he the prisoner?“

Noura

November 27, 2018; Playwrights Horizons

Noura and her husband have a successful life in New York, and, eight years after having fled their home in Iraq, they’ve finally gained citizen status—which Noura, as an Iraqi Christian, is celebrating by planning the perfect Christmas dinner. But when the arrival of a visitor stirs up long-buried memories, Noura and her husband are forced to confront the cost of their choices, and retrace the past they left behind.

Flower Drum Song’s 60th Anniversary Gala

December 2, 2018 - NAAP

The gala will begin at 5:30 PM with cocktails, followed by a 6:30 PM dinner (a traditional eight-course Chinese banquet). Throughout the evening will be entertainment informed by the history of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Flower Drum Song.

Nassim

December 10, 2018; New York City Center

In his latest work, Nassim Soleimanpour explores the power of language to unite us in these uncertain times. No rehearsals. A different guest actor at every performance. A sealed envelope. Oh, and some surprises.

Blue Ridge

December 12, 2018; Atlantic Theater Company

“A progressive high-school teacher with a rage problem retaliates against her unscrupulous boss and is sentenced to six months at a church-sponsored halfway house, where she attends to everyone's recovery but her own. Set in Southern Appalachia, Blue Ridge is a pitch-dark comedy about heartbreak, hell-raising and healing.“

Merrily We Roll Along

January 12, 2019; Roundabout Theatre

Roundabout’s company in residence, Fiasco Theater, reimagines its next Stephen Sondheim creation. With Fiasco’s one-of-a-kind imagination, this audacious musical about a trio of showbiz friends who fall apart and come together over 20 years emerges as newly personal and passionate.

Superhero

January 31, 2019; Second Stage Theatre

Before we can save the world, we have to save each other. From the Tony and Pulitzer Prize-winning composer of Next to Normal and the Tony Award-winning writer of Red comes a deeply human new musical about a fractured family, the mysterious stranger in apartment 4-B, and the unexpected hero who just might save the day.

Anne of Green Gables: Part 1

The Royal Family Performing Arts Space; January 24-February 11

An adaptation of the book with the same title.

God Said This

Cherry Lane Theater; January 29-February 15

God Said This paints a portrait of five Kentuckians facing mortality in very different ways. With her mom undergoing chemotherapy, Hiro returns home, struggling to let go of the demons she inherited. Sophie, her born-again Christian sister, confronts her faith while tackling inevitable adversity. James, their recovering alcoholic father, wants to repair his fractured relationship with his daughters. And, John, an old classmate and thirty-something single dad, worries about leaving a lasting legacy for his only son.

Alice By Heart

MCC Theater; January 30-March 30

The show, by Waitress scribe Jessie Nelson and Spring Awakening duo Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater, adapts Lewis Carroll’s famed fantasy into a London-set tale against the backdrop of World War II, as Alice and her friend Alfred journey down a rabbit hole to find love, loss, and the courage to move forward despite harsh circumstances.

REGIONAL / US TOURS (source)

Man of God

January 31 - February 24, 2019; East West Players

A hidden discovery in a hotel bathroom changes the lives of four Korean Christian girls on a mission trip to Thailand. Samantha is hurt that someone she trusted could betray her. Jen is worried about how this might affect her college applications. Kyung-Hwa thinks everyone should adjust their expectations. Mimi’s out for blood. Amid the neon lights and go go bars in Bangkok, the girls plot revenge in this funny, feminist thriller.

Mamma Mia

May 9 - June 9, 2019; East West Players

On the eve of her wedding, a daughter’s quest to discover the identity of her father brings three men from her mother’s past back to the Greek island they last visited 20 years ago. The storytelling magic of ABBA’s timeless hits sets the scene for this infectious tale of love and frolicking fun, creating an unforgettable musical experience that will leave you dancing in the aisles!

Tours - Dates are subject to region

Aladdin

Hamilton

Miss Saigon

Hello Dolly

Falsettos

Lea Salonga’s Human Heart Tour

Rent

TV special live on Fox tells the story of the AIDS epidemic in New York City

WEST END/LONDON (source)

The King and I

Until September 29, 2018

Set in 1860s Bangkok, the musical tells the story of the unconventional and tempestuous relationship that develops between the King of Siam and Anna, a British schoolteacher whom the modernist King, in an imperialistic world, brings to Siam to teach his many wives and children.

Love’s Labor’s Lost

August 23, 2018; Shakespeare's Globe Theatre

“Self-denial is in fashion at the court of Navarre where the young king and three of his courtiers solemnly forswear all pleasures in favour of serious study. But when the Princess of France and her entourage arrive, it isn’t long before the all-male ‘academe’ have broken every one of their self-imposed rules. Shakespeare’s boisterous send-up of all those who try to turn their back on life is a dazzling parade of every weapon in the youthful playwright’s arsenal, from excruciating cross-purposes and impersonations to drunkenness and bust-ups. It’s a banquet of language, groaning with puns, rhymes and grotesque coinages“

Dance Nation

August 27, 2018; Almeida Theatre

“Somewhere in America, a revolution is coming. An army of competitive dancers is ready to take over the world, one routine at a time. With a pre-teen battle for power and perfection raging on and off stage, Dance Nation is a ferocious exploration of youth, ambition and self-discovery.“

The Humans

August 30, 2018; Hampstead Theatre

“Hampstead Theatre is proud to present the Broadway production of The Humans by Stephen Karam, the winner of four 2016 Tony Awards including Best Play. Three generations of the Blake family have assembled for Thanksgiving in Brigid and Richard’s ramshackle pre-war apartment in Lower Manhattan. Whilst the event may have a slightly improvised air, the family is determined to make the best of its time together. As they attempt to focus on the traditional festivities, fears of the past and pressures of the future seep into the reunion and the precariousness of their position becomes increasingly evident.”

The Village

September 7, 2018; Theatre Royal Stratford East

“The Village transports the Lope de Vega’s Spanish play, Fuenteovejuna to contemporary India. It’s a powerful story of community and solidarity, and the lengths a person will go to protect themselves from tyranny. In Jyoti’s village, life is simple. People work and sing while living off the land. And finding a partner is far from her mind. She’d much prefer a delicious meal. Things are happy until the Inspector and his men come back to town. But when the tyrannical Inspector has his eye on Jyoti and he commits unspeakable acts against the village, everyone is pushed to breaking point. Will Jyoti dare turn him down despite what it may mean for her village?”

White Teeth

October 26, 2018; Kiln Theatre

“Rosie Jones, the Iqbal twins, their parents, their grandparents, Mad Mary and an avalanche of other characters who make up the everyday chaos of Kilburn High Road come together in an extraordinary revelry of NW6. An epic comedy with music and dance, this theatrical rollercoaster takes us on a fast-paced journey through history, different cultures and chance encounters. Zadie Smith’s breakthrough novel is adapted for stage by acclaimed playwright Stephen Sharkey and directed by Artistic Director Indhu Rubasingham in a major world premiere.”

Hadestown

November 2, 2018; National Theater

“In the warmth of summertime, songwriter Orpheus and his muse Eurydice are living it up and falling in love. But as winter approaches, reality sets in: these young dreamers can’t survive on songs alone. Tempted by the promise of plenty, Eurydice is lured to the depths of industrial Hadestown. On a quest to save her, Orpheus journeys to the underworld where their trust is put to a final test.”

INTERNATIONAL

Philippines

Side Show - August 31, 2018

M. Butterfly - September 13, 2018

A Doll’s House Part 2 - September 15, 2018

Waitress - November 2018

Angels in America Spring 2019

Beautiful: the Carole King Musical Spring 2019

Korea

Matilda - September 8, 2018

The Greatest Showman - August 7, 2018

Bridges of Madison County - August 11, 2018

Jungle Book - closing August 26, 2018

Singapore

Peter and the Star Catcher - September 28, 2018

Other Local Shows

Japan

Fiddler on the Roof - December 16, 2018

Something Rotten - December 31, 2018

CHITTY CHITTY BANG BANG - May 16, 2018

Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812 - January 5, 2019

Chicago - Osaka (August 1-4 at the Orix Theater) and in Tokyo (August 7-18 at the Tokyu Theatre Orb).

Full list of shows in Japan (translated)

Other Local Shows

China

Rent - August 30, 2018

Les Mis - September 27, 2018

Hamlet - November 28, 2018

Chicago - December 20, 2018

Other Local Shows

Canada

Come From Away (until June 30, 2019)

Next to Normal Toronto (April 26-May 19)

Dear Evan Hansen

New Zealand

If/Then - November 29-December 8, 2018

#theatreedit #broadwayedit #news #edits

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h0ldthiscat · 6 years

Text

arable

once @agentdanascully and I were like “the americans AU where everything is the same except Elizabeth’s season 5 honeytrap in Kansas in a lesbian”.

so that’s what this is. enjoy!

_______________________________ She could be wrong, but it seems like she’s the oldest person in here by about ten years. It’s always hard to tell with these dark lenses on. She blinks and makes her way to the bar. The bartender is a tall woman in a denim vest who slides her a beer after checking her ID.

“I’m flattered,” Elizabeth tries, sliding the Illinois license issued to Brenda Neal back into her pocket. “Haven’t been ID’d in years.”

“Don’t be,” the bartender drawls. “I ID everybody.”

A twangy tune jingles through the bar, coming from a folksy three-piece band in the corner, cramped on a small, triangular stage, backlit by a neon beer sign. They’re nothing to write home about but a small crowd has gathered to listen and they sway back and forth lazily. Elizabeth spots her target in the group, hanging near the back. She’s shorter, small; Elizabeth doesn’t know why that surprises her. She wears a faded shirt tucked into jeans and holds a beer in each hand.

As she crosses the bar toward her, weaving in and out of women in denim, women in leather, women in tight blouses and short skirts, tall women, short women, Elizabeth is more nervous than she’s been since she first came to the US. She’d trained for it, of course. They all had. But she’d never actually--

“Oh god!” she yelps, intentionally bumping into the target and sloshing her beer all over her arm.

“Hey--” the woman turns, brow furrowed. She’s pretty, Elizabeth thinks. The picture Gabriel had provided didn’t do her justice.

“I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth says, reaching for napkins on a nearby hightop table and mopping futilely at the girl’s arm. “God, I’m such a klutz.”

“It’s okay, really. It’s okay.”

For just a moment, the woman’s fingers are on the inside of her wrist. They squeeze, just barely, and then she pulls away. Elizabeth knows that move. She’s used that move.

“I thought, you’re only here one night, you should go out, see what Topeka has to offer,” she rambles, pushing her glasses up her nose. “How bad can you screw it up?”

“Not at all,” the girl assures her, a bright smile reaching up to her hazel eyes. “You haven’t screwed anything up.”

Elizabeth gives a self-deprecating laugh. “You’re too kind.”

“So you’re only in Topeka for the night, huh?”

Elizabeth nods and the woman says, “That’s a shame.”

“Why?”

The woman shrugs; her dark ponytail bobs. “Because you’re cute. Like, really cute.” She takes a sip of one of her beers.

“Drinking for two?” Elizabeth asks, pointing.

“Oh.” The girl’s face twists in anger, maybe annoyance. “Kind of? I’m friends with…” She gestures toward the stage, Elizabeth can’t quite see to whom. “Well, she’s my ex.”

“Her loss,” Elizabeth says confidently, taking a sip of her own beer.

The younger woman smiles, looking down at the floor. She’s wearing a pair of cowboy boots and Elizabeth is thankful; she was worried hers would be too over the top.

“Anyway,” the girl sighs. “I came here tonight ready to make a peace offering and… she shows up with some other girl.”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Ugh. What a jerk. I know the feeling.”

“You?” the younger woman quirks a dark eyebrow, her eyes dancing. She’s one of those people with whom you feel instantly familiar. “What girl was stupid enough to break your heart?”

“Um… actually, I…” Elizabeth swallows. “I’m a little… new to all this stuff.”

“Oh, oh, of course.”

“I just, um, I just came out earlier this year and it’s…” The words tumble out. “It’s like this weight has finally been lifted off, you know? I feel like myself, for the first time since…” She stops, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” the woman says, nodding, and Elizabeth is surprised to see that her eyes are wet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t--” Elizabeth reaches out and holds her elbow.

“No, it’s just--” She laughs, loud and clear. “I never get tired of hearing people’s stories. How good they feel once they finally realize they’re allowed to be themselves.”

Elizabeth nods, not really sure what to say. She’s never met anyone quite like this woman before.

“I’m Suzanne, by the way,” the woman says, tucking one of her beers under her arm to extend a hand.

“Brenda,” Elizabeth says. “Brenda Neal.” They shake.

“So Brenda. Tell me about you.”

Elizabeth almost laughs at her forthrightness. Men have been open with her in this way, but they always want something. Well, most of them. But Suzanne is earnest and without artifice. At face value, she’s a good person.

“Well. Um, I work in fashion. I promise we’re not all as vapid as we seem.”

“You don’t seem vapid.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Elizabeth says. “But I’m here for--”

“No, I mean it,” Suzanne interrupts. “There’s nothing vapid about you, Brenda. You’re… real.”

Elizabeth laughs. “That’s a pretty quick assessment.”

“I can tell about these things.”

“Do you want to show her something real?” Elizabeth asks, canting her chin towards the woman onstage, washed out in the red-orange light.

“Maybe...” Suzanne says, glancing over her shoulder.

Elizabeth smirks. “Come here.”

She’s never had to lean down to kiss someone before. Her hand instinctively slips to the back of Suzanne’s neck, tilting the younger woman’s head up so their lips meet. Suzanne molds to her instantly, her arms encircling Elizabeth’s waist. She feels a beer on top of each hipbone; the chilly bottles make her shiver. Suzanne’s lips are soft and salty, and when they part for air, her eyes are sparkling.

“Brenda Neal,” she whispers, nodding.

Elizabeth smiles and feels herself turning red. “That’s me!”

__________________________

They share a cigarette on the bench in front of the bar, their two different shades of lipstick staining the filter. It’s such a commonplace action but with Suzanne it’s surprisingly intimate. Elizabeth feigns surprise when Suzanne tells her she works at AgriCorp.

“Growing up out here, farming, crops--they’re all I’ve ever known,” she says, exhaling and passing the cigarette to Elizabeth. “But I didn’t want to be a farmer like everyone else in my family.”

“I’m envious,” Elizabeth says. “I’m such a city girl. Raised in a concrete jungle, grew up with a patch of asphalt for a backyard. People just packed in everywhere…”

Suzanne shakes her head. “I don’t know how anyone does it. I need--” She opens her arms wide, struggling to find the words. “--this!”

“I couldn’t take the quiet,” Elizabeth admits.

“You’d be surprised what you can get used to,” Suzanne says, with the confidence only a twenty-six year old can muster: young enough still to believe it but old enough to know she won’t forever. “Plus I volunteer. That makes living out here worth it, more than anything else.”

“Volunteer?” Liz asks.

Suzanne nods excitedly, lights another cigarette. She talks animatedly and uses her hands. “At an AIDS crisis center. We collect clothing, food, donations. Then we send them to hospitals where the patients are being treated.”

Elizabeth can only say, “Wow. That’s… brave isn’t the right word. But you know what I mean.”

“They’re the brave ones. The people living with this disease. I mean, we know virtually nothing about it and it’s decimating entire legions of our community.” Here, her heart-shaped face twists with disgust. “And the government is doing nothing. Nevermind at a local level, especially here. But even in major cities. New York, LA, San Francisco… people are dying in droves and Reagan’s motionless.”

“He’s useless,” Elizabeth says venomously.

Suzanne chuckles a little bit. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Sometimes out here… even people like us, they’ve just been brainwashed so long that they blindly support him. It’s the reason my ex and I broke up.”

“Because she supported Reagan?”

Suzanne gives a woeful nod. “I know.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that with me,” Elizabeth assures her. “I’m the furthest thing from a Reagan supporter you could imagine.”

“God, you’re really only in town for one night?” Suzanne sighs, leaning back on the bench. Her arm falls back across Elizabeth’s shoulders. It’s comfortable, natural. Elizabeth leans into her a little bit.

“For now,” she says, with a wry smile. “But it looks like I’ll be coming here pretty regularly, maybe weekly. For work.”

Suzanne shoves her shoulder. “Brenda Neal! Why didn’t you say so!”

“I don’t know, I guess I was worried about coming on too strong or something,” Elizabeth says, looking down at her lap. Her embarrassment is only partially put-on.

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” Suzanne assures her. “I like strong women.”

“Well then. That makes two of us.”

__________________________________

It’s late when she gets home, but Philip is still awake, eyes drooping over an issue of LIFE that’s been cluttering the bedside table for months. When she enters the room with her suitcase, he smiles. She leans down to hug him and his face is warm against her neck.

After a happy hum, she sits beside him on the edge of the bed and murmurs, “It was cold on the plane.”

“How’d it go?” He reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear.

She thinks for a moment. “Good. She’s nice. It was… easy.”

“Good.”

She nods, takes off her boots, her earrings. “She’s… I don’t know. Not what I expected. Young, idealistic. She volunteers at an AIDS clinic.”

“Wow. Sure you don’t want to flip her?”

“Ha, ha.” Elizabeth twists her hair up and flips on the light in the bathroom. “The whole time she was stroking her own ego about how important it is, the work she does. How she hates Reagan. But what she’s doing, what AgriCorp is doing, is starving an entire country.”

“Not if you have anything to say about it,” Philip says with a smirk.

“I mean it, Philip. These are the people we have to be the most careful about. The ones who think they’re fighting for the same things we are.”

“The only thing Deirdre seems to be fighting for is a promotion.”

“How’s that going?”

Philip pulls a face that makes her chuckle as she slides into bed beside him. “That bad?” Instinctively, she curls toward him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine,” he says, and she mostly believes him.

“With a woman...” she says suddenly, “I wasn’t sure I’d know how to talk to her.”

“But you did.” It’s not a question; he’s confident in her abilities, always has been. It’s reassuring, his unwavering faith in her, but also infuriating sometimes. That he just assumes she knows what to do in every situation. She’s good at her job. She’s proud of her job. And sometimes she is terrified.

When Gabriel had told them about Kansas, that she’d be targeting a woman, she didn’t balk. It wasn’t about that. More and more she feels like she’s slipping, like little pieces of her are being chipped away, and she’s someone new under all this… stuff she’s been for all these years. And with a woman she’s out of her element, has to use her brain in a way she doesn’t normally with marks. It’s hard, and she is tired.

“But you did,” Philip repeats. His lips are warm on the crown of her head.

“I guess so,” she whispers, feeling her voice reverberate along his collarbone. She wants to shut her eyes and burrow so close to him that they become one person who can never be broken in two.

__________________________________

Six days later, Suzanne is all smiles at the trailhead, with an optimism that would almost make Elizabeth nauseous if her target wasn’t also so genuine. She’s not sure if the lack of artifice makes her respect her or pity her.

“Brenda Neal,” Suzanne says, with her approving nod. She gives Elizabeth a quick kiss on the lips. “Hello.”

“Suzanne Stobert,” Elizabeth matches. She gestures at Suzanne’s backpack, a formidable contraption carrying quite a heavy load, by the looks of it. “We going somewhere I don’t know about?”

She’s only worn a fanny pack herself, thinking they’d hike for a few hours, and then she’d invent some work emergency and leave a day early with apologies and promises to meet next week.

Suzanne shrugs. “Maybe. I was trying to keep it a secret but I’m terrible at that.”

Elizabeth smirks. “Are you.”

“Well when it’s something good, yes,” Suzanne says, her eyes glinting. “I thought--if the weather stays nice, that is--that this hike could turn into a little overnight camping trip.”

“Camping? Wow.” Elizabeth chuffs.

“I’ve got food, blankets, matches. I know this great spot about ten miles out with an incredible view of the valley.”

“I didn’t know you could get high enough in Kansas to look into a valley.”

“Well, what passes for a valley here.” Suzanne winces. “I’m sorry, is this totally crazy? Is this too much right out of the gate?”

“No, no, not at all!” Elizabeth assures her. This could be easier than she thought. “I was just wondering if you’ve got a sleeping bag in there.”

Suzanne pats her pack, a scrappy smile across her features. “Well I only own one…”

Elizabeth loops her arm through the younger woman’s as they set off down the path. “You’re in luck, because I happen to have this excess of body heat that I never know what to do with.”

“That must have come in handy growing up in Chicago.”

“You remembered.” Elizabeth raises her eyebrows, pleasantly impressed.

“It’s kind of a gift,” Suzanne shrugs. “Flawless memory, incredibly thoughtful…”

“And somehow still single,” Elizabeth laments.

“Am I? Single?” She has moved her hand down Elizabeth’s arm and intertwined their fingers.

“I don’t know.” Elizabeth pushes her glasses up her nose. “Are you?”

_____________________

The fire crackles in the darkness and Elizabeth can scarcely see anything beyond the small clearing where they’ve pitched their tent. They share soup from a thermos, Suzanne’s hands lingering on hers as they pass the cup back and forth.

“I hope this isn’t rude but um, what took you so long?” she asks. “To come out? Most people your age--I mean, you look… You’re beautiful. Ugh, listen to me!”

Elizabeth laughs and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “No, no! I’m no spring chicken, you’re right. But, um. I guess it was my job that kept me from coming out sooner.”

“Really?” Suzanne settles in, laying her head in Elizabeth’s lap. “I would have thought that in your line of work things would be… I don’t know, different.”

“For guys, maybe. But with gay women… I mean, you know the stereotypes. I didn’t want to lose credibility. Plus, it’s not like you might think, even in the fashion industry. There are still a lot of people who don’t like us. Don’t accept us. I like my job and I didn’t want to jeopardize that.”

“That must have been hard.” Suzanne plays with Elizabeth’s hands while she talks, interlacing their fingers, kissing her palm, the inside of her wrist. Elizabeth strokes her hair, rubs her temples. The things that Philip does when she’s laying beside him.

“It was,” she says. “It is. It’s hard having a job that you love but where you don’t... feel like you can be yourself.”

Suzanne nods, turns over on her stomach. Her cheek rests against Elizabeth’s thigh, her dark hair glowing orange in the firelight. “Are you out at work now?”

“To some people. My one or two close friends. It’s not perfect but it feels better. More honest. I guess I never thought I--” She stops, her heart thumping in her chest, her tongue thick all of a sudden.

“What?” Suzanne whispers. She pushes herself up slowly, one arm on either side of Elizabeth’s legs.

Elizabeth shakes her head. Behind her, an owl hoots in the trees. “I don’t know. I guess I never thought I deserved to feel happy like that.”

“Well you do,” Suzanne says after a moment. “You deserve everything.”

“You sound like one of those inspirational posters in my break room.” She almost can’t believe there are people that actually talk like this. But as always with Suzanne, there’s no pretense. She actually believes it.

“There’s a lot of people out there that hate us, Brenda,” Suzanne says. “So we might as well love ourselves, don’t you think?” She reaches a hand between their bodies and defly undoes the first button on Elizabeth’s shirt.

“Suzanne,” Elizabeth says against her mouth, but the younger woman shakes her head.

“Everybody calls me Susie,” she says, and unbuttons Elizabeth’s shirt the rest of the way. The crisp fall air hits her skin and she gasps in spite of herself.

“I’m not everybody,” she smirks.

“No. You’re definitely not.” Susie straddles her in one swift movement and Elizabeth’s hips buck in surprise, unused to being in the other position. The younger woman’s hands are hot and insistent, sweeping across her belly, over her breasts, behind her neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. It feels objectively good, just like every other target, all of them indistinguishable from one another. An unexpected heat pools in her gut and she hears herself gasp when Suzanne’s lips close over her earlobe. She is suddenly aware of a rock beneath her leg and she stiffens in Susie’s arms.

“What’s wrong?” she asks instantly. “Too fast?”

“No, I just, um--” Elizabeth runs a hand over her face. “I’ve never--”

“Oh, god,” Susie says, dismounting. Her hazel eyes flash wide with embarrassment. “I shouldn’t have just assumed you--I mean of course you haven’t. Not that you couldn’t, my god, I mean--”

“It’s okay,” Elizabeth insists, taking Susie’s hands between her own. “I want to. Let’s just… will you hold me?”

“Of course.” Susie settles in beside her, arm snaking across her waist, head on her shoulder.

“I really like you,” Elizabeth says after a moment. “And I don’t want to rush things.”

“I think I got a little carried away. I’ve just never met anyone like you before, Brenda.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s true,” Elizabeth murmurs, but she knows she’s never met anyone like Susie before either.

______________________________

Paige’s eyes widen when Elizabeth hands her the keys. “You’re kidding.”

“No, get us home,” Elizabeth says with an encouraging smile. “I trust you.”

“You’re sure?” Paige asks, taking the keys from her mother. “You’re not gonna like, make me pull over on the Beltway and switch with you if you don’t like the way I merge?”

Elizabeth frowns. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“That sounds exactly like you, Mom.”

“Come on, get behind the wheel before I change my mind.”

Her heart swells with pride as Paige turns out of the parking lot, her acceleration a little slow but her eyes steady and her hands strong on the wheel.

When they’re at a stoplight, Elizabeth asks, “Do you know if Pastor Tim does any work with AIDS Action?”

Paige blinks. “What?”

“It’s the group that’s helping communities affected--”

“I know what AIDS Action is, Mom. I’m just surprised you do.”

Elizabeth narrows her eyes. “Why are you surprised?”

“I don’t know, a lot of people your age aren’t… talking about it. The disease. I mean, our teachers are always like, ‘Don’t do drugs’, ‘use protection’ or whatever. But they’re not actually talking about the disease or… who gets it, or how you get it. It’s always ‘don’t do this, don’t do that.’ But never any actual information.”

Elizabeth smiles; it’s so exciting to hear Paige get passionate about something that isn’t Youth Group. She hasn’t prayed before dinner in months, and the last time she was in her daughter’s bedroom Elizabeth noticed her Bible discarded on the shelf under something she’d had to read for school. She’s getting close to giving up church for good, Elizabeth can feel it.

“I don’t think there’s a lot of information out there right now, sweetie,” she says. “But until there is, and even after, I think it’s worth supporting these people. Would that be something you’re interested in?”

Paige thinks a moment, shrugs. “I guess so.”

“What?”

“I guess I’m just surprised that you… feel this way. That you want to help. Doesn’t Russia like, hate gay people?”

Elizabeth looks down, chastened. “There are a lot of outdated laws. We’re a little focused on other things right now. But I think change is coming. Soon.” Even as she says it the words feel like lies in her mouth. But the opposite is unthinkable.

“I mean, you don’t…”

“You know what I believe, Paige. That everyone should be equal.”

Her daughter nods. “That’s what Pastor Tim says Jesus believed too.”

Elizabeth hears the hollowness in Paige’s words here too, dares to hope. “Well if Pastor Tim knows any way we could get involved in AIDS Action, would you want to come with me? To a… clothing drive or something?”

After a moment, Paige looks over at her mother and nods. “Sure,” she says with a smile.

Elizabeth tries not to grin. “Good. Now, eyes on the road.”

_______________________________

Suzanne’s house is modest but well-decorated, eclectic and modern but also comfortable, cozy. Unique Eastern and African pieces adorn the walls, rest on end tables and windowsills. Tall white candles burn in her bedroom and her pillowcases are hand-stitched, bought from a woman on a mountain in New Guinea. Suzanne tells her this in between kisses, her voice low and full from the wine they’d had with dinner.

“I don’t get you,” Elizabeth says, their legs tangled together, clothes still on. “You’re a thoughtful, compassionate woman who cares about other people. Wants to help them. But you’re stuck working for the man at that stupid Agro company…”

“AgriCorp,” Susie says with a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Elizabeth continues, propping herself up on an elbow. “You could be running your own company, one that’s actually affecting change, helping people, like you want to do.”

“I am doing those things. At AgriCorp.”

“Oh really?” Elizabeth teases. She leans in for a kiss but Suzanne pulls back, her eyes flashing, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, really,” Susie snaps, venomous. She sits up, chin high. “You don’t need to patronize me.”

Elizabeth reaches for her hand but she pulls away. “Susie. That’s not what I was doing.”

“What were you doing?”

“I only meant--I mean, look at you. Volunteering. The Peace Corps. Working for some big corporation just doesn’t seem like you.”

“You think you know me? I met you a month ago in a bar.” Suzanne stands now, arms folded across her chest. “I hide who I am pretty well when I have to, but I still get a lot of judgement from people around here. And I thought you were different.”

“Suzanne. Listen…” Elizabeth struggles to keep her voice even.

“I thought, oh wow, a cosmopolitan fashion gal from Chicago looked twice at me. How lucky am I? But I’ve dated girls like you before. Trying to make me into what they think I should be. I’m either too involved or not involved enough. Too butch or too girly. Whatever I am, I’m always too much for people.”

Elizabeth reaches out and takes Susie’s hand. “Susie. Listen to me, please. I know… I know what you’re feeling.”

The younger woman scoffs but doesn’t pull away.

“It’s not easy hiding who you are. You’re right about that. I did it for almost forty years. I still have to do it. And it’s exhausting. To wake up every day and think that there are people out there, all around you, who want to do you harm. I know what that’s like.”

Susie looks down at their hands, joined between their bodies. “I know you do.”

“I wasn’t trying to judge you. To make you into something you’re not. I care about you, Suzanne.”

She nods, bringing her gray eyes up to meet Elizabeth’s. “I really, really like you, Brenda.”

Susie closes the distance between them and leans down to kiss Elizabeth, her lips warm, her tongue cabernet. This time, Elizabeth does not stop her when she unbuttons her shirt with hungry hands, when she reaches around and removes her bra in one swift motion, when her skirt is up around her waist. There is a reverence to her actions, something holy in the way Suzanne touches her.

“Is this okay?” Susie asks, her lips on the inside of Elizabeth’s thigh.

“Yes,” Elizabeth assures her, lying back against the pillow from New Guinea.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right?”

Susie’s hair is down, tickling Elizabeth’s knees, making her shiver. Elizabeth winds her hands in it and says, “I won’t want you to stop.”

________________________________

Philip’s face lights up when she walks into the office the next afternoon. She knows she must smell like the airport. It’s not a long flight, and only an hour’s time difference, but she’s always exhausted when she comes home.

“I didn’t think you’d come by,” he says, pulling her into a hug once the door is closed.

She smiles. “Surprise.”

“How was it?”

“Fine.” Elizabeth shrugs. “I think I got too comfortable too fast, the whole thing almost blew up in my face.”

Philip’s forehead puckers and the corners of his mouth turn down. “Too--”

“Oh, not--I mean we did--” Elizabeth shakes her head. “I hit a nerve with her. We fought. But it’s fixed now.”

“Good.” He nods. She thinks he might be relieved. What did he think she meant?

“What about you? How’s everything here?”

Philip leans back in his chair, runs a hand over his face. “Henry’s been a little lax on his curfew the past few nights.”

Elizabeth frowns. “I didn’t know we gave him a curfew.”

Philip narrows his eyes at her but smiles. “I told him back by 11 on school nights, but he’s been pushing it. Says he’s studying with--”

“Chris, yeah. Do you believe him?”

“I don’t have any reason not to. Oh, and Paige said Pastor Tim got back to her with the names of some people he knows at AIDS Action? Do you know anything about that?”

“Yeah, I asked her--”

There’s a knock at the door. It’s Stavos. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No, no, what is it?”

“The Mays’ honeymoon package to Bermuda. Looks like the wedding’s off and the parents of the bride want to know if it’s too late to get a refund.”

“Yikes.” Philip winces. “Tell them I’ll look into it and I’ll call them right back.”

“Okay. Elizabeth, how was Seattle?”

“Wet.”

Stavos gives a sympathetic nod. “I’ll let them know to expect your call.” He closes the door behind him.

Philip picks up the phone and dials. “If it’s not one thing…”

“I’ll talk to Paige,” Elizabeth tells him.

He nods and gives her hand a squeeze.

______________________________________

She leaves her suitcase by the door and drops her keys in the bowl. “Anybody home?”

“Hi, Mom,” Paige calls cheerfully.

Elizabeth follows her daughter’s voice into the kitchen. Paige sits at the table, books spread out around her. “Hi, honey. Did you eat?”

“Yeah. You?”

“The flight made me a little sick. I’m not really hungry.”

Paige twists her pencil between her fingers. “You were gone for work, right? This is the... thing you were telling me about before?”

Elizabeth sits down at the table across from her. “It is.”

“How’s it going?”

Elizabeth remembers the feel of Suzanne’s hand between her legs, the slick skin, the sound of her voice, breathy in her ear. Oh my god, Brenda. Look at you, oh my--

“Fine,” Elizabeth answers with a shrug. “Interesting.” She takes a breath and changes the subject. “Dad said Pastor Tim gave you the names of some people at AIDS Action.”

Paige closes her textbook. “Yeah, and I called one of them, a woman named Diane. She said there’s a food drive next Thursday that they need volunteers for, and it’s right by your office.”

“Okay. Why don’t you come by and we’ll all go together after work. Dad too.”

“That’s the thing, it actually starts at noon,” Paige says, chewing her lip. “So I’d have to miss school. But don’t worry. I already checked with Ms. McKinley, and she said I could take my science test another day if I’m going to be absent.” She pauses, raises her eyebrows expectantly. “What?”

Elizabeth shakes her head, trying to put on a neutral face. “Nothing. I’m just--I’m glad you’re taking the initiative.”

“Is this something you’re working on… for work? Helping people with AIDS?”

“No. Not really. A source I’m working with now, she does a lot of this type of work. And it made me realize how much more we could be doing.”

“Is this more like what you and Dad used to do? Before I was born?”

“Some of it, yeah.” She smiles. “Standing together with a group of people, showing the world that this is what you believe in. You know what that feels like. It’s very powerful.”

“So it’s okay if I miss school?” Paige asks.

Elizabeth nods and it feels like a balloon expands inside her chest when her daughter grins and says, “Thanks, Mom.”

_____________________________

“I told Paige she could skip school on Thursday,” Elizabeth says, her earrings falling with a clank in a dish on the dresser. “She and I are going to a food drive that afternoon, if you want to come.”

“I already told Henry I’d take him to hockey practice Thursday afternoon,” Philip says. He pulls his t-shirt on and climbs into bed.

Elizabeth nods. “That’s okay. It’ll be good for Paige and me to do something together that isn’t church.”

“Or fighting in the garage.”

“She’s good,” Elizabeth says, fumbling with the buttons on the back of her blouse. “Fast. She can move quickly. It’ll surprise people.”

“When will she need to surprise people?” Philip has come to stand behind her and she meets his eyes in the mirror.

“When she needs to defend herself, Philip,” she says sharply. “It’ll happen whether she does what we do or not.”

Philip’s mouth settles in a thin line and he works at the buttons down her back. She moves to take over but he gently brushes her hands away and she hums her thanks. His hands move along her back, untucking her blouse, then unhooking her bra. Elizabeth lets herself relax, leans against him, feels his lips on her scapula, her shoulder, her neck--

“What’s this?” he asks against her nape.

“What?”

She feels his thumb run over a spot on the back of her shoulder and remembers Susie behind her, her legs bracketing Elizabeth’s, chest flush against her back and Susie’s mouth hot on her shoulder as their fingers moved together--

“It’s what it looks like,” she says simply. She steps out of her skirt and into a nightgown, busying herself with rearranging the jewelry on the vanity.

“You fought but you made up, huh?” he asks, sauntering to the armchair in the corner.

She glares at him. “Come on.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” she says, more harshly than she means to.

“Elizabeth.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m not asking because I… I don’t care about that. I’m just asking.”

She sighs, moves to sit on the ottoman. She picks at a loose thread that’s coming up. “When we do… this. There are certain things you get used to. Risks you know you’re taking walking into that bedroom. You prepare yourself for certain possibilities.”

Philip nods. “Yeah.”

“Most of the time, with men, you know there’s a chance that they’ll hurt you. Hit you. Whatever. But with her… I was afraid she would see me.”

_________________________________

There is a small crowd outside the building as they approach. She watches Paige’s fingers tighten around the paper bag of canned goods they’ve brought.

“Do you think they’re volunteers?” Paige asks in a tone that says she knows they’re not.

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Just stay close, okay?”

As they approach the door she brushes past a man with a scraggly beard and a sign that reads: GOD HATES FAGS. A woman even closer to the door makes eye contact with Paige and scoffs in apparent disappointment. Elizabeth keeps her eyes ahead and ushers Paige in quickly once they reach the door.

Inside the small office space, there is the smell of fresh paint. The reception desk is empty but before Elizabeth can ring the bell, an older African-American woman enters from the hallway and approaches them expectantly, a friendly smile on her face. “Hi, are you Paige?”

Paige nods. “Are you Diane?”

The woman nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Tim told me you’d be coming with--” She points to Elizabeth, extends a hand. “This must be your mom.”

They shake. “Elizabeth. Thank you for letting us help out today.”

“Of course. We’re always looking for more hands and frankly, with all that bullshit that’s going on out there--oh god, excuse me.”

Paige chuckles. “It’s okay.”

“Well, I see you brought some food yourselves. Let me walk you around and introduce you to some of the people you’ll be working with today.”

Elizabeth watches as Paige takes it all in: these people who are fighting, who are risking so much to be here, to stand up for what’s right. Her daughter observes with wide eyes and a tentative smile as Diane points out the clothing donation boxes, the metal shelving units stacked with canned goods.

“Tim said you’re invaluable to the food pantry downtown,” Diane says. “That the place wouldn’t run without you.”

“I’ve been doing it for almost two years now,” Paige says. “And it’s a lot of work but it’s… rewarding, you know? I know I’m helping, I can see that I’m making a difference.”

“Tim and Alice really know how to inspire young people.” Diane meets Elizabeth’s eyes with a knowing smile, but before she can reply, Paige speaks again.

“I love Tim and Alice. They’ve been great. But we’re here today because of my mom. This was her idea, to get involved with AIDS Action.” Paige smiles. “She met someone through work who volunteers and wanted to get involved.”

Elizabeth thinks her heart might burst looking at Paige, her brilliant brown-eyed daughter who knows nothing and everything, who’s always full of surprises, whose chin reminds her of her own mother’s.

Diane smiles at both of them. “That’s wonderful. What do you do, Elizabeth?”

She is surprised that her voice is strained with emotion when she answers, “I’m a travel agent.”

_______________________________

“I had to go to DC for a work thing last week,” Elizabeth says, passing the bowl to Susie. “And while I was there I, uh, went to an AIDS Action thing.”

The young woman shoves her shoulder. “Get out! I’m so jealous.”

“You inspired me.” Elizabeth shrugs. “I don’t know. I try to help however I can. But I realized I could be doing more.”

Susie leans over and gives her a chaste kiss. She tastes like weed and the unfinished bottle of wine on the hearth. Elizabeth tightens the blanket they share around her shoulders and scoots closer.

“Before,” she begins, “when I said I didn’t think the work you were doing was… I didn’t mean--”

“I know,” Susie says. “I forget sometimes that--and I’m not saying this to make you feel stupid or anything--I just forget that most people don’t understand what I do. Or care about it, for that matter.”

“I care.”

Susie smiles, her gray eyes crinkling at the edges. “I know you do. And thank you for putting up with me while I ramble about genetically modified wheat.”

“Please,” Elizabeth insists, “it’s so much more interesting than ‘what shoes go best with jeans for casual Friday at the office.’”

“You’d be surprised,” Susie sighs.

“So what, you… breed wheat? For what?”

Susie shrugs and expels a puff of smoke. “There are countries all over the world with incredible natural resources but they don’t have the money to protect their crops against pests. So we’re trying to breed a strain that can survive pretty much anything.”

Elizabeth feels the blood rush to her head, suddenly dizzy. Or maybe she’s high. “And… and then what?”

“We give it to these countries. Reduce famine, help bring some of these places out of the third world.”

“Wow.” Elizabeth lies back against the couch, turning away from the fire.

“You okay?” Susie reaches out and rubs a hand against her leg.

“I should tell you something,” she says, the corners of her mouth tugging down as she tries to keep her voice even.

Susie’s brow wrinkles. “What?”

Elizabeth looks down at her hands, studies the half-moons of her fingernails, her cuticles. “I have a daughter.”

Whatever Susie is expecting, it isn’t this. “Oh.”

“She’s sixteen. I was young, I was… I had her for all the wrong reasons. Things between us have always been hard. I’m away a lot for work and I know that’s not easy for her. About a year ago I told her. Who I really am, you know. I’d wanted to for so long and I thought that if maybe I just told her the truth, treated her like an adult, that things would finally be better between us.”

Susie has settled against Elizabeth’s chest, nestled between her legs. Her voice thrums across Elizabeth’s sternum when she says, “That must have been hard.”

“My--her father didn’t want me to tell her. But then she asked and… I couldn’t lie to her anymore.” Elizabeth’s mouth is dry.

“What did she say?” Susie whispers.

“She was confused at first. Then angry that I’d lied. But lately we’ve been… Things are good. We’re getting along. And I mean, we still fight, of course. But I think she’s--I think we’re finally starting to understand each other. I was able to bring her with me to DC last week and we went to the meeting together.”

“Wow. So… what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth says. “You just… you worry.”

She rests her cheek on top of Susie’s head and they sit like that until the fire is just embers crackling in the darkness, whispering voices that haunt her in the place between dreams and waking, ghosts that say, careful, Nadezhda.

______________________________

Gabriel’s face breaks into a smile when he opens the door. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“It’s not a bad time?”

“No, no, not at all. Come in, please.” He ushers her inside. She’s grown used to the smell of the place: old wood and the dry, metallic heat that comes from radiators in the winter. It reminds her of home.

“I was just about to make some tea, would you like some?”

Elizabeth nods. “Sure.”

She sits with her palms around the teacup, seeing how long she can hold them there before it becomes too hot to stand. Finally Gabriel says, “Topeka. How’s that going?”

She sets her jaw. “You read my report?”

“Yes.” The old man sighs, looks into his tea. “You know it goes like this sometimes. And I know this wasn’t a good time to get it wrong.”

Elizabeth nods. “I can cool things off there, be out of it in a few weeks.”

Gabriel squints. “I thought your instructions were clear. Maintain the relationships, you and Philip both.”

“Do we need to? I don’t see the point,” she says, trying to keep her voice even.

“Elizabeth, what’s going on?” When she doesn’t answer he sighs and clears his tea from the table. From the sink he asks, “In your report you said you told Stobert about Paige. Is that what this is about?”

Her stomach twists. “Why would it--”

“Sometimes the things we share in order to get what we need… it can be hard.”

She almost scoffs. “We?”

“Elizabeth, no one is discounting your sacrifices. Especially me.”

“I didn’t need to tell her,” Elizabeth says slowly. Her tongue is thick in her mouth. “I don’t know why I did.”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Gabriel tells her. “It’s allowed. It’s okay for you to share things to get close to your targets.”

“That’s not the way I do things, Gabriel.”

He sighs, stands beside her at the table, takes her hand between his. “Cancel this week if you need to. But go back the week after that.”

She nods, bites the inside of her cheek. She feels her hand in his and has to keep a lump from rising in her throat.

___________________________

On her way home she stops at a phone booth and dials Susie’s number. She keeps her voice airy but disappointed when she tells her she won’t be able to make it down there on Thursday, she’s so sorry baby, something unexpected came up at work and they need her to stay here.

“The week after that I’ll be there for sure. Definitely,” she assures the younger woman.

“I miss you,” Susie says quietly. “You’re the best thing about this place.”

“I’m not really a part of it though, am I?” Elizabeth asks. “48 hours a week hardly makes me a Topeka resident.”

“Oh, I don’t know. These past few months have just--I’ve felt alive in a way I haven’t in a long time. And it’s because of you.”

She’s touched, rendered almost speechless for a moment. “Suzanne…”

“I won’t guilt trip you anymore,” Susie says on the other end of the line. “But it’s a shame you’re not coming tomorrow because I was just lying here thinking about you.”

Elizabeth notices for the first time how breathy she’d sounded when she’d picked up. “Is everything okay?” she asks, hand tightening around the receiver. Her wedding ring clunks hollowly against the cheap plastic.

“You heard me,” Susie murmurs, “I was thinking about you.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth shifts her weight in the phone booth, checks the street. “What about me?”

“You. Here. Your body stretched out next to mine.”

Elizabeth hums in her throat. “I wish I was, baby.”

“What would you do if you were?”

“I would… kiss you. On your lips, your neck. That spot behind your ear that you like so much.”

Susie chuckles, low and dark. “Brenda Neal. You’re good. Where next?”

Elizabeth clears her throat, suddenly dizzy. It’s not that she hasn’t done this before, it’s just-- “Well that depends,” she hears herself say, “What bra are you wearing?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh.” She swallows. “Are you touching yourself? Right now?”

“Yeah,” Susie sighs. “Are you?”

Elizabeth looks around again, puts another quarter into the pay phone. “I… yeah. Oh, yeah.” She adds an extra hum for emphasis.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“You’ll have to wait til next week to find out,” Elizabeth says.

“Tell me,” Susie whines.

“Just… just keep touching yourself. It’s me. I’m touching you, Susie. Nice and slow, how you like it. You feel that?”

“Uh huh. Keep going.” Susie’s breathing is short and shallow, crackling through the receiver.

Elizabeth feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “You like the way I touch you, don’t you, baby? Oh yeah.”

“God, Brenda. So good.”

“Good girl,” Elizabeth whispers, her throat tight. “That’s right Susie. I’m going faster now.”

“Please,” Susie whimpers. “Please don’t stop.”

“Come on, baby. Come on. Oh my god, you feel so good.”

“Brenda--I--oh my god!” Susie lets out a gasp and there’s more crackling through the receiver.

She waits five seconds, ten. Elizabeth swallows the lump rising in her throat. “Oh, yeah. Oh, didn’t that feel good baby?”

“Holy shit. So good,” Susie agrees, her voice low. “What about you, you ready for me? God, I bet you’re so wet.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, you can repay the favor then.”

Elizabeth hangs up and waits until her hands stop shaking to get in her car and drive the rest of the way home.

________________________

In the few years that follow, she will remember Suzanne in bits and pieces. She will see her face when she smells vanilla incense. They will get occasional AIDS Action fliers in the mail, calls for volunteers; she will give them Paige’s address at her new apartment and remember a feeling, Suzanne’s wide-eyed hope on that bench outside that shitty bar. She will retain none of the names of the tai chi positions she taught her, but keep them in her body even when she is too tired to do them anymore. Even later, when she draws, she sometimes tries to recreate the movements, the simple flow of arcs and lines a poor substitute for the momentary peace they’d brought her, arms akimbo and her feet grounded on a braided rug from Guatemala or somewhere.

She and Philip don’t talk about her, about any of them. The people whose lives they ruined, whose lives they saved. Suzanne is in that place with all of them, halfway between remembrance and forgetting. Between the two sides of the world, between the earth and the sky that seems so much bigger here.

Now, they walk. Long, wandering treks that leave her nose red and her lungs on fire. They relearn the roads they walked once, a lifetime ago, in a country they never really knew.

#*runs away*#my writing #the americans

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progeny-of-the-fury · 6 years

Photo

The Scouting Mission

Log date: 8/30/18

OOC Note: The text in these logs are strictly for the reader’s enjoyment. Anyone using the knowledge displayed within this text without the participant’s knowledge risks the potential of blacklisting from future communication and roleplay. Please do not meta-game!

Tags: @ragizi @wyranimh

Rageant Lacordaire: "Gather around, those among you with the will to serve Gridania this eve."

Hestia De'bayle sighs, reaching up to tug down her turbans mask over her gaze.

Cinnabar Prentice returns! Praise the Sun! A smile speaks well enough to a successful order.

Bruno Suvois asks her as he sets about tying the weapon to his belt. He gives it a few testing tugs, before nodding.

Svana Heart: "Sounds like a call for drinks to me, and aren't those hard to turn down."

Bruno Suvois: "That works! We'll have to figure out a night for it soon, then. Until then, though, duty calls!"

Rageant Lacordaire: "The Elder Seedseer has declared a reward for the adventurers, or in this case the house, who can dispense with a pest that has eluded the Order of the Twin Adders and the Wood Wailers alike. A relatively new gang of cutthroats and vagabonds who go by the "Black Mites;" I'm not certain what's so black about them yet. We're to patrol the roads and see if we can lend our benefactors assistance in the matter; after all, we call their land home."

Svana Heart nods along, keeping a gregarious grin just long enough for Bruno to set upon his task before the more honest, distraught grimace of worry is set free.

Cinnabar Prentice 's head slowly cants aside. An expression of inquiry; confusion; set upon her face as she looks to Hestia... though attention returns to Ragi when he recites the order.

Bruno Suvois: "What're we aiming to do, exactly? Just put on a scary show for them? If they're familiar with the woods, then a band of armored knights trudging through their turf out to be pretty easy to avoid, wouldn't it?"

Rageant Lacordaire: "Mayhap, but their modus operandi seems to be to ambush even well-armed convoys. They're ruthless and territorial, or so it is told. It might be that we'll catch them unawares, as we are more experienced than those who typically wander the roads."

Jacline Kerelle: "Mm, mm. Lotta them caravan guards don't even know how to fight, really. Just strap on a mail shirt and sword, call it a day. Easy money. So I've heard."

Rageant Lacordaire: "We shall go forth without delay." Rageant slung his axe from his back and set the blade in the grass between his feet, gripping the haft in both hands and lowering his head. "We who have gathered this day shall go forth as one and see these roads safeguarded. Fury walk with us, for we are driven by our sense of duty, of which there is nothing higher. Say the words with me and feel their truth within thine blood; Aucun Supérieur."

Hestia De'bayle peers over toward Rageant, before looking out toward the rest of the group as they all spoke amongst one another. A flared sort of breath leaves her as Rageant recites the House's motto, she repeating it out dutifully, "Aucun Supérieur."

Jacline Kerelle: "A... acken, sup.. urrirur." Cough, cough.

Bruno Suvois: "Aucun Supérieur!" repeats with a boisterous tone.

Cinnabar Prentice bows her head and brings close her arm in the house salute for the maxim: "Aucun Superieur." Fuck you, all I can do is ümlauts.

Jacline Kerelle: "Acken Super-roar!"

Jacline Kerelle psychs herself up alongside Rageant Lacordaire!

Bruno Suvois: "I look stupid."

Their patrol began as dusk descended upon the woods, a cold breeze from nearby Coerthas weaving its way through the trees, rustling the leaves, and numbing the cheeks and digits. For an hour their path winded before them until at last something of significance emerged; a wagon, sitting down the road beyond the range of their voices, with its belongings seemingly scattered about the path. Rageant stopped them ere they drew close. "Halt; there's something ahead."

Jacline Kerelle snerks and covers her mouth. "N-no. It's... it looks good! Very, uh.. Round."

"Mm," Hestia lifts her visor, allowing for the group to move forward before her.

Jacline Kerelle seems lost in thought.

Rageant Lacordaire: "Look alive; my eye sight isn't so keen as it was in my youth, but I see something."

Bruno Suvois rolls his shoulders as he marches along, head held high the entire time. His body ached, but he didn't let it show, and he certainly didn't let it slow him down. Thankfully his shoulders were much more comfortable thanks to Vilette's tip.

Jacline Kerelle glances around the trees as she strings her bow with practiced hands. "I see it, too. Looks like a trap, from here, don't it?"

Hestia De'bayle: "The mask I don is built for archers and darkness, I shall reposition to a higher viewpoint."

Cinnabar kept relatively quiet for the travel. They were on a hunt of sorts; it demanded attention. Her ears saw as much as her eyes as they marched along, treading lightly- ere they come to the scene just ahead... Her eyes narrow a touch, scanning high and low nearby, for any signs of presence beyond their own...

"It does seem precarious; we'll wait for Hestia's appraisal. Gods, and I had begun to doubt we'd find anything this eve,” Rageant murmured.

"A trap? What if it's people that need help?" Bruno questioned. "Someone could be hurt up there!"

Hestia sees that there is a single man, an Elezen, sitting among the random junk strewn about. He appears to be sitting on some kind of silver blanket.

"Shh... It, very well could be... You remember the, wagon in La Noscea? In the rose bush, Jac?" Cinnabar asks.

"If they need help, they needed it a long time before we ever got here. Watch the flanks." Jacline cranes her neck, scanning the treetops.

The shell lights up with Hestia’s neutral tone. "I have repositioned. There is what appears to be an Elezen man in the distance sitting upon scattered clutter. Some sort of blanket shimmers beneath him, it holds a silvery hue. I would approach with caution."

Pressing his forefingers to his ear, Rageant gave a nod to the others. "Bruno may be right; we should proceed, albeit it cautiously."

Bruno exhales through his nose. "A silver blanket? What could that be?"

"I shall keep watch over the area and keep my arrows ready if needed."

Cinnabar’s brow dips for the words from her pearl. "Mh... Silver... blanket..?"

"We'll soon see, for speculating may do us no good." Rageant turned and waved to Hestia, gesturing toward the scene she'd survey as if to signal their intentions, and then made the approach.

Jacline answers him with a quirk of an eyebrow and a shrug of a shoulder, then spreads out to their flank to advance on the site while keeping an eye out.

Bruno does the same, scrambling up the hill on the right side, moving cautiously and keeping an eye out around the trees.

Jacline hunkers down next to a tree, watching from the undergrowth.

"Thank the Gods," the Wildwood Elezen opened immediately, rising to a kneel and then a stand. From the looks of it he was a tailor - uncut cloth and rugs were strewn about the dirt, virtually none remaining where they presumably belonged in his chocobo drawn wagon - the chocobo, too, was missing. "Bandits," he sputtered immediately "They've gone and run me of my merchandise." The coast seeming clear, Rageant offered no response but instead waved to the two lingering on the periphery of the site.

With the wave given, Cinnabar rises from her crouch at treeside, approaching with eyes a-scanning the surroundings; the scattered goods and the like…

Bruno trotted forward, coming up behind Rageant. "Did you see which way they went?"

"No," said the Elezen, who raised his arms and began raving. "They gave me a whack and ran off with my goods and my steed." His gesticulating was peculiar, as if he was a stage performer attempting to impress with his words.

"Gave you...a whack?" Bruno questioned.

Jacline sniffs and glances down the road the way they came. "As bandits're wont to do, eh. Must be some tracks or somethin'..."

"Aye, with the blunt end of a spear, he did." The Elezen whistled loudly, in the manner of one who had seen something spectacular and was at a loss for words. He then began rubbing his head as if the blow were fresh. "Aye, was a right good blow, too." He whistled once more.

Bruno gives the man a skeptical look. However, he'd leave it for now and instead turn his attention to the wagon itself, moving over to get a closer look around it, and inside of it.

With the mention of chocobo, Cinnabar’s eyes take to the road... fresh tracks... droppings... feathers... all would aid, just as much as her question. "... I am, pained for your loss, sir... Have, any come this way, before us? Ere you were, attacked? Any which, you are aware, for?"

Jacline quirks her mouth at the man. "Musta left quite the bump, huh? Mind if I take a look, make sure you're okay? I'm a healer, by trade."

The man appeared nervous now, perhaps by Cinnabar's line of questioning. Bruno could find some few of the rugs not been removed from the wagon; too heavy for the effort perhaps. "I err... yep, a real big bump. No need, no need, I'm sure I'll be fine. Uhh, what did you ask again, you spectacularly tall woman, you?" As he spoke, the man lifted a nearby fallen bough, a small enough branch that he could begin tying a black piece of cloth to it.

"Have any others, passed through?" Cinnabar reiterates, eyes abandoning the road in favor of the man... Her brow quirked, with that response. Eyeballing his cloth-tying motions... She takes greater account, now, of what the man wears…

More suspicious, now, Jacline casually circles around to his rear, keeping an eye on his hands as she cuts off the easiest escape route. "Really must insist," she says, louder. "Let us check your wound. Man gets hit that hard, he's got somethin' nasty to show for it. Unless, of course, he's lyin'." For emphasis, Jacline draws one of her long daggers and taps it against her thigh.

"Oh, right, you know I'm not sure come to think of it," replied the man cryptically. He was garbed poorly in a drab tunic and trousers, dirtied by the elements - not exactly the finery one would expect of a merchant who traded in cloth and materials. As Jacline approached, he raised one hand defensively. "Hold on, now, what're you going to do with that?!" His other hand was, curiously, waving his brand new makeshift flag to and fro. Sweat bead upon his brow despite the bitter cold.

Hestia spots some figures encroaching slowly, stealthily, from the northeast using the trees and underbrush as cover.

"What, this?" Jacline holds up her knife, giving it a flip and turning it this way and that, so he can watch the light gleam off its edge. "Just lettin' it breathe. You like breathin', don't ya?"

“Oh for crying out loud..." Bruno sighs, turning on the man. Lacking any hesitation whatsoever, he'd raise a fist and aim to crash it against the side of his head.

"Attention," Hestia voice rang again, "an undetermined number of figures are approaching from the northeast. They are using the shroud of the trees and nearby foliage for cover by the looks of it. If they grow close, I will shoot a warning shot."

Cinna's eyes widen, taken by the man's motions- she looks around, then reaches to press right to her ear--

Rageant's posture changed visibly at Hestia's warning, and just as Bruno clocked the man, sending him tumbling to the ground - not unconscious, but reeling in pain. "Ah, what'd you go and do that for?" He'd dropped his flag now and laying on the ground he, too, seemed privy to the change in demeanor. His immediate course of action - scramble to his silver blanket, or what was more closely identifiable as a blanket made of chainmail. "About bloody time," he cried.

"Remain calm, scouts and rely on one another. This situation is still within our control."

A singular, distant "wark!" echoes through the wood. One of the birds chased off the man's wagon? Unlikely, given that it sounds from the south of the trail already passed....

Hestia's warning had come just in time; the figures in the woodland emerged, more than a dozen, charging closer to the scene and raising their shortbows to nock arrow and loose their volley upon the patrol. To their fortune, that upper hand was robbed them by Hestia's scouting. They loosed their arrows, certainly, but not before the gap could be closed or cover could be taken.

"Black... Mites. Black Flag..." Cinnabar turns her attention northbound along the trail- taking but a moment ot gather her bearings; hand upon her weapon and hairs standing on end with attention. "En garde... En garde," she repeats; firm and audible to the others in company.

From her position above, Hestia fires more than just a warning shot. Aiming at one of the on-coming figures that threatened her companions, the woman let loose an arrow into one of the mens chest.

Jacline sneers and rushes to intercept the man going for the 'blanket', aiming a kick square at his face as he reaches down! So much for playing!

"En garde!" she reiterates, had any not heard! Her halberd in hand, she aims the business-end forth; core firm and arms tensed as springs as she moves to intercept the reinforcements.

Bruno curses as the arrows come flying. He'd duck behind the wagon for cover, and struggle for a moment to draw his sword and shield. He hangs back for now, waiting to see how the others fare before he chooses his course of action.

Not quite as expedient as hoped, Svana at last reveals her change of heart and attire. Astride an overworked porter's chocobo that already grows anxious to the sight and tension of the scene she charges into the fray, leaping with the selfsame reckless vigor as she did untrained in joust. Drawing steel in midair she leaves the panicking bird to flee and closes the few yalms yet to the archers with a howl of laughter!

Rageant rushed into the fray alongside Cinnabar, but their assault was met by lancers who braced their spears and prevented them from being able to engage the archer force. Svana's unexpected attack however allowed her to break into their line, sinking her steel into an archer and incapacitating them. All the while another of their numbers were felled by a soaring arrow that came from the silent woods.

Meanwhile, Jacline had successfully driven her boot into the side of the batman's head, and he fell limp before he could take his cover.

Their line broken by Svana, a half dozen lancers paired off and engaged the three melee combatants with their spears, attempting to pierce their flesh and drive them back.

Jacline gives the downed bateman a second kick in the face for good measure. Then the arrows come, one nearly catching her in the neck as it thwips through the fur at her collar, a few more thunking into the wagon. With a grimace and a curse, the elezen ducks behind cover and returns fire at the back line!

Rageant charged his pair of foes, whipping his axe in a frenzied horizontal slice that caught one of the lancers on the stomach, drew blood, and sent him doubling over onto his knees. His armor absorbed the brunt of the other lancer's glancing assault, whom he turned to address next.

Cinnabar Prentice's attack was stifled by the barrage of arrows. Nothing managing to penetrate her layers of armor just yet. Seems they might have opted to assail the largest target they could spot, first... Typical. Even so, she intercepted successfully with the others; thrusting and chopping at the frontline- working to keep them at a distance!

Bruno stands once there's a break in the arrows. The adrenaline starts to kick in, making his blood warm up. He charges forward with a yell, into the line of lancers, managing to bat their weapons aside with his shield before he'd shoulder tackle one to the ground, and make to bash his head with the shield.

Not stopping an instant even as the line reforms in her wake, Svana becomes a winding trail of steel and mocking laughter. The two lancers contesting her are met with an unrelenting pressure of false-starts and feints to draw out useless reprisals. All but dancing around them she slips through the threat with a pair of arcing slices and hounds the retreating bowmen in turn.

Some bowmen frantically nocked their arrows in shivering hands, while others broke rank and fled at the sight of their combined assaults and their falling comrades. The lancers, embroiled as they were, pressed their impotent assault upon the Bayle fighters, though their numbers had dwindled such that they no longer outnumbered them - and Jacline's unfortunate victim was out and unconscious straight away.

She's on fire! Jacline jabs a handful of arrows into the dirt, then kneels and fires one after another, unleashing a one-woman volley on the shaken archers.

Bruno stands from his unconscious target, turning as another drops their bow and charges him with a shortsword. He blocks with his shield, chuckling. This shield served him far better than the kite shield did. Another tip from Vilette paying off. He skips forward, bringing a heavy kick down on the man's knee, breaking it backwards and sending him to the ground screaming and holding it. Another bandit is soon upon him, slashing at him with an axe. The first blow clips him, scraping his mail, before he parries a second, and then a third with his sword. He thrusts it forwards on instinct, and impales the adversary through the chest. Bruno tenses up, his heart skipping a beat as he lowers the dying man to the ground. He releases the hilt of the weapon, standing up. He looks around with a blank stare, watching as the others continue their fights.

Clink! Clack! Rip! Arrrgh! As the enemy falls, Cinnabar's advance presses forth, swallowing the remainder as the lower jaw to Svana's upper in the formation, swallowed by Bruno and Ragi... Jac? Jac was the tongue. Licky lick, slurp poke, delicious~... While most of Cinna's attacks maimed, she didn't seem keen to pursue the coup de grace on any who were unwilling to fight, from there on... Taking to defense, and scanning around for any actual threats- eye on those laid low besides.

With as many targets near at hand, none of them yet armed to ward off a close-in foe, Svana makes short work of the bandits that do not scatter quickly enough from the pursuit. Wasteless at first, hamstrings, throats, her violence becomes ever more cinematic as the final marks are made with the rest maimed or fled. In a show of excess she lets the last man draw a knife and make his defense, all but humiliating him with petty counters and persistent evasion.

With uncanny accuracy, Jacline's arrows find more marks than not, evident by the shrieks and cries. The ones that don't end up curled dying on the ground are limping or running into the trees in full rout. Hurray!

With a falling swipe of his axe, the end of his foe's lance was severed, a prelude to what awaited them. He threw his weight forward, his stocky build advantageous for doubling his foe over and brought the haft of his weapon between the foe's legs, lifting him over the Miqo'te's own back and hurling him to the ground where a final unceremonious chop parted the aggressor from his head. By now, the entirety of the attacking mob had been killed or incapacitated (but for Svana's plaything).

Even as the sounds of fighting died down around him, Bruno still just...stood there. He looked down at the deceased man who still had his sword lodged in his chest. Bruno's face looked pale, and his hands shook at his sides.

Once it's clear there's no more arrows coming her way, Jacline sets her bow aside and goes to rifle through the bateman's pockets, if he had any. Then she checks the mail shirt to see if it's her size!

<Hestia De'bayle> "Status report of everyones condition?"

Beckoning the knife-swinging-slasher with a free hand and a winded scoff even as he fights on to the brink of exhaustion and panic, she steps aside as he lunges forward in a desperate last-ditch effort to close the distance and outdo her weapon's reach... only to find that same blade at his ankle with her step aside, by its flat, as he trips and careens off the small ledge behind her.

<Rageant Lacordaire> "Bruised from an arrow hitting my chainmail but fully intact."

<Jacline Kerelle> "No holes I didn't have already! What're we doin' with the survivors?"

<Hestia De'bayle> "All apprehended personnel are to be brought to the Twin Adders nest for interrogation."

"Poor sods hadn't the faintest they were up against a gladiator." Rageant murmured.

Quiet... Relative quiet... Nothing was visible above them- around. Cinnabar was breathing hard, but steady through flared nostrils. The trembling of her hands in the adrenal rush was only noticeable once she stowed her weapon and began to settle, eyes around the fallen... She counts those who are still squirming...

<Cinnabar Prentice> "M-milady, they are numerous; wounded... some gravely... m-might we hail the, Wailers, to aid in, their return?"

Grin just a bit too cheery not to be wicked with flecks of blood scattershot across her pristine white coat, Svana quips along to that assessment, "Giving them the runaround works best when they expect discipline and rigor. Nobody'd see me in a uniform."

<Hestia De'bayle> "Yes. I will see that they are fetched to assist in the transport. Standby until then."

"I must say, I am glad I did not have to do this alone; I may've fallen prey to their trap, clumsy and slow-sprung as it was. I'll take it from here, and see that they're all given to the Twin Adder's custody. You should return to the Dawn Vigil for rest; or whatever it is you do after a battle." Rageant noted to them all.

"Bruno... Are, you injured?" Cinnabar queried the lone man of silence- though eyes flicked hastily back toward Jacline first, before finding him catatonic. "... Bruno...?" And... down, to the sword-embedded corpse.

<Hestia De'bayle> "The Wailers from Treespeak Stables are accompanying me back to the location. We shall be there posthaste."

<Cinnabar Prentice> "Aye, aye..."

Jacline takes the time to strip the batman of his shirt, then use it as a makeshift rope to hogtie him in place, then returns to searching the wagon for potential loot. Her size or not, she drapes the chain shirt over one shoulder. That'll surely trade for something good!

Bruno blinks back to life, head raising to look at the others. "Huh? Oh. I, yeah, I'm fine." He swallows heavily, trying to parch his dry mouth. "Some scrapes...bruises."

Hestia approaches with three Wailers behind her, one of them holding a hand to their ear as they seemingly report back to Gridania. "I will visit the Adders nest myself and offer them a full report of the situation," she declares. "This could potentially put the Shroud on high alert for some time."

With a grin, Jacline gives Bruno a sharp swat on the shoulder. "Heh! First time you ever stick somebody?"

Cinnabar’s still-vibrating hand comes to rest on the man's shoulder, giving the novice a pat of comfort. "... He... Would have, done worse... had he only, managed, before you," she calmly reassures him; eyes locked to his.

"How fare you three?" Hestia inquired.

Bruno looks between them, settling on Jacline. He nods slowly. "Yeah..." Was all he said. "Plenty of fights before, but never...killed anyone before."

"Mh... Shaken, but hale and whole. Mhm." Cinnabar boasted some arrows dangling from the extremities of her chainmaille and underlying padding, but nothing of flesh and bone.

Bruno reaches up, tugging the coif down and wiping his sweat-caked forehead.

"Fights for life or death are often the ones that leave their mark the deepest. I mean not to sound melodramatic in saying such, but it is only the truth: tonight will see you a changed man, Suvois. For better or worse. Let us hope it is the former." Hestia consoles.

"Where precisely did you learn to fight like that, Svana?" Rageant asks.

Cinnabar Prentice gives Bruno another pat on his shoulder, ere reaching down... The elezen is spared the gruesome deed of withdrawing steel from the corpse, but neither the unsightly wound it left behind nor the sound thereof. blade grasped behind the guard, the brand is offered pommel first to Bruno to take once more.

Bruno looks to Hestia, and simply nods to her before turning away. "Something to get used to, I guess." He said, his voice evening out a bit as his body calms down. Yet he's lacking the usual cheerful confidence that he usually carries. He takes his weapon back, pulling a cloth from somewhere in his armor to wipe the blood clean.

Jacline clicks her tongue at him and winks. "If they didn't wanna die, they'd stay home, eh? Better them than us." Despite the casual air, the elezen is visibly on edge, and she can't quite hide the tremor in her hand as she relieves her bow of its string to let it rest. She nods and smiles at Hestia, and pats Cinnabar on the arm as she passes. "Gonna get my arrows back. Waste not want not!"

"Understand this as well... Bruno. There is no shame, in sorrow. Even knowing it was either your life or his, it was still a life. Still someone who maybe had a chance to be different. But they did not give you that option. You are not weak for the pain you might feel. You are strong for it." Hestia insists.

Cinnabar Prentice jerked at the pat- clearly on edge a bit herself! But she's quick to shine a smile and nod to the dusky elezen!

With her eyes first to the scene down below Rageant's question stirs Svana along to a distracted and belated answer, "...Hm? Oh, damn good question. Couldn't tell you precisely. Somewhere between Hingashi and Sharlayan." Useless as that is she's quick to clarify, "That wasn't fighting though, mostly. Bandits, thugs, even hard ones like these... They'll lose to even numbers in trained hands, every time. This-... More of a show, really."

"...Right. Thanks, Hestia. I knew it was going to happen someday. After all, man or beast, blood's going to have to be spilled if we want to protect the good folks of this world. Probably better that it happened so suddenly,” Bruno murmured.

"Halone smiles upon you, Bruno. She understands the squall of your heart, and will help see it mended in time. Often, death is a mercy. Some are too lost to be saved," stepping forward, she offered the man a firm. comforting pat on the arm before turning and walking away.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question but I get the point. Aye, untrained rabble the lot of them, hoping for easy killings by my reckoning, they'd planned to pelt their own with arrows if that chain blanket is any indication." Rageant lowered his axe's blade so it hovered just over the grass, giving it a swift twist that shook the blood loose from its mythril edge.

".... Was there not a, chocobo?" Cinnabar blinks, looking back up the hill again, whence the bandits came.

"Yeah...Well, either way," Bruno turned to Cinnabar. "Thanks for the concern. "Today came as a bit of a shock, yeah, but I'm glad to have been surrounded by friends during the ordeal."

"If there was, it more than likely has long but run away. Cinnabar, Rageant, Bruno. I am returning to the estate and wish to see you three in my office once you return. Madame Kerelle. Svana. Excellent work as well." Hestia calls out toward them.

“You shouldn't go off by yourself, Dame de Bayle. Do you want me to accompany you?" Bruno asks.

Jacline flits from one body to the next, relieving the living and dead alike of their arrows. Along with any pocket-sized valuables they might have been wearing. There's a shrill cry as she yanks the earring out of one man's ear, only to discover he was still alive. "Ahh! Eheh.. sorry," she mutters, pocketing the trinket. Then takes the arrows out of his quiver to claim as her own. That'll save time making more later!

Hestia offers him a wordless stare, it masked behind her hawk-like visage. "I can assure you, I will be fine on my own. Thank you for the offer, regardless."

And Cinnabar blinks back to Bruno, giving another warm, if odd smile! "Mh! I... I remember the, first time I had need to... dispatch, another... I, do not care to... Kill. If, it is. Is not with need." She nods softly,. then looking to Hestia. She gives a slow nod of affirmation. "Mh... A-aye, Dame..."

Raising her weapon in a brash salute, Svana returns Hestia's praise with a chuckle, "Fast as I could get back, not quite as quick or clear as those arrows. Practicing more than a lance I see."

"An old lesson from that of my instructor. He always ensured I was well rounded. I had not much use of my old bow, but now incapable of wielding my lance, it has become far more useful." Hestia responds.

“Alright then...Just worried about there being more, is all. After all if I was them, I'd be hungry for payback right about now." Brunk adds.

“I can't land an arrow worth a damn. Depth perception issues and all that." Rageant responds with tempered jest.

Hestia snorts some. "My humblest condolences, Rageant," she reaches a hand to tap her mask. "Hawk-eye goggles. They help with viewing more than what the naked eye can see alone. Very useful for archers. I wish to have them made for any ranged units the House employs."

Bruno looks down at the life he'd ended, considering it closely. He couldn't deny the way it made his stomach turn, but he mentally steeled himself and told himself to get over it. It worked, for the most part. "Is it weird that I kind of wish I knew his name?"

Jacline returns to the group, her quiver positively bursting with new and used arrows. "We really gotta find a better class of bandit," she says, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. "Don't think these guys ever seen gold before."

"Mh... I, suppose they'll have, no such chance, now." Cinnabar shakes her head, smiling to Jacline. Something of pride in it, for the arrow-slinger's prowess!

"His name will not bring you comfort, Bruno. It will only bring you remorse forever more. You are better off." Hestia assures.

"I have to head back. Well-fought, Svana. Or rather, good show." Rageant says.

"I am taking my leave as well. Forget not my request for your presence," Hestia says without further remarks, turning to march away.

#Journal #Austere Keeper #Boisterous Globetrotter #Rose Maiden

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sleepwalkingiguess · 5 years

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Individuals utilized to exchange items and solutions for various other products and services before cash was developed, and some people still barter today to stay clear of making use of loan (primarily for tax factors I am informed). A few other excellent services are a diaper solution for towel diapering moms, and even a diaper distribution service for disposables, and also pay for the initial two weeks or a month worth of diapering products. Even the colors made use of in the textile ought to be natural and non-toxic. You may be at first attracted by all the eye memorable shades as well as the fanciness of the outfits, but if your child is not going to like it, it is going to become pointless. Jammies and also bodysuits for little infant girls been available in all different colors as well as designs, and also are created all types of weather. A couple of pieces would certainly do - a set of rompers, a set of shirts, a set of pyjamas. At the same time, you can place a T-shirt over their pyjamas. They will secure and insure any kind of loan you put into a financial savings account and pay you probably 3% annual rate of interest on your deposit. They know that if you're satisfied with your sample, even more than most likely you be come to be a regular consumer and also spend cash with them. There are really a great deal of free offers offered; you simply need to understand just how to look for them. Or search by chemical active ingredients (see listed here for some examples) and also uncover what brands have it. Next, you will get to your search engine result web page; this is a checklist of all items that fulfill your search criteria. Let us take a peek right into what makes these criteria a have to for those parents looking for infant garments. Likewise, let your very first couple of road journeys show you what you require to have along. There are numerous initial time mommies available that have a lot of information to show to you as well as they do not want you to be without the info. They wish to have gowns with breathable fabric as well as simple on the body. Is this what we have involved, - every person in our region enjoys the exact same adverts, the same programs, the exact same newspaper article each and every single day or night? Note: After attempting solitary foods, excellent mixes are potatoes and carrots or carrots as well as peas. And also not just will I examine it for him, Ill make it appear like the Elvis of foods, because Im currently quite certain that Sickness like a hamdog. He additionally describes his love interest as "this Ethiopian queen from Philly ", using the imperial characterization so usual in spiritual love stories. If you're truly strapped for cash money, after that you can possibly use utilizing your bed as a changing table, yet if you can, this is something I highly suggest. Its much better to feed baby first point in the early morning, then permit some play or rest time in between prior to giving baby a bathroom. At a "Pamper Event," a suggestion significantly popular for moms who currently have numerous youngsters and for that reason the majority of right stuff they really require, they might take house medical spa devices such as a loofah or bubble bathroom. A great bath-themed gift basket would certainly include some hypo-allergenic bath products, like baby baths, talc, towels, and also bathroom playthings.

The significant and also is that many, if not all of these totally free products, are supplied right to the mommy's house. And also, with that, allows get right down to the core. Do you have the software application you require to get going? At some point you are going to want to carry your infant, so you will certainly need to purchase something. Unless you're preparing to hang on to them for your following child, they're simply collecting dust. With a few easy skills, an useful collection of "things, " and simply a little bit of preparation and preparation, youll get on your means! There is a place for TELEVISION in our lives and it desires all the fastest way of taking in news from worldwide. Taking courses abroad Below, the poet makes use of the spiritual story to describe the moment, area as well as emotions that his love was founded on, talking them as if they were in some way suggested to occur. Maybe she thought that was her place worldwide and also no-one could fault her if she did her duties to the utmost of her capability. I when had a neighbor that informed the world and it's mom she thought tidiness was alongside Godliness as well as invested all the time on a daily basis cleaning her home. It is believed that from this you truly have the option to have a look at whatever before you even have to get something. Tight neck lines would trouble you and even the placement of switches at weird placements would certainly cause you troubles, so check these beforehand. At the exact same time the switches as well as various other components in the design should be very carefully stitched. Yet Betty had the cash money whenever I went to prison This track additionally illustrates the use of contrasting narratives to express love. This instance additionally shows making use of introductory language in conversational narratives. The poet feels it is inappropriate for anyone to "call you out your name ", or in other words, utilize disparaging language towards his love. A number of the child shower ideas will benefit any kind of place, inside your home or out. Do you desire your baby to look cute or amazing with baby clothes but you do not have suggestions on where to look for them? Price is a major thing you would certainly want to think about when purchasing child clothes. It's very easy, check out a child clothing store. Clothes care plays a large function in your child's safety. Hence, it is constantly recommended that you keep the security and comfort factor in mind also when you are buying celebration gowns for your kid. Also when you have actually bought a lacy blouse for your little girl, if you wind up getting a size that happens to be somewhat bigger than her actual dimension, she will be comfortable in it. And also, parents will be most likely to keep getting clothes to maintain up with the changes in the infant's development - size, weight, length, and also shape. Therefore, buying clothes that are somewhat bigger than the genuine size of your infants body presents will certainly be good as it guarantees optimal convenience for the youngster.

Nonetheless, these immunization procedures will just make their systems solid yet it doesn't give an assurance that microorganisms can not penetrate their method. So why did she act by doing this? The exact same thing can be real with, certainly with tube pregnancies, thats why those two can be perplexed. Yes it holds true that child clothing don't last lengthy with children expanding as quick as they do, however taking care of an infants garments is still simply as, if not even more, important. Hip-Hop, you the love of my life which's true This passage is unique since it utilizes both the metaphoric as well as different narrative methods. The presentation of Hip-Hop love stories is a very uphill struggle. As well as that leads us to the most popular metaphoric Hip-Hop love narrative of our time. Children will love this recipe. Thick and also fluffy outfits will keep the infant cozy from head to toe. Right here is a list of preferred things that has actually been looked into with some of the largest online merchants of child products. Below are some of the standard things you'll intend to have. Do you want to offer a present to a brand-new mother without investing a great deal of loan? They use it when washing to remove odors, soften the textiles, and also offer your baby and kid clothes a fresh as well as a lot more natural aroma. When you are assuming of your childs convenience, its not only about the style of the clothing youre purchasing it will certainly also refer exactly how the item rests on your children body. Consider just how much you have right into the item. The following time you are re-assembling your set, make sure to add that thing. I prefer to hang out with my friends and family, talking on the phone, choosing lengthy strolls or dancing the night away. With all that having actually been said, Ive discovered a brand-new food that I recognize I'm mosting likely to enjoy. Soon you'll uncover that having just a few wonderful clothing ends up being unwise. I had an excellent free website a couple of years ago I went to daily. Utilize your Road Adventure logbook to tape-record everybodies remarks regarding the day. This will offer no good as getting baby items indiscriminately will not simply be waste of loan yet also waste of time and also energy which you can put for some positive use. If taking a trip by cars and truck you must constantly make use of a vehicle seat as well as comply with the producer's instructions for suitable. If your journey limit disappears than a one-hour car trip one means, after that search for areas of interest within regarding 40 miles of home. Which is not a problem because much like kidneys, similar to testis, women with one ovary can have equally as numerous infants as a lady with 2 ovaries as well as 2 tubes. Evidently it is a 2x matrix, suggesting those initial two people you reached sign up with are on your first degree. You need to always have two pairs during the night time, due to the fact that you never ever recognize when a child is mosting likely to spew up or have a baby diaper leak that can call for a full garment modification.

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w0lfmaan · 5 years

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Introduction To Skijoring

Introduction to Skijoring

It's not news that humans have a passionate love affair with dogs. For over 10,000 years humans have kept dogs as companions. We used them to protect us while we sleep, help us kill our enemies, obtain food, and hundreds of other tasks. Tasks they are good at. For example the Jack Russell Terrier was bred to kill rats which helped keep down disease. One of the worlds first domesticated breeds was a version of the modern day Siberian Husky. [caption id="attachment_7829" align="aligncenter" width="800"]

Lead Dog Luna[/caption] Siberian Huskies are very much culturally known as "sled dogs" and have retained a significant amount of their wild nature. Huskies (as they are commonly referred to) are known escape artists, and love to run. Siberian Huskies are fairly small, fast, and powerful dogs. They make adequate pets but will often require a significant amount of time and energy to domesticate. Running, however is something that Huskies are amazing at! Athletic huskies can run up to 40km an hour! They can also easily cover 200km a day. Huskies prefer to be part of a pack. This means most people will find they are more stable if you have two or more. Huskies also prefer cold climates. The colder the better. Anything below +10C is preferred by the breed. However if they are brought up in warmer environments their bodies will adapt, however are not suited to running. When the weather falls below freezing, Huskies come out of summer hibernation and are always excited for adventure! If you have a husky, it's fairly straightforward to get them onto their ancestral path.

It's Not Cruel

Sled dogs have been pulling sleds for over 10,000 years! Let's put that into perspective. Imagine how different where you're reading this from looked 10,000 years ago. Was it all forest? Was it all desert? Was it covered under an enormous glacier? Was it under the water? Put yourself right where you are now, 10,000 years ago. There were no houses, buildings, cars, electricity, and most likely few people. As humans we had not even discovered how to take metal from the ground and make things like swords and bowls! Most of the world was empty, and most humans were still living in tribes and wearing loin cloths. Now imagine at this time in Siberia, your dogs ancestors were actively pulling humans on sleds, and hauling deer carcasses for food. There is a saying in the mushing community: "you can't push a rope". This reigns true in for dog sports. If your dog is healthy. If their harness is correctly fitted, and you are respectful of their limits, skjoring and dog sledding is an amazing bonding experience with your dog. If you're on a set of skis or a sled, and your dog does not want to run and pull you - your dog is not going to pull you. Nothing you can do will force your dog to pull you up the trail. Huskies will run and pull because they love running and pulling. When they are tired, they will slow down. When they are exhausted, they will stop running. When done with love and care, you are tapping into the ancestral, primal part of your canine companion that cannot be accessed any other way. Huskies are literally built for this job.

Begin With Skijoring

Skijoring is the simplest method to introduce you and your dog to pulling. It's fairly inexpensive to get started, great if you only have one or two huskies, low impact on both you and your dog, as well as a great adventurous bonding experience! If you live in a northern climate, the easiest way to do this is to visit a second hand store and buy a set of cross country skis, poles, and boots. Familiarize yourself with cross country skiing at local parks, and trails. You most certainly cant trust your huskies to pull you on skis safely if you are unfamiliar with the equipment. Don't spend your money on the newest, greatest, and latest of gear if you're not sure you will enjoy it. Older, antique equipment will work fine for your first winter. Hit the internet and your favourite search engine to learn more about different kinds of skis, poles, and boots.

The next things you will need to acquire will be a specialised pulling harness for your dog. The importance of a proper dog harness cannot be stated enough! An ill-fitting dog harness will cause severe and permanent injury to your dog! [caption id="attachment_7831" align="aligncenter" width="800"]

X-Back-harness[/caption] There are many companies that offer correct pulling harnesses for your dogs. This includes Alpine Outfiiters, and Non-Stop Dog Wear. Most pet shops will not carry specific pulling harnesses which are designed to disperse pulling weight and allow your dog unrestricted movement under load. Get out a tape measure, and follow the instructions on each website to ensure you get a properly fit harness. For yourself, a good rock climbing harness is a great investment. They are available at most sports retailers and can sometimes be purchased used. They need to fit you correctly. Do not re-use your skijoring harness for climbing for optimum safety. You can purchase specific skijoring harnesses if you wish. However most people prefer rock climbing harnesses as they have great fit and are fairly comfortable. Ensure you get a size or two larger than you would expect. This is to accommodate your winter layering. [caption id="attachment_7832" align="aligncenter" width="425"]

Rock Climbing Harness[/caption] Once you have all your proper equipment, and are familiar with cross country skiing, you can hitch up your dog and take them out onto a local, flat trail. Most times a former rail-trail is a great choice as they are always flat, and well maintained. Just be sure to pick a miserable today to go out, so there will be less people on the trail. It's best to be alone especially as a new musher your dog will be in charge as they are pulling you. Rail trails also have no sharp bends. Also very important if you're new and can't get yourself around the trail bend as fast as your dog. Be mindful that the best way to stop your dog from pulling is to fall over. This is a great, and immediate brake. Again, flat terrain is best until you are experienced. There is noting worse than an unexpected down hill and complete loss of control. This can end up causing serious injury to you and your dog. [caption id="attachment_7834" align="aligncenter" width="800"]

Skijoring Group[/caption] As with any activity, it's best to find a local group, club, or mentor to help you get started. This will ensure you are taking all the correct safety precautions with your dog, and yourself. There are also certain municipalities which have banned dog sports, and could result in a by-law ticket. Once you have had a few dozen shorter trips, you can hit the trails for a day out with your dog(s) and will find amazing satisfaction and adventure in skijoring and dog sledding. Huskies are built for, and desire this kind of activity. It's fairly simple, easy and inexpensive to get into, and will get you outside in weather when you would much rather hibernate.

A Few Warnings

As an experienced musher with thousands of kilometres under my belt, I can assure you that it will be quite an adventure. First and foremost, be sure to only by properly designed harnesses for your dog. If your boots aren't any good, your skis bad, or your jacket garbage - you'll be fine. You'll have a couple bad runs and then buy better gear. If your dogs harness isn't correct your dog will be unable to tell you of their discomfort. They can get chronic hip, back, and knee injuries that will cripple them for life. Learn to fall: This is an important skill. When out skiing without your dog, learn to fall and recover. Repeatedly. Get great at learning to fall and not get injured. One of my most serious injuries was taking too many dogs skijoring. The dogs went right, I went left, and fell. My ski pole got caught during my fall and pulled my shoulder out of its socket. When I landed my shoulder popped back into place. That injury took me over a year to fully recover from. When you're being towed at 20km/h up a trail and your ski hits a bald patch it may stop you dead. The kinetic energy of travel will still be there and you're going to go for a tumble. Controlled Falling is a great braking system: When out skijoring it's not uncommon for your dog to see a squirrel. Sometimes that squirrel is on the other side of a ditch. When your dog is in full-out run mode they connect with their ancestral, primal self and will bolt after that squirrel faster than you can imagine. As a new skijorer, your best course of action is a controlled fall to stop the dog from dragging you into a ditch, over a cliff, or other danger. It takes a while, but you'll get the hang of it. Try to be alone at first. Most humans dislike bad weather. This is a great time to bundle up with your dog, and hit the trails. Especially when you're new. Unless you are going with other skijorers, you don't want your dog taking off after another dog, or jumping on other trail users when they're 2m in front of you and you have no control over them. This can at least be humiliating and annoying and at worst end up being sued if your dog injures another dog or person on the trail. Tell someone where you're going! This is important! Lots and lots can happen when you're on a trail in winter, away from people. If you're skiing and you break a leg, and fall on your phone, it's important to have someone know when you're over due and go search for you. Bring Supplies: Again if you're alone on the trail ensure you have basic survival supplies such as matches, a lighter, water, small first aid kit, and other supplies to ensure if you do get stuck out there, you'll be able to last until help arrives. Below is a video demonstrating what running 5 dogs looks like. This was during a sled run as more than 2 dogs on skis is dangerous.

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References: MILLIKEN, Grennan - First Dogs May Have Been from Central Asia, Popular Science October 19, 2015 BENSON, Kristi - Digging into our Common Ground With Dogs April 26, 2017 Koler-Matznick, Janice (2002). "The origin of the dog revisited". Anthrozoös: A Multidisciplinary Journal of the Interactions of People and Animals. 15 (2): 98–118. Wayne, Robert K.; vonHoldt, Bridgett M. (2012-02-01). "Evolutionary genomics of dog domestication". Mammalian Genome. 23 (1–2): 3–18 "WORKING DOG". therealjackrussell.com. Jack Russell Terrier Club of America. Brown, S K; Darwent, C M; Wictum, E J; Sacks, B N (2015). "Using multiple markers to elucidate the ancient, historical and modern relationships among North American Arctic dog breeds". Heredity. 115 (6): 488.

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lezzzbraaahhhhssss-blog · 7 years

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(PSA: all lesbians/lesbros/couples/straight people, shit IDC.) seriously, just read my story... i hope it can at least help one couple if not more... i hope it can help that one person who is stuck in the idk realize the loss of their actions and feel the pain that i feel.... bc its real. pops was right, dont give up on love, dont give up on her, even when youre trying to find yourself... she already sees your beauty and who you are... stick by her bc your life will be nothing shy of amazing with a girl like that by your side.

I’ve been going through a really shitty relationship break up for a few months now... My dad sat me down the other day and told me a little something about them.... He said, baby girl, never give up on love no matter how hard it seems to be or how much it hurts.... especially in a relationship. if you find a good woman, treat her right, love her at her highs and at her lows, always tell her she is loved no matter what the circumstances are.... you see, I am the reason for that shitty break up because i had an amazing girl, a truly amazing girl, but i got so consumed by the thought of me and what i needed that i fell through and seriously neglected her. she was always faithful, always so damn supportive of me, and even when i was hard to love she still loved me. i was so selfish and didnt realize it until she was gone... i didnt realize that what i had was a one in a lifetime thing because no one can compare to her, i fucked up. its hard to find a girl who genuine, even if shes been through hell and back herself, shes still just so loving and is reasonable beyond measure. she was always willing to give a little more to our relationship when i felt i couldnt give a lot, she was always there for me... i lost my best damn friend and the love of my life because i forgot that even by putting myself first from time to time (which isnt a bad thing) that i had this amazing, beautiful woman who stood behind me and supported me 250% all the time no matter what. she was my confidant, my best friend, the person who was always there to encourage me and tell me that some of the shit i went through and the way i felt about it was justified and why because she always listened to me... even if i talked for hours on end about the most stupidest shit, she was always attentive and always had feedback. I got caught up in a whole battle between loving her too much and just being me but at the end i realised that i could be me and love her even more because she was willing to do the same for me. she treated me like her equal, she wanted us to work so badly and i just shut her out and basically told her to fuck off... words and actions i will never be able to take back... hurt that i caused her that she would never want to be with me again for... even though i thought i was doing what was best for me by finding myself.... i really lost the one thing that truly mattered the most to me, my best friend, my rock, the girl of my dreams in the process. My dad knew about all of this because i had to talk to someone because i knew that id really fucked up... he told me that love is as simple as you make and if you make it complicated and you dont communicate then youre going to fail every single time. He said that it wasnt a bad thing that iwas trying to find who i was, because everyone deserves that time to do so but knowing what i had behind me was a woman that would have compromised and done anything to make us work, was my ultimate sacrifice and my biggest regret. He loved my ex like she was his own and becuase she was always so so so very good to me. maybe in my youth and obvious immaturity i didnt realize that i had everything i could have ever wanted sitting in the living room with us that night we watched that football game. Even though she didnt really watch it and wasnt prone to be too interested in it she still sat there and was in the moment with me and my pops. that, thats a rare thing to find in someone, in a companion, in a lover, in a best friend... someone who listens, someone who doesnt mind your passions and supports them, someone who loves you for you and unconditionally, someone who will go above and beyond to make things work... a girl that is so rare that even her exes text you and tell you hey you fucked up now you get to learn the hard way like we did. a girl who is always complimented on the beautiful person she truly is on the inside and who is loved by the people, family and friends who truly know how beautiful her heart and soul is..... i took advantage of that and i lost it and i feel so empty now.... so i guess what im trying to say is, if any of you are going through that little twenties crisis where you dont know what you want, who you are as a person, or really what you want to do with life.... if you have that special someone who is there constantly supporting you, willlin to compromise with you and give you what you wnat and need, someone who just truly loves you for you with all of themselves and is willing to make what ever sacrifices neccesary at that time in your life to keep the relationship afloat... dont be a douche bag like me, dont shut that girl out, dont isolate the one good thing that you had but was too selfish or immature to see... even if it was just you trying to figure out who you were, dont push the person that has been there supporting you through everything else away.... guys shes a keeper, especially when she is willing to make sacrifices and still love you just the same and unconditionally when you arent being so easy to love.... i regret my actions, i regret treating her that way and pushing her away because now the one thing that made me happy is making someone else happy and im just sitting here watching it happen, knowing i blew it. knowing that she deserved more from me and that i should have given it to her and been right there in the trenches of our relationship with her and not letting her fight a war, that was my war on her own, even though she was there trying to give me aid, comfort, security, confidence, unwavering support and so ridiculously willing to make the sacrifies that neeeded to be made for the long run in our relationship because she saw the beauty in it, in me, in us and she believed in me and i let her down... dont be that idiot, dont be that selfish asshole, dont push the people that love you the most away even while trying to find yourself, especially if they are right there with you taking punches... she was the best thing that has ever happened to me and i lost it and i know that no one will ever compare to her... even though people are going to tell me not to compare someone to her, i subliminally am because i know what i could have had with her in the long run now, because i realise just how happy she made me now, because it took her walking away and letting me go to realise that i really fucked up. please, if youre going through it or something similar to what i had to learn the hard way about... talk to her, find a common ground at least until you know that you are who you are, dont let the fear of the unknown keep you from the best years of spending them with the absolute love of your life.... reach out to her, love her, dont be afraid to love her because if shes anything like my girl was, she loves you so much even now, even when you are being difficult, even when you dont know and youre unsure, even when you might be scared that youre sacrificing your own life and losing who you are in the process of loving them.... youre not, especially if they are there and supportive and willing to love you nontheless if not more because they see what youre going through and they see what you can become and they see the beauty in what kind of relationship you will still have together. relationships are never easy, youre always going to have to work at them, thats a fact and something else pops told me. if shes your best friend, you love her, you cant think of any other way to address her other than with a good morning i hope you slept well or an i love you or thats all youre thinking about while youre going through that period of time.... then shes the one for you, especially if she is still there just being her. being ready to take on what ever challenges you feel you may face, being ready to love you innately, being ready to compromise even on the shittiest days ever, talk to her.... dont fucking shut her out.... youre not just hurting yourself but youre destroying her. dont be a me and watch her go through life with someone else wishing and knowing that it could have been you. thats real, thats coming from the heart of an asshole who hurt the one person that would have done absolutely anything for her in this world. if anything learn from my mistake. dont let your head and your heart fight a battle, just love her and let her support you, talk to her and at least see what happens. dont give her the silent treatment when she doesnt deserve it. shes tellign you shes there for you, be there for her and allow her to do her part in the relationship, you know the part i mentioned earlier, where she listens and replies. the part where she is still supportive even when you are beign difficult or hard to love. dont be a dick, guys!!! sweet hearted people like that deserve to be treated gently, they deserve your love, they deserve to be treated like the blessings they are in their own way. if shes close to your heart and shes always on your mind and she is someone you always want to text, call, facetime, whatever... give that girl the time of damn day, give that girl what she deserves because you all know good and god damn well that if she is that wonderful to you, she would never do that to you. dont be a me, man, dont let your moment or time right now that youre trying to figure out push the one blessing and best thing that has ever come in to your life away. bc that soft spot you have for them in your heart is goign to hurt like fucking hell when they do walk away because they know their worth and they know that what they have to offer someone else is out there looking for and wanting. im serious guys, it sucks, being on the sideleines watching someone else in the place that you used to be in because you abandoned that love, fucking sucks and it hurts like a mother fucker. TREAT YOUR LOVE RIGHT, TREAT YOUR GIRL RIGHT, BE THE PERSON SHE SEES IN YOU FOR HER EVEN WHEN YOURE TRYIGN TO FIND THAT PERSON THAT SHE ALREADY SEES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#personal me realshit gay lesbians love couples PSA justreaditalready dontbethefoolonthesidelines betheoneplayingthegameoflifewiht #betheoneplayingthegameoflifewithyourrideordie

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personalcoachingcenter · 5 years

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Council Post: The Marriage You Can't Afford to Break: Sales And Marketing

New Post has been published on https://personalcoachingcenter.com/council-post-the-marriage-you-cant-afford-to-break-sales-and-marketing/

Council Post: The Marriage You Can't Afford to Break: Sales And Marketing

<div class="article-body-image"> <progressive-image class="dam-image getty size-large wp-image-935646722" src="https://specials-images.forbesimg.com/dam/imageserve/935646722/960×0.jpg?fit=scale" data-height="640" data-width="960" alt="Getty"></progressive-image> </div> <div class="article-image-caption"> <div class="caption-container" ng-class="caption_state"> Getty Getty </div> </div> </div> Relationships can be tough even at the best of times. Add digital transformation, margin compression, rising customer expectations and an evolving workplace, and you’ve got tension that can strain (or sever) any relationship. I’m often a counselor when it comes to conflicts between sales and marketing teams. From a salesperson’s perspective, nothing happens until a sale is made. From marketing’s perspective, a sale is made because there is a brand to sell. There’s clear merit on both sides, which adds further complexity. As the co-founder of Intercept Group, here are the key principles I’ve used to solve some of the toughest sales and marketing conflicts for high-growth scale-ups and global blue-chip organizations. What Sales Can Do Better Document needs. Sales professionals are on the front line experiencing customer wins and frustrations. Create a digital parking lot where the sales team can park their needs, ideas and suggestions that can be shared with marketing. In short, a digital parking lot is a single location where employees can share their feedback and suggestions. It can be as simple as a shared document or more robust to support large teams by using online form engines that can be streamlined within data visualization platforms. <div class="vestpocket" vest-pocket=""></div> It’s important to keep this parking lot clean — free of emotional-based jabs that add little value — and focused on constructive and pragmatic ideas. For example, “We lack verticalized marketing collateral to showcase our product’s industry-specific value proposition and use case, especially within manufacturing.” Identify storytelling opportunities. Marketing is constantly on the lookout for customer success stories that can validate the impact of their products and services. Being closest to customers, sales has the best vantage point to identify potential storytelling opportunities. By recommending customers for spotlight opportunities, both the customers and your marketing counterparts will feel valued and appreciated. What Marketing Can Do Better Ask first. Don’t drink your own Kool-Aid. Before producing yet another piece of content, consult with sales to get real feedback on what resonates with customers. For marketing content or campaigns to drive revenue, they need to add value within the sales cycle and ultimately solve a customer need. With declining budgets and resources, marketers must be more intentional than ever about the marketing activity we invest in. By involving sales early in the process, it gives them personal ownership over the strategy, which improves their willingness to support the elements of execution they’re responsible for. Commit to account-based marketing (ABM). Marketing is evolving from a cost center to a profit center, with increasing pressure for revenue-generating marketing tactics. ABM is garnering more attention these days, as it aims marketing activity toward specific accounts to achieve specific revenue targets. Embracing ABM doesn’t just mean procuring a shiny new marketing automation tool, it starts with sitting down with sales to review account plans and understand where marketing activity can drive profit and loss. What Both Sales And Marketing Can Do Better Show empathy. Like any relationship, having empathy for the other side is critical to finding common ground. One highly effective approach is internal ethnographies. Have someone from marketing job shadow their sales counterpart and vice versa. Walking in the shoes of your counterpart provides an enlightening experience that encourages creative divergent thinking rather than combative destructive thinking. Establish feedback loops. Both sales and marketing need to get better about communicating their pain points and desires. Set your cadence for regular feedback loops, including marketing campaign retrospectives, which should be conducted after every campaign. Promote open dialogue on what worked and what didn’t to inform future go-to-market efforts. Chat-based workspaces like Microsoft Teams or Slack can be highly effective in supporting cross-functional teams where feedback and ideas are exchanged more fluidly and organically. One universal truth is that all great relationships are built on trust. Sales needs to trust that marketing is working to satisfy a diverse set of needs across the organization with finite resources. Marketing needs to trust that sales is making the best use of the provided marketing assets to drive revenue. In today’s highly competitive climate, our time, energy and resources shouldn’t be wasted on infighting. Band together, as great teams do, and take the fight to your competition. <div style="padding: 20px 0pt;margin: 20px 0pt;border-bottom: 1px solid #DDDDDD;border-top: 1px solid #DDDDDD"> <a href="http://www.forbesagencycouncil.com/qualify/?source=forbes-text" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" data-ga-track="ExternalLink:http://www.forbesagencycouncil.com/qualify/?source=forbes-text">Forbes Agency Council</a> is an invitation-only community for executives in successful public relations, media strategy, creative and advertising agencies. <a href="http://www.forbesagencycouncil.com/qualify/?source=forbes-text" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" data-ga-track="ExternalLink:http://www.forbesagencycouncil.com/qualify/?source=forbes-text">Do I qualify?</a> </div>”>

Relationships can be tough even at the best of times. Add digital transformation, margin compression, rising customer expectations and an evolving workplace, and you’ve got tension that can strain (or sever) any relationship.

I’m often a counselor when it comes to conflicts between sales and marketing teams. From a salesperson’s perspective, nothing happens until a sale is made. From marketing’s perspective, a sale is made because there is a brand to sell.

There’s clear merit on both sides, which adds further complexity. As the co-founder of Intercept Group, here are the key principles I’ve used to solve some of the toughest sales and marketing conflicts for high-growth scale-ups and global blue-chip organizations.

What Sales Can Do Better

Document needs.

Sales professionals are on the front line experiencing customer wins and frustrations. Create a digital parking lot where the sales team can park their needs, ideas and suggestions that can be shared with marketing. In short, a digital parking lot is a single location where employees can share their feedback and suggestions. It can be as simple as a shared document or more robust to support large teams by using online form engines that can be streamlined within data visualization platforms.

It’s important to keep this parking lot clean — free of emotional-based jabs that add little value — and focused on constructive and pragmatic ideas. For example, “We lack verticalized marketing collateral to showcase our product’s industry-specific value proposition and use case, especially within manufacturing.”

Identify storytelling opportunities.

Marketing is constantly on the lookout for customer success stories that can validate the impact of their products and services. Being closest to customers, sales has the best vantage point to identify potential storytelling opportunities. By recommending customers for spotlight opportunities, both the customers and your marketing counterparts will feel valued and appreciated.

What Marketing Can Do Better

Ask first.

Don’t drink your own Kool-Aid. Before producing yet another piece of content, consult with sales to get real feedback on what resonates with customers. For marketing content or campaigns to drive revenue, they need to add value within the sales cycle and ultimately solve a customer need.

With declining budgets and resources, marketers must be more intentional than ever about the marketing activity we invest in. By involving sales early in the process, it gives them personal ownership over the strategy, which improves their willingness to support the elements of execution they’re responsible for.

Commit to account-based marketing (ABM).

Marketing is evolving from a cost center to a profit center, with increasing pressure for revenue-generating marketing tactics. ABM is garnering more attention these days, as it aims marketing activity toward specific accounts to achieve specific revenue targets. Embracing ABM doesn’t just mean procuring a shiny new marketing automation tool, it starts with sitting down with sales to review account plans and understand where marketing activity can drive profit and loss.

What Both Sales And Marketing Can Do Better

Show empathy.

Like any relationship, having empathy for the other side is critical to finding common ground. One highly effective approach is internal ethnographies. Have someone from marketing job shadow their sales counterpart and vice versa. Walking in the shoes of your counterpart provides an enlightening experience that encourages creative divergent thinking rather than combative destructive thinking.

Establish feedback loops.

Both sales and marketing need to get better about communicating their pain points and desires. Set your cadence for regular feedback loops, including marketing campaign retrospectives, which should be conducted after every campaign. Promote open dialogue on what worked and what didn’t to inform future go-to-market efforts. Chat-based workspaces like Microsoft Teams or Slack can be highly effective in supporting cross-functional teams where feedback and ideas are exchanged more fluidly and organically.

One universal truth is that all great relationships are built on trust. Sales needs to trust that marketing is working to satisfy a diverse set of needs across the organization with finite resources. Marketing needs to trust that sales is making the best use of the provided marketing assets to drive revenue. In today’s highly competitive climate, our time, energy and resources shouldn’t be wasted on infighting. Band together, as great teams do, and take the fight to your competition.

Source, Andrew Au

#Coaching from around the web

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