villagelogs | 037-040 » the reason for time

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037-040 » the reason for time

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central Mathias
WHEN: Day 037-040
WHAT: The dead return and the living wake to changes within Mathias Township.
WARNINGS: Some explicit sexual content in threads. (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here!

RECOMMENDED ♫ Kammarheit "Sleep after Toyle, Port after Stormie Seas"

DAY 037
THE DEAD RETURN
“The only reason for time is so that everything
doesn't happen at once.” —Albert Einstein
The dead return to Mathias forever changed by their experiences. Waking along the beach, near the tree line, or among the graves, they will find that their bodies are not as they remember them. They are whole again and not torn to shreds by the shadow creatures that cannot be described, but they are also not as they were before the Hunt. These residents will find, so strangely, that their bodies are in the physical state in which they first arrived in Mathias — any injuries or recovery they have made since their initial arrival no longer exists, as if their time in Mathias has simply been a horrible nightmare. Except they all now carry a last reminder of the Hunt with them: spiderweb-thin healed scars marking their injuries from the Hunt. Those who were injured by fire in the other realm also carry those burns with them.

The dead are not the only things that have returned to Mathias. Inexplicably, fall is back, with the temperature finally reaching above freezing and snow falling from trees to reveal beautiful autumnal colors. As the sun rises higher in the lightly cloudy sky and the day warms, the snow begins rapidly melting, puddles growing in the slowly revealed grass and little rivers forming in the streets. And with that snow comes the frozen blood from the deaths to the Hunt, tinting the street river on Phillips Drive a sickening shade of red.

Another oddity that residents will notice: houses with broken windows from the encounter with the fog on Day 015 have now been completely repaired, though any boards put in place are still there somehow. A small bit of good news, at least? And truly, how kind of Mathias to clean up its own mess.

Finally, alcohol is back. Enjoy in moderation, friends, for more will not be arriving the following morning.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the beach near The Grey Gull. It's quite chilly out with their wet clothes, but surely there's something to help warm them inside the restaurant. Indeed, their timing is perfect, for alcohol has finally returned to Mathias Township — and not just the cowboys' homemade moonshine.

DAY 038-039
THE CHANGE OF SEASON
The continued warm weather proves that the unseasonable shift of the previous day was not merely a fluke. Once again, the sun rises and brings with it a temperature that feels almost spring-like, save for the fact that each day there seem to be more and more leaves on the trees in hues of red and orange. For those who have been in Mathias for some time, this new type of weird may be almost normal at this point, but newer arrivals will likely find it quite odd.

The gently trickling river running along Phillips Drive is still somewhat pink in color as the snow continues to melt and refreeze each night. By Day 040, the bloody snow will finally be gone completely, though the relief will be... short-lived.

DAY 040
THE BLINDING WHITE
In the late morning of Day 040, when the sun is visible through patchy greyish clouds, the fog sweeps into town like a like a tidal wave. It moves in quickly and without warning, not from the waterfront but the forest, cascading through every street in a thick wave of white. Rather than a soft blanket enveloping the town, it is a heavy weight pressing down, blotting out the sky in a way that almost feels suffocating, for none can see further than their outstretch hand.

Those outside when it rolls in are left wandering blind, stumbling toward shelter as you're unable to even see your feet beneath you, let alone any obstacles in your path. Perhaps you call out for help, hoping for another voice to guide you toward shelter or simply another living soul. Or perhaps you were lucky enough to already be inside when the fog descended, quickly closing doors and windows to keep it from creeping in.

Unlike the last time the fog swept into the town, residents who encounter it are not immediately killed. Instead, they are simply disoriented, possibly losing their sense of time and place, and it is only after prolonged exposure that they will begin to feel off. A sense of being ill will cling to them if they are in the fog for too long, including dizziness, lightheadedness, or nausea — the time it takes to manifest varies from person to person, as does the duration it will last after leaving the fog.

By nightfall, the fog still has not dissipated.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER conditions are fairly typical for late fall: chilly "sweater weather" days and nights that can dip just below freezing. You don't want to be outside without a coat, but it won't kill anyone if they bundle up. Probably.

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the western section of town, beginning just past Hill Lane, before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be between Hill and Stine Road. Venturing into the fog blocking these areas is ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue. Castiel and Sam Winchester have vanished, and Dean Winchester has not returned with the others after his death during the Hunt.

— THE GRAVEYARD has now seen around a dozen burials, both below and above ground. With the weather warming, though, something may need to be done about the handful of temporary graves aboveground...

— ALCOHOL has returned to Mathias! A small stock of beer and cheap wine may be found at the General Store, and some homes may have a small store of alcohol in the fridge or pantry. The Grey Gull has also been restocked with its lower-end offerings of a variety of alcohol types. Alcohol does not replenish in the same way as food.

— THE GREY GULL has been cleaned up and stocked with moonshine. Along with the newly restocked usual offerings, the place almost seems like an actual bar again.

— THE GENERAL STORE is in a bit of a state following the brutal slaughter of two residents during the Hunt. Cleanup on aisle 3, anyone?

OOC NOTES

— FOOD is now being mysteriously restocked as per usual, including inside homes and at the General Store. Alcohol is not being restocked. Use those rationing skills, friends.

— REWARD REDEPEMPTION is back and will soon have a new option for anyone looking to spend big AP and learn a bit more of the lore of the town.

— MADNESSES due to the Hunt have been earned by Klaus Hargreeves, Ellie, and Malcolm Bright and may now be claimed. Players may also claim additional sanity loss from the aftermath of the Hunt; only losses from the Hunt itself have been deducted from totals thus far.

— SANITY REGAIN is now available! Players will submit a form with some details of the progress their character has made and the mod will review and decide on the numbers of points that will be regained.

— MOD STATUS The usual reminder that it's mostly just Amy steering this ship for now, so things will probably be pretty slow for a while. Apologies in advance, and please don't feel shy about pinging me if you're stuck waiting for something.

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He has spent hours watching different women beautify themselves in front of a dresser. They did not have lipstick that came in a plastic little tube in his time.

"I have. It all looked different." And he's never had the pleasure of being trapped in one of those big stores and asked his opinion about things he frankly has no expertise in. There aren't enough people in Purgatory to fill up a store of the scale and magnitude that Negan might be talking about.

"And we did not have refrigerators to store these things in." They had managed to make do without.

"I guess-- back when you're from, it would've." Hard to wrap his head around all this time mindfuck shit sometimes, but he's still hoping this guy is just a loon who gets off on pretending to be Doc Holliday or something.

Like King Ezekiel back home.

"The fridge is a new one to me. Lucille--" He didn't mean to say the name, but it's fucking out now so Negan just focuses on his goddamn cards and go on like it's nothing.

"She took over our bathroom, had a little vanity full of the shit where she'd sit and get ready every goddamn day. She didn't need even half the stuff she put on her face either." But when do women ever listen when it comes to shit like that?

And before things get too sappy or too depressing again-- "What, you wanna make this a real sleepover and do each other's nails? Could braid your hair..."

"I would rather the blowjob," Doc replies dryly. Although he is not opposed to having a hand in his hair while he is receiving said blowjob, or any other gifts below the belt.

"After a while your nice words are not enough, anyway. It's a ritual. Layers you wear to leave the house with confidence and feel better able to take on the day. Especially if you know it's not going to be a good day. When the medication feels worse than the illness itself."

Doc clears his throat and draws a card. He is all out of reds or ones.

"This isn't very seductive conversation. I was hoping you had something more substantive to charm my pants off," he laments quietly, giving Negan an opening to change the topic.

"All I have to do is threaten you with a little braiding to get you back on blowjobs?" He lets out a laugh. His attention is momentarily drawn away from the card game and he reaches for his glass to take a long drink from it.

Focusing on the warmth settling down in his belly is easier than that topic. "Oh, is seduction what you want, sweetheart?"

He puts his glass back down. "I'm not sure I've got the kinda cowboy charm you do, but I gotta say... you are distracting as hell sometimes. Nice eyes, nice mouth... definitely a nice ass. Hell, even that accent of yours is charming."

He gives a look. "How am I doing?"

Mostly he isn't so keen on what Negan might want to do with his luscious locks, if things are going to get a little more vicious than a bit of hairpulling.

"Well. You surely seem to know a way to a man's heart," Doc observes with just a tinge of a drawl. Or into his pants, as the case might be. Negan has plenty of charm; he just squanders it saying and doing stupid shit. To his defence, everyone else in the house gets along fine with him, or so it seems.

"I suppose you aren't too bad yourself." Although Doc can't say he's really been looking. Every time Negan catches him looking he might be glaring daggers or holding back an eyeroll. It's easy for things to get lost in the mixed messages.

"I appreciate having someone to smoke with, at least." Drinking with Raylan is not exactly the same.

"I don't do too bad, I've been told." Not if someone's type is loud asshole, at least... and people tend to dig that whole bad boy in a leather jacket aesthetic a hell of a lot.

"Oh, just not too bad, huh?" Considering Doc's general reaction to him, he can't say he was even expecting that much of a glowing review. He gives an easy grin.

"Yeah," he agrees, a little more genuine than he tends to be generally. "Same, Doc. You're not bad company at all."

He studies his cards a little more intensely than necessary, tossing one down to the pile as he suggests-- "You got anywhere else to be tonight? And no, I'm not about to bring up blowjobs or anything frisky."

... But not sleeping alone might be nice. He hasn't been sleeping much at all between the goddamn nightmares and expecting to wake up back in that fucking hellscape. Maybe some company will ease that up a little. Can't always go bug Klaus for it -- he doesn't want to give the wrong impression here.

"No." He would simply return to 1306, see if Malcolm needed the company for that night, or sit around with Raylan, or try to keep an eye on Neal to make sure he doesn't have a sudden compulsion to tear his clothes off and run naked down Phillips Drive. He would loathe to call it attention-seeking or thrill-seeking but Neal is definitely something-seeking and he isn't sure how to help, or if it is something that could even be fixed at all.

But the three of them have each other's backs, so. It would be remiss of him to leave Negan on his own, anyway, knowing that he's spending the night solo here.

"'tis a terrible, thankless burden, but I would stay, here, with you, even if you aren't offering to give me a blowjob for my efforts." Doc huffs a sigh as he leans over again to draw another card. They can't possibly have used up all the reds already, surely. The game's barely started.

There's not a way to fix much, it feels like. All they can do is try to keep each other going, keep their heads up above water. At least that part feels as familiar here as it does back home. There's a satisfied, maybe relieved smile when Doc agrees to stay.

"Well, don't say that. We don't know where tonight'll end up." Negan's planning on at least trying to steal that kiss, even if he doesn't win their little game.

"At least we got a nice bed to crash in for the night. I already checked."

Bold and presumptuous of him to assume that Doc would share a bed with him. At least this time he's not wrong.

"Big enough for two or am I going to end up on the floor?" Because this seems to be a bad habit that they're developing, where Doc lets Negan have the bed. It actually stems from an ingrained sense of being kind and courteous towards the older folks - not that Negan is that old, and technically Doc is older in the magnitude of generations - more so than any kind of attraction or masochism. Although Negan probably misattributes his intentions anyway.

"A nice bed and hot food is more than I can hope for." At least Negan had taken Doc somewhere nice. Unlike a certain Marshal who tried to make moves while they were trapped in the underground tunnels.

"Plenty big enough for two." If he thought for a moment that Negan was letting him have the bed because he falls under older folks, he'd insist on the floor out of sheer stubbornness. Fortunately, Negan just assumes it's just hospitality and Doc being a good guy under the usual irritation Negan receives.

"Suppose we could wrangle us up some dinner that doesn't involve lipstick or nail polish if you're getting hungry." There's something around here surely.

"You'd be surprised at my prowess in the kitchen..." Not that it matches some of their housemates' tastes, but he can whip up some fine spaghetti and good old fashioned American stables at least.

"Well if you are going to cook for me. Who am I to turn such a gracious offer down?" Although one could argue that lipstick and nail polish would only add to the dinner experience. Doc isn't expecting a Neal Caffrey nine course intercontinental extravaganza and considering he was contemplating cat food not so long ago, he's probably going to be difficult to disappoint.

"Shall we finish this game first? You look like you might be winning this round."

Hey, he wants to charm Doc, but he's not about to put on lipstick and polish to do it. He'll just have to be content with Negan braving his fear of anything that could cause a potential flame to cook him dinner.

"Oh, we are for damn sure finishing this round. Remember that kiss we got on the line? You better pucker up, buddy." He'd rub it in that maybe Doc's not an absolute winner at every card game, but-- you know. He's not looking to start bickering or fighting when there's other things their mouths could potentially be doing.

"Then you can sit your sweet ass in here while I go get dinner ready for us."

"I'll get better after a couple of learning rounds," Doc excuses his poor performance with. He might try a different tactic later, play numbers first and colours if there are no matching numbers, get Negan to draw more cards earlier, see how far he can get.

"Don't get too carried away now." There's only so many places Doc is willing to place that kiss unless he loses three times in a row. "There are only so many degrading things I am willing to do in the one night."

"Sure you will." Not going to stop Negan from trying, just so he has something to hold over Doc later.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart... you keep as much dignity as you want. I am perfectly fine being the one degraded all night long though, just saying." He gives a playful wink aimed at Doc as he places a card down and since he's only got one left--

"And I think that's Uno, motherfucker."

"My, you do have an awful competitive streak," Doc drawls in quiet observation as he plays a yellow seven. It's the only thing he can play, and he just has to hope that Negan doesn't have a yellow or a seven. Or maybe hope that he does, if it means he's going to finish the game and try to initiate some kind of post-apocalyptic mating ritual by cooking Doc dinner.

Idly he has to wonder if he gives off gentleman in the streets and freak in the sheets vibes, or if this is just Negan's usual brand of taunting. Certainly he would like to think of himself as fairly charming and self-restrained.

"Sounds like all talk and no substance to me. I would hate to make you cry."

"What's the fun in it if you're not playing to win, right?" He does have a competitive streak. Although honestly, he's vulgar with pretty much everyone he meets, always has been. Half because he likes to see the reactions and half because that's just who he is... or maybe it's all just a game of power and making damn sure everyone knows he's a prick right off the bat.

Right now isn't for deep thought though. Right now is about Uno and getting that fucking kiss.

"Oh, I'm not the one that's gonna be crying, Doc." Because guess who has the winner this round. That's right, it's this asshole right here.

There's a slow grin that tugs at his lips, a waggle of the eyebrows. "You ready to let me collect my prize?"

Doc neatly closes his fan of cards and sets them face down on the table. With a small sigh, he rubs his hand down his thigh before reaching up to adjust his hat, in case Negan wants some tongue action that most decent men would no longer constitute a kiss.

"Very well then. Where would you like it?" He would hate to be perceived as a sore loser and he's done worse things drunk. Hell he's done worse things sober. A bit of degradation is tolerable.

There's nothing wrong with a little tongue action, but he thinks Doc might actually be a biter so probably best to not risk it this soon in the game.

"Lips, of course." He could have said something dirtier, but hey, he actually doesn't want to sour the evening before they've even had dinner.

And because Negan is a man who does shit and doesn't wait for it, he leans forward to go for that kiss, one hand reaching out to rest at the side of Doc's face and guide him in for an entirely nice and proper kiss, no forced tongue action and nothing too lewd. See? He can be a fucking gentleman if he wants.

Doc tips his head where he is guided. It should probably feel more unpleasant than it does. But it just feels like a kiss. One hand reaches out to hold Negan's waist, sliding down slowly to his hip. It probably should have been chaste. Tongueless. Brief.

Doc doesn't realise how not chaste and not tongueless and not brief it is until he realises his back has hit the couch and he's got Negan on top of him, his hat lying upside down on the floor. His hand still rubbing the outside of Negan's thigh while he tilts his head the other way and lifts his head off the cushion, chasing nips and nibbles tugging on Negan's lower lip between his teeth. The fabric of his pants creak as his legs, limited in their movements, try to find the edge of the couch cushion or the armrest to dig his heel into so he won't drop off the edge or risk Negan rolling off of him and breaking the coffee table next to them.

Well. At least Negan's definitely right about one thing. Doc is very, very likely to be a biter.

See, Negan had expected a little peck and then he'd be on his way. So to say he's a little bit surprised when there's grabbing and sliding down on the couch is probably an understatement, but-- goddamn is it nice.

He doesn't even realize how not brief it's become even by the time he's reaching out to brace himself against the arm of the couch as he settles over Doc. It's all about the firm, warm body underneath hims and all the eager groping of that wandering hand that leaves a wave of want coursing through him. This part's always easy for Negan to sink into. This part's always been extremely fucking easy actually, falling into a heated rhythm with someone else, foregoing any goddamn rational thought on whether it's a good idea or not.

All that matters is the off-handed satisfaction knowing he's right about that mustache tickling and the way his free hand sliding down over Doc's side and down lower to see just how far he can get with groping through those tight jeans.

He might not mind that biting so much, actually. There's a sly smile into that kiss as teeth pinch and nibble at his lower lip before there's the teasing brush of a tongue, a coaxing to let him delve in even deeper to get a proper taste.

If they're going to make out on the couch like a couple of teenagers, they might as well go all in, right? At least until one of them makes the wrong move and ends up on the goddamn floor or something.

He'd gone from a month of behaving and keeping his hands to himself to a lot of things happening in quick succession. It's not like he doesn't know what Negan's been gunning for. The man is not exactly known for being subtle. But he doesn't know if Negan is after a trophy, if Doc is just another wife to add on the list of whores he's fucked, if he's after the man they made Doc Holliday out to be or if he's fine with the man in front of him writhing on the couch, or if he's after something else altogether.

Honestly, he should probably care, but he doesn't. There doesn't seem to be a middle ground in between being a harlot and a dirty little secret. He's fine with occupying either extreme.

That hand grabbing his ass earns Negan a quiet little moan but when it dips too far between his legs the whimpering morphs into a low growl. Doc bucks up from the couch and nearly snaps his knees shut. A fist twists in Negan's shirt while his other hand splays over the side of Negan's chest, inadvertently palming his nipple as he pushes up firmly against him and turns his head away to break their kiss.

"Easy," he hisses, swallowing the lump in his throat, breaths coming fast and shallow as he relaxes again. "You're gonna get me hard in these pants." And then they won't be able to come off.

Considering he's not sure if that whole Doc Holliday shit is real or this guy's just batshit crazy, he's definitely fine with the man who's writhing under him on the couch -- whoever he is. He's entertaining, he's definitely hot when he's moaning under him, and he's not half-bad company when they're both not spitting venom at each other in annoyance.

As for whatever this is-- maybe even Negan doesn't know. Sex is the last good goddamn thing they've got, something they're hardwired for even when everything else is shit. Everything is definitely shit right now and Negan's definitely seeking some sort of distraction with somebody he actually kinda likes. Doesn't have to be about trophies or wives or anything besides getting in these fucking obscenely tight pants and making each other feel good for a little while.

Or that is what it'd be about if legs weren't snapping shut too quick for him to get any further. There's still a low rumble as hands twist in his shirt and it takes a hell of an effort to not chase those lips, try to get them right back to where they were with the mindless pawing and making out. He relents though, his hand sliding back up higher, rubbing over the outside of his hip in a far more soothing motion.

"And that'd be a shame," he manages after a moment, voice low, a little rougher. Lips move to what's now exposed of Doc's neck, grazing over the skin there first before closing over the pulse point.

"I don't suppose it'd be more agreeable to you if I got you hard out of the pants, right?" Unless Doc tells him to fuck off and make dinner right now, Negan isn't sure that's gonna happen anytime soon.

"Wasn't joking when I said I know a trick or two to do with my mouth."

The couch doesn't seem too happy about the two bigger-than-teenage men kicking and humping on it, groaning and creaking as Doc slowly ceases his struggles as Negan gets closer to finding his off switch hidden in that curve where his neck melds into his shoulder.

The dozen things rolling about in his mind, the worries, the reservations, the things he finds really grating and frustrating about Negan slowly empties out as he nods a few times, agreeing without complaint. His own hands drift lower to help loosen the belt and undo the button and zip, although it's going to take a lot more kicking and writhing if he's going to try and take his trousers off by lifting his butt off the couch without getting up properly.

"If it'll shut you up," he quips breathlessly, all bark and no more bite once he falls a little more still again beneath Negan. Has he told Negan lately he's annoying as shit? It's been a while by now, surely, and he's overdue for a reminder.

"Oh, I know not to talk with a full mouth, don't you worry." Doc can call him as annoying as he wants, but he's the one dropping his fucking jeans real quick here. Not that Negan is complaining.

Eager lips move over the expanse of his neck and shoulders as Negan's hands slide down to tug at his trousers, sliding them down. They don't have to come off properly, they just need to come down enough for Negan to claim his prize. Fingers brush over warm skin along the tops of his thighs and in.

"But you-- you should make all the goddamn noise you want." There's a grin pressed against Doc's skin as he palms over him again -- this time there shouldn't be any complaints or snapping his legs together, right?

It would kind of ruin the image of the stoic and cool gunslinger to be howling like a common whore - nevermind that he's quite a prolific one - but he's slowly coming undone by the promise of release after days (perhaps weeks) of pent up frustration with this place, eager to reconnect with someone from a house that was lonely and quiet for a day too long, someone who's clearly been working away at him chipping at his resolve for about as many days as they've known each other, someone he thought he was going to die with and ended up having to take care of Negan's remains anyway (selfish asshole that he is), and Doc's not kicking up too much of a fuss right now letting Negan tug on his loose threads.

He's not Lucille. They can't make amends for the marriages they wrecked, like this. But he'll never be too sick to put out ever again and Negan would likely never be too tired to fuck either. That's all this is - just a fuck to cut the tension that's been building since the museum. There's no emotional misattributions or complications at all. They can both do just sex just fine.

Those legs don't move too much this time around and Negan gets at least one noise out of him, a quiet, low little sigh as his hips move encouragingly, stomach going taut as a hand finds its way through short strands of dark, oddly soft hair. His other hand starts to wander, not too low as to get in the way, but low enough to get under the hem of Negan's shirt and tug it up partway, enough to feel the hard and soft edges hiding beneath those layers of an oddly familiar tough, hardened exterior.

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CW: sexual content

oops that shoulda been there a few tags upstream 😆