villagelogs | 059-061 » the place where you stop the story

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059-061 » the place where you stop the story

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Southern Mathias
WHEN: Day 059-061
WHAT: Time returns to "normal" and Mathias grants a reprieve.
WARNINGS: (PM this account to have a warning added!)
NOTES: Plotting post over here! The next log will be posted the weekend of ~~May 15th~~ May 22nd.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Nathan Johnson "Foul Play"

DAY 059-061
A BRIEF REPRIEVE
“There is no real ending. It’s just
the place where you stop the story.”
— Frank Herbert
Residents awake to a peaceful morning with the sun shining and earth remaining still. There is no unsettling shaking to rouse them at dawn, and time has continued moving onward as they slept. Whatever state they were in the night before, they remain that way now, for good or for bad.

On the surface, there seems to be little lasting effect on the tiny town from that strange series of days, save for the memories of any traumatic experiences residents may have faced — but there are always consequences within Mathias. The perpetrators of acts against the town are tormented by nightmares of those acts being used against them, and those who did not raise a hand to stop those acts of destruction may yet face consequences of their own. For now, however, the unwilling townspeople should do their best to rest and recover from the disturbing ordeals of late, for this reprieve from the madness shall surely be shortlived.

THE NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake up on the beach near The Grey Gull. It's a bit chilly out with their wet clothes, but surely there's something to help warm them inside the restaurant. They may even find some alcohol within — and not just the cowboys' homemade moonshine.

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE HISTORY MUSEUM has not fared well with the return of "normal" time. The once esteemed wooden building is now a charred ruin, the recent fire leaving behind little of the contents within for study. The structure is unstable and it is not wise to venture into the ruins for long.

— THE WEATHER conditions remain fairly typical for early fall: warm days and cool nights. It feels almost like spring arriving except that there fewer red and orange leaves on the ground and more of them oddly returning to the trees and slowly fading to green. It's like watching one of those nature documentaries that have a timelapse of the seasons, only it's going in reverse.

— THE FOG has retreated from some areas!
— Residents may now wander the southern stretch of the forest surrounding Mathias Township — it is possible to leave the paths but potentially unwise to do so.
— The fog has also retreated farther into the western section of town, now stretching across town between Stine Road and Shelley Drive. This has revealed the Chasm in the earth that stretches from one side of town to the other between Stine and Hill Lane.
— Access to the northern section of the forest is still blocked beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline; this section of fog will urge residents to stay huddled within the town proper by inducing a physical reaction of panic and fear.

— DEATHS & DISAPPEARANCES continue! Max Guevara has vanished into the fog. Claire Novak's body can be spotted on Day 059 facedown at the bottom of the Chasm between Hill and Stine, near Phillips Drive; by the morning of Day 060, her body will be gone. (Attempts may be made to reach her body but will likely not end well for those involved. Such attempts should be reported under Exploration.)

— ALCOHOL is still in Mathias! Just barely. (Supply is running very low after recent town events.) 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 was also restocked with its lower-end offerings of a variety of alcohol types. (Alcohol does not replenish as food does.)

OOC NOTES

— PROJECT HELP Your mod needs help with some projects!

— FUTURE PLANNING If you haven't, please answer the questions here for future log planning. I will almost definitely need some of these answers for the log going up the weekend of May 15, so act quickly! Late submissions will not be considered for that log.

— UPDATES Don't forget to report updates as they come up! Changes to locations (like toppling a few bookshelves in the library), big plots you have coming up that will affect the game (parties, major property destruction, etc), or exciting discoveries that may tie into the game's mythology (even the things provided by the mod) are very helpful to have in one place so relevant page updates can be made.

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

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"Well shit," Tim's muffled voice came from the vicinity of Raylan's chest. "And here I thought I had all you assholes hoodwinked." A little shit talk, to help shield the raw vulnerability he suddenly felt as a result of Raylan's words.

Because there was still that deep, instinctive need to be seen as useful and capable. That stupid, fucking instinct that kept hoping if you were just better somehow not only would the fists stop but you might hear kind words from the two people who were your world.

The instinct that had sent Raylan to Arlo's bedside in the hospital, in those moments ... hopeful.

It was the instinct that was even now starting to whisper and tenderly feed Tim's own insecurities about whatever this was to Raylan. The whispers and the inner voices that simultaneously pushed him closer and warned him that this was gonna hurt when the older marshal got bored with the sex.

Tim shivered and worked his other arm under his partners lean body. It wasn't quite a hug. More like a man clinging to life ring while floating in a very frightening ocean.

"Maybe Nelson," he murmured into Tim's hair. Maybe Tim would believe Raylan when he said he cared about the man. He'd wanted to help shield and keep Tim away from all the darkness of the place until there wasn't a choice in it anymore. That point would come for anyone who was unlucky enough to be in Mathis. Raylan couldn't stop it. He'd only wanted to delay it.

The shiver and the arm being pushed under him, which Raylan lifted a little to accomedate, was plenty telling. It didn't feel like a hug. It felt like exactly what it was. Raylan's hands spread on Tim's skin, like he could somehow hold him closer if he covered more skin with his grip, and kept his head settled on top of the snipers.

"If you're lucky, they'll ebb off without a resurgence. Until then.. It's okay to not be okay in here. It's alright." I'm not going anywhere.

Though he clung to the older marshal, less like a lover and more like a child frightened of the dark, Tim gave a small chuff of amusement.

"You further his mall cop career in the year between us. You tell him, as a present for his birthday you'll take a prisoner transport off his hands. He signs the prisoner out under his name, walks him out to you at your car and then shows up in the office feelin' all warm an fuzzy. Then he tells Art. You should never have been anywhere near that particular prisoner, forget being alone in a car. Art had a litter of kittens, puppies and maybe some guinea pigs all over the office at that."

The story had nothing to do with what Raylan had said there at the end. About the nightmare ebbing off. He'd been told the same often enough by the VA shrinks. Tim wasn't sure which was worse. Going to sleep with the expectation that your subconscious was going to attack you, or going to sleep thinking all was hunky dorey, only to find yourself trapped in a night terror.

For the moment he was crouching away from the terror of that nightmare. He was indulging in avoidance, and allowing himself to accept the shelter of his partner's arms, while he coward from the terror of the nightmare. Escaping back home, just for a few moments.

Raylan was quiet for a long moment, long enough to make it questionable as if to he'd say anything at all. He didn't understand what purpose the story served beyond jabbing at him, echoing back to the argument they'd had about week earlier. One that was only just starting to scab over. It felt like an unnecessary twist of a knife.

"M'sure I had a reason," he replied finally, and offering no more. If he was quiet and still, maybe the show of him just being there would salvage... anything. He knew it was pathetic, to take it and say nothing, to need the contact and the validation of existing in a base form, but it had been the story of his life.

A few moments of peace were worth it.

The quiet told Tim he'd done fucked up.

He lay there scrambling back over the story for what might be the... shit. Consciously speaking, he'd intended to share what was a somewhat amusing story from home. But his subconscious insecurities had snuck into the words.

"You do." Tim confirmed in a soft tone that hopefully conveyed a sense of apology.

It was the sniper's turn to go silent. As if he may have just slipped back to sleep with no further thought of the story. Nothing was further from the truth. Inside his skull he chased multiple tigers, trying to grab their tails and swinging from one decision only to one eighty back so fast the world started to spin again.

Eventually he gripped Raylan a little tighter, hide his face square in the man's chest and fessed up.

"I'm scared." Those two words were ... not easy for Tim Gutterson to say. They came at high cost. "Not of the nightmare, not of this town but of this us thing. I'm scared that it is the first thing that has felt good and brought me peace in years. I'm scared for when you decide that I'm not kind enough for you," Malcolm's words, Doc's words ... a lot of peoples' words in this town. "I'm scared that I'm not good for you, Raylan."

Had it been a good enough reason? It didn't sound like it. He knew that a lot of people didn't understand how it had to be done in Harlan. How it had to be done to get things done with the hillbilly, oxied out folk he'd grown up around. He knew it was backwoods savage. Sometimes bent the rules. But it was worth it.

He always got his man and that man went to jail. Keeping the streets safe from particular flavors of asshole every day. That counted, even if everyone else told him that the weights were off, that it wasn't worth what he had to do.

It was or what the hell was he doing with his life?

In the silence, comfortable enough with it, but fully aware that Tim wasn't asleep yet - breathing wasn't even and shallow enough for that - he knew what Tim felt like when he was sleeping - Raylan started brushing his thumb back and forth again. A silent reassurance to whatever was running circles around in Tim's head. He didn't know if the words that followed were due to it or not, but for the sake of the moment, he hoped they were.

The thumb slowed to a stop as Tim spilled and Raylan kept his lips where they were as the smaller man finished. Ah. So that's what it was. The older Marshal ran it all over in his head, the questions, the conflicts, the hypocrisy. The forgiveness he'd already extended, the one that he didn't have it in him to retract. Everyone at home was happy to lay out Raylan's flaws and misgivings. Tim hadn't joined the train until he'd gotten here. Until he was given a reason.

Raylan took a deep breath.

"Tim.. I'm not leavin'. We're partners. I don't.. know how far that goes with this in the mix but.." He pressed his lips into Tim's hair again. "What brought this on? Not bein' good enough for me, what put that into your head?"

Those strong fingers were working their magic as were the firm kisses to the top of his head. Tim was forced to give his head a slightly negating shake as a whole rush of responses came clamoring to the fore but the younger marshal couldn't navigate the onslaught to form a coherent response.

"I can't," he whispered through a tight throat. "I don't ..." he started and stopped the sound of grinding teeth echoing between them in the quiet room as Tim was hopelessly frustrated with himself.

"I want this more desperately than I've allowed myself to want something in a very long time. But I hope I can claim enough self-actualization to recognize that a relationship with me, could be toxic for you."

"Why," Raylan challenged gently, pushing forwards to put Tim on his back and take Raylan's weight with it so he could half pin the man beneath him as he pulled back only enough to be able to see Tim's face.

"If you're worried about not bein' kind enough, then be kinder. But I promise you, there's not shit that you could say to me that I haven't heard more than a few times before. I'm not going to compromise the kinda man I am. Not for you, or for Arlo, or for Winona. I still am who I am. Not even Mathis is gonna change that. You know what it's like back home. So why is this possibly toxic, in the face of all that you've already seen?"

This time Tim resisted being pried out of his hidey hole but Raylan's hands were persuasive, especially when they were charmingly determined. Tim ended up pinned on his back, the weight of his partner laid out atop him sending a shiver of subtle but undeniable sensual delight.

The question made him want to squirm downwards, try to distract the older marshal with a blowjob. It was usually an easy way to distract even the most determined of men. However, Raylan Givens was likely to grab his hair and yank him back up to talk even after getting his dick sucked.

Instead he drew his hands upward until he could cradle Raylan's face between them.

"Deputy Gutterson, I think you can probably understand why it's a little concerning that someone with no friends and no interest in friends..."

The words ricochet around in his head. They were not the sole trigger, which was why Tim wasn't going to speak to them with Raylan. But they had started a bigger ball rolling, especially with what he then observed around the town of Raylan with others.

"Raylan," he began then decided that might as well be shot for a sheep as a lamb. "I fell in love with who you are. Why would I ask you to compromise yourself? That was one of the things I never understood about Winona. How she could say she loved you, yet wanted to change who you were.

But in the same vein, I can't change who I am, even if I want to in order to be a good partner for anyone. My walls have walls, my coping mechanisms are not healthy. I am only just starting to believe I can be kind, with no idea how to go about it except in my back-handed way. And we're just scratching the surface here.

How can I say I love someone and then put them through the hell of living with me?"

Raylan didn't fight the hands encasing his face, dark hazel eyes busy locked into Tim's blues as he tried to be patient. Nothing good came from rushing someone in moments like this and he had no idea how painfully true this was in this moment.

All he knew was that they were standing on a knife's edge of how things moved in their future.

Love. Raylan's brow pinched a little, head retracting a bare fraction as he looked over Tim's features, looking for the lie, the catch, the trade off for it. I fell in love with - Past tense. Had been. Was, currently. And here Raylan had gone, sweeping into the situation to make it worse.

He wanted to sweep down and kiss Tim. Acknowledge the admittance.

"How do you know what it's like livin' with you," he responded quietly, though there was no need to. "Have you ever had that feedback? Only just startin' to believe is a step in the right direction, how else do you figure out how other than to try." His head tilted to one side in a little soft bob. "I haven't asked you to change anything. Alls I ask is that you don't kick me because you're feelin' some kinda way."

One hand was brought up to slide up Tim's forearm, stilling one of his hands so that Raylan could turn his and press a kiss into his palm. "I can take it," he murmured against his skin before he turned back, that hand moving down to slide up Tim's jaw and collect him as Raylan closed the space between them. "You don't have to be scared."

The words were whispered and Raylan sealed off any argument with a soft kiss that immediately got firmer, the longer Tim didn't shove him off and away.

Was. Currently.

The answers were there in dark blue eyes. Tim Gutterson did not do things by halves. If he was going to rip himself open and lay himself bare, then he was going to do a full job of it. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the word back from Raylan. That wasn't quite true. He knew he wanted it, but he did not expect it. Because it was a fifty fifty shot that Raylan would let him down kindly. He would realize the sex was going to be messy and just not worth it.

"How do you know what it's like livin' with you," Had he been given the opportunity he would have replied that there were nights when he didn't even want to live with himself. Nights when he was a drunk mess on the bathroom floor, or sometimes a sober mess on the bathroom floor tucked between the toilet, tub and wall with a clear line of sight to the only entrance.

There was never any rhyme or reason to it.

But then Raylan was continuing, saying words like a step and try. These were good words. Right? The older marshal's hand was moving along skin, curling around his jaw and while part of his mind wanted to point out that perhaps more talkin' would be good here, the intense look in hazel eyes obliterated that thought.

As before there was no shoving of the cowboy. There was a quiet whimper in the back of the sniper's throat (new sound!) but he lifted into that soft kiss, lay back with unspoken welcome as the kiss became firmer, lips parting in a way that was more submissive than the last time they'd tangled so sweetly. Tim was too raw to try to bring his more dominant tendencies forward. Instead he left one hand to frame Raylan's jaw, fingertips brushing softly at the tender skin just behind his ear. The other slid possessively over the older man's shoulder, curling and hand splaying wide enough to span the breadth between Raylan's shoulder blades; drawing him closer.

Love was not something Raylan easily admitted to. Hadn't fully admitted to with a man that he'd technically been sleeping with longer. Numbers wasn't a game to be played here, everyone struck even with Raylan's time and attention, even with the time spacing difference between them.

Raylan needed more than a week to decide how he felt. To decide if he was comfortable enough unpeeling himself the way Tim had unburdened himself. It was a high cliff and Raylan wasn't sure what was at the bottom. He'd learned his lesson, to a point with his last relationship. He also knew that didn't mean that if Winona called him, he wouldn't answer. Raylan always would. Responsible for their security. A duty he didn't take on lightly.

The kiss wasn't a precursor to anything else; Raylan didn't plan on it leading anywhere else, but it was a way of accepting what Tim had told him without hesitation or concern. The whimper he'd earned from it only told him the kiss had been needed. Some affirmation that he was still here. That he wasn't leaving. After a long sink in the warmth of it all, Raylan broke the kiss by rolling their foreheads together.

"I know the situation ain't ideal here. No fairytale book endin' to be found in Mathis. But I want to try. To be able to give you some of that peace. That comfort. Yes. Malcom and Henry have some claim on my affections. I can't deny them either. Maybe that makes me a bad man. I'm not sure that I care. Lovin' people isn't exactly my forte and here I am entangled with three men that I'd pull the damned moon from the sky for if I could... Last thing I wanna do is hurt you."

"I would never ask you too," Tim replied his eyes closed now as he rolled to nuzzle his temple into that forehead rub. "If I had my shit together..." he began, took a deep breath and dug deeper into the raw wounds he was exposing. "If I had my shit together, we'd held off on this until we were back home."

Because Tim did recognize that he had that key advantage in this situation. Raylan should not have to feel as if he had to split his time three ways.

"If I wasn't a goddamn mess who couldn't get out of his own fucking way," Tim began, vicious anger aimed at himself. "You wouldn't have to be dealing with this."

"Stop that," Raylan growled softly with a shake of his head against Tim's. "You're not a burden. Your feelin's aren't a burden, this," he continued, hands tightening where they were on Tim possessively, "Isn't.." He sighed against Tim's cheek, shifting enough to rest their temples together.

"I'm not dealin' with you. With this. Like it's some burden for me to carry, some.. obligation or responsibility.." He clucked and shook his head again, pulling back to pull Tim back into focus. "Love is always a mess. Makes a mess of us. Nothing to be so hateful towards. Let this be a good thing. Let this be somethin' we can take home with us. Let me love you back."

Tim wanted to curl up in the fetal position. Curl around his vulnerability, put his shoulders and his back against the forces battering against him and ride out the storm. Except the storm was internal and Raylan was giving him no quarter. Tim knew if he shoved, if he said the word the older marshal would release him and he could run.

The way he always ran after any sort of intimacy.

But that option was so far in the rearview, the Ranger wasn't entirely sure how far back he'd crossed the line, where running away from Raylan Givens was ever an option.

He heard those last words 'Let me love you back' and he did not take them lightly. Probably bruising Raylen pretty profoundly when his hands closed around him in response to the words. Because Tim didn't dare open his mouth. The moment was delicate, precious and he was in a tailspin.

A small hitch in his breath escaped him and Tim worked his arms around Raylan, gathering him close in an embrace that was not about sex; it was about an intimacy that lay beyond. He should have words to give back to Raylan but the cowboy had always been the wordsmith between the two of them and so the younger man tried to convey with his body, what he couldn't with words stuck in a throat so tight, he could barely breath.

"I am overwhelmed and not okay. But I hear you and I want this and all the mess that comes with it. I want to take it home. I'm not running from you."

Raylan knew none of this was easy. Even if they'd been at home or in a shack up in the mountains. It wasn't ever going to be easy. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve the honor of getting to see and be the focus of Tim Gutterson's affections but he wasn't going to ruin it if he could help it. He knew now what fragile cargo he carried in his pocket.

He took the tightening of hands and didn't fight the embrace, gathering Tim tightly and rolling back a little on his shoulder so he could get his hands around the sniper completely again. He couldn't know what was going through Tim's head but he understood the grip. Tim wasn't leaving. Wasn't running away from something that was, admittedly, terrifying for both of them.

Raylan had never had this without the other person eventually breaking away. Leaving him for someone, something else. He couldn't say if that would happen here. Malcolm had already made clear that Raylan shouldn't pin any hopes on seeing him after Mathis and Raylan doubted he'd ever see Doc - they couldn't be from the same worlds either. It was break that had already happened, even if they hadn't caught up to it yet. But he couldn't be sure that Tim wouldn't fall into lockstep with everyone else.

It wasn't enough to stop him.

"It's alright," Raylan murmured into his ear, stray thumb brushing back and forth. "We got time, darlin', so much time."

They were a hell of a pair, each wrestling with the fear the other was going to cut and run.

When Raylan started to move, Tim panicked. There was no other word for it, he panicked and his arms tightened in a grip that could easily be bone crushing. It was a brief moment before the sniper's brain caught up with his body and he recognized that the older man was merely shifting onto his side so they could hold each other more comfortable.

The younger man rolled and it was his turn to tangle their legs together and once again resembling an octopus as he wrapped himself around and against his partner. He still couldn't speak, fought through a wave of anger at himself that he couldn't even manage the words 'We do, we have time because I'm not walking away from you' but the words felt clumsy in his head and fell so short of the commitment he felt towards the cowboy that it would have been offensive to utter them.

He pushed into the stray thumb, the warmth and the gradual realization that neither of them had to jump up for the next few hours. Raylan was going to find himself gripped tighter if he tried to move, even though Tim's breathing slowly evened out in the shallow, steady cadence of sleep.

He didn't plan on moving anymore, now that Tim's arm wasn't in threat of being cut off due to lack of circulation - He hoped, anyway. Raylan measured the slack of Tim's body against him as the sniper slipped back into sleep. Raylan wanted to be a safe secure place for Tim. He wanted to support him through whatever was rattling in the younger man's head, whatever Mathis hoisted on top of that hell. He wanted to make up for the years he hadn't allowed himself to pay attention.

Once he was sure Tim wasn't going to say anymore, once the sniper had slipped into some much needed sleep and Raylan suffering a few twitches of sleep of his own, he let himself drift off. The dark embrace came with a few short starts as Raylan pulled himself up out of nightmare after nightmare, hands clinging just as desperately at Tim as he was being gripped as he breathed in the reality of Tim in his arms.

It would be okay. They would be okay. They had to be.

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059-061 » the place where you stop the story

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