#did you have a nice nap arthur?

[championrevali]

It's about time he came back

Article under the cut

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 4

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

The sheets didn't smell like Max anymore. Colette had changed them over a week ago.

She ran her hand over the empty space next to her, the sheets cool to the touch. Empty. Alone. 

Colette wished Max was there. That she could simply turn around and he would be there. But he wasn't. 

Bébé took that moment to kick her bladder and she sighed as she pushed herself to sit up. 

The sun was lower on the sky an she knew that she must have napped at least a few hours. "Bathroom and then we can see what we'll have for dinner," she suggested to the baby.

She got an answering kick in response that made her snort. 

After taking care of her business, she made her way to the kitchen, feeling a rumbling in her stomach.

To her surprise, Colette wasn’t alone in their apartment. "You do know that I am adult, right?" she asked her mother and her oldest brother drily as waddled into the kitchen. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, probably busy with his actual job. "I can be left alone. Chances are I'll just go back to watching reruns of Real Housewives this evening," she said drily.

Neither of them laughed at this. She looked up from opening the fridge to see their...very serious expression. Colette paused, a cold feeling of dread worming its way into her stomach. Something was wrong, she could tell by their expressions. "What?" she asked, closing the refrigerator door.

Was something wrong with Max? With Cha?

She had never outright believed in the whole idea of twin telepathy or anything like that...but Charles and her had this...thing. If something was really wrong with each other...they could feel it.

And she couldn’t feel anything…not like that, not right now.  

"Did...did something happen to Max?" Colette asked shakily, almost afraid of the answer. Her mind instantly went to the worst-case scenario. "Is he...okay?"

Her mother and brother traded a glance, which did nothing to calm her nerves. "Max is fine," her mother promised her. "Why don't you sit down, Choupinette?" This also wasn't calming her.

"Enzo?" Colette asked, her voice shaky.

"Nobody is hurt or dying," Lorenzo promised her quickly. "It's...complicated."

Colette nodded, lowering herself into a seat at the kitchen island. Her heart was still racing, palms a bit sweaty.

"Complicated how?" she asked, her voice a bit hoarse.

"I would like to preface this by saying that Arthur didn't...think this through," Lorenzo said with a grimace.

Colette's eyes widened in disbelief. "Arthur...what did he do?" she asked immediately. 

"He may have posted that post you made on your stories in his," Lorenzo said carefully.

Colette's jaw dropped open in shock. "He...he WHAT?!" she nearly shrieked, hands gripping the edge of the table.

What? How could her brother do this? How could he...

That ill-thought out post she had made...with a Taylor Swift lyric that she had thought was cute...to her less than 200 followers that all knew about her and Max anyway…

What? How could her brother do this? How could he...

Colette's hands were shaking now as she tried to process what her brother had done. "Are you serious?" she finally managed to whisper.

And now it was  out there. For EVERYBODY TO SEE. Everybody. Everybody could see her post about Max. Everybody could see her saying that Max came straight home to her.

They had spent 15 years keeping their relationship a secret. And now...now there they were.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to calm the panic that was welling up inside of her. "Oh god...oh god," she muttered, her mind racing.

"People are going to see that. Max's fans are going to see that," she whispered, her stomach clenching. "Oh god, they're going to see it and figure things out."

Her mother reached out, placing a calming hand on her arm. "It's okay, Choupinette," she said gently. "It's going to be okay."

Colette shook her head. "No, it's not," she said, her voice shaky. "How could Arthur do this? He knows...he knows that I didn't want anybody to know," she whispered, tears biting in her eyes. She wasn't even sure what to do. She wasn't even sure what to think.

Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, worry, frustration...and anger. So much anger at her brother, for not thinking, for not asking first, for not considering the consequences.

"How could he just... do this?" she said again, her voice cracking.

Lorenzo tried to come closer, but she held up a hand to stop him. She didn't want his touch, not right now. "Arthur should have asked me before doing something like this," she said, her voice shaking. "He knows...he knows that Max and I...we keep our relationship private."

"I...I need some space right now," she choked out, pushing her chair back and standing up. She had to get out of here, get some air.

She left the kitchen, leaving her family behind.

She found herself in the living room, collapsing onto the couch, her hands covering her face as tears streamed down her cheeks.

She couldn't believe what her brother had done. 

And now...now it was out there. Their secret, Max's secret, their life...everything.

She tried to take a deep breath, tried to calm down, but she couldn't. She was angry, hurt, scared…

Their relationship...it had always been a safe space to Colette. 

Somewhere where she could just be herself. With Max, she felt loved and safe and quite frankly, spoiled rotten by his attention. She didn't need to think about what she said, she could just be comfortable. And nobody had an inside look into that relationship that she didn't want to. They had admitted it to people over the years, to friends and colleagues and family members. But to the public they had never been connected beyond Colette being the twin sister of one of Max's biggest rivals. 

She had liked her anonymity. Had liked that nobody paid her a second look on the street. That nobody even thought twice about her.

Her role could just be Charles and Arthur's supportive sister. Nothing more, nothing less. Max knew that she loved him, that she supported him in the privacy of their relationship. It wasn't something she needed anybody else to know.

But now it was out there.

Colette buried her head in her hands, letting out a soft sob. It was out there, and it couldn't be taken back. No amount of damage control, no amount of apology was going to take those words back.

She could already see the headlines in her head: “Max Verstappen’s secret girlfriend”

It was so much worse than she had expected. The idea of being exposed like this...it made her want to crawl under a rock and hide for the rest of her life.

Colette didn't want to deal with the media circus, the gossip, the speculation. She didn't want to deal with any of it.

She didn't want her life to be dissected. She didn't want everything to be picked apart.

But that's what was going to happen. The vultures were going to descend, the media was going to hound her, her inbox would be filled with requests for comment and statements.

She was going to be the topic of everyone's conversation, speculation, and judgment.

She wanted to cry, scream, and throw something simultaneously.

She didn't ask for this, she wasn't built for this.

She wanted her anonymity, her simple life, her relationship to be private. That's all she had ever wanted...was that too much to ask for?

But now it was all in jeopardy, because her brother wasn't able to keep his mouth shut. She knew that he hadn't done it to hurt her...he had just been a idiot without a brain. But that didn't make the situation any easier for her.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to gather her thoughts.

But now it was gone. The secret was out, and there was no turning back. She was going to be under the microscope, every move she made, every word she spoke, every expression on her face would be analyzed and scrutinized.

And there was nothing she could do about it.

Colette leaned back against the couch, feeling the weight of the situation crashing down on her. 

She had always known that Max's life would come with a certain amount of spotlight and media attention, but she had never expected to be dragged into it.

She had always been in the shadows, quietly supporting him from behind the scenes, but now she was being thrust into the bright light of the media spotlight. And she couldn't help but cry her eyes out about it.

She let the tears flow, feeling the sobs rack her body. It was too much, all too much. She was exposed, vulnerable, and raw. And she had no idea how to handle it.

"Choupinette," her mother said softly, sitting down besides her.

Colette barely registered her mother's presence, too consumed by her own despair. But she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, gentle and comforting.

She buried her face in her mother's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

Her mother just held her, stroking her hair and whispering soothing words of comfort. "It's going to be okay," she promised. "I promise, it's going to be okay."

"Maybe it won't even be so bad," her mother tried to comfort her. "It will blow over. You do love Max and he loves you."

"It was going to get out sometime," Lorenzo said quietly. "It was question of when not if, Colette. It was a miracle that you were able to keep it quiet for so long."

This only made Colette cry harder.

She hadn't wanted anybody to know. She had wanted privacy. She had wanted…

She had wanted it to just be her and Max, living their life together, without any outside interference.

She knew it was foolish to think that it could last forever, but a small part of her had hoped.

Now it was going to be ruined. And it was all because of her stupid brother and his impulsive behavior.

She didn't want the attention. She didn't want the speculation, the questions, the accusations.

All she wanted was Max.

She wanted him, his warmth, his soft reassurances, his quiet love. She wanted him with her and just to curl up in his arms. Where she could forget everything else and just be.

But she couldn't do that. The truth was out there now, and there was no way to erase it.

She was Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, the public knew, and there was nowhere she could hide from it.

And that thought terrified her more than anything else. She didn't know how to handle the public eye, the media interest, the gossip. It was like a massive wave that was about to crush her, and she had no life raft to hold onto.

She leaned closer into her mother, feeling like a child again. The sobs continued to rack her body, and all she could do was hold onto her mother's comforting embrace.

She didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to handle this.

***

This was the last fucking news Max wanted to hear before qualifying. The absolute last.

He loved the Leclercs. He did. He loved Colette’s family like his own. And he loved her brothers like his own. 

But this was making him absolutely furious with Arthur. 

And he would have liked to destroy his driver’s room in a fit of rage, but he wasn’t going to do that. He was not going to let his emotions get the best of him. 

Not when he understood where Arthur was coming from. Even when he hated the way he had gone about it. 

Max had half a mind to simply throw the towel. To give up. What did it matter anymore? He had won his 4th World Championship title…Red Bull wasn’t in the running for the constructor’s championship anymore…that was between Ferrari and McLaren… so did it matter? 

Wouldn’t he be more useful at Colette’s side? 

But he knew that if he asked her…he knew what her answer would be. 

She wouldn’t stand for it. 

She knew that he wouldn’t forgive himself for this. He wanted to win. It was in his DNA. It wasn’t in him to leave things unfinished. 

She would tell him to do it. To finish that race. And then to come straight home to her. 

But it was hard, especially when he knew that the media was going to be all over this. The vultures were going to be circling, waiting for any slip up, any moment of weakness. 

It wasn't like he cared if his and Colette's relationship became public. He was content with screaming it from every rooftop. He would happily post his beautiful girlfriend on his Instagram daily. He was more than willing to take her to some charity gala and kiss her in the view of every camera that was there...but he knew how important it had always been for Colette.

And now she was exposed, without warning and without even knowing. 

Max wanted to find her brother and wring his neck for this. How could he be so careless, so thoughtless?

He knew how important Colette's privacy was to her, how much she valued it. And now it was gone. Just like that.

Colette wanted to keep a low profile. She was more than happy to be the always supportive sister to her brothers, to cheer them on from the sidelines...and she herself was happy to work in her mother's hair salon, and dabble at playing the piano and violin…and content to simply be.

He had always loved that about her…how happy she could be with the most simple of things. 

Colette didn’t enjoy the spotlight, she preferred the shadows. And now she had been thrown into the whirlwind of media attention.

He knew that she wasn’t going to handle this well. 

And he was seriously considering throwing the towel. 

To say fuck it all and go back to Monaco. 

His father didn’t want to hear a single thing about it.

Jos had never really approved of Max's relationship with Colette. He thought it made him weak, he thought Max needed to focus on racing, not on some girl… but Max had been stubborn.

Colette was everything to him. Colette’s place in his life was not something they were going to argue about it. It was set in stone. 

 And so, through the years his father had realised that Colette was there to stay. 

And he may even had started to respect her place in Max’s life, realised that her presence calmed him and focused him in a way nothing else did…Realised that Colette was good for Max. 

And even for his relationship with his father. 

Nowadays…they got along better than they ever had and quite frankly they had Colette to thank for that. She had softened his father with her calm, gentle and yet incredibly stubborn nature, unwilling to take any of his bullshit and willing to call him out on it, constantly.

Still, Max wanted to get to Colette. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her that everything was going to be okay eventually. He wanted to place a hand on her swollen belly and feel bébé rumble underneath her skin…wanted to see that everything was alright with her and their baby. 

“You have a job to do,” his father said drily. “Colette isn’t alone. She has her family with her.”

Max didn't answer, just clenched his jaw.

He knew his father was right, he had a job to do, a race to focus on. But the thought of leaving Colette to deal with that by herself…it didn't sit well with him.

“She’s pregnant,” he hissed. “You want me to care about a race while my pregnant girlfriend is an ocean away, distraught, because our relationship just became public knowledge?!” Max asked sharply.

His father scowled.

“She has her brothers and her mother with her,” he repeated sternly. “I’m sure they can calm her down and make sure she’s taken care of in your absence. But the team needs you to focus on the race. Besides…It ha​​s been a long time coming…”

He knew he had a job to do. He had a race to focus on, a team that was depending on him to be at the top of his game. It was his job to win, no matter what was going on at home.

“Fine,” he gritted out, turning around to leave the room. “I’ll focus on the damn race.”

He took a deep breath, trying to push all thoughts of Colette out of his mind. He needed to focus. He needed to push aside his emotions and put his game face on.

He was a professional and he had a job to do.

He could deal with driving.  He could deal with managing a respectable 5th place on the grid in Qualifying…he couldn’t deal with the press afterwards.

He was surrounded by reporters, camera flashes and microphones. They were all firing question after question at him, shoving the microphones closer and closer to his face.

"Max, is it true that you and Colette Leclerc are in a relationship?"

Max clenched his jaw, trying to keep a neutral expression on his face. He didn’t want to give them any ammunition, anything they could use to try and dig deeper into his personal life. But he knew he couldn’t ignore the question either.

“I don’t see how my relationship status is relevant to the race,” he snapped back. “I’m here to talk about the race, not my personal life.”

They happily ignored that: “What’s Charles’ reaction to your relationship?”

Max clenched his jaw again, the anger starting to boil over. He hated this, the way they felt like they had the right to just poke and prod at his life like it was some kind of spectacle for them to enjoy.

“I’m not discussing my personal life,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “I’m here to talk about the race.”

But the reporters weren’t interested in the race. They were only interested in the juicy gossip of Max Verstappen dating Colette Leclerc.

More microphones were shoved in his face, more questions were asked, each one more invasive than the last.

“How serious is your relationship with Colette?”

“Are you engaged?”

“What did you think about what she posted on Instagram?“

“I think that Colette’s Instagram account is private for a reason,” he said tightly.

The reporters fell silent for a moment, surprised by the harsh tone. Max knew he was skating on thin ice, but he didn’t care. He was angry, frustrated and upset. He wanted nothing more than to find a quiet corner to just brood and worry about Colette in peace.

“I think that George overreacted about something that was posted on a private Instagram profile that has less than 200 followers. ” Max bit out. “There is a difference between posting something for your friends and family to see and complaining about this to the press when George knew it would be put all over the media.”

The reporters were stunned into silence at his outburst.

Max knew he had crossed a line. He knew he shouldn’t be snapping at them like that, but he couldn’t help it. He was so frustrated and upset, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He knew he had to reel it in before he said something he would regret even more. “I have already lost all respect for George Russell before, but he has crossed a line when he dragged this into the public sphere,” he said flatly.

The reporters' eyes widened, surprised by the ferocity of his words.

Max knew he was being harsh, but he didn’t care. He was furious, enraged. How dare Russell expose their private life like that? 

Max took another deep breath, trying to calm himself. But it was hard. The anger was like a living thing inside him, seething and burning. He wanted to storm over to the Mercedes garage and punch Russell in the face, to wipe that smirk off his face for good. But he knew he couldn’t. 

So he stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to keep the anger at bay. Trying to ignore the way the reporters were looking at him with greedy, excited eyes.

He knew they wanted him to explode, to lash out. They wanted him to go off the rails and say something even more incriminating. Something they could use to make more headlines. But Max couldn’t give them that. He couldn’t let them get a rise out of him. So he stood there, trying his best to remain calm and collected.

But it was hard. So goddamn hard.

He could feel the tension in his body, feel the anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. He wanted to do something, to take action and make the situation right. But he didn’t know what he could do, how he could make it right.

He didn’t know how he could fix the mess that had been made, how he could turn back time and undo the damage that had been done.

"Do you have any questions about the race tomorrow? Because otherwise I am done," he asked.

The reporters stood there for a moment, frozen in shock. Then, a few of them started to ask questions about the upcoming race, but Max could tell that their hearts weren’t in it. They were too distracted by his outburst, too eager to keep prodding at the sensitive issue of his relationship with Colette.

The reporters looked at each other for a moment, unsure whether to press him further or not. Max could see the wheels turning in their heads, could see them trying to decide whether they would press the issue or let it go.

Eventually, the more sensible reporters began to ask questions about the race, steering the conversation away from the minefield of his personal life.

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Arthur Playing With Your Son In The Bath

Arthur Curry X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes, stress, and an obscene amount of fluff

Word Count: 984

(A/N:) I found this gif and it inspired me so fast! XD I was actually looking for something else for a different imagine when I came across it. I couldn't leave without writing something for it and this is the end result! I wrote for Orm and since Arthur is a freaking aquababe I have to write for him too! Hopefully my fellow fangirls enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Being married to the King of Atlantis had it's perks, but it also had it's rough patches. Being so called Queen of a world you never even got to visit had it's pressures. Arthur never told you the horrible things the council would say about you, but you had a good idea of the prejudices they held. Tom was a good confidant and helped you talk about things that bothered you. Arthur had enough on his plate and now with you both producing a heir to the throne, the pressure only increased. Tom was out running errands for you while you stayed at home with Arthur Curry Jr who refused to do anything but eat and cry. It didn't matter how many times you tried, he refused to go to sleep. He was due for a much needed nap and so did you, but the baby universe decided that just wasn't in the cards today. Now as night drew nearer and you being soaked in spit up, drool, and various other baby fluids Arthur finally made it home.

"Sorry I saw dad in town and we stopped for a quick beer," Arthur apologized before brushing strands of your hair to kiss your cheek.

He looked around the little home you both shared with his father. Toys littering the floor and dirty dishes piled up in the sink. His eyebrow raised before leaning his trident against the wall. He knelt down to get eye level with you as you rocked back and forth on the couch trying to keep Jr from crying.

"Rough day," he asked gently.

The strong facade that you worked hard to keep up all day crumbled a little, as your bottom lip began to wobble. Arthur cursed taking you into a hug and trying his best not to squish his son against his giant chest. You let yourself have a few moments of just letting your emotions out before you pulled away. Wiping at your eyes and taking a deep breath.

"That's my girl," Arthur grinned. He took Jr from your arms. "Go take a shower a long one. My son and I are going to have some bonding time with a bubble bath and some rubber duckies. I'll call Pops too, have him bring pizza home for us. Then we'll watch that movie you love and makes me gag. Deal?"

You laughed, this time kissing his cheek, "Sounds wonderful!"

Arthur helped you up from the couch, kissing you deeply and giving you a pat on your rear as you walked to the bathroom. Arthur watched you go before turning to the baby in his arms.

"We'll borrow Grandpop's bathroom so your mom has some much needed quiet time."

Jr gurgled in reply. Arthur nodded in agreement, "Totally. Your mom is a hero. And hot."

Jr just stared and Arthur shrugged.

The hot water was washing away all the day's filth and the stress from your body. Though it was rough at times, raising the future king of Atlantis and being human, you wouldn't trade one moment. Your son was precious. Arthur was a wonderful partner in everything. A doting husband and a loving father. Even your father-in-law amazed you as he was such a help. You couldn't fault him for needing a quiet moment in town. He hadn't given one complaint since you and Arthur still lived with him and birthed the next generation of Curry.

Finished with your nice hot shower, you dressed in one of Arthur's oversized shirts and your favorite pair of leggings. Your slippers silenced your steps and it was easy to hear Jr's squealing giggles and Arthur's laughter follow behind. It brought a smile to your face despite the exhaustion. Opening the door you spied Jr in a little floatie designed for his baths and Arthur bare chested covered in an obnoxious amount of suds.

"Are my boys having fun," you asked.

"Bubbles," Arthur roared animatedly causing Jr to squeal. Water sloshed and bubbles flew everywhere and you couldn't bring yourself to worry about the mess.

Carefully sitting yourself close to the tub and avoiding the numerous puddles on the floor, you stroked Arthur's bare chest, tracing the tattoo patterns. He dutifully scrubbed his son's dirty face before leaning back against the cool tub wall.

"Careful where you touch, or we'll grant Pop's wish early," Arthur warned.

"One's enough for right now," you replied still tracing absentmindedly.

"More than enough. You look like you went to war with an army of babies."

"And here I thought baby spit up was the new Gucci," you sighed.

Arthur tugged you a little closer, tickling your ear with his warm breath, "You did look pretty hot."

"Now who's trying to seduce who," you teased.

You helped Arthur finish up cleaning Jr and get him changed into warm pajamas when Tom finally made it back. Hauling in grocery bags and boxes of pizza, all of you were finally able to sit down together as a family. Arthur wouldn't let you get anything for yourself, so you sat on the couch holding Jr while Arthur made your plates. True to his word he started the movie you loved and he abhorred. Halfway through Jr had finally fallen to sleep and despite wanting to stay up and finish it, you found yourself nodding off too. Without a word Arthur put your son to bed before he scooped you up in his arms.

"Night Pops," he whispered and Tom nodded before turning off the movie and switching to the weather.

"Artie," you mumbled into his chest as he carried you to your shared room.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you," you yawned.

Arthur kissed your temple before depositing you onto the messy bed, "You're welcome."

He tucked you in before getting in himself and with the warm blankets and Arthur's body pressed against yours. You fell into peaceful slumber and all your worries melted away.

[cephalonserotonin]

Devstream 178 Notes

Megan has cool pants! Rebb has a cool earring!

Dante Unbound

next week!

"We wanted to bring lore! Important for us for people who want some texture… with their food…?" lol

Hence, even though there's no quest with this update, lots of lore! Drusus and other leverian stuff

Dante prex:

They mentioned no sticky corners and someone in the audience cheered.

Styanax deluxe

Nipple talk

Gauss Prime's little goofy run is gonna be an emote! for plat! "This is only a microtransaction panel" - Rebb

Banshee, Loki, and Nekros voidshells!! And some Loki QOL: some buffs, customizable invisibility, and an augment!

Easter bunny ears have FUR (using tech for the companion rework) and are now PERMANENT! "Nobody could stop me," - Rebb (Geoff boos)

Protea prime! Including her gear!

And Velox prime, Okina prime, Rhoptron prime syandana (this is GORGEOUS), a bonus alt helmet that moves, and an ephemera (no asset for this yet)

Yareli deluxe!, the Kompressa deluxe

"If you haven't played Yareli, maybe depending on where you get your warframe news…" LMAO the subtlest shade. I've liked Yareli from the beginning and definitely thought the initial backlash to her kit was overblown, so

blah blah soulframe

New update between Dante and Tennocon featuring the Stalker: Jade Shadows

Jade, our 57th warframe

Cinematic quest update from the Stalker's point of view!

J is the second to last letter we need to cover the alphabet, we're just missing U Audience member: what about Umbra? Rebb: No, that's Excalibur Umbra. If your arsenal said Umbra Excalibur you might stand a chance in court.

Warframe 1999

Very much a Warframe update, but a different style of update. New lore, lots of content, a new Warframe chapter. The gorgeous Arthur is our poster boy.

It's not a single player Warframe spinoff, a "Warframe 2" (I confess I was among those theorizing this). Those nipples stay on.

and now, waking up from his nap… it's Ben Starr! "Arthur is a very mysterious character who I am bound by NDA to say… VERY little about!" He's SO cool. and REALLY sexy. He's relatable. He's gonna be a badass, he's got a samurai sword.

Excalibur is a frame. Arthur is a PROTO-FRAME.

Just as an aside, Ben is adorable and hilarious, very fun to watch.

Stuff about Conflict between humanity and the non-human.. "you don't perceive humanity without how it reacts to others."

a first look at Aoi, our proto-Mag, and I am GAY SCREECHING

Bike: the atomicycle

Q&A

Audience member in a (Uniqlo?) metal gear rising revengeance shirt that Rebb recognized and appreciated: when is my man Caliban getting buffed? A: If Pablo were here, he'd say ask me at TennoCon.

Q: any other warframes getting reworks? A: Inaros rework coming with Dante unbound. Loki rework not planned.

Q: What inspired proto-Mag's design? A: Liger did Arthur and Aoi. We had a very specific vision for those two protoframes: Arthur being the "man scout," and Aoi we wanted a nice contrast to Arthur.

Q: Two questions very well worded I didn't get them down in time because I was nodding along. About stat sticks / pseudo-exalteds and trading. A: Stat sticks: we've talked about it but no changes planned. Trading: we've talked about maybe adding riven filters but not much more than that.

Q from guy in Dante DMC trenchcoat: Drifters? Maybe new outfits? A: In Unbound we are bringing one more operator outfit to drifter.

Q: I've been playing Warframe for 10 years, and I'm legendary 4. Any additional benefits for high rank players? A: The social benefits of being a high-rank player are unexplored. In terms of more mechanical aspects… we're thinking more social benefits. congrats on being legendary 4!

Q: When's infested liches? A: Steve is that you

Q In the second metal gear shirt: warframe 1999... dark sector? A: A lot of what Warframe was built on was the scifi part of dark sector that was never meant to be. So it's poetically coming full circle, that 1999 is dark sector inspired. Q: is there a plan for the dark sector remaster? A: 1999 is the dark sector remaster.

Q: Is there going to be fashion protoframes? A: Actually, yes… And that's all I'll say on that.

Q from Leon Kennedy: is squad link coming back? A: RIP scarlet spear. Not coming back in the way you might think, but we're experimenting early days with something you might like. It's in an urn. Geoff: that's pretty dead. Rebb: Someone hasn't played Baldur's gate 3! It's not totally dead, but mostly dead.

Q: Has anyone at DE considered a TTRPG or even a war game? you could blow games workshop completely out of the water. I'd rather give money to you than them any day. A: We're all fans of that kind of content, we'd endorse fan content, but we don't have the time to pursue it. Q: Has anyone considered modular ("kit") frames? A: We have considered it, but it didn't seem shippable. Seemed scope-scary.

Q: Are you, Rebb, personally happy with the way movement works at this very moment? A: Are you asking pre- or post- sticky corners? Q: Post. Also is Soulframe taking from the movement in Warframe? Geoff: Soulfame is very much in the opposite direction of Warframe, movement-wise. Rebb: I always thought it'd be fun to explore wall running in Warframe. But other than that, I love it. I think it's the best movement system in the third person games space. Every other game I play I try and bullet jump and aim glide. Questioner agrees.

Soulframe question I used to catch up on my above notes

Q: If you could go on a date with a warframe, which one?… me, it's Grendel. Ben: what would you do on that date? Questioner: just eat :) Geoff: Excalibur? (Rebb: that's very Raphael-coded of you. Little Baldur's Gate reference for you) Mag: Probably Valkyr. Rebb: why choose? All of them >:) Ben: pick one for me. Rebb: Mirage. Ben: What would I do? Rebb: Circus act. You are the circus.

Q: What was your favourite part of developing 1999, and Ben, what was your favourite part of voicing Arthur? A: Some stuff we haven't announced yet. As with most characters I play, there's something lovable about him despite his rough exterior… rough but he's nice about it. He's gonna do something to you, but he's gonna kiss you afterward. Rebb: I think it's quite sacred to introduce protoframes like this. We're being quite sacred about it (it's not Mag and Excal, it's Aoi and Arthur). Ben: The ways in which you're exploring that dynamic is very cool, and very 90s.

Q: Rebb, what are the things that plague you? A: My plagues are supported by the development team. I'm not alone; whenever I have an ailment, I have someone that to help support me with it. Geoff: I've genuinely never seen someone care so much. He gets teary. \*audience cheers as REBB DESERVES\* Same asker: when is my girl Titania getting buffed? A: Controversial question, she's pretty strong. I could see Tribute receiving some QOL to be easier to use (some Tribute). But those dex pixia, they do kill.

Q in a Warframe sweater with a Warframe backpack!: Which NPC would you be most likely to be besties with? Ben: Fibonacci Rebb: We love you Neil! Ben: If you don't have a cranky fish as a friend, what are you doing. Megan: I love Ordis :) especially little trash can ordis Rebb: you better say Lotus, Geoff >:) Geoff: Lotus. Rebb: Hard not to love Little Duck. We'd be besties for sure, drinking in the back room.

Q: if Teshin can have his head crushed and come back, what about Veso? A: He died a hero, I'm sorry.

Q: When can we get points to Dante his brother? A: ??? audience member yells out "VIRGIL!" Rebb: \*laughs\* maybe the bike is Virgil (This is a devil may cry reference)

Q: clan to clan interaction? Haven't had that since solar rails? A: Ok so in the urn we have squad link.. \*laugh\* We are trying to do more clan events. They work for by the book tasks. There's opportunity there we haven't explored. No leaderboards. I'll try to do more.

Q: I'm curious how you develop characters as a Warframe team. I've noticed a lot of references to mythology. A: it's a library of devs that have passions. The team is just really diverse and loves really cool shit. The amount of inspiration we get to name things thematically, we have touched lore I didn't know existed. When it comes to Warframes, we're still looking at old Keith Thompson drawings… he's built different.

Q: I'm sorry to take you back in the morgue. Void keys. Will there be a return to the old void and endless missions? A: We're not in the morgue here, we're in ICU. Visiting hours are open. I loved the old voidkey system. We did a soft tease with Dagath keys, it had wins and losses… There were user experience problems. But it's not totally dead. The omnia fissures are kind of that vibe. You can bring any relic to an omnia fissure and just haul ass.

Q: Can we get a toggle for Protea's visor? A: The rigging artist working on it talked about it. Maybe. You're right, it would be nice.

Q: Fashion frame question. Have you considered a DE color palette, like, Megan's greatest hits? A: That sounds like a great idea :) We're doing it.

Q: Are we ever going to see new necramechs? A: I hate saying probably not. No new ones in 1999 at least. We're touching up the ones we have before we go to the morgue, and grab a skull, to make a a new one. Sorry

Q holding a Clem plushie: when more Clem??? A: We'll see. Clem holds a special place in our heart. He's not in the morgue, I promise.

Q: I've been coerced into asking a question on behalf of someone who's not here. He's made it clear if I don't get a satisfactory answer I won't see my family again. Are there any plans to look at spawn rates for loot and reactants? A: I'm gonna keep talking until you can get your family out safely, I'm filibustering. There's performance issues, we want to get safe on all platforms. The worst offenders we can probably fix. We can increase reactant drop rates. Loot rates is harder to solve.

Q: if you have Drifter selected, can you use drifter melee? A: We thought it was important to keep drifter melee in duviri, but… why not? We could try. Drifters can't mod though. It's not impossible, but it'd take some time.

Q: Warframe being predominantly PVE, has there been talk of collaboration among clans? A: I implied it with the other question, but a social benefit would be great. I'd love to see you make friends with other clans

Thanks to the DE team for your hard work <3 supporting us for 11 years!

visual assets are either my own stream screenshots or from DE's devstream overview

[safetycar-restart]

(Thank you for answering my little!arthur ask ❤️)

My next brain rot is cat!max.

We’ve spoken a lot about how his relationship with his domme is an act of repairing the rough relationship he had/s with his Dad. So, I’ve been thinking of playing with cat!max using toys. Essentially just allowing him to be a playful kitten, which he couldn’t do when he was younger.

Something tells me that when he becomes comfortable he can be excitable. I think that either chasing a laser or playing with a ball is one his favourite because then he can play with his domme(/owner?) at the same time.

Like, the image of playing with Max using the laser is so sweet to me because he knows that his domme won’t judge him for trying to catch it and maybe his domme secretly makes it easy occasionally to that she/he/they can reward him? Or, dangling a feather in front of him whilst he’s in our lap?

The whole idea of letting Maxie do everything he couldn’t do it so lovely to me

-🎞️

The last line of this ask really sums it up for me. That's everything I love about cat!max in the D/S AU. And this whole idea is so so cute.

Firstly, I almost thing you'd need to teach max how to play with cat toys? Which might sound odd, but it's because he's spent so much time trying to avoid those toys and trying to resist the desire to play with them that when you actually get him some... he has no idea what to do with them?

Like you buy him a scratching post and he literally just stares at it. He knows it's something for him, knows it's a toy for cat hybrids, but he has no idea what to do. You have to tell him that he can scratch it with his nails and it feels nice and fun before he does it, and even then he's so shy about it.

In fact maybe you make an excuse to leave the room, like to go check on dinner or something, just to give Max some time without feeling like someone is watching him. You return a few minutes later to find max using the scratching post happily, dragging his nails across it and purring lightly.

He falters when you walk in, but you only smile at him and take a seat on the couch, acting like this is completely normal so that max can feel relaxed. It works and soon max is back to using his scratching post.

Max absolutely adores it, and then when you start to buy more toys, the process continues.

I just LOVE the idea that he becomes excitable as he gets more and more comfortable? Max is a pretty chilled, reserved person but he really becomes energetic and excited when he's around people he's comfortable with (it's worth noting he is always extremely reserved around his father).

When you buy him a laser pointer, he is both nervous and confused, mostly because he knows there's no point to this game. There's no ball to catch or anything. This is literally just him trying to catch something he will never really catch. You'd be entertaining him with absolutely no objective. It's the exact type of game that his dad would never let him play.

But you encourage him, promising him that you would enjoy doing it and then you can stop after a few minutes if he doesn't like it. So, reluctantly, he agrees.

And oh my god he LOVES the laser pointer.

At first he's reserved, just barely trying to touch the laser on the floor, but then you start moving is quicker and encouraging him and oh my god he has a great time. Very quickly he's throwing himself to try and catch the laser.

And yeah I love the idea that you make it easy for him to catch sometimes. You never tell him this, and it's so so worth it because he gets so happy every time he catches it.

He always turns to you, cheering and going "Did you see that? I caught it! Did you see that???" and he's so excited, purring a little and asking you to put the laser pointer on again.

And the feather???? While he's on your lap???

Max thinks he's died and gone to heaven the day he wakes from a nap on your lap and you're dangling a feather in front of hm. He goes to get it and you move it out of his reach.

This turns into an absolutely adorable game where max is laying on his back with his head on your lap and you're dangling the feather above him. He tries to catch it without getting up, and of course he's still half asleep and purring so loud your legs are getting a massage and it's just... it's everything.

Also, imagine max's mother and sister coming to visit and discovering how much more accepting he is of his cat hybrid nature now??

[becauseplot]

Inktordem time :D Fluffier nonsense to make up for yesterday I promise. I’m using one of the prompts on a list of alt prompts @factorialsotherfandoms and I came up with. This word is one of his! The “alienígenas” prompt will go on the alt list in case I think of anything later down the line and want to use it.

Spoilers for basic OPD episode 1 stuff.

DAY 6 (ALT) — BELLS

It’s one of those rare lulls where reports of suspected paranormal activity have slowed down. As such Kaiser doesn’t have to spend his time in the computer room at base playing IT for investigation teams or helping put out fires when things go sideways. He’s done nothing but work on improving CRIS’ Twitter sweeping algorithm for the past two days.

Arthur came into the computer room at the Order about an hour ago and dragged Kaiser home, saying he and Ivete were planning on making a late lunch soon and yeah, Kaiser should probably have something other than takeout.

It is nice being home. Ivete threw on some talk show for background noise while she and Arthur sort out their ingredients, and Kaiser is flopped over the couch, letting the noise wash over him. He can feel how about every joint from his neck to his hips is decompressing after he’s spent so long hunched at his computer. It’s good. Here, at home, without the constant anxiety of being needed by the Order turning his nerves to live wires, Kaiser can finally do something like relax. The TV is droning in the background, Ivete and Arthur are murmuring to each other in the kitchen, filling pots with water, chopping things, and Kaiser is…

He’s…

Tired…

…and theRE IS SOMETHING ON HIS BACKHOLYSHIT—

“AI!”

“MEROW!”

Kaiser slams himself up on his elbows and kicks away, gasping. “What the f…”

Sitting up now, he just barely catches a glimpse of a black and white spotted tail disappearing over the arm of the couch.

“Kaiser?”

His eyes flick to the kitchen. Ivete and Arthur are staring at him.

“Are you alright?” Ivete asks. There’s a confused smile on her lips.

“I…” Kaiser watches Jennifer hop up onto one of the barstools, staring at him with her tail flicking. He swallows his heart back down his throat. “Yeah, jeez, I—I think Jennifer crawled on my back and it scared me.”

“Jennifer scared you?” Arthur says, laughter in his voice.

“Dude I was nearly asleep. I didn’t hear her coming.” Kaiser groans, scrubbing his faces up and down. “Holy shit, that got me. I swear my soul nearly left my body.”

“Mm, she’s lucky she’s quick,” Ivete notes, returning to her chopping. “You just about launched her clear across the couch, boy. That poor thing.”

“Poor her? Poor me!” Ivete is grinning now. “I’m the one who nearly died over here.”

“Hey, you know she’s skittish,” Arthur defends. “You really could’ve scared her.”

“Ugh!” Kaiser flops back onto the couch. “Fine! I’m sorry Jennifer! When’s food ready?”

“Twenty-five minutes” Ivete replies. “Twenty if you want to come in here and help with the chopping.”

Kaiser sighs. He might as well, seeing as he’s very awake now. Kaiser mourns the loss of his afternoon nap and gets off the couch.

~*~

“So we finally got the table re-assembled,” Arthur says, adjusting the guitar in his lap. “And well, that was a lot of work, obviously, but Marcos was still determined to have a game of pool tonight regardless.”

“But the pool balls hadn’t come in, right?” Kaiser asks. He’s got half his brain on this match of online chess, and it’s honestly going terribly, but he’s doing what he can. Sort of.

“Well, turns out it had changed from ‘delayed’ to ‘failed’. The order got lost somewhere, apparently.”

Kaiser scoffs. “How does that happen?”

“Don’t know! But it did. So Marcus of course is already looking up places where we can go buy them, and we find a games store down the street that has them—but it’s closing in about ten minutes.”

“Oh no,” Kaiser drawls. He hears Arthur that another cord on his guitar, fingers plucking idly, and watches him shift where he’s sitting on Kaiser’s bed. Kaiser puts his rook forward. “Because of course it’s closing.”

“Exactly. And the store isn’t far, but it’s far enough, and traffic is bad at that hour, you know?”

Kaiser watches the opponent take his bishop. Ah shit. He moves his pawn. “Soooo you ran.”

“Yep!” Kaiser snorts. “Sprinted all the way down the street, Marcus nearly got run over. It was great.”

“And did you—“ Check on his king. “Oops.”

“What?”

“Hold on I’m losing.” Kaiser moves his queen forward and knocks out their rook. Out of check. “So did you get there in time?”

“Well, kind of? The guy who owns the place was literally walking out when we got there. But then we started explaining—completely out of breath, to be clear—and the guy was so, uh, amused? With our sheer determination to play pool tonight that he let us in and sold us a set, with the long sticks too.”

“Well, that’s cool of him.” A little more out of check now. His opponent is really taking his time. Kaiser skims over the chess board for his options. “I’m glad Marcus didn’t get hit by a car, that would have WOAH—“

Kaiser jumps when he feels something touch his leg and slams his knee up into the top of the desk.

“Kaiser?”

“Ow ow ow ow—“ Kaiser hisses and rubs his knee with his hand. Fuck, he wasn’t even wearing his long pajama bottoms this time, ow.

“Mrow!” Jennifer slinks out from under his desk and jumps up onto Kaiser’s bed, padding over to Arthur.

“Shit,” Kaiser exhales. “She was under my chair. Brushed up against my leg and scared the shit out of me.”

“Oh yeah she just came in,” Arthur says, waving his hand at the bedroom door behind Kaiser. “Guess you didn’t hear her.”

Kaiser keeps rubbing his aching knee. “Man, she is always doing that. I swear she’s a ghost…”

Arthur puts his guitar aside to free up his lap, which Jennifer immediately crawls into and curls up in. “Awww sorry, baby,” Arthur murmurs. “Did Kaiser kick you?”

“I didn’t kick her.”

“Hm?” Arthur scratches her behind her ears. She leans into it, eyes closed. “Poor baby. He’s so mean, huh?”

“What.”

“You just want him to like you, right?”

“What the fuck.”

“Kaiser, why are you so mean to her?”

“I’m not mean to her! She just keeps giving me heart attacks!”

Arthur bends his head down, kissing her head and grinning. “I know, he’s so rude like that, isn’t he?”

Kaiser slumps back in his chair. “I can’t believe this.” Opponent’s queen towards his king. Checkmate. “Fuck.”

~*~

Fixing his sleep schedule, Kaiser has found, is a completely pointless endeavor when he knows that his work at the Order and his own habits will just upend it again within forty-eight hours.

Playing LoL at night while hungry, Kaiser has also found, is a good way to get angry and shout something and accidentally wake up the household because hey, he lives with other people now. And he’d much rather not do that.

Hence, the creation of 3 am cheese time.

Kaiser slips out of his room and tiptoes over to the kitchen. He slides in and navigates around the counter by touch and the dim glare of a distant streetlight through the window. With one hand braced on the side of the fridge, he eeeeeases the door open and nudges some containers aside.

Bag of cheese slices. Bingo. Kaiser holds the fridge door open with his hip and opens the package, peels out a slice of cheese, folds it up and half-shoves it in his mouth. Then, he closes the package, seals it up, leans out of the fridge, and closes the doo—

Two eyes staring at him in the darkness.

Kaiser gasps and inhales cheese. He chokes and spits and covers his loud coughing with his arm, eyes watering, what the fuck…

“Mrow!”

Oh you’re kidding.

There, sitting on the counter, eyes reflecting the light from the fridge, is Jennifer.

Kaiser coughs one last time and swallows roughly, panting. “When did you even get in here??” he hisses.

Jennifer tilts her head at him. She jumps down from the counter, silent as a shadow, and starts sniffing at the cheese he spit out onto the ground. After a moment, she nibbles it.

Kaiser stares at her. “Yeah you know what. Fine. You can have it.” Kaiser closes the fridge and heads off to bed.

~*~

Kaiser unlocks the door and shoulders it open, grocery back in his other hand. “Hey, I’m back!”

“Hey!” Arthur calls in the living room, waving from the couch. “You took a while, what happened?”

“Had to make an extra stop.” Kaiser hefts the grocery bag onto the counter. “Is Jennifer with you?”

“Uh yeah, she’s right here. Why?”

Kaiser pulls a little paper parcel out of the bag. He heads over to the couch and plonks himself down, right next to Jennifer, who “mrrp!”s unpleasantly at the disturbance.

He opens the package. A tinkling noise rings out. Kaiser unclips Jennifer’s collar and fastens on a new one—pink, with a little bow and a bell dangling on the end of it.

[sailtomarina]

My submission for the HP Drizzle Fest 2024, Hot Girl Summer, has been revealed! Click the link to read on AO3, and see below for an excerpt.

Hermione POV | Rating: T | Post-Hogwarts, Flirting | WC 5K

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Hermione considered her silk blouse and cotton skirt. She’d thought them sufficient at the start of the day, but now the knee-length material felt confining. The silk had already proven shite, sticking to her sweaty skin as it did. Fingering the linen covering her thighs and eyeballing Luna’s transfiguration, an idea formed.

“There’s plenty of cover behind the tree.” Luna was already a step ahead of her, waving a pale hand towards the thick beech trunk.

When Hermione returned, it was with her silk blouse in hand and a newly transfigured linen sundress that skimmed halfway up her thighs. Thin spaghetti straps allowed her arms to breathe. She twirled in place the moment she held her friend’s attention.

“Nicely done!” Luna exclaimed, nodding in approval at the sight.

A series of curses burst out above them. Hermione had to block the sun with a hand to look for the source.

“Foul! That’s reckless flying, Charlie!” Percy waggled his finger at the burly Seeker.

“Me? What about Fred? He was just as reckless as I was!”

The accused twin shrugged, not even bothering to argue the point. “Can you really blame me?”

Hermione felt like she was missing something. None of the boys were looking at them, but from the way the rest of the family kept shooting her looks and how Luna erupted into giggles, Hermione was convinced she was somehow involved.

“What is this about, then?” She propped both hands on her hips as she questioned Luna.

The witch only giggled harder, shaking her head and waving a hand at Hermione as if she were the one causing a fuss.

Nonplussed, Hermione sought out Arthur and Molly’s attention, only to find that they, too, wore similar expressions of amusement. Was everyone in on it, whatever it was?

She was just about to storm off, perhaps splash her face with some cold water, when she caught Charlie sneaking a peek in her direction. The instant he noticed her watching, he jerked his head back around so hard that his broom nearly fishtailed and sent him off the end.

Oh.

A theory now in place, Hermione settled back onto the blanket next to Luna. She stretched out as if to nap, letting the hem of her dress ride up to the top of her thighs.

“Want to make them even more obvious?” Luna whispered conspiratorially. Her grin showed she knew exactly what Hermione was doing. At her nod, Luna turned onto her side, head propped on one hand as she leaned over Hermione. Their eyes locked on one another, pale turquoise on gold-flecked umber.

They did nothing but smirk at one another, ears pricked for a reaction. They didn’t have to wait long.

A loud whooshing sound preceded the gust that felt refreshing in the otherwise still air. They turned as one to take in the sight of Charlie in all his glory–rippling muscles covered with tattoos and scars, a sheen of perspiration coating them like oil, and a blinding smile underneath piercing sapphire eyes. “Hey.”

Hermione choked on her response, prompting him to grin even wider.

“Hi, Charlie!” Luna replied, lacking none of her usual poise. “I love your Ridgeback.” She pointed at the figure gracing the upper right part of his chest where the dragon’s wings stretched outward.

“Thanks, love,” he said with a wink.

Hermione made room for him as he moved to settle down next to her. It took two throat clears before she could finally speak. “I like them, too.” She motioned towards his body, then hastily added, “The tattoos.”

“Thank you. I like what you did with the dress.” His eyes ran appreciatively down her figure.

Rather than feel insulted at the blatant way he checked her out, Hermione’s stomach flipped in place. “Th-thanks. I got the idea from Luna.”

The other girl saluted them both, then rolled over onto her side in a clear bid for a nap. They turned their attention back to one another, tension filling the space in between.

Hermione had always found Charlie attractive. There was an air about him that screamed danger, much like the dragons that were his livelihood. He’d always seemed out of reach for anything more than a girlish crush. Surely, there were sexy witches closer to his age, ones who could run circles around Hermione’s awkward attempts at conversation. But, here he was, propped up next to her and the bottomless blues of his regard reeling her in.

“I–”

Whatever he’d been about to say was lost to the shouts.

“Watch out!”

“Duck!”

“Hermione!”

Faster than her eyes could follow, Charlie was in front of her, his broad back obstructing her view of the pitch. It was only when he turned that she saw the unmistakable red leather clutched in his hands. Beside her, Luna murmured and continued to sleep on.

“You’re a git, you know that?” Charlie yelled, before chucking the Quaffle straight at Fred with enough force to knock the wizard’s broom back.

“I’m not the one out on a foul!” Fred threw back. “You alright there, Hermione?”

“Yes!”

“No thanks to you!”

Her and Charlie’s responses overlapped.

“You’re out, Fred. Charlie, you’re back in.” Percy’s no-nonsense orders garnered groans from Fred’s team now that they were the ones a man down.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Charlie said, looking reluctant as he scratched at the back of his neck. He straddled his broom, then hesitated. “Would you–”

“Hermione, love!” Fred’s voice boomed over his brother and emphasised the interruption with a clap to the other man’s back. “Mind if I keep you company?”

She had to fight the laughter threatening to bubble up her throat at the way the two men growled at one another. Hermione wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d bumped chests. “I don’t mind at all.” She padded the invitation to one with encouragement to the other, “Good luck, Charlie.”

“I don’t need luck, darling,” he said with a wink. Fred scoffed, but Hermione couldn’t help but bite her lip at the confidence.

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Read the rest on AO3, where your comments and kudos are appreciated <3 Make sure to check out the other @hpdrizzle works in the collection!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/Percy Weasley, Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Luna Lovegood Characters: Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Harry Potter, Angelina Johnson, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Percy Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Summer at the Burrow (Harry Potter), Quidditch, Flirting, HP Drizzle Fest 2024 Summary:

With the war now over and a summer heatwave in full force, the last thing anybody wants to do is worry about what the future holds. What about Quidditch and a birthday barbecue at the Burrow, instead?

Or, Hermione finds herself the willing eye candy of not one, not two, but three eligible Weasleys? How can a girl choose? Why should she have to?

[cbk1000]

Hello, it's me, back with more of the vet fic sequel (yes I know it has a proper title now; yes I will continue to always and only refer to it as 'the vet fic').

He did not have a fabulous time, because people, including the one he had very clearly arrived with, began to dance all round him, and when jibes would not bring him into their midst, Merlin tried champagne. Arthur of course was not a lightweight; but he was not as hefty as he could have been. There was a little sizzling in his head after one glass, and a kind of creeping insanity, which thought that it might have been possibly a very little nice, to kiss Merlin all round his dumb face. He was currently in solemn consultation with a little boy over his hamster, who was called George, and had prompted a visit to the table with the vet, not because there was anything wrong with him, but because it was felt that Merlin needed to know about him. Merlin had taken off his jacket, likely because it was hampering his barbarity, which Arthur had barely tamed with the product which already four hours later was losing that hard-going battle. His hair was breaking out in little ringlets along his brow, and the piece at his nape which Arthur might have nuzzled, with more champagne in him, and less people round them, was kicking up off his neck. He had his hands clasped on the table, and was nodding along seriously to a rundown of George’s colour, age, temperament, and the time he had got his ball stuck under a wheelbarrow when the boy suddenly stopped extolling his whiskers, and said to Merlin, “By the way, who’s he?”

‘He’ was Arthur, who had been sitting across from him for five minutes before his presence had registered.

“That’s Arthur.”

“Who’s Arthur?” the boy asked; not, naturally, to Arthur himself, but to the keeper of all knowledge animalis.

“My boyfriend.”

“I thought boys had girlfriends?”

“Some of them have girlfriends, some of them have boyfriends.”

“Oh, ok,” said the boy, and then: “Why did the mother and father hamster never tell their babies a bedtime story?”

“Why?” Merlin asked.

“Because they didn’t have any tales!”

“Well, do you know why hamsters are afraid to get on sailing boats?” Merlin asked, after laughing appropriately lengthily at a small child’s bad joke.

“No.”

“They’re afraid of pi-rats,” Merlin confided in a whisper.

Arthur like any rational man was still suspicious of children, who like anything that small have to get by on their cunning; but seeing that Merlin was with the boy the way he was with animals, he felt (and this was not entirely his fault, since he was on his second glass of champagne) that same striking impulse for love which has always saved the race from ruin. As a sober man he would have been embarrassed at himself; but as a slightly pissed one, he put his chin in his hands and stared at Merlin not unlike the child was doing. They were both looking at him like dogs, full of stupid loyalty, and love; and Merlin, looking back at him, suddenly flashed the dimples unbearably, so that Arthur could see he had showed them in the same helpless feeling with which Arthur was receiving them. He was never very sure in his love, of where he stood in its estimation. For him it was a thing which he could never be sure of having, but which he could be sure of losing. But Merlin’s whole face was lit up with it across the table, with the small boy for witness. He was just unabashedly doing it, where anyone could see he was smitten.

Then someone else came round to ask Merlin why their cat went, “Bleugh” and the boy was taken off for his nap by his mother, and the look was turned away from him, though he kept it safe, and warm in his throat. 

“You’re slightly pissed, aren’t you?” Merlin asked when they were alone once more.

“No,” Arthur said, which for some reason prompted a laugh.

“Yes you are, you big numpty. Want to go for a walk and have a bit of a drunken snog? I’ll catch up to you real quick. What, did you have a whole entire glass by yourself?”

“Two whole entire glasses,” Arthur replied crisply.

[merlin-canon-divergence-stories]

Shield of Camelot

Chapter 5: Leon and Gareth

Percival entered Gaius’s chambers along with Leon, Elyan, Merlin and Arthur. Arthur grumbled that it was the middle of the night and that there had better be a good reason for this as he had to pass judgment on Sir Alvor in the morning. Percival looked at Merlin and saw he was smiling and relaxed, knowing Merlin knew something. Gaius motioned them over and pointed to where Gwain was actually sitting up, and was hugging Gareth protectively. He still looked pale and sickly, but he was sitting up. 

He saw Gwaine twitch slightly and looked over. “Well, are you guys just going to stare, or are you going to come over and say hi?” 

Percival smirked. “My apologies, none of us wanted to interrupt whatever this was.” motioning to him and Gareth. Gareth looked away embarrassed while Gwaine threw his pillow at him, which didn’t make it very far. 

Merlin chuckled. “Glad to see you’ve not changed Gwaine.” 

Gwaine flinched at that. “Glad to see my failure didn’t lead to your and Arthur's downfall.”

“You didn’t fail, Gwaine. Merlin was able to kill Morgana because you were able to stall her a bit. Though I don’t like what happened to you, nor do I ever want to see you like that again, he wouldn’t have succeeded if her toying with you hadn’t worn her down,” Arthur corrected firmly. 

Gwaine stared at Merlin, stunned, and Merlin hugged him. “Thank you, for pulling through. It’s been far too quiet,” Merlin whispered softly. 

Gwaine chuckled. “Oh don’t you worry, I’ve got some making up to do once I’m back on my feet. Gaius filled me in on some things.” He looked at Gareth, still held in a protective hug. 

Leon smiled gently, seeing Gareth. “We’ll protect him till you’re on your feet, I promise. Arthur has already agreed that when Lord Alvor is banished, Gareth will stay, as squire of the round table. He won’t have to be afraid anymore.” 

Gwaine nodded. “My thanks, he didn’t deserve to be put through that hell Alvor put him through. He’s a good lad, with a good heart.” 

Arthur smiled. “Gwen filled me in on what happened in the smithy, and what they found. Leon and Percival overheard him talking to you while you were still unconscious. Leon, Gareth and Percival will be going on border patrol along Essetir’s border, if Gaius says his arm’s healed enough.” 

Gwaine nodded, and gently put his forehead against Gareth’s. “I heard everything. It was like I was in a dream, but I heard it. His heart's cry, his desire to not be left with Alvor. His fear, it spoke to me as much as your guys' words of encouragement. As well as things you dare not tell the others. Your pleas for me to wake up. I heard it all.” Percival saw Gwaine’s smirk directed at them. 

“At least you're awake now,” Merlin chuckled as Gwaine reluctantly let Gareth go. Gareth nervously offered his arm for inspection. 

Gaius nodded after inspecting it. “It’s healing nicely. As long as you keep it covered, a nice patrol should be fine. It’ll also keep you away from Alvor while we're dealing with him.” 

Gwaine nodded as motioned for Percival to help him lay back down after reluctantly letting go of Gareth. “Keep him safe for me. I hope you guys don’t mind, I’m going to take a bit of a nap. Maybe dream of a cheese that tastes like apple pie again.”

They all chuckled at that as Percival gently did so, relieved that Gwaine had finally woken up. Once he’d cleared Gareth to go with them, he and Leon went to the armory where Leon opened an old wardrobe and pulled something out. “I never thought Camelot would have squires again,” he said quietly. 

Percival watched as he held some very light armor up to Gareth. “See if this will fit,” he said softly. 

Gareth did so, finding that it actually fit him quite well. “It… It’s almost like it was made for me,” he said quietly. 

Leon smiled gently. “It was once mine when I was your age. When Arthur started knighting commoners, I thought that there wouldn't be any more squires. Then you came along. I knew I couldn't let that go to waste.” 

Gareth looked embarrassed at that. “Why me though. Why not give it to your kid?”

Leon blushed slightly. “Don't have one yet. Maybe one day, but at the moment, it's yours ‘til you outgrow it.” 

“My thanks,” Gareth said softly and Percival smiled gently. 

“I never figured you’d have ever been that small in your teens, Leon.You must have hit your growth spurt later on,” Percival teased.

Gareth stared at that, watching Leon warily and Leon just laughed. “I’d be more surprised you were ever anywhere near that size after eight.” 

Percival grinned and Gareth cleared his throat. “Is this… normal between the knights, or just something you guys do?” he asked nervously. 

Percival and Leon looked at him, a bit confused. “If you mean us joking around like this, some knights do it more than others. It depends on who they’re with at the time. Why do you ask?” Leon said gently. 

“Can you… no, you’ll think it’s silly and a waste of time.” Gareth looked away stubbornly. 

“If you want to learn to do it without going too far, we can teach you,” Leon offered gently. “And it’s not a waste of time. It’s what you do with friends in order to strengthen your bond with them.” 

Percival felt Gareth’s eyes land on him at that and nodded. “Don’t you have friends?”

Gareth shook his head. “I was… never really allowed to talk to anyone outside of training and doing tasks for Alvor,” he admitted softly, looking away. “The one time I did, my dad made the boy disappear. That was about seven or eight years ago.” 

Percival felt an anger build up in him at that. He wasn’t the most talkative person, or friendly. He knew he could scare people, children especially; but to see Gareth like that, so afraid to form bonds because of how he’d been treated in the past. For the young teen to be forced to think that it was a waste of time due to the actions of one who should have been his parent and his protector, it angered him and broke his heart. He looked at Leon and knew from his eyes, he felt the same. 

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Not after today,” Leon soothed. “We will be here to guide you. As long as we’re with you, you don’t have to be afraid anymore.” 

Gareth hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.” He followed him and Percival out and toward the stables as the sun started to rise in the horizon.

Percival watched as Gareth and Leon slept soundly by the fire they’d made. Gareth had fallen asleep while he and Leon had decided who would take first watch. Percival smiled gently, watching him. They'd been on patrol for three days, watching for any sign of Cenred's men. Thankfully there hadn't been any and they'd instead used the time to bond with each other, and Gareth was starting to lower his guard around them a bit more. 

Percival heard something snap in the woods nearby and was instantly on the alert, facing the sound, sword drawn. He saw from the way Leon was getting up that he hadn't quite fallen asleep yet and had heard it too, detaching his cape and putting it over Gareth in an attempt to hide the sleeping teen from immediate view. 

Percival listened intently, whoever it was, was smaller than Gareth, and was running at them fast. He stepped back and slammed his sword back in his sheath before using the sheath to stop a long dagger wielded like a sword by a boy who couldn't be more than ten or eleven years of age. He took a good look at the boy as he continued to block but not strike out, fearful of hurting him. He was dressed like the people of Essetir. But fought with a fierceness he'd never seen in one so young. He looked over at Leon and saw him watching this, amazed but still listening for more as Gareth started to wake. 

Percival saw Leon stiffen after a few more minutes. “Gareth, up!” Leon shouted as he dodged a crossbow bolt. 

Gareth shot up out from under the cloak at that and the sound of hooves coming towards them reached their ears. Percival noticed as well and shoved the boy back with only a fraction of his strength, causing the boy to stumble backwards and almost fall. 

Percival and Leon instantly put Gareth behind them and started backing up towards their own horses when the sound of several crossbows firing rang out. Leon yelled in pain as two hit his sword arm and shoulder, Gareth let out a cry as one grazed his burned arm and Percival flinched as the last came close to his cheek.

Their enemies rode into view at that and Percival tensed, recognizing Cenred as one of them, and the look on Leon's face told Percival that he recognized him too as the boy tried to attack them again and Percival blocked it, not wanting to hurt one so young as Cenred and his men dismounted and Cenred drew his swords as he approached. 

“Erik, enough,” Cenred said sharply and the boy halted his attack as the men surrounded Percival, Leon, and Gareth. The boy looked crestfallen at Cenred's sharp tone, but obeyed. Percival noticed that Cenred’s attention was more on the boy than him as he passed him and looked the boy over before redirecting his attention back to the knights. “Just three intruders, the last time there were far more.”

Percival saw Leon flinch at that and knew that they were in a very bad situation. He shot a pitying look at Gareth, seeing he was trembling, hand on his dagger. He also saw that Leon had his sword drawn but using his non-dominant hand to wield it. He jerked his head towards Leon and Gareth before charging towards Cenred. 

Cenred startled and quickly drew his twin blades as his men went after Percival, allowing the other two to slip away. 

Gareth stopped, looking back towards where they'd left Percival. Leon frowned, clearly torn between running and going back. Gareth sighed softly, “I don't like leaving him. It doesn't feel right.”

Leon sighed. “Neither do I, but with my sword arm the way it is.” He put a hand on one of the bolts. “And if we just pull them out, there’s a chance I could bleed to death before reaching where we need to. Percival knows what he’s doing, and we promised Gwaine before we left. We promised him that we’d bring you back alive, no matter what. If we stay, they will kill us, and I have no doubt, and they’ll go for you first.” He pulled himself up onto his horse, pain and reluctance plain on his face. 

Gareth shot a look back then sighed, before mounting. “It just…” 

“I know it feels wrong, but sometimes, sometimes there is no other choice,” Leon said, not looking at Gareth, and Gareth thought he saw something wet slide down Leon’s face. “We must go, and unlike on the way here, we’re not stopping. With any luck, Arthur has another patrol out and we can fill them in and they can get to him in time,” Leon said quietly. 

Gareth nodded and he and Leon took off, knowing time was of the essence. 

[onegianthotmess]

Headcanons For Jane

I’ve been wanting to do this for a while so let’s go!!

Here is the post where I introduced Jane and showed what she looked like: Jane.

Also, I know that @queengiuliettafirstlady is a bit curious about Jane! I’d like to clarify that she is my OC as @natimiles informed you and that there will be a happy ending with her and Theo, just give me a little bit, please! But, in the meantime, you can enjoy these random headcanons that are canon because Jane is my OC/baby and I love her!!!

Jane is Comte’s first daughter, so obviously she’s a bit spoiled in the beginning

Not in a bad way, more so Comte just goes a bit nuts and almost buys all of the women’s clothing in Paris when he brings Jane home, but Leonardo stops him because he doesn’t want the mansion to overflow with gowns and take up his napping spots or for Jane to be overwhelmed

And yes, Leonardo also unofficially adopts Jane and gives her daily headpats because I said so

Jane is incredibly grateful to have been given a second life, but it has led her to question things

She was a devout Catholic while human, but she was confused on what to do with her beliefs when she’d been given an impossible second chance

So, after much contemplation, Jane did decide to remain Catholic in terms of beliefs, but not as devoutly as when she was human because her second life as a vampire has given her a new perspective on things

Jane is often compared to Vincent in personality and none of those comparisons are incorrect

Historically, Jane Seymour was actually called a peaceful angel while in court and was known to be one of, if not the most, beloved queen that ruled during King Henry VIII’s reign

So it makes sense her personality would stay the same even after becoming a vampire

In fact, the reason she wanted to continue living was to help children, even though she couldn’t raise her own son

So, yes, she is often compared to Vincent in terms of being an angel, but her and Vincent don’t see how they’re similar to each other and it’s so cute!!!

Jane only knew English while she was alive and had to learn Modern English from Comte, so when she started dating Theo, Arthur tried to learn Dutch swear words so he could tell Jane to say them to Theo as “terms of endearment”

But, before Arthur could do that, Vincent began to teach Jane Dutch without Theo knowing so she could surprise him

Jane is a very good cook and actually surprised Sebastian the first night she was there because she started cooking dinner way before Sebastian and was about halfway done with the meal when Sebastian walked in

Needless to say Sebastian was both bewildered and very interested by this and started scribbling in his notebook that Jane Seymour was an exceptional cook

Jane will also sit down and knit, crochet, or sew with Sebastian when he gets some downtime and she usually mends his suits if a tear is ever on them

Sebastian’s notebook is getting a nice section on Jane Seymour’s hobbies

Jane loves birds and her pet dove Enid was actually a gift given to her by Shakespeare as a thank you for her sewing some costumes for him for a play he was putting on

And Theo doesn’t like that Enid was from Shakespeare, but Jane loves Enid and sees Will as a nice person and good friend, so he stays quiet

Jane likes to watch Vincent paint and she usually tells him when it’s time to eat and when it’s time for him to go to bed

Jane is actually the only person King doesn’t knock over when he sees and is always gentle with Jane, which pisses Theo off a bit but he also thinks it’s cute as fuck-

When Jane feels restless, she will clean and organize things around the mansion

She’s reorganized the library so many times that it’s literally impossible to not find a book within thirty to sixty seconds, if you know what you’re looking for

Jane will occasionally go into town to help teach children with Napoleon and Isaac

It usually takes a minute for Jane to wake up, so Theo usually has to help her get dressed and occasionally has to help her with her hair if she’s that sleepy

Despite being a queen while human, Jane can be very naive and believes a lot of what Arthur and Dazai say if someone doesn’t immediately stop them or tell her otherwise

And yes, she’s fallen for this plenty of times

She’s the baby girl of the mansion, leave her alone-

Jane has days where she can faint very easily and she has done this while out helping Theo with his work

The first time this happened, Theo rushed her to the hospital and was panicking internally the whole time

And when Jane woke up with instructions from the doctor to go home and rest and drink a lot of water, Theo went with her and didn’t leave her side the rest of the day

When Leonardo and Arthur were asked to see if anything was wrong with Jane after multiple fainting spell days happening, Leonardo and Arthur eventually came to the conclusion that, because Jane’s death and final days had such a massive toll on her body, it affected her even after becoming a vampire

Leonardo and Arthur advised her to try and watch for signs of feeling weak or faint within herself to see if she needed to stay home so that her bedroom wasn’t too far to carry her to if she fainted and another resident found her

Luckily, these fainting spell days are usually few and far between and rarely even happen once a month most of the time

When Jane was dying of postpartum complications, she’d gotten an infection in her eyes from a remedy one of the doctors had given her and it damaged her eyes to the point of her needing glasses

For the first two to three months of Jane’s new life as a vampire, she needed to be guided around the mansion because her eyesight was awful and she needed to wait for Comte to take her to an optometrist to settle a prescription for her and get her glasses made before she could walk around the mansion freely

And during those first two to three months, Jane had broken a few things around the mansion while left alone and wandering the halls and after she got her glasses, she apologized profusely for the damages she’d caused

Occasionally, Jane and Arthur will mix up their glasses and Arthur has to go and find Jane to give her her glasses back as quickly as possible before she breaks something and feels guilty about it

All of the mansion pets have at least a slight fondness for Jane, but the birds, Brush, King, Vic, and Chérie all really like her in particular

Vic actually almost prefers Jane to Arthur and it makes Arthur really jealous because Vic is meant to be his dog and love him

But Arthur feels better after Jane reassures him that Vic still loves him before handing him his precious pup to go and play with King for a bit, who was getting jealous of the attention Vic was getting

Arthur and Jane are very good friends, with Jane almost acting motherly in a way towards Arthur and Arthur just being the flirt he is while also being nice and a gentleman to Jane because she’s a babie who must be protected

Jane actually has a great knowledge on the language of flowers and their properties, from medicinal uses to poisons, she knows almost everything about flowers, even some things Leonardo doesn’t know

Jane has always wanted to go to the beach, but she never really could in her life as a human due to being a lady-in-waiting, then a queen who was pressured to produce a male heir who eventually died after giving birth

Also, she can’t swim-

Jane makes Sebastian take breaks from housework and takes care of it herself

She will cook and clean and do the laundry and have it all done all before Sebastian arrives, thus forcing him to take a day off

Jane enjoys taking walks and usually has someone accompany her, which is usually Arthur and Theo

Arthur occasionally goes out to the bar alone with Jane and challenges her to a drinking contest, which usually ends in Theo being called down to carry his drunk wife back to the mansion and makes sure a tipsy Arthur is alright to be left by himself long enough for Leonardo to come down and eventually carry him back home

Jane gets unusually hungry while drunk and she’ll usually ask Theo if they can go get pancakes while he carries her back home

Jane is allowed to drink with anyone except Jean because of how they both get easily wasted and so they need someone else to watch over them so they don’t get themselves killed or do something worse while drunk

Jane and Vincent often go to Shakespeare’s villa together so that they can have tea with him and talk

They occasionally bring Brush and Enid along with them and both of their pets love both Shakespeare and Puck

Puck is a bit iffy on Vincent, but he LOVES Jane and doesn’t focus on giving Vincent half of an evil eye because he’s too busy getting pets from Jane when they visit

Jane has made winter scarves for everyone in the mansion, Shakespeare, and even the vampires in the castle

Jane met Vlad on the street as he was packing up his little flower cart one evening because she was waiting for Theo and Arthur, and Vlad took a liking to Jane and gave her a few free flowers from the selection he had left

Vlad thinks Jane reminds him of an innocent little girl and finds her cute, so he usually gives her a few free flowers whenever he sees her

And it makes Theo jealous whenever Jane tells him about “the very nice man with strawberry eyes” who occasionally gives her a few free flowers because….it’s Theo and Theo doesn’t like to share his precious and innocent little hondje

And Jane makes pancakes for Theo whenever he’s jealous to help him calm down and to reassure him that no one else will ever catch her eye except for him

Pancakes and a night of cuddling usually does the trick to make Theo feel better and Jane is always happy to oblige

Jane does try to limit Theo’s sugar intake, like giving him the option of letting her pour his syrup on his pancakes or having no syrup at all

It usually works, but sometimes Theo is sneaky and swipes the syrup bottle to put more on his pancakes when Jane isn’t looking

Jane usually instates herself as Sebastian’s replacement and caretaker whenever he gets sick, despite his objections

Even though Jane usually tries to take care of any one of the residents when they get sick because she doesn’t like to see them unwell

Jane loves going to the park and will take Enid with her so she can fly around

Jane actually met Charles at one of her visits to the park and asked if she could visit him at his home so she could get to know him better and meet his friends that he lives with

And that’s what led Jane to visit the castle and meet Faust for the first time and figure out who Vlad is

And Theo does not like Faust

Why?

Because Faust finds Jane interesting, very interesting and just gives Theo a bad vibe

Meanwhile Jane likes him because he doesn’t seem that bad and she finds him funny

Also everyone added Vlad to the “Don’t Let These People Drink Alone No Matter The Cost” list with Jane and Jean due to his zero tolerance for alcohol

Seriously, don’t let them drink alone together without at least one other person or someone is going to die or something weird is gonna happen

They all woke up hungover in Vlad’s flower garden once and flowers were on fire, there was a bear sleeping with them, Marshmallow was trying to get past Cherie to gnaw on Jean’s leg, Enid was asleep on Jane’s head, Vlad was hanging upside down in a tree, a pot of boiling water was in a rose bush, Jean’s eyepatch was missing, and Jane was using Vlad’s black cloak as a blanket

Yeah, Charles had to clean that up and Faust had to take care of Vald, Jean, and Jane while they were all hungover before Jean and Jane could go home the next day

Comte was freaking out about where his favorite most lightweight children went for the three days they were gone

Vincent had to calm down Theo and assure him Jane was fine, but it didn’t really fully work until Jane was home

Jane has a mouse/kitten sneeze

The first time she sneezed at breakfast, everyone looked at her because they never thought she could get any softer or cuter, but they were very wrong

Children love her a lot, she’s like a magnet for kids

When she goes with Theo to take King to the park, children usually come up to her to tell her she’s pretty or to invite her for a game of hide and seek

And babies somehow calm instantly when she holds them

Jane is just really good with kids

Jane was worried about Vincent not having a bed and became even more worried when he said it was fine because he had his couch to sleep on

And Jane couldn’t let that happen, so she talked with Comte and made sure Vincent got a bed put in his room

She even set up some tarps to act as curtains around the bed so that the pillows, blankets, and sheets would be safe from any possible stray bits of paint that would possibly be splattered around in cast of an accident

Jane usually makes Vincent take breaks from painting because she worries about him and they usually make flower crowns together or they go and visit Shakespeare

They make flower crowns for Shakespeare and Puck, too along with their own respective pets

Jane has made flower crowns for Theo and King as well, which makes Theo embarrassed and shy and King very happy because he looks even cuter and eventually gets a snack when the flower crown falls off his head

For Christmas one year, Jane made everyone a special embroidered decorative pillow, even Shakespeare and the castle boys

Theo’s had a golden retriever on it, Arthur’s had a magnifying glass on it, Leonardo’s had tools on it, Jean’s had a tiger on it, Vincent’s had a sunflower on it, Napoleon’s had a sword/rapier on it, Isaac’s had a stack of books with an apple on it, Dazai’s had a book and pen on it, Mozart’s had a violin on it, Sebastian’s had a lamb on it, Comte’s had an hourglass on it, Will’s had symbols for his three most popular plays on it, Faust’s had a monkey on it, Charles’s had resurrection lilies on it, and Vlad’s had strawberries on it

Jane spent about a year and a half planning, researching, and gathering supplies for those pillows before she actually spent another year making the pillows before putting them in nice boxes with wrapping and bows and tags and a hand written card in each to everyone for how grateful she was to have them in her life and that they could do what they wished with their gift

Everyone was very touched by Jane’s dedication to just one gift and they all keep their handmade pillows out on display because they deserve to be seen

Yeah, needless to say that Jane is the queen of going above and beyond for handmade gifts, and just gifts in general

Any holiday involving the giving of gifts, Jane is on top of those gifts, which she planned months in advance for

She’s also the queen of arts and crafts, Sebastian being an extremely close second to her

Jane has made new collars and leashes for both King and Vic because she saw that the ones they had were getting pretty old and worn out

She even made a little harness and leash for Comte’s precious ferret, Thyme

When Jane told Theo she loved him in semi broken Dutch, Theo eased up as best he could on his swearing so that he had less of a chance of his sweet hondje learning any sort of bad language, especially from him

Arthur received many death threats just in case he decided to corrupt Jane’s pure and innocent, and definitely a bit naive, mind

Because Arthur is…well, Arthur

One time Jane accidentally broke her finger on a door and started crying, Theo nearly ripped the door she broke her finger on off its hinges and used it as firewood

He would have, too, if Vincent and Comte weren’t holding him back

Overall, Jane is a sweet babie who could make even the most stone faced serial killer melt with a single kitten sneeze and I love her

(A/N: I got the divider from @firefly-graphics, if you wanted to know or if they wanted to receive credit in this post because I used one of their divider graphics! Either way, go look at some of their stuff because the graphics are really nice!!)

[sednonamoris]

blood of the covenant

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: Arthur and Abigail make a promise. You and John have a chance to find out what that means for you, if you’re brave enough.

Warnings: Christian religious imagery/blasphemy, strong language, canon-typical substance use and abuse, mild fluff

Word count: 2,432

A/N: Chapter 20, and what a milestone she is!! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as me - it was an absolute joy to write 🥰

Series masterlist • AO3

—

The threat of Pinkertons so close to camp has everyone on edge, especially since the law found you as quickly as it did in Scarlett Meadows. Everyone but Dutch, it seems. You and Arthur both agree that you should’ve moved camp by now, but you haven’t, and life must go on, so the robbing and killing has hardly stopped on that account.

Camp life is business as usual.

Ms. Grimshaw watches over all, holding the girls to a punishing standard. Dutch schemes. Hosea worries. The boys terrorize Valentine’s saloons and homesteads and lonely dirt roads. Pearson takes every opportunity to talk about his Navy days over a daily pot of stew filled with game that Charles brings in. Reverend Swanson oscillates between fits of passion and pain and morphine melancholy. Uncle can be found propped up napping anywhere and everywhere. Sometimes you stick a boot in his ribs as you pass just to make sure he’s still alive.

John, for his part, is consumed entirely by his sheep rustling scheme. He splits his days between Emerald Ranch and Valentine’s stockyards, which is probably for the best because Arthur and Abigail haven’t been shy about playing happy family with Jack. It’s like the tentative truce forged after the train job between brothers is all Arthur needed to open the cracked shell of his heart fully. The way he looks at Abigail - the way she looks at him - tugs at heartstrings you’d thought long-severed. Mrs. Adler watches them from the edge of camp with a wistful look in her burnt-barn eyes, mouth caught between a smile and a snarl. Even Kieran stutters out a comment about how sweet they seem when he’s sure Arthur won’t hear.

Trusting in how peaceful— how happy things have been is hard, but you can’t say you miss the tension and misery from before. It’s… nice. It feels nice.

—

You’re more surprised than you should be when Arthur and Abigail come up to you, eyes bright and cheeks flushed and looking so strikingly young, to tell you they’re getting married. In town. Today.

“We just need a witness,” Arthur says. The asking is implied.

“Can’t you take Mary-Beth? She loves this sort of thing,” you try to deflect, caught between joy and discomfort. “I doubt there’s a church they’d let me in, even.”

It’s not that you aren’t happy for them - you’re thrilled. But to actually go with them and sign documents and make things official in the eyes of the law and the God you’re on such bad terms with? It feels like a lot. It feels a little like a betrayal, still. Your eyes search for some kind of comfort in John’s figure across camp, but it’s in vain. If anything, it reminds you how precarious this joy is. How a selfish part of you wishes to lay claim to more of it.

“We want it to be you,” Abigail smiles.

You shouldn’t.

But her eyes are pleading. You start to wilt under the happiness and hope that shines through them like the sun. “Please, Ghost.”

You’re not sure how anyone’s ever said no to her, the way she blinks up through her lashes and grasps your hand in hers and smiles so sweet. And Arthur is no better. It’s hard to remember a time he’s been so happy. So hopeful. The broadness of his frame has taken on a boyish lightness that wasn’t there even when he was a boy.

Shit.

“Fine,” you finally relent. “I guess I know the Reverend in town.”

The relief and excitement on their faces is almost worth the knot of nerves in your stomach.

—

“My friend!” Reverend Hampton calls out when he spies your approach.

You make to shake his hand but he pulls you in for a hug instead. You return it awkwardly and flash a bashful grin. “Reverend, these are my good friends, Arthur and Abigail. They’d… Well, they’d like to be married today. Can you help us?”

His smile, broad and warm and maybe even a little smug, is all the answer you need.

While he procures the necessary documents the three of you fidget near the altar in an otherwise empty church. Muted rays of midday sun fight their way past cloud cover to reflect greens and reds and golds through stained glass. It paints the French blue of Abigail’s finest dress mosaic, like she’s some kind of Mother Mary that walked right out of a window pane. She alternates between clutching the bouquet of wildflowers that Tilly helped Jack pick to her chest and beaming up at Arthur. He stands stiffly opposite her in a suit that doesn’t quite fit, itching at the collar. His returning smiles are a crooked and genuine show of teeth, like he still can’t believe he made it this far. Like his body has a hard time accommodating happiness this size. He’s spent so long in self-inflicted loneliness.

Maybe you have, too.

All four of you cry and laugh in equal measure when the vows are exchanged. Forever recited back in different shades of blue. Arthur places the ring on Abigail’s finger so delicately it makes your heart ache. He kisses her just as tender, just as careful. You look away and wipe at your tears. The Reverend pronounces them man and wife. Arthur prints his name on the marriage certificate afterwards in careful, elegant script. You both smile encouragingly when Abigail signs her X on the line beside it.

Yours fits just off to the side. You have to stop yourself from signing Ghost.

“You know,” Arthur says to the Reverend as you all turn to leave, “we know a Reverend. He ain’t nothin’ like you.”

Reverend Hampton’s expression manages to be both serene and amused. “Every Shepherd has his flock. I am honored to have been trusted with his today.”

You snort. “Figures you’d say somethin’ like that.”

Arthur and Abigail go on ahead to the wagon hand in hand. It’s impossible to miss, decked out as it is in the tinsel and bells Mary-Beth scrounged up to make it appropriately romantic. You linger a moment longer at the chapel’s threshold with the Reverend.

“Thank you for this,” you say. Your eyes trace the joy on your dear friends’ faces. “Feels like I’m always in your debt.”

“Nonsense, my child. I am in yours. You have brought life and love here - that’s all an old man could wish for. But please,” he says, and turns to squeeze your hands in his, “do not squander this chance at your own happiness.”

You tuck your chin and stare at your boots while embarrassment burns from your chest to your cheeks. “I’ll try.”

He smiles. “That’s all we can ever do in this life. Go in peace.”

—

You drive the wagon home to the sound of hoofbeats and tinkling bells and laughter and love. It starts raining along the way, light and clean. Lances of sunlight beam through the clouds.

—

“Mr. Morgan,” Dutch greets, a shine in his dark eyes. “Mrs. Morgan. We sure are glad to have you back.”

Jack runs up past everyone with shrieking laughter. “You’re so pretty, Momma!”

And she is. A vision in blue, swept up in Arthur’s embrace. He carries her down from the wagon just to hear her laugh.

The girls coo over the ring on her finger while the boys shake Arthur by the shoulder with grins wide enough to swallow him whole. Choruses of that ring is so pretty and you finally grew some balls and I bet the church was nice inside and can’t believe you squeezed into that suit and won’t you spin for us form that familiar symphony of family you’ve come to count on all these years.

John lingers on the periphery of it all, but he makes a point of stepping forward and shaking Arthur’s hand before the dancing starts. He reaches for Abigail’s hands and murmurs something close to congratulations.

“Thank you, John,” Abigail says through shining tears. A little sad. A little overjoyed. A little relieved, even.

Arthur can’t find the right words, but his eyes say it all for him.

“Sure,” John grimaces a smile, “sure. You two… be well. Really.”

They whisk away to the sound of music crackling from Dutch’s gramophone, leaving him beside you with a half-broke heart. John shakes his head at the silent question posed by the tilt of your head, so you settle on the edge of the celebration to watch them whirl in ¾ time. They’re given time enough for a few twirls and dips all their own before the others start to join in.

The rain hasn’t let up. But sometimes it’s good to dance in the rain, and it’s not so damp yet that you can’t light a cigarette. You inhale deep and sigh out smoke before passing it to John without a word. He always ends up bumming off you anyway.

“Was it nice?” he asks through smoke-filled lungs. His gaze never strays from the happy couple.

“Yeah,” you say, then huff half of a laugh. “Made me cry.”

He eyes you without turning away from the dancing. “Really?”

“Really. That goddamn Reverend always gets me… weepy and shit.”

“Easy with the blasphemy, there.” A smile ghosts across his face.

“Or what? I’ll be struck down by lightning?” you scoff. “Be doin’ me a favor. Then I won’t have to listen to you ask about things you don’t wanna know.”

“Shut up,” he says, but he’s smiling now. It’s one of the real ones - one of the rare ones - that goes a little lopsided and softens the sharp flint of his eyes. You’re unreasonably proud of yourself for it.

He turns to face you, now, hesitant. Something about the way he looks at you makes you shift in place. “What?”

“Do you…” he starts awkwardly, clears his throat. Holds out a hand. “Will you dance with me?”

You look at his hand, then at him. It’s hard to hide your smile, so you give up trying. “Long as you don’t step on my feet.”

“Can’t promise that,” he laughs an awkward little laugh as he takes your hand and leads you into the fray.

The song playing now isn’t quite as upbeat, so the tempo is a little easier on his two left feet. You let him lead through the simpler steps and take charge when he falters through the more difficult sequences. It’s a perfect give and take. He even manages not to squash your toes.

“I know this ain’t an easy thing,” you say lowly, so only he can hear you over the music. “Can I ask how you’re feeling now?”

He sighs. “I feel… I don’t know. Fine, I guess. I reckon Abigail was right about��” he cuts himself off there and swallows. His cheeks stain red past the rain. He can’t look you in the eye.

“Right about what?”

“Nothin’. Me and her not bein’ right.”

The song ends, so he spins you out one last time and then you face one another with a bow before melding back into the edge of things. He grabs a beer for each of you from a nearby crate. There’s more there, something you know you’re missing, but you don’t press. Feels like you never do. Instead you clink your bottle to his drink to new beginnings. To things working out the way they’re meant to.

—

The rain clears up just before the sun sets and paints the sky in dewey blues and golds past the few lavender clouds that remain. Silk dresses and wedding bands. Songbird wings and sunshine. Happiness. Hope.

—

Arthur is busy being newly married and tying up loose ends for Strauss, so when the time comes just a few days later John brings you in on his sheep scheme instead. It’s a simple enough thing to scare off the ranchers and take over their wooly charges. You’ve done a bit of farm work here and there, and Moonshine has a real knack for it. Old Boy is less interested in the sheep, but John does a decent job for a man without any real experience.

You run them into Valentine with little trouble.

Trouble comes instead from the foreman at the stockyard who eyes the both of you, scarred and mean, with suspicion. You guess you can’t blame him.

“Fine sheep,” John says. He’s awful proud of himself.

The man shrugs. “They’re alright.”

“You got much better?” you say, but you already know where this is headed.

“I got plenty with less… ambiguity about their provenance.” He makes a point of eyeing your beat up clothes and unconcealed weapons.

“Those are real fancy words, mister. Not sure I take your meaning.”

He doesn’t smile. “I’ll make it simple, then. You give me twenty-five percent kick back and I don’t say nothin’ to nobody.”

“The fuck do you think I look like?” you snarl, stepping up in his face. A scam is a fine idea, but getting scammed yourself? You don’t take kindly to that.

He doesn’t flinch. “I think you look like a low-down criminal, and I know folk swing for rustlin’ ‘round these parts. Twenty-five percent. I won’t say it again.”

You open your mouth to argue but John grabs your shoulder to pull you back and steps forward in your place. “Fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

They haggle back and forth while you stew in your discontent and glare at the other hands until they finally shake on eighteen. You shake as well with a look that could kill, but don’t say another word until you and John make it back to the horses hitched a little ways away.

“Eighteen? Really?”

“Like you could do better. I mean what were you gonna do? Beat him? Kill him? Then what?”

You scoff, but it’s hard to argue his point. “Fine. I guess it’s better than nothin’.”

“You’re damn right it is. This worked out, relax.” He mounts up. “Dutch wanted me to meet him and Arthur at the saloon. I’ll see you at camp?”

“Sure,” you say. “Try not to get so drunk you can’t find your way back. It’s only noon.”

He laughs. “I’ll try. It’s been that kind of week.”

It sure has.

You ride back at an easy lope on a loose rein, enjoying the day and the lightness in your chest that’s been there since the wedding. A bad deal on good sheep feels like nothing at all compared to that. Nothing at all.

By the time the gunfire sounds, you’re too far away to hear it.

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

*knock knock* Special delivery! Was told to directly give it to you by a Napoleon with a rather stern expression... and then he yawned. I have to admit it's quite early for him to be awake, isn't it? I think he also had bedhair....

My Mo,

You're silly -- you could simply ask me directly. Is this an excuse to get me to write a letter for you? Write one back and think of me while you do, when you're done I'll be right behind you.

So my nunuche wants to know the secret to good sleep and naps?

It’s rather simple. The answer might shock you.

Whenever I struggle to nap in the afternoon I find a nice warm spot and think of you. At night, short of having you here with me, I imagine how it feels to hold you in my arms. I sleep the most soundly with you at my side.

It is important to sleep well, it is only in this lifetime that I have allowed myself the leisure of a deep sleep yet I find myself wishing I had allowed myself the indulgence earlier. When you’re well rested the rest of your body and your mind work better — I sleep when I find my body telling me it’s time for a break.

If you’re having problems… come nap with me. I’m sure you’ll fall asleep in my arms instantly. I won’t let you go until you’re well rested.

Yours eternally, Napoleon Bonaparte

AHHHHH it's been so long since I received this thank god no one is actually corresponding with me via letters HAHAH

GOD DID HE WRITE THIS FIRST THING IN THE MORNING?? IT'S A LETTER TO TREASURE FOR SURE! I'd stash it right next to his main route letters 🥺

Oh my dear monsieur de wahaha i have a very good reason to ask for your advice in written form actually!!!! this way i can read it again and again when i have the need to and not bother you by asking again and again like a broken record instead!! would you scold me for thinking i can bother you?? please don't.....

.....HEY YOU CAN'T SAY THAT!!! this can't be the secret behind it!! huh!!! WHUH!!!

i know you're lying because

because

because i'd tried the same and it should have worked........ don't comment on this. not in letter not in person never

ahem so like i said, you're surely forgetting to tell me something!! i guess I'll have to... examine your sleeping patterns closer. maybe borrow a looking glass from Leonardo or Isaac or- didn't Arthur have one too? you're a curious creature to me all round, Napoleon, so I'm sure it will prove helpful! Jokes aside, I'm happy when you discover more and more things about your second lifetime that you've bettered. another great thing to possess written down on paper! Thank you for the lovely response, I'll treasure it...and listen to your advice too, of course, of course... just don't start complaining when we get into an endless cycle of not letting the other get out of bed, ehehehehehe

Yours eternally sleepy,

Nunuche

*puts down imaginary pen*

OKAY NOW MY DEAR IKEMEN POST OFFICE ROBIN. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!!! It was all i wanted and more, you did an excellent napo and he'll be in my head now for awhile. well he already was, since the day i received his letter...... i wanted to say now that i experienced it for myself, that what you're doing for the fandom is so so so so so wholesome and you've made so many people happy and i love to see it!!! once again brilliant idea and i hope you can keep it up! many hugs and thank you once again!!!

[applepiesupreme]

American Apple Pie

Pairing: Low/Mid Honor Arthur Morgan and female OC.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warning: Angst and Trauma

Summary: Savigne Ricci is a temporary guest at the Van der Linde camp. Her path crosses with the enforcer of the gang, Arthur Morgan, and despite their differences, a relationship develops between them. Whole lot of smut and fluff, slow burn-ish.

AOC link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54945853/chapters/144718747

Chapter 19

Savigne was riding back to camp after her shift, thinking about work. Chef Ecco was the head chef and he was one of those suave, flirty Italian men, handsome and confident. Dark hair combed back with pomade, well trimmed and clean mustache, always spotless apron, quick on his feet, quick with his hands, generous with his praise. A good number of the women in the kitchen were infatuated with him. Proud of his heritage, he had warmed up to Savigne immediately when he found out about her mother's ancestry. He loved coming to her and cracking jokes about how Italians could cook better out of the cradle than some of this folk.

And yet…a juxtaposition: Rachel’s downcast eyes, Chef Ecco’s confident grin, how close he had stood by her, how uncomfortable she had looked about it even though a few weeks ago she would literally blush when he walked into the kitchen. Rachel’s change of attitude intrigued Savigne. She knew that there was something there, but couldn’t quite extricate it because she rarely paid enough attention to what was going on around her and was usually the last person to find out about some open secret at work.

Luther would know in a heartbeat, she thought, and missed him again. Antoine’s was nice, a definite upgrade when it came to her career ambitions over the steakhouse, but she would take a pay cut to have Luther back with her in the kitchen.

A smile tugged at her lips when she thought what a kitchen that housed both Chef Ecco and Luther would look like.

She arrived at camp, petted and fed Cricket and strolled in and walked to her tent. Arthur wasn't there but that wasn't unusual. Although he would always give her a heads up when he would be gone for a prolonged period of time, his comings and goings were irregular on a daily basis. He did a lot of footwork for the gang too and if he went hunting game for example, the timeline was always unpredictable; sometimes he spent hours out there and barely got anything and other times he was back within half an hour. 

She heated the clay oven to cement the lining, took her book and went to sit outside at the table to read. An hour or so later Dutch and Micah rode in. She made herself tea and read a little more and then Abigail came over and they chatted about this and that and eventually it led where most conversations went with Abigail: complaints about John. At some point Abigail said Arthur had rode out with Dutch and Micah earlier and hadn't looked too happy about it. This made Savigne uneasy because why had those two returned and he didn’t, but she dismissed it because he could have gone off to do something else after. She lighted the lantern and drank her tea and read her book a little more, then decided to take a nap. When she woke up the sun had set and Arthur still wasn't there. That's when she started to worry because although he could still be on a job, he rarely stayed out late without telling her and it had been hours since Dutch and Micah returned. 

She squirmed a little about talking to Dutch, so she decided to go to Hosea. She walked up to camp, agitation nipping at her heels and found him and his surprise at Arthur's absence strung her nerves further. "That's odd," Hosea said and looked at her the way people did when they don't want you to worry about something you should definitely be worried about. "Let's go talk to Dutch. I'm sure it's nothing."

Dutch also hesitated for a moment at the news before he waved his hand and speculated that Arthur could have diverted to another job or he could be taking the long way back to lose a tail and that he would be here soon. 

“Soon” didn’t happen. Her disquiet now was colored with panic as she frantically cleaned the tent three times, didn’t sleep a wink and in the morning rode out to work to let them know that she had a family emergency and she couldn’t come to work today. Chef Ecco held her shaking hands and caressed her hair and told her she could take as many days as she needed. Surprised by his generosity and elated, Savigne rode back to camp, hoping that Arthur had showed up in the meantime. But he wasn’t there and still nobody seemed concerned.

This time she didn't need help to go to Dutch; she marched to his tent and loomed over him, quickly working herself into a state. 

“How are you so calm?” she spat.

Dutch was obviously losing his patience with her inquiries and his tone was frosty when he responded: “Listen, Miss Ricci, you don’t know our business, you don’t know Arthur that well…” she ignored the slight smug twitch on his lips when the intended punch landed, “…it’s understandable that you’re worried, but he’s perfectly capable, I assure you.”

“I don’t care about your assurances,” she said, well past the stage of fearing him, “why aren’t you sending people out to look for him?”

“He could be anywhere!” he protested, “He could have circled around and be coming back from a completely different direction. Where am I supposed to send people to?”

“I don’t know! You just told me that I don’t know your business, why are you asking me?”

“It was a rhetorical question,” he said dryly and to her astonishment, sat down to light a cigar as if everything was right in the world. 

Her gaze traveled behind him to find Micah with that leering grin, leaning against a tree and watching the interaction and she shuddered at the look on his face. Up to this point she had been worried about Arthur and she still was, but now suddenly the other implications of his absence reverberated through her. 

“I can’t believe you’re just sitting here and doing nothing!” she hissed at Dutch. “If this is being a ‘leader’, well sign me up because I can do nothing, too.”

The spark of anger in his eyes and the way his jaw clenched satisfied her darkly as she turned and approached Cricket. She saddled up and Cricket neighed softly under her, sensing her mood. Then she turned him out of camp and rode to the main road, pulled the reins and hesitated. Dutch did have a point, she realized lamely, because she had no idea which way to go. She stood there for a long time, gazing at the hills as if Arthur was going to crest one imminently. As it got darker her imagination summoned flickers of movement that made her heart jump, but they all proved to be ghosts and dissipated into the night. The vast number of the things that could have happened to him overwhelmed her. He could have been shot, bit by a snake, fallen off a ravine. He might have eaten bad food and be slumped over somewhere with food poisoning. He could have had a heatstroke and fallen off his horse. He could have been mauled by a bear. Drowned in the current as he tried to cross a river. Captured by a bounty hunter or the law. He could already be dead and his body might never be found, whispered her inner voice.

Frustrated, she rode into Rhodes. Despite feeling nervous about coming to this town after dark, she forced herself to ride through the streets on the lookout for Frost. She felt stupid because why the hell would Arthur be here, but she was unable to return to camp without looking just a little further and then a little more. The hour grew late. 

Then she rode to Valentine, another blind shot in the dark. The town was full of drunk people stumbling about. She was momentarily amazed how an entirely different class of folks emerged from their lairs after nightfall. Afraid to get off her horse, she sat on Cricket as she combed the streets, on the lookout for Frost's pale flank. People ambled towards her, asking if they can buy her a drink and saying she should come and join them and she spooked and rode on, jumping at shadows. 

Deflated and more afraid than ever, she rode back to camp. It was after midnight. The moment she climbed off the saddle, her foot started to tap and she just stood there, unsure what to do next. She didn’t want to go to the campfire and be around all these useless idiots just strolling around like nothing was out of order, but she also didn’t want to go back to her tent where she would be reminded that Arthur was still missing. 

A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped. 

“Sorry Savigne,” Charles said gently, “I called but you didn’t hear.”

“I’m…I’m…” she stammered, jittery and at the verge of crying. 

“He’s back,” Charles said quickly and she blinked in disbelief. 

“He’s…okay. He will be at least.”

That last part jolted her stopped heart back into action. 

“Where?” she managed to whisper. 

“We carried him to his – to your tent. Ms. Grimshaw is caring for him.”

She whipped by him without thanking him and stumbled to her tent in the dark. The lantern inside was on. 

She walked in to a crowd of people – Ms. Grimshaw and Abigail were by the bed. Dutch, Hosea and John were standing around and they parted like the sea when she emerged. 

Arthur was lying on the cover and he looked gravely injured. He was unconscious and shivered a little. His upper body was naked and they had put a fresh bandage on his left shoulder. His face looked all bruised as if he had been beaten, and black and blue bruises also covered his ribs. Savigne just stood there, looking at him with disbelief until Ms. Grimshaw stood up from the chair that she had pulled to the bed and pushed on her shoulders to sit on it. 

“What happened?” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from him. He looked smaller somehow, more frail, almost as if he was a stranger, an impostor and not the Arthur Morgan she knew. 

“O’Driscolls trapped him,” Dutch said, the anger in his tone sharp. “But he made it back. Of course he made it back!” He sounded upset, offended even, and his voice boomed in the quiet tent. 

“He’s going to be fine,” Ms. Grimshaw said to her but Savigne barely heard it. He looked so vulnerable and weak - things she had never associated with him. Arthur was a big man and his strength was part of his identity. Seeing him lying here, looking like all the muscle was drained from him made her uneasy. “We just have to keep an eye on his wound and his fever.”

Her fingers touched his arm and she jerked them back. “He’s so hot,” she whispered, noticing the beads of sweat on his brow.

“He’s running a fever,” Ms. Grimshaw repeated patiently before she gently gripped Savigne’s chin to turn her face and force her to make eye contact. “Savigne. He’ll be fine.”

She suddenly remembered the doctor on the ship telling her that her mom and dad would be fine and flinched. Every day he had told her things were fine, not to worry, they were already better, she should go and play with the other children, that they would get better just like she had and every day she had believed him, leaving her parents to go dally around. Until they both died hours apart and she wasn’t even there. Her mind folded defensively on itself, like an armadillo, locking in the armor. She’s lying, they always lie. She’s just placating you. She doesn't want you to make a scene. They say these things and then people die anyway. Liars, every single one of them.

“Are you lying to me?" she hissed, hands trembling with fury. 

Ms Grimshaw blinked at her. Then her gaze softened somewhat. 

“Course not. He’s going to be fine, he’s strong.”

Savigne looked at her with such repulse and disbelief that she straightened, struggling to remain sympathetic. 

“Just sit here and wipe his brow to keep his fever down. I will come back and check on him,” she said finally and glided out.

They all left and she just sat there, dazed and very afraid. She watched him breathe and sometimes in the dim lantern light he looked like he had stopped so she would put a shaking hand on his chest to feel his pulsing heart, then sit back again, relieved. His breathing was shallow and labored and he mumbled in his sleep. She strained to understand the words but it was gibberish.  

Ms. Grimshaw came back what felt like ten minutes later, but when she checked the time Savigne was surprised that it was three in the morning already. She learned how to change the bandages and when the wound was revealed to her, she felt a little nauseous. It was huge and puckered like an angry mouth, lips pursed close, holding in terrible secrets. It looked alien and hostile, like a parasite that had latched on to him. Ms. Grimshaw said that he must have done it to himself in a desperate attempt to stall the bleeding and prevent infection. Savigne's fingers ghosted over the cuts and bruises and she felt tears well up in her eyes at what was done, how he must have felt, afraid and alone, helpless and in pain. What was she doing when this happened? Drinking tea probably. Sleeping. Riding back on Cricket thinking about work gossip. Chatting to Abigail about nonsense. The world seemed so very different here, barely forty minutes away from the world of Saint Denis; so much more hostile, arbitrary and indifferent. 

Don’t cry. If you cry, he will die. She swallowed back the sobs and dismissively wiped off her eyes. A tremendous tiredness came over her and she trembled with the need to sleep but she jerked back up and slapped herself awake. Don’t sleep. If you sleep, he will die. She sat on, barely blinking and, then fetched a new batch of water. She wiped his face and his torso repeatedly to cool him down and watched him moan and shiver and mutter to himself. She carefully peeled off his pants and wiped his legs and his feet and dressed him with his soft cotton pants. The doctor on the ship had told her that cleanliness was of utmost importance, so she cut up some sheets and towels, boiled them to use as wipes once and then burnt them. Just for good measure, she boiled and cooled the water to wipe him, too. She dozed off once and then woke up with a jolt, convinced that he had died because of it but found him alive and cooler. He looked calmer and his muttering had ceased. 

She sat there, furiously thinking what she could do. And then the faded imprint of a ghost of a memory - summer, as it was now, but drier, hotter. The light warmer, more golden. A heat inside her like a smoldering fire, aching. Pain in her chest, pain in her head. It hurt to breathe, so she did it carefully. The sweet smell of her own sweat, gluing her cotton gown to her skin. A stone wall across from her, painted faded blue, a long, zigzagging fine crack on the left corner of it. The buzz of flies. Calls in the distance in a different language, sharper and more rapid. The scraping of the spoon on the edge of the bowl, rhythmic like a clock. Gentle fingers wiping the corners of her mouth.

She jumped up, suddenly elated. “Of course!” She whispered, amazed that she hadn’t thought of it. She had to make chicken soup.

He isn’t sick. And he’s unconscious, he can’t eat.

She waved that argument away immediately. She convinced herself that as soon as he had some chicken soup in him, he would be fine. It was light out now, she ran over and woke Ms. Grimshaw so she could go and sit with Arthur because Savigne needed to run to town. Ms Grimshaw didn’t seem convinced but she didn’t argue. Then she hastily rode to Rhodes to buy the ingredients for the soup as well as new bandages and alcohol from the doctor and returned with more than what she set out to get, Cricket struggling under the weight of the baskets. She hurried to the tent and Abigail was there, told her that Arthur was doing better and she really needs to sleep.

“I’m fine!” Savigne shouted, emptying her basket in a breathless rush. “I’m going to make chicken soup and he’s going to be okay.”

Abigail watched her for a few minutes, then agreed that this was a great idea, although she looked somber saying it. 

Savigne went about hysterically preparing the earthen oven she had been heating up the last few days with hotter and hotter fire to allow it to settle. 

Don’t leave him alone. He will die. But also: Make the chicken soup. Or he will die. “I can do both”, she thought with steely resolve. Every few minutes she ran back to the tent to check on him and wiped his face and torso with clean water to cool him off. She was relieved that he felt cooler, his body more relaxed, his breathing deeper. Then she ran back out to prepare the ingredients, almost cutting herself in her vigor, pieces of vegetables flying off the table. She ran back in to make sure he was breathing, then back out to drop everything into the pot. She ran back in to check again and then added water to the pot.

When the oven was hot and ready she closed the door and placed the pot on the chimney to boil. Then she ran back in and changed his dressing with the new dressings she had bought at the doctor’s office in Rhodes. She wiped off his torso when it was done. He felt cooler still, somehow more solid, heavier and less transparent, as if he was a ghost becoming corporeal.

At some point she must have drifted off because she dreamed that she was on a big ship. It was dark and the vessel was tilting and creaking and there was nobody about. There was a heavy, cloying sweet stink in the air which she instantly recognized as Death. She went around from cabin to cabin, walked through the corridors, listening to the clanking and groaning of the metal and the wood expanding and contracting and couldn't find anyone. She went up stairs, waking puffs of dust with her steps and walked into cabins to look at the empty, unmade beds and the strewn clothes and children's toys. The silence scared her so she called out to Luther, Arthur, even Dutch and Sister Rodriguez, but nobody answered. She walked around for what felt like hours and encountered nobody. The ship seemed vast and endless, swaying and rocking gently on the water. Then suddenly she heard a bang that shook the floor under her feet and the sound of something slithering away like a long drawn out sigh. She followed the sound with the curiosity and courage that only dreams can give you and found a giant tentacle, as thick as a horse cart sliding through the cabins. It was a deep inky black on top, glistening, wet and slimy. The skin underneath was pink like a baby's skin that had never been touched by the sun. All along the underside were enormous suckers, an angry flesh color like Arthur’s wound, pursing, yawning, pulsing, shivering and gliding along the walls as it retreated. She followed it as it slid away from her, through open doorways and corridors until it disappeared over the railing of the ship in the distance.

Savigne flinched awake and found Arthur looking at her. She sat up and rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't still dreaming and sure enough, he was still looking at her. She scrambled closer to touch his cheek. He was warm but not hot and he looked half asleep, but there was a hint of lucidity in his gaze. 

“Hey,” she whispered with shaky breath, fingers ghosting over his brows and the scar on his chin. He didn’t answer, just blinked around the tent, then back at her. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, holding his limp hand and trying not to touch any of his bruises. “I made you chicken soup.”

His fingers trembled in her light grip but he didn’t say anything and eventually closed his eyes again. His breathing seemed deeper and easier but she hadn’t slept well in so long, she couldn’t trust herself. What did it mean that he woke up? Was he getting better or was it goodbye? She ran over to Ms. Grimshaw who came back and checked on Arthur and she said that he is indeed doing better. Again Savigne shifted on her feet, refusing to believe her, suspecting that she was being told what she wanted to hear, but kept it to herself. 

She took the pot of soup off the chimney to cool and removed the cold debris from the oven. Then she sat there, watching the sun set over the water. Her mind was a jumbled mess and she felt dizzy. It had all happened so suddenly - one minute they were talking about mundane things or he was teasing her about something stupid and the next moment it was all over and he was dying. None of it made sense. How could life take such a turn so casually? And how were people in camp strutting around as if this was just the normal way of things? Sure, they came and asked about Arthur and hung around to talk to her, but overall they seemed remarkably accepting of the situation. Everyone knew that death could happen any moment, but most people didn't live their lives like that because it would drive them insane. Arthur had much longer history with all them than with her and yet they were calm and accepting of his fate, like it was simply part of their lives and if he died tonight, they would mourn him and drink in his name and then a few days later, go on with whatever they were doing. They called each other family but didn't seem as shocked as she was that a member of their family was at the threshold of death.   

She heard her name and ran back in to help Ms. Grimshaw change the bandages again. She poured some soup into a bowl and held it on her lap as she sat watching his chest move, listening to the rhythm of his breathing. It burnt her palms but she didn’t mind. Eventually he didn’t wake up again so she went and poured the soup back into the pot. She tasted it but it tasted like cardboard, all wrong. She carried it over to the camp and told Mr. Pearson to give it out before it went bad, that she was going to make another one in the morning. 

She crept into bed, careful not to disturb him and lied down next to him. She placed her palm on his heart to keep track of his heartbeat in case it stopped and closed her eyes, telling herself she was just going to rest her eyes because they felt raw and dry. She woke up to Arthur’s knuckles stroking her cheek. She hastily leaned over and carefully peppered his face with kisses and told him that she loved him and that he had scared her witless. Then she jerked awake again and wasn’t sure if it had ever happened. He looked peaceful in his sleep and after checking several times that he was indeed breathing and his heart was still beating, she asked Abigail to come wait with him while she rode to Rhodes to buy fresh chicken again. On the way back she realized she hadn’t fed or petted Cricket in two days. When she arrived she was upset and crying and John asked her what the matter was, then assured her that they had fed Cricket and she didn’t need to worry. 

She went back, checked on Arthur and cooked another chicken soup. Cooking calmed her down a little and when she got up to go back in to sit by Arthur, she felt dizzy and told herself she needed to eat something. But then the moment she sank down on the chair she forgot and instead fell asleep again.

It felt like moments but it was darker when she woke, so hours must have passed. She checked on him, heart thudding in her throat but fortunately he seemed fine, even felt her touch and stirred to it. She wiped his torso again and watched his bruises turn from angry red to an ugly yellow and shades of blue. The embers in the oven had gone out but the soup was still warm, so she sat with a bowl in her lap looking at him. 

As if he felt it, he opened his eyes. He looked at her for a long time and she looked back, waiting for him to fall back asleep. But he didn’t; instead he looked around again and touched his injured shoulder with his good right hand. Savigne jumped up, stood there for a few moments wondering what she was doing with a bowl in her hands. Then she remembered and sat down on the bed next to him and told him that he had to eat her chicken soup because it would protect him. She heard the words tumble out of her mouth and they didn’t make any sense but at the same time, she was absolutely convinced of their truth. 

He looked at her a long time, then nodded and made to sit up. She quickly placed the bowl on the chair to help him. He seemed to be in a lot of pain but didn’t complain and when he sat up he swayed a little, as if the act had drained him. She helped to hold up the bowl to his mouth. He drank half of it, but waved the rest away. She eased him back down again, checked his bandages, and then told him that it’s fine, he would be safe now. He nodded and closed his eyes and slept again. She combed her fingers through his hair, stiff with sweat and over his beard, growing wild now and the sticky pallid skin of his good arm and held his hand, feeling more hopeful for the first time because not only had he woken up, but also he had eaten the soup. Then she went out and carried the rest to Pearson and came back to lie next to him. Moments later she got up to boil the soup bowl. Just for good measure. 

The next morning she meant to get up and almost fell on Arthur. She felt dizzy, faint and nauseous. She crawled out of bed on shaking legs and arms and forced herself to eat something canned although afterwards she couldn’t remember what it was. Probably fruit. She changed his bandages again and this time when he opened his eyes they were very lucid and she almost sobbed with relief but stoically didn’t. He reached for her hand and she let him grasp it and there was strength in his grip. He made as if to speak but she told him to reserve his energy and helped him drink some water. Then she told him that she will be right back, fetched Mary-Beth to sit by him and rode back to town to buy new ingredients. 

When she came back Arthur was still awake and there were others in the tent, talking to him, so she cooked the soup and once again, the act of cooking helped her to calm down. Then she suddenly realized that she hadn’t wiped herself off in days and suddenly felt extremely disgusted with herself, so disgusted that bile rose in her throat. She ran into the nearby woods and vomited whatever she had eaten earlier, wiped her mouth and returned to camp. 

She jumped when she heard her name and realized the sun had moved low. She cursed her negligence, took off the soup pot and left it to cool, then ran in to check on him. It startled her to find him sitting on the bed, hunched over, his feet on the ground. “What happened?” she said, and to her own ears she sounded hysterical. 

“Bathroom,” he rasped. She took a deep breath, relieved, and brought him the chamber pot. When he insisted that he wanted to walk to the woods she told him she would rather knock him out and clean out the mess on the sheets after so it was that or the pot. He chose the pot. After, he lied back down and she went to empty the pot, then went to the lake and rubbed her hands until her fingers bled a little. She ladled some soup into a bowl and brought it back to him. 

He sat up by himself and ate the whole bowl this time. After he was done he held on to her hand and asked if she was okay. This sounded really funny for some reason so Savigne had a little laughing fit. She said yes of course she’s fine when she could talk again, because she wasn’t the one who got shot. He looked at her for a long time and asked how come she’s been at camp. She explained that she took time off from her job. This made his brows furrow and she laughed again because his expression was comical. 

“Come lie next to me,” he whispered and she said okay. But the next time she came to her senses, she was on Cricket, outside of camp, watching the sun set over the hills. It scared her because she couldn’t remember how she got here. Her head was foggy, thoughts just flitted through like smoke. Every time she tried to grasp and hold on to one, it slipped through her fingers and turned to dust.

Eventually the vermilion and sienna of the sky faded to a rich blue and navy and she heard a horse behind her. When she looked, it was Sadie and Sadie said she should come back to camp. She panicked, thinking she had killed Arthur by leaving his side and not checking on him but Sadie assured her that Arthur was fine and she needs to come back and sleep. 

Savigne followed her, glided off Cricket and walked back to her tent. To her amazement Arthur was up and he looked…normal. Given the circumstances. He looked bigger somehow and his movements were smoother. The bruises looked dark and ominous now but they couldn’t be hurting as much since he moved easier. She sat next to him at the edge of the bed and he placed his good right arm around her back, nudging her to sit closer. They remained like that for a while and Savigne asked if he had any soup yet and he said he did, that she gave him some earlier. “Oh yeah, that was today,” she mumbled. 

He insisted that they sleep and she lied down next to him and put her hand on his heart again and fell asleep almost immediately. But then she woke up sitting in the boat, drifting from the shore, watching the sun rise. Again, she jolted with fear and scrambled to row back to the shore and the camp. When she arrived Arthur woke up and asked her where she had been. She said she had rowed out to the lake for a bit and left out the part where she couldn’t remember doing it. She emptied the pot and brushed her hands again and only stopped when she broke skin. 

When she walked in again he was sitting on the bed and he wasn’t hunched anymore. His hair and his beard were a mess but his eyes were sparkling and lively. 

“Savigne, come here,” he said and she glided to sit next to him. 

He tucked her hair behind an ear and asked when she had eaten last. She said she couldn’t remember but it was recent. He asked her when she had wiped herself off and she blushed and stammered that it had been a few days. This reminded her how dirty she was and out of the blue, she started to cry, then panicked that crying would kill him and apologized profusely. She felt his hand on her knee and only then realized that she had been furiously tapping her foot. 

He told her that it’s fine, they’ll both clean up after they ate and she jumped up to make chicken soup but her vision darkened and she sat back down on the bed awkwardly. He grew angry at that. 

“Listen to me,” he said, voice hard, and she nodded, wiping away tears. “I want ya to go to Pearson and get us two plates of food. Can you do that?”

“Of course,” she scoffed with mock self-confidence. To be honest, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t forget halfway there but she was determined to try. 

He gave her a dubious look and told her to go so she did. Pearson plated her two bowls of stew on a tray and when she carefully, slowly managed to carry it back to the tent, Arthur had somehow gotten up and cleared the table, placed the chairs around it and was sitting in one. She went over and placed the tray on the table. 

“Sit,” he said sharply and so she did. 

He placed the stew in front of her and told her to eat. She was wiping her spoon hysterically but stopped when she caught his pointed look, and tasted the food. It tasted like nothing which was curious. She ate several spoonfuls and wondered how Pearson could cook something and make it taste like air. She speculated if this was some kind of art, or a skill that could be mastered. 

Arthur prodded her to continue, so she did. At some point she felt nauseous and stopped, but he told her that she needed to finish and his tone brooked no argument. She finished it under his stern gaze but felt sick by the time she was done. When she got up all the stew in her stomach jumped up her throat. She knew she wasn’t going to make it out of the tent, so she ran to the chamber pot and threw up. 

“I’m sorry," she stammered as she straightened. "I just…it was too much.”

He stared at her for a moment, but then softly rasped “Don’ worry ‘bout it,” and attempted to rise on shaking legs. He let her assist him back to bed and once he was settled she grabbed the pot to empty it but he told her to do it later, to come lie next to him. She hesitated until he gave her a heated look, so she placed the pot outside and crawled into bed. 

He was lying on his back and she pressed herself against his good side. The moment his arm curved around her back to hold her to him, she fell asleep. She woke up in the dark from a dream she couldn’t remember and couldn’t get up because Arthur’s arm was still locked around her. She tried to untangle herself when he spoke up:

“Don’ get up. It’s early.”

She lied back down, her heart thumping from her dream. She couldn’t remember anything about it but she remembered being scared.

He was quiet for a long time and she thought he had fallen asleep again but then he said “'M okay. I ain’t dying.”

“I know that,” she replied with a confidence she didn't feel. 

“M’sorry,” he sighed a while later. 

“Why?”

“I know it ain’t easy, I know you was worried.”

“It’s fine,” she whispered and dozed off again.

When she woke up the next morning, he was up already, sitting in a chair and checking his bandages. 

“Is it infected?!” She scrambled out of bed in a panic and almost slipped and smashed her head on the frame. 

“Ain’t infected. It’s fine,” he said calmly. 

Savigne nodded with relief, got up to retrieve and empty the chamber pot. Then she went to the lake to scrub her hands and for a while she sat there, fascinated with the droplets of blood welling up around her nails and running down her fingers. Eventually she ran her hands through the water until the bleeding stopped and went walked back to the tent and for the first time Arthur looked almost completely normal.

She walked in and smiled as the fog in her head lifted a little. He called her over and she sank into the chair across from him. He put out his hands, palms up so she would do the same. He gently grasped her hands and kissed her palms, eyes locked to hers. She was surprised at this and wondered if he was really okay, it was very uncharacteristic of him. Then he just sat there, holding her hands and looking at her for a long time. 

“What is it?” she asked, uneasy.

“Nothing,” he said softly. “I feel better.”

“Good.” she sighed with shaky breath. A long moment later: “Do you want me to make soup?”

He shook his head. “How ‘bout we clean up?”

Her heart exploded at the idea and she jumped up from her chair. “Yes! Let me go get water.”

He released her and she ran out with the buckets and soap and returned minutes later. He was already undressing and she tied the flap and helped him with it. She went to the soapy water bucket to wet the washcloth but he told her no, she needs to undress, too. So she did. Then he allowed her to wipe him clean and then wipe off the soapy water and help him to dress back up again in clean clothes. She did the same and sighed with pleasure at the feeling of clean clothes against her skin. 

“I feel better,” she smiled up to him. 

He nodded and took her hand, kissing her palm again and said he wants to sit outside for a bit in the fresh air. So she helped him drag the table and the chairs out and they sat outside in the hot breeze. He held her hand, his thumb brushing her palm as they watched the birds circle the island in the distance. She wondered if he saw the world different now, if he had gained a new set of eyes that painted mundane things with a brighter hue. Sobs tried to crawl out of her throat again and she swallowed them down. She felt fragile like a soap bubble, shivering at the slightest breeze, always at the verge of popping and dissolving into mindless sobs.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said. It was still light out but he sounded tired, so she went with him and lied down next to him again. He turned on his good side to gaze at her and she lied facing him.

“Go to sleep,” he said quietly and she closed her eyes, certain that she wouldn’t, but then she was on the ship again and heard the thump of the tentacle and woke up, gasping and trembling in the dark. 

“Hey,” he whispered as she sat up, confused and afraid. She looked around the tent bathed in moonlight and tried to see where it went. 

“Y’alright?”

“I just…” she gulped air, cold sweat on her nape, “I thought I heard…”

A long silence. “What’d you hear?”

“Nothing, it was a dream,” she mumbled, still dizzy with fear. 

She felt him shift to lie on his right side to face her. “What was yer dream?”

“Nothing.”

There was a long silence and she could tell he was looking at her in the dark.  

“Why won’t ya tell me?”

“It’s stupid,” she hissed, turning her back to him. “It was a dream.”

“So if it’s stupid, just tell me.”

She rolled her eyes, annoyed, but then immediately felt guilty because he had almost died.

"You must feel better if you're back to bickering with me," she muttered.

"Ain't bickerin’. Yer evadin' the question, I'm askin' again," he clarified, the stubborn mule that he was. 

"I'm not evading. It's just stupid, is all."

"And 'm saying if it's stupid, no reason not to tell."

"Christ!" she hissed. But ultimately she was unable to deny him anything in his current state: “I was on a ship,” she mumbled with a low voice, hoping he didn’t hear her. 

But of course he did. “And?”

“It was empty. And dark. And it…smelled.”

“What’d you hear?” he said again after a long silence when she didn’t continue.

“The Kraken,” she whispered under her breath. In her mind’s eye, that giant tentacle, wet and slimy, gliding through the empty rooms, twisting to round the corners before finally bowing over the railing. She shuddered. 

“Probably from a book I read. Told you, it’s nothing.” she added with a lighter tone over her shoulder.

She watched the shadows move on the cart as the tent swayed in the summer breeze, feeling burnt out, singed. As if she had touched fire and it had left a permanent mark. He was the one who had wrestled death and yet she felt like she had wrestled something too, was still wrestling it but just like the Kraken, it was submerged, invisible, unknowable.

Suddenly she felt his hand on her shoulder. He hesitated when she flinched, then ignored the flinch and moved to drape his arm over her rib cage. It was his wounded arm and trembled slightly with the effort, so she turned around to face him and placed it back on his hip. “Don’t stretch it.”

”Come closer then,” he whispered and she moved to settle against his chest. He placed his hand on her waist and his chin on her head.

“It's over, Savigne," he said quietly. "Everything will be fine."

He didn't feel her folding in on herself and he didn't hear the latch of her armor and neither did he sense the lie when she said "I know."

[malevolentcast]

Hey! Approximately 79% of my waking hours are consumed rotating this podcast in my brain these days, all the Intrigue and Mystery are keepin me quite busy lol

I was just wondering (and sorry if you’ve answered this before)- how did you originally come up with Arthur as a character, and then how did you develop him (as in, sources of inspiration and such, not like “what mechanics of writing did you employ”)

I know he’s gonna always be Goin Through It but spiritually i have wrapped him in the coziest blanket for a nice long nap, if you could let him know I’d be v grateful

Wow! That's great. I just wrote someone like myself

[mslaevateinn]

My Promptober Masterlist! For whomever might like a thing I've done and would like to read more... Here it is! This year is not complete (neither was last year, although I did twice as much), but I created every day and created for all my fandoms, so it is a success for me! I posted for 23 days, with 19 fanfics or drabbles, and 4 moodboards, over 10 fandoms!

Day #1 Prompt: Hand holding (Kinktober) | I've got you (Flufftober) | How many fingers am I holding up? (Whumptober) Work: Star Trek TNG promptober drabbles Chapter 1: Just in case (Tumblr) Rating: T Pairing(s) William Riker & Deanna Troi, (pre) Troi/Riker Summary: Word count 200

Day #2 Prompt: Family, friends and loved ones (Flufftober) Work: Party Hard Chapter 1: Arrival (Tumblr) Rating: M Pairing(s) Arthur Pendragon/Merlin, Gwaine/Percival, Gwen/Lancelot, Morgana Pendragon/Mithian Summary: A group of friends reunited for a play party ~ A mix of prompts from flufftober and kinktober. Word count 867

Day #3 Prompt: Lap pillow (Kinktober) Work: A lucky guy (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Nick Nelson/Charlie Spring; Nick Nelson & Imogen Heaney Summary: Imogen falls asleep using Nick as a pillow Word count 100

Day #4 Prompt: Shock (Whumptober) Work: Star Trek TNG promptober drabbles Chapter 2: A familiar stranger (Tumblr) Rating: T Pairing(s) William Riker & Deanna Troi, (pre) Troi/Riker Summary: A coda for 2x14, where Will is offered command of the Aries and sees his father for the first time in 15 years. Word count 200

Day #5 Prompt: Collaring (Kinktober) Work: Party Hard Chapter 2: Negotiation & Collaring (Tumblr) Rating: M Pairing(s) Gwaine/Percival Summary: A group of friends reunited for a play party Word count 1098

Day #6 Prompt: First kiss (Kinktober) | Corn maze (Flufftober) Work: Who knew you could pack a punch, Merlin? (Tumblr) Rating: T Pairing(s) Arthur Pendragon/Merlin Summary: Arthur heard a low growl on the right, behind him, and froze. The sound continued, slowly closing on him, and his body moved of its own accord. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him but not so fast as to crash through the corn. Word count 648

Day #7 Prompt: Wax play (Kinktober) Work: Party Hard Chapter 3: Trickling love (Tumblr) Rating: M Pairing(s) Gwen/Lancelot Summary: One couple is always a delight to observe: Gwen and Lancelot, who have decided to use wax that night. Word count 128

Day #8 Prompt: Napping together (Kinktober) | Rainy day (Flufftober) Work: The perfect nap (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Morgana & Aithusa Summary: A rainy day is the best set-up for a nice nap Word count 430

Day #10 Prompt: Love of my life (Flufftober) | 'You said you'd never leave' (Whumptober) Work: Love of my life and assorted drabbles Chapter 1: Love of my Life (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Bucky/Steve Summary: Bucky gently let his fingers glide over the keys. Love of my life. When he discovered the song, he cried. The lyrics pierced his heart and haunted him for days. Word count 584

Day #12 Prompt: Chaste kiss (Kinktober) | Fire & Ice (Flufftober) Work: A Cosy fire (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago Summary: Jake and Amy escape for the weekend and land in the middle of a snowstorm... thankfully there is a fireplace to keep them warm and cosy! Word count 100

Day #13 Prompt: Heartbeat, Playing with one's hair (Kinktober) | I don't feel so good (Whumptober) Work: Love of my life and assorted drabbles Chapter 2: Nightmare (Tumblr) Rating: T Pairing(s) Bucky/Steve Summary: Some hurt/comfort after a nightmare Word count 100

Day #15 Prompt: Massaging (Kinktober) | Supressed suffering/I'm fine (Whumptober) Work: Love of my life and assorted drabbles Chapter 3: Shoulder pain (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Bucky/Steve Summary: Bucky's shoulder is hurting him and Steve is here to help. Word count 100

Day #16 Prompt: Singing one another to sleep (Flufftober) Work: Sleep my friend, tomorrow will be better (Tumblr) Rating: T Pairing(s) Gwen & Morgana Summary: Gwen hated seeing Morgana sad. Anytime her friend seemed to be feeling down in any way, Gwen would immediately try to do something about it. But really, what Gwen hated the most was seeing Morgana cry. Word count 1472

Day #17 Prompt: Cooking/Sharing food (Kinktober) Work: A good broth to cure a bad mood (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Darcy Lewis/Natasha Romanov Summary: With autumnal weather and temperatures, people tend to feel a bit blue. Thankfully, when Darcy feels down, Natasha is here to comfort her. Word count 23

Day #18 Prompt: Spanking (Kinktober) Work: Party Hard Chapter 4: Back to the stocks (Tumblr) Rating: M Pairing(s) Arthur Pendragon/Merlin Summary: Word count 215

Day #19 Prompt: Floral bouquet (Whumptober) Work: Goddamn flowers (Tumblr) Rating: T Pairing(s) Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy Summary: For God’s sake. Why couldn’t they go one week without any incident? Jim had once more managed to do something resulting in him needing medical attention. While he was planetside visiting a potential shore leave destination, of all times and places! How did one do that? ~~ Or, Jim sees flowers that remind him of Earth and, as it turns out, is allergic to them. To no one's surprise. Word count 669

Day #21 Prompt: Panties & Lingerie, Bathing (Kinktober) Work: Goddamn flowers Chapter 2: Down time (Tumblr) Rating: M Pairing(s) Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy Summary: After the Flower scare, the planet is declared fit for shoreleave, and the captain and his chief medical officer enjoy some free time. Word count 812

Day #23 Prompt: Trinket (Flufftober) Work: A trinket to remember their rocky start and get him through the rocky days (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets Summary: Hugh touched the chain around his neck. He had picked up the habit a few years into his relationship with Paul, whenever his partner did something reckless. Word count 100

Day #24 Prompt: Sex Toys (Kinktober) Work: Plug in baby (Tumblr) Rating: E Pairing(s) Gwaine/Percival Summary: When Gwaine had first mentioned it, Percival had been very surprised. They had been playing a lot lately, exploring new things in bed together, but this was another level. It wasn’t just a little spice during sex, that they could end quickly if needed, in the safety of whoever’s place they were staying the night at. Word count 780

Day #25 Prompt: Nook (Flufftober) |Domesticity (Trektober) Work: Goddamn flowers Chapter 3: Finish in a flourish (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Jim Kirk/Leonard McCoy Summary: Shore leaves comes at an end Word count 27

Day #27 Prompt: Outdoor event (Flufftober) Work: Pining under the stars (Tumblr) Rating: G Pairing(s) Aziraphale/Crowley Summary: Aziraphale pines, from under the starry sky. Word count 100

Day #29 Prompt: Bonus : create a Xover (Flufftober) Work: A visit from an old family friend (Tumblr) Rating: T Pairing(s) Akhmenrah & Morpheus Summary: It was a typical night at the British Museum. Akhmenrah had been walking around the exhibits for some time, when he felt the smallest of disruptions. Word count 200

Day #31 Prompt: Free (Kinktober) Work: Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the prettiest player of them all? (Tumblr) Rating: M Pairing(s) Gwaine/Percival Summary: A hotel room, a huge mirror, and two very horny hockey players. What more do you need? Word count 1000

[iomramh]

📝Let's get personal 📝

What about the reality show interest your MC? What's was their occupation?

A change of scene and ADVENTURE!

Where is your MC from?

Currently of Manchester, United Kingdom. Born and lived in Torquay, Australia until she was almost 16. Her parents are originally from Ojai, California. She is half Argentinian (dad), half Finnish (mom). Her accent is likely all over the place as a result.

How did their family react to the sudden decision to be on reality TV?

Her parents are kinda free spirited, so they had no objections. "Sounds like fun" and "Have a good time" was basically the response.

Reality TV ain't all Reality.... what's a trope that describes your MC the best. (Villain, Girl/Boy/Person next door, airhead...)

Probably something like "Surfer Girl", "Beach Bum", but also somehow "Book Nerd", and hopefully "Final Girl". Though I'm sure she'd also like to leave with her romantic partner intact as well.

Describe their style! I mean hair, tattoos, piercings, the WHOLE NINE YARDS.

Has a blue ringed octopus and a golden wattle flower tattoo. A fairly standard amount of piercings in her ears and a stud in her nose. Her dress attire would probably be considered: casual, sporty, surf girl. Usually in shorts or jeans and Billabong or Rip Curl brand shirts and hoodies.

Wild card!

Wants to one day own an Octopus Aquarium but knows they are real Houdinis (probably what she'd name it) and escape easy and are really hard to care for and so therefore will never own one.

❤️ Relationships 🧡

Who did your MC partner up with? And why??

Griff! Imogen was a close second. He seemed the more adventurous out of the initial dates that she picked so he won out. The kiss and the fact that he apparently enjoys swimming didn't hurt either. Also according to the author he smells a bit like the ocean, if she subconsciously picked up on that at all she'd probably be all over him. Oh look at that, she was all over him, guess she did pick it up. lol.

Speaking of body count..... is your MC planning on being loyal or are their going to hop to the next one..

She is in it for a change of scene and some adventure, so the money and or finding someone nice to date is just a bonus, so if Griff is up to sticking around she'll probably stick with him. Depends on the rest of the dates of course.

What's their type?

Apparently himbos. Athletic types or book nerds.

Not every relationship is sexual! Right now who's your MCs bestie?

Florrie for fun, Adegoke or Imogen because BOOKS and WRITING. Of course assuming she doesn't garner even MORE interest in Imogen.

..... who's their worstie?? 👀

Doesn't fully dislike anybody yet. Avery probably feels too uptight for her to get along with though.

💀There's been a MURDER Injury 💀

How did they react? Inner dialog and all.

Went into shock, then kinda numb, then absolutely sad.

What was their relationship with the victim... were they partners.

Was one of their quick dates. Liked that they dressed like they belonged in an Agatha Christie novel. Was rooting for them to find love. Found it funny when they got paired with Arthur since she (MC) called their argument at the beginning a "domestic".

Did they believe that Ellis was alive? Or did they call it out?

Called it out.

Who does your MC think did it? Like number 1 on their suspect list... why...?

Head empty for now, no thoughts. Just wanted to nap then replay it and think about it after some sleep. Since Griff was in bed with her she will probably figure she can rule him out.

If it comes to down to it... can your MC add a body to their body count?

Probably in self defense or to defend another. Would prefer not to. She likes horror but not in real life. A total softie/hippie when it comes to harming things. Would probably be a vegetarian if bacon wasn't so delicious.

BONUS: Any juicy details you got on your MC?

No One Gets Out Alive by Adam Nevill and The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher are her favorite horror books. Sinister is one of her (many) favorite horror movies.

Body Count Asks

Hey, I'm Coco, and @bodycountgame is one of my favorite interactive fiction! I would love to know about your MC

📝Let's get personal 📝

What about the reality show intrest your MC? What's was their occupation?

Where is your MC from?

How did their family react to the sudden decision to be on reality TV?

Reality TV ain't all Reality.... what's a trope that describes your MC the best. (Villain, Girl/Boy/Person next door, airhead...)

Describe their style! I mean hair, tattoos, piercings, the WHOLE NINE YARDS.

Wild card!

❤️ Relationships 🧡

Who did your MC partner up with? And why??

Speaking of body count..... is your MC planning on being loyal or are their going to hop to the next one..

What's their type?

Not every relationship is sexual! Right now who's your MCs bestie?

..... who's their worstie?? 👀

💀There's been a MURDER Injury 💀

How did they react? Inner dialog and all

What was their relationship with the victim... were they partners.

Did they believe that Ellis was alive? Or did they call it out?

Who does your MC think did it? Like number 1 on their suspect list... why...?

If it comes to down to it... can your MC add a body to their body count?

BONUS: Any juicy details you got on your MC?

BONUS²: A iconic reality TV meme that describes your MC