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Leather and Lace - Chapter 18: Feelings Revealed

Part 4 - SEE ME, FEEL ME, TOUCH ME, HEAL ME

Summary: You and Arthur finally have your first night together.

Warning: 18+ please, Minors - DNI; This is a long one, too.

*I had another title for this, but as I was listening to The Who, this lyric began to play as I was editing and it just seemed to fit this chapter perfectly. 

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*These are NOT my images. However, I have seen them in multiple versions and on multiple sources. So I don't know who the owners are to credit. But if anyone knows, let me know.

Tag List:  @rivetingrosie4​ @bimbo-dollz​ @pine4pple-b0i​ @redwritr​ @kuri-chans-blog​ @queer-sadie-adler​ @joelmillerswifey​ @gimmethosedaddymilkers​ @pcotarelo​ @delilah-grimes​ @maemortem​ @wistfulwisteriawitch​ @lilacxxdreams​ @mentallyillfrogs​ @absolutegeek​ @spurz​ @sophiaj650​ @uniqueclodzinevoid​ @lookingformaurice​ @pawoui​ @randomidk-123​ @yyiikes​ @eddiemetalheadmunson​ @twola​ @kmartkiddieisle​ @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic​  @rhehr241​  @earwen-x​ @akariver75​ @djennty​ @nervousmumbling​ @xliliths​ @unbotheredbeeeee​ @onnetonprinsessa​ @kittiowolf210​ @ezrynn​ @suhiss @arthurmargon​​ @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler​​ @alice-vanderlinde​​ @sweetandstoned21​​ @j4llyf7sh @spooky631​​ @m0r4rx @ilovrxats​​ @i-69-urmom​​ @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

Arthur gets a small fire going outside the lean-to hunting shelter. The fire burns a deep red and vibrant yellow as the flames lick up around the logs. It’s a soft and comforting sight, the popping and crackling of the wood drowning out all other sounds in the forest this evening. The sky is deepening to a majestic royal purple hue, with its diamond-glittering stars emerging like a crown. The glow of the fire casts its light only upon your little shelter and the immediate area surrounding it as if protecting you inside of an intimate little sphere made just for the two of you. 

With his task complete, Arthur moves into the shelter and sits down on the ground, nervously wiping his hands on the sides of his pants as he looks over and watches as you flit about to fix the make-shift bedding. You’ve rolled out his bedroll and fanned out a blanket overtop. You’ve even taken off your jacket, rolling it into a pillow of sorts and tucking it under the other fabrics. 

Part of your fidgeting is because you want everything to be perfect. The other part is because you are so nervous. Although, you are not really sure why. Arthur is the one person in the world who you feel the most comfortable and safe with. And yet, with all of the previous restrictions and obstacles now removed, you almost feel more vulnerable than ever.  

When you finish fidgeting with the bedroll and blanket, you turn and look down at him, meeting his gaze with a shy smile gracing your features. You nervously bite your bottom lip as you hesitate for just a moment before you hike up your skirts. Loosely balling the cotton into your hands to show just the slightest amount of your calves, you move to sit on Arthur’s lap. And straddling his hips so that you can face him, you slowly lower yourself down on top of his folded legs. 

He tentatively sets his hands on your hips to help guide you down. Your hands come to rest upon the sides of his neck and shoulders for support, but you leave them there for a few moments after you settle, the muscle and bulk of his body keenly radiating through your fingertips.

Arthur’s hands carefully come up around your neck, his long fingers stretching around to the back and into your hair as his thumbs brush against your chin. He cradles your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you in years, because now he sees you in a whole new light, more radiant and precious to him than ever before. 

You and Arthur simply sit and stare at each other with no words spoken, neither of you sure where to even begin. And yet the anticipation is epic. The comforting silence that encompasses the air is like that that follows the rain. The soft crackling of the fire just outside the shelter is the only sound you hear besides your measured breathing.

Excitement fills your mind as you cannot believe that this is finally happening. But suddenly, you have the fear that Arthur is going to change his mind about this whole thing; that he’s going to get up and bolt from you. Now that you are actually here alone together, you are filled with insecurity. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? You are not the prettiest girl in camp. What if you're too forward? What if you're not forward enough? (He is an outlaw after all.) 

But your whole internal struggle is ridiculous, because Arthur is having the same exact conversation with himself in his own mind right now. He’s ugly. He’s riddled with scars and calluses. He’s older than you, too. And, he is not a good man.

But what neither of you realize is that despite how broken you both are, you are exactly what the other wants and needs. 

His hands release your face, smoothing down over your shoulders and arms to now rest gingerly on your upper thighs. Arthur’s mind races as he stares at you perched so perfectly upon his lap, right where he’s always wanted you. He wrestles with his self-doubt, but in contrast, he also has to deal with his own heated desires. He's wanted you for so, so long. It is all he can do to restrain himself from throwing you down and roughly taking you here and now. 

But eventually, your hand lifts and moves slowly like a butterfly hovering in the air to lay across his cheek. His skin is warm and his beard stubble tickles the palm of your hand. Arthur slowly closes his eyes the moment your fingers graze his skin. He slightly leans into your hand as he places his own massive one overtop of yours to hold it in place, basking in the tenderness found there. It is like a gift that he’s rarely received in his life, and his reaction to your simple gesture almost makes your heart break for him.

Your fingers soon leave his face and proceed to his neck to pull at the knot of his neckerchief which quickly comes off and gets tossed to the side. Then your thumbs gracefully hook under his suspenders to lower them down off his broad shoulders. Although your movements are fluid like water, you can feel Arthur’s whole body begin to stiffen a bit in apprehension under you. 

With the suspenders out of the way, you drift back up to the collar of his shirt, hesitating but just for a moment. You slowly begin to unbutton, working the fasteners back through the holes with slightly shaking fingers. Your eyes follow the trail of your fingers, but Arthur’s gaze never leaves your face, watching you so intently as you work. The glow of the fire outside warms your skin and causes copper flecks to dance in your eyes. He takes note how your breathing has become a bit faster, yet shallow. He’s not sure if it is from nervousness or second thoughts.

When you get to the last button at his waistline your hands float up again, resembling the wingspan of a dove, and tuck under the collar. You slowly push the worn cotton fabric back and off of Arthur’s massive shoulders. Your fingertips trace along the thick sinewy muscles of his arms as you continue to push the fabric down to reveal more of his skin to you. The cool air nips at his skin the moment it is exposed. However, it’s a welcoming sensation to wake him up and anchor him to the present before he drifts off entirely and loses himself. 

Once freed from the garment, your fingertips retrace their path, dancing back up along Arthur’s arms again until they find his shoulders. They continue to explore along his strong neck and move back up to cradle his jawline, until you are holding his handsome face in your hands once more. You pull Arthur in to you for another kiss; slow, deep and passionate. You close your eyes, savoring the taste of his lips. This kiss, just this simple kiss is all it takes for your heart to lose its balance. And all you want to do is fall. 

Arthur’s hands suddenly leave your hips to clutch at your back hungrily while you kiss. He pulls at the bottom of your blouse, lifting it up enough so that he can place his hand onto the bare skin of your lower back, which is softer than he could’ve imagined. 

You lean back from him just enough to catch your breath, reluctant to break the kiss, and take the opportunity to pull your blouse and chemise over your head and toss it to the side, leaving yourself now chest bare before Arthur. The movement causes your hair to ruffle, the locks falling softly like fire ash in the wind to frame your face. 

Arthur blinks a few times and locks onto your eyes, as if testing if his are allowed to roam. At this precarious little moment, he is literally standing on the precipice of no return, and happily waiting to plunge over the side and into your arms.

Your soft smile gives him permission to explore and Arthur swallows thickly as he lets his gaze draw down your face and over your delicate throat, where he catches the skin flicker as you swallow and your pulse quickens. His eyes continue to float down across the delicate curve of your clavicle, until finally landing on your breasts. You watch his reaction closely, noticing his breath hitch slightly as you feel his body shift underneath you. 

Arthur sits motionless, taking in the sight and taking time to appreciate the sheer beauty before him. He has waited and prayed for this moment and he wants not a second of it to be rushed. You reach down and collect his left hand into both of your own and bring it to your lips to softly kiss his dirt-stained knuckles before placing his hand on your right breast, closing his thick fingers around it. A soft puff of air huffs out of his nose at the intimate contact. Arthur draws his thumb across the bud of your nipple and gently squeezes the flesh, amazed at how supple it is. 

You slowly remove your left hand from his and reach to set it upon his firm chest, trailing your fingers through the soft curls of golden-brown hair that is scattered across his body. You start at his collarbone and drift downward before placing your small, delicate palm directly over his heart. 

"I can feel your heartbeat." You smile, pausing to experience the fluttering under your fingertips. "Can you feel mine?" you innocently ask him, staring at him with wide and hopeful eyes. You look at Arthur as if he is so special, so wondrous, that the feeling seems so foreign to him; almost as if it actually hurts him to be gazed upon so intensely like this. But it is not so much as the way you look at him, but how you can’t bring yourself to look at anything else.  

“I feel your heart, your breath, your skin, your hair," he rambles as he gently pulls at a lock. "…everything.” 

The poor man is so overwhelmed. All of his senses are saturated:  seeing you perched on his lap so close that he can count the freckles on your cheeks, your honeyed voice and soft giggles of excitement ringing in his ears. He can taste you on his lips as you kiss. 

And the kisses… dear God, you have lips so soft yet firm that they draw the very breath from his lungs. The feeling of your tongues rolling over each other is heavenly. But it’s your touch that does him in. When you caress Arthur’s tired face, or run your hand along his strong and burdened shoulders, he sweetly shudders beneath you. 

It's been a long time since Arthur has done this; has allowed someone else to touch him in this way. Sure, there were Mary and Eliza, with the occasional working girl for the dire release, but those instances were far and few between. But Arthur has cut himself off for so long that he can’t even remember the last time he was touched like this. He can't even stand to look at himself, how could he manage to let a woman see him in this state? 

Touch starved doesn’t even begin to describe it. And Arthur didn't notice how bad it was until the moment you ran your fingers along his bare arms and chest, your fingers caressing his face. Or, maybe it is just that it is specifically you touching him that is driving him crazy with desire right now.

You eventually begin to explore his body, and trace your fingers along several scars in particular along his chest, arms, and torso, mesmerized by them. Some are larger than others. Some are less angry-looking as time has healed them. But all show the contrast between an old wound and the tanned skin they bury into. 

Being self conscious, Arthur instantly stiffens and tries not to instinctively recoil from you as your attention focuses on his scars. You don't pull back in revulsion as he had expected you to. But you simply stare and curiously run your finger over each one that you can find, like studying the fine thread work of a tapestry, and wondering how it got there. 

"I know I ain’t much to look at for you," Arthur mutters lowly and embarrassed. 

The comment causes you to look up into his eyes with a twinkle in your own before you lean over and softly begin to kiss each scar that you can reach with your lips. Each patch of hardened tissue is a target of your divine attention. The gesture catches Arthur off-guard and his eyes roll shut with a sigh at the feeling of your delicate lips on his damaged skin.

After a few moments of sweetly-delivered kisses, you sit up to look him in the eye again. "Your scars aren’t ugly, Arthur. They tell your story.” Your voice is an angelic whisper, both light-hearted and earnest at the same time; almost childlike in its wonderment. “They are a testament to how strong you really are, and of all of the things you’ve been through. Others would have crumbled under half the weight you’ve had to endure. You're like a tree; strong and weathered, and where everyone takes refuge." 

Your hands dance along his chest again until your index finger lands on one scar in particular that is about three inches from his heart. Your face turns dark for a second, your brows furrowed at the thought of the glaring hardship that he unquestioningly assumes on behalf of everyone else that he cares for. 

"You take the brunt of the storm while everyone is protected by you, Arthur." You gaze at him from under your thick lashes with a look of concern that darkens your once-bright face, worried about his well-being. 

“Yeah, I’m rough and gnarled like an ol’ oak tree”, he sighs with a sad little self-deprecating grin as his fingertips drum nervously on your back.

The effervescent giggle that bubbles from your lips at his statement is music to his ears as that grin of yours that Arthur loves so much blooms across your cheeks.

“Yes, you’re rough, I’ll give you that,” you chuckle in agreement. “But, also like an old oak tree, every once in awhile, Arthur, you show the most magnificent colors.” The demure little smile that graces your face is enough to make Arthur’s heart stop. 

He’s not used to this. He’s been denied attention for so long. Which is ironic, as all you want to do is touch him: run your fingers along his face, draw your leg along his, push yourself up against his bare chest. It's hard for you to imagine anyone ever thinking Arthur is not enough as he is all that you ever seem to think about.

Arthur pulls you to him again for more kisses which you happily reciprocate. The more you touch each other, the more the two of you relax and let go of the inhibitions and hesitations; the comfort settling upon you two like a warm blanket. Your kisses quickly lead to tight embraces, holding each other so close that it's possible that a rib may crack. Heavy breathing and gentle, needy moaning begins to fill the quiet night air.

Getting bolder, Arthur places hot, wet lips along your jawline, down your neck and over your collarbone, getting more and more greedy as your chin gently drops back to grant him access to the sensitive skin underneath. A contented sigh pulls from your slightly gaped mouth as his tongue darts out to leave trails along that soft spot on your chest above your breasts. Your arms affectionately cradle his head to you as your fingers comb through the amber-colored locks of his hair that are forever-embedded with faint hints of woodsmoke.

It is such a blissful moment as you feel each other wrapped in the other’s arms, held so close that every inch of you is heightened and yearning for more. 

Arthur eventually rolls you to lay you down, his own body pinning the side of yours to the ground. Your leg lifts to intertwine with his as your arms slot under his own like a puzzle piece as he deepens the passion with hungry lips and curious hands. Closing your eyes only enhances the extension of his touch as he continues. Everywhere Arthur’s fingers and lips graze, the sensation bursts forth to travel the entire scope of your body.

He eventually sits up on his knees, straddling your right leg, to pull at the strings of your skirt. He’s trying not to get impatient when his giant fingers fumble with the ties. But quick enough, the waistline comes loose and Arthur’s fingers hook underneath and slowly pull the fabric back to expose your hips, and all their glory in between, before showcasing your legs. 

Arthur’s hand comes up to cover his mouth in awe as he takes in the sight of you lying naked beneath him. Slightly embarrassed under his heated gazed, you instinctively pull your legs up a bit, curling in on yourself like a potato bug to try to hide from the exposure. Upon seeing your reaction, Arthur gives you a reassuring smile and leans overtop of you to protectively shield you from the world outside the shelter. His hand caresses your face, a gesture so gentle that belies his gruff exterior. 

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” he whispers to you, kissing your temple. But Arthur’s compliment only makes your cheeks turn as red as the fire outside as you hide your face into his bare chest. 

“Stop it”, you mumble into his muscles, self-conscious of his praise. 

“Oh, so it's okay for you to say nice things, but not me?” he teases with that gruff baritone voice. “I see how it's gonna be.”

“You deserve to hear it more than I do.” Your voice is small and humble, averting your eyes from his as you roll your fingertips around his chest hair.

“Bullshit. If that ain’t the biggest lie I ever heard…”, his nose nudging against yours before encompassing your mouth with his own again.

Arthur carefully moves to crawl completely over you. Both of you are shaking slightly, but it's not from the chill night air. His movements are slow at first, terrified of hurting you physically or offending you with his pent up lust. His hands begin to roam more freely over your skin, which is softer than he ever dreamed. 

Now that he finally has you, Arthur is eager to see every bit of you. His lips kiss over the faint lines and stretch marks that occasionally decorate your skin. His fingertips trace them first as he discovers every bit of you. His attention eventually lands on the soft swell of your breasts, which he caresses before clamping his hot mouth over the nipple, his tongue flicking and swirling over the highly-sensitive skin. You softly hum as your hands find their way to come up again to finger through his hair, your nails dragging slightly across his scalp before lightly grabbing onto the thick waves. 

Your image, your shape, gets burned into Arthur’s brain as he continues his line of kisses and fingertrails all over your body:  every curve, every freckle, even the soft roll of your stomach and hips. Everywhere Arthur touches makes you melt, as his hands are hot like the sun from his own want mixed with his nervousness. 

Your heat is so sensitive as his hand carefully drops to caress it, causing you to jump slightly with a whimper. His fingertips linger around your soft mound until they dance along the delicate folds, already slick with want as you buck slightly into his hand, panting hotly into his mouth. His face now hovers so close to yours, close enough for his eyelashes to tickle your skin, as he gently slips a digit into you. Your spine arches back at the sensation of it, a breathless moan escaping your kiss-swollen lips and your toes begin to curl in pleasure. 

Arthur watches your reaction carefully as he pumps his finger into you. Your eyes roll back as your chin lifts, your mouth sharply sucking in air. Your hand desperately reaches out to grasp his bicep with desire. Your eyes open again to meet his gaze, burning into each other with such intensity. His hand moves faster, adding a second digit now, and curls them to rub that certain spot so perfectly. The sensation draws the most beautiful moan from your lips. It is a sound that almost makes Arthur weep.

Suddenly, the realization of what’s about to happen hits him. What if he’s not good enough? What if you reject him after this? What if he hurts you? What if this ruins the one good thing he has in his life? Arthur pauses in his worship of you, retracting from between your legs for a moment. His hand graces over your forehead as his thumb lingers at the corner of your eyebrow. 

“Are you sure this is what you want, (Y/N)?” His eyes crease with concern as he searches yours, not 100% sure if he should continue. “We don’t have to do this right now.” 

But you are getting restless. You’ve been pushed to the limit in body, mind, and soul by this man and it is time to put an end to your longing. You cup Arthur’s face again with a look of seriousness settling across your features as you are afraid that maybe he is having second thoughts after all.

Your (y/e/c) eyes burn into his with such intensity and longing. “I only want you, Arthur. Of that, I am certain.” 

Arthur inhales deeply, weighing the possible consequences. “If this is too much, you need to tell me. Promise?”

You lift up slightly and give him a chaste kiss upon his plump lips. “I promise.”

Giving a faint smile in acceptance, Arthur pulls away from you. He carefully stands up again, stooping slightly in the small shelter, and begins to unbuckle his pants. With no union suit on today, his remaining layers of clothing are quick to come off. His hardened cock springs forth from its confines as he bends to shuck the pants and boots from his legs. 

You watch him intently, taking in the vision of him. Arthur truly is a beautiful specimen of a man. You have patched him up multiple times after jobs and fights, and of course there was that time when you accidentally stumbled upon him bathing in the river, so you have seen him before. But now you are free to observe his body, to truly take in the sight of him and appreciate the man standing before you.

Of course, he is muscular, his arms and thighs thick from years of hard labor. His entire body is littered with hair, but not in an unpleasant way. Now that he is completely naked in front of you, even more scars are made known to you. You notice old knife wounds on his thighs and an old white scar creeping up along his shin. He almost resembles a ragdoll, one that is tattered and has been stitched back together over time. 

Arthur tosses his pants to the side and looks down at you, hesitating when he notices how keenly you gaze at him. Seeing his look of concern, you sit up to run your hands up his thighs and reach over his abdomen, making the mental note of how his bodyhair trials downward towards the V between his legs. When your face tilts upwards towards his, he leans in for another impassioned kiss before gently pushing you back down and settling himself between your legs. 

Arthur shifts between your hips, getting his knees and elbow set. Caging you underneath him, he begins to rock back and forth causing his whole body to rub against yours. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a relaxed state like no other. You can feel his cock beginning to twitch as it pushes against your heat as if begging for attention. You hear him hiss slightly under his breath, fighting to keep his composure before he loses all self control. The sound makes you moan and mewl on your own accord.

Finally, it’s at the point where Arthur just can’t wait any longer, and neither can you by the way you're grasping and whining at him. He reaches down between you to line himself up and pushes himself into you so gently. Your hand immediately shoots out to his shoulder, bracing yourself. He's well-endowed between his legs and he knows it. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze as he stretches you so wonderfully below, causing you to lightly gasp. He watches your face as you wince slightly, letting out a brief whimper as he pushes. He's trying to be so mindful of your comfort, knowing he's going to fully bury himself into you to the hilt. 

"You alright?" Arthur cautiously asks as he grabs and hooks his arm under your leg, lifting it up and over his hip to open you up more to him. 

"Yes", you pant out, smiling sweetly and lifting your face up to kiss him gently again. He takes a brief moment to get himself adjusted and then begins to move, causing your breathing to be heavy in his ear. He pushes his cock all the way into you, grunting at the heavenly sensation of it, before retracting again. He moves so slowly at first, but then begins to move at a steady pace. The experience is so utterly amazing to you both as you can feel every inch of each other in the most intimate of ways. 

He begins to pump himself in and out as your whole body moves with him. You hook your arm around Arthur’s wide shoulders and neck while the other hand has a tight grasp onto his bicep, fingers digging into the muscles there. After a few moments, he wants to ask again if you're okay, but when your mouth falls open and he hears the words, "damn, Arthur" whispered into his ear, he knows his answer. 

But you can still see the apprehension in Arthur’s face; feel it in his fingers as he touches you. He buries his face into your neck and holds you so tightly as his hips find their place in a steady rhythm between yours. Yet Arthur is still so hesitant, still holding back from you as if nervous.

"Arthur…I need you," your whisper to him barely audible. 

“You're sure about this?” he asks again, lifting his face from your neck to look into yours. “I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, (Y/N), after everything and all.” Arthur sweetly searches for any misgivings, for any sign that you are not ready for this next step.

“I want all of you, Arthur," your voice yearning with desire as you cup his face again. You are so touched that this sometimes-brutal man can be so careful with you, especially in this situation. "It’s okay. I’m tougher than you think." You give him a little nod as his favorite little smile graces your lips once more.

And just like that, that confirmation is all that Arthur needs as he suddenly crashes into your lips, hot and all consuming this time. His thrusts instantly become deep and steady as his hips begin to snap sharply into yours with the ferocity of a caged beast that has been released back into the wild. And you gasp in the most satisfied way as you give in to him. 

“That’s it,” you pant, praising him as you wrap your one leg around his waist to pull him deeper into you, while using the other to stabilize yourself against his force and push yourself up to receive him. 

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to give in to his long-denied desires and lose himself completely, drowning in his senses. He didn’t realize just how empty his soul was until you were there to fill it again. And you are more than happy to be the one to provide that comfort to him. It’s the simplest, yet most selfless thing that you could offer him with your humble existence. 

Arthur used to think that he just wanted to disappear sometimes, to get lost from everyone and everything in the world. But what he realizes is that all he’s ever wanted was to be truly found. And clinging to him, you are just as desperate as Arthur is. Loneliness isn’t something just for an outlaw. You wrap yourself up into him, into his arms, against his barrel chest which is heaving and trying to catch the air for the lungs within as he moves faster and faster on top of you.

“Don’t let me go." Your plea wafts into his ear as tears form in the corners of your eyes as the weight of everything that you've been through and everything you've been waiting for, finally comes to a culmination. 

”Never” is all he manages to murmur in response, not even sure if you hear him. 

The feeling of Arthur on top of you, of him inside of you, is so wonderfully overwhelming and electric. The fullness of him inside you, his rough hands on your skin, his soft lips nipping at your jawline, and his hot breath on your neck, it’s all as if lightning has hit you and is traveling throughout your entire body. Your skin is buzzing with the exquisite sensation, acutely aware of even his chest hair as it drags and rubs against your sensitive breasts as he moves. 

Arthur grabs onto your hip again, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there. There will be slight bruising there for sure later, but neither of you are in any frame of mind to acknowledge or care right now. His cock continues to ram into you, hitting the back of your walls as his girth stretches you so wonderfully. His thrusts are sharp and hard, more desperate than harsh, chasing you, as if you’ll vanish from him in moments like the sun burning the morning fog away.

It is a good thing that your first time together is out and away from anyone else in camp. It gives you both the opportunity to explore and appreciate each other properly. But it also allows you to be free and unrestricted, as the sounds of your lovemaking burst forth in waves of moaning, squeals, and grunting, only getting louder and louder with each cascading wave of building ecstasy. 

Looking down at you, Arthur never thought he’d see you like this:  flushed and pupils blown, your mouth fallen open and making the most incredible noises in his ear. In all the time he's watched you from afar and sketched your image to keep privately for himself, Arthur never dreamed it could be like this. He looks down at himself pounding into you, watching how your body shudders with each stroke. Like a musician playing a fiddle, you move and moan with his fingers. Your chest heaves while your back arches at an almost inhuman angle, desperate to receive more of him. It makes him want you even more. It's crazy how your body responds in perfect union to his. Every time you moan his name in broken syllables and wanton whispers, Arthur shudders and groans even more as it is a confirmation that you are really here for him and only him. And like a selfish child, he wants you all to himself.

The two of you form a beautifully ungraceful knot of limbs and noises, hard to tell where one of you begins and the other ends. Arthur rocks into your hips like a wave on the ocean, repeatedly surging and retreating. Your hands wrap under his arms to grip the planes of his back as your fingers dig into the hard muscle there, clawing for a handhold. You draw your knee up, causing your hips to open wider and granting Arthur more access to your core before your heels dig into the backs of his thighs. And in reaction to your movements, he swallows each of your gasps with his mouth, hungry for you. He winds his hand up into your hair again, pulling slightly to tip your chin back to expose the delicate area of your throat and allowing him to claim what is his with a twinkle of pure delight in his eyes. Your mouth opens up into a soundless scream, an airless breath that fights to escape your chest. And all the while, you are completely absent of coherent thought. Your mind is taken over by the feel of Arthur completely encompassing you. 

This goes on for what seems like hours, as time seems to stand still. For the first time in forever, this feels different for both of you. You cling to Arthur as if your life depends on it because maybe it does. Arthur is the very air you breathe. But that is okay, because he clings to you just the same. The two of you lie there, skin against skin, yet you still try to pull each other even closer. It's a wonder that either of you can move at all for how tightly you hold each other. But it's because you move in perfect unison together that you are able to make it work so heavenly.  

In this beautiful moment, nestled in the thick of the forest and caressed by the darkness of the night, yet kissed by the glow of a fire, you and Arthur give in to each other so completely and so deeply, each finding that missing piece in each other to make you both whole once more. He is the strength that you so desperately need, and you are the hope and humanity that he lost so long ago.

Lightning begins to build in your abdomen as your climax is soon to come. You can’t even form words to tell him, but Arthur can tell by how much faster you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your hot breath dances across Arthur’s neck as your bottom teeth drag along his earlobe, causing an almost animalistic grunt to erupt from him. 

Now it’s your turn to dig your fingers with bruising pressure as your fingernails begin to cut into the flesh of his strong back, holding onto him desperately while the crescendo builds between your legs. You throw your head back with a loud and overwhelmed moan the moment it hits, stars clouding your vision as your climax comes hard with full force like a tidal wave. Arthur stares at you, mesmerized, as his hand comes up to cradle your face as if he’s trying to actually catch the feeling of it into his palm. He is utterly amazed by you. He can’t remember when, or even if, he’s seen a woman react to his touch like this. 

And with this sight, Arthur is soon to follow you. Moaning loudly, his eyes shoot wide before screwing tightly shut again to brace himself for the impending sensation about to rock his entire body. And the intensity of his orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks. Arthur quickly reaches up to fist your hair again as he pulls himself out of you just in time to release between your thighs. The muscles of his entire body tense up and restrict, clamping down tightly onto your body underneath him. His breathing becomes staggered and jagged as he sputters to catch his breath.  

Arthur has a split second of panic as he pulls out of you, not sure if he has timed himself properly. He almost doesn’t make it because he can barely pry himself from your reflexive grasp to move. Aside from the obvious precautions against pregnancy, Arthur doesn't want to offend you by assuming he could release inside of you. 

Arthur remains motionless for a few moments, still trying to catch his breath from his own orgasm, before his bear-like frame collapses onto you. You notice how sweetly his legs and arms tremble as he tries not to crush you beneath him. His face returns to the crook of your neck, panting hot breath onto your sweat-glistening skin. The cool night air is a blessing as a slight breeze chases away the excessive heat that radiates off of your naked bodies. You slowly drag your fingers up the valley of his spine, dancing along the back of his neck and into his hair as the feather-light touch of your fingers causes him to shudder again. You let out a satisfied moan as you flex your fingers into his sweat-damp hair. 

Arthur eventually pulls himself up onto his elbows to look you in the face again and is relieved to be greeted by the softest of smiles. You place your hand along his cheek again, just as you did before, and lift up to pepper his face with sweet kisses along his jaw and his cheek and over his eyelids and nose. 

Carefully, Arthur rolls off of you and onto his left side, but keeps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he moves. He reaches over you to grab his neckerchief that was discarded earlier and uses it to gently clean your legs and then himself before tossing it aside once more. 

Laying there wrapped up into each other’s arms, you forget that the rest of the world exists. You stare into each other's eyes, soaking up the reality of what has just happened between you, as your hand floats up to nestle your fingertips in between the pectoral muscles of his chest. There is a new sense of depth to Arthur’s ocean-blue eyes, a calmness that you haven’t seen before. Arthur studies your face, taking in the way the firelight catches in your irises and mapping the curvature of your lips that he has to fight the urge to kiss again and again. 

“So now what?” Arthur asks, finally breaking the blissful silence.

You release a hum of contented exhaustion as you smile at him. "This doesn’t have to be anything that you don’t want it to be, Arthur. Although I’m really hoping it goes past this moment." 

“I gotta be honest, (Y/N), I haven’t done this in a long time. I...I don’t know if I can.” He draws his lips inward, biting down slightly as he’s embarrassed to tell you this, worried you’ll reject him here and now. 

“But what you don’t realize, Arthur, is that’s where you have me at a disadvantage,” you tell him with a voice so soft and gentle. “At least you’ve had love before. I’ve never been fortunate enough to have what you had, even if it was only for a brief window of time.” You lovingly reach over and run the pads of your fingers over his lips and chin. A lop-sided grin dusts your face as you study him for a moment. “You are capable of so much more than you know, Arthur. I can’t wait for the day that you realize that.” 

Arthur hums in contemplation, averting his eyes for a moment as the corners of his mouth lift a bit. His fingertips roll over the delicate skin of your back as your words embed themselves into his mind.

“I don’t want anything from you, Arthur. I just simply want you.” Your breathy voice carries your warm proclamation, assured with the glinting look that you give him. 

“This could go so wrong, you know,” he warns, his eyebrows knit with concern as his gaze meets yours once again.

“True. But, it could go so right, too,” you counter with a smirk. “This could be the best thing to happen to either of us, Arthur." You reach over again and gracefully run your fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek again as your thumb gently swipes over his bottom lip. "And I think you’re worth the risk.” 

Arthur runs his hand along your back and over your hips, taking in all of your beautiful words. He thinks he is just so ordinary. Or maybe not even that. But to you, he is extraordinary, vast and breathtaking like the bluest sky over the valley. And he can see it in your eyes when you look at him and it makes it hard for him to breathe.  

“Do you have any idea what you do to a man?”, he finally smirks, his eyebrows arching questioningly at you. 

A coy smile dances upon the petals of your lips in return. “Don’t care about other men. Just you.” 

That affirmation causes Arthur’s heart to soar higher than the stars sparkling in the sky above you, and he surges forward and into your lips again. He doesn’t want this moment to end, but only to fold the two of you up into it forever. You smile and hum into Arthur's mouth as his tongue pushes over yours again and again as you can feel his confidence building with each caress of his strong hands across your body. 

When you feel him harden against your legs again, you take advantage of the opportunity and gently push the man over to climb on top of him. Your hair falls to create an intimate curtain, housing your two faces so sweetly as you catch Arthur’s lips with your own. You pull away from his mouth and begin to place kisses along his neck and over his shoulder. The thin blanket that Arthur had wrapped around the two of you slowly falls away to expose your naked body to the cool night air once more, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. 

Using one hand to steady yourself, you use the other to explore Arthur’s muscled chest, rolling over the chest hair that decorates his weathered skin. Playing on both angles, you draw your leg up along Arthur’s body, running your knee and leg along his side, while simultaneously moving your hand and lips down his thick torso. The full body caress makes Arthur’s whole body come to life. His body is used to hardship and blows; to be abused and pushed to the limits of its capabilities. Certainly not this type of coveted affection and touching that you are providing him now.

Arthur’s head rolls back with a moan as he is now the one being taken care of. His head thumps back against your make-shift pillow with a soft ‘thud’ sound as his hands land on your shoulders, massaging the muscle there between his strong fingers as you travel downward along his body. Your trail of kisses leads you down to his hips as your hair feathers out over his abdomen. 

His breath suddenly hitches as he quickly looks down as you hover over his cock. You look up at him and meet his gaze, before you duck back down, gently taking his large cock into your hand. Arthur’s eyes go wide then immediately heavy-lidded as the heat from your mouth envelops his tip before slowing working down the thickness of his shaft. 

You have only done this a few times before now, and Arthur is much larger than you're used to. But desire is a wonderful motivator. Your head starts to bob slowly at first before picking up a faster pace. Using your hand, you're able to take him entirely into your mouth without gagging. Your tongue wraps around the shaft before teasingly flicking at the tip. The muscles of your mouth firmly encompass his cock, creating the most blissful sensation of pressure and suction as you pull up and down. You can hear the hissing and moaning sounds the man is making and it only increases your confidence in your performance, and you change your technique to elicit the specific sound you desire from his trembling lips. 

Right now, you only want to take care of Arthur; to make him feel good and show him the attention that he so rightfully deserves. And yet, the idea that you could hold this strong and fearsome outlaw hostage in the palm of your hand is incredible. This position also gives you the opportunity to take note of just how large Arthur is. It’s little wonder how he was able to pull such an intense orgasm from the depth of your body just moments ago. The very memory of it causes your own desires to ramp up, as your heat begins to tingle and get wet between your legs again. 

Once Arthur is at the point that he is rock-hard again, you slowly remove his cock from your mouth with a soft “pop” and gently rise-up to place yourself on top of him. Arthur watches you, captivated, as you crawl over him like an animal stalking its prey, and slowly rock back and forth, rubbing yourself against him. He’s tempted to take himself in hand, line himself up with your heat and push up into you again. But he’s too transfixed by your dominance at the moment to do anything but watch you move atop of him. 

As if reading his mind, you smirk and you lift up a bit more, wrapping your hand around his rigid cock to guide yourself as you lower onto him, moaning softly and biting down on your lip as his size fills you up yet again. Your head drops back, hair cascading down your back, as you start to slow-grind on him in a hypnotic rhythm. 

Finally able to pull his mind out of its lust-drunk fog, Arthur runs his hands up the front of your thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the plush skin there. He snakes one hand along your stomach and up into the valley between your breasts as the other hand lands on your hip, his fingers digging slightly to help hold the pace you are setting. Letting you take the lead this time allows Arthur to take in the sight of you as you straddle his hips with your own. 

You're not perfect. But it’s your imperfections that make you perfect to Arthur. It really is as if you are made for each other. You have curves, for sure. You're not as small as some of the other girls in camp, but you fit into Arthur’s large hands perfectly. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to break you as if you are a porcelain doll. Your individual features are pleasant for sure, but taken in as a whole, you are striking. At least to Arthur you are. 

He savors the touch of your soft skin against his which is rough and weathered; how the large orbs of your adoring eyes are looking down at him right now, and how you so generously take him into yourself. You are beautiful, you are kind…and you are his. And the two of you can’t get enough of each other. 

For you, you had been so worried that what happened in Rosewood would have ruined you. And it almost did. But you didn’t want that act of depravity to define you. And you pulled from the common adversity of your new family to help rebuild your spirit like a phoenix rising from the ashes. And if that hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here now, like this. With Arthur. 

If it were anyone else touching you like this, you’d probably curl up into a ball, retracting into yourself in fear or self-loathing. But with Arthur, you feel safe and shielded as if no one else in the world would, or could, touch you. 

Arthur is different and you’ve always known it by the way he makes you feel, even when he simply speaks to you. He is warm and instantly feels familiar to you, like he has always been the other half of yourself. He feels solid and secure to your touch and almost makes you feel drunk with emotions that can’t even be named. The best feeling in the whole world is to be with someone who wants you just as much as you want them.

It's amazing how life works sometimes. Some people always have the sunshine in life while others always seem to get the rain. But sometimes, you really do need to suffer through the storm to see the magic of the rainbow at the end of it. 

As you continue to ride him, Arthur can see and feel both of you rapidly approaching your conjoined climax again as he can feel the velvet walls of your heat clenching around his twitching cock inside of you. As you begin to move even faster, you take your hands off of where you've been holding on to Arthur’s forearms and lean over him to plant them on his shoulders. This angle gives you more leverage to grind Arthur even deeper into yourself, if that’s even possible. Harder, faster. Deeper than you thought possible, until you feel as if he’s up into your ribcage. Arthur reciprocates by bucking his hips up into yours with each stroke, causing you to gasp as the breath is taken right out of your lungs with the feel of it. And it’s shortly thereafter that you both start to grasp at each other again, bracing for the overstimulation about to hit. 

Your climax is intense and hits first again. A sharp moan erupts from your lips as your head instantly snaps backwards. And as your muscles begin to go limp as you come down, Arthur grabs you and takes control, sitting up slightly to wrap his strong arms around you, and rides you through the surge of it. 

Watching your eyes roll back into your head with a strained cry, he is quick to hit his own climax and swiftly lifts you up to pull himself out of you again. He pitches you forward, causing your trembling arms to brace yourself against him as he spills his seed along your conjoined thighs once more. It’s a good thing Arthur has a hold of you, too, as you are completely undone at this point, your whole body seemingly boneless. You roll your head to the side and close your eyes before leaning forward to collapse against his chest. 

You both lay there for some time, motionless except for your heaving chests. Arthur’s massive arms encircle you to hold you tight to him as you curl up onto the plane of his chest, your fingers clutching at him. Eventually, you shift to lower yourself to lay along Arthur’s side. You turn into him and snuggle your face into his chest as your hand rests across his heart which you can feel beating like crazy beneath your palm. You absentmindedly rake your fingers through his chest-hair and lift your leg up and over to entwine with his, still trying to keep as close to him as possible. 

Smiling slightly at the feeling of your warm body against his, Arthur pulls the blanket around you again to cover your naked body as it drapes over his own. He lays his hand atop of yours that rests on his chest and wraps his other arm around you to cradle you back into him, his hand tangling in your hair as he holds your head. 

And here in this perfect little moment of satiated bliss, Arthur is happy.

“We could have done this a long time ago, you know,” you snicker as you roll your eyes up to look at him. 

“Hmmm, don’t I know it. Remind me next time to listen to you, would ya?” He pulls his rough fingers along your spine and up over your bare shoulders, still fascinated by how soft your skin is. 

“It’s like I told you before, Arthur:  you look out for me, I’ll look out for you,” you say drowsily, as sleep is about to take over your worn-out senses. And within moments, you are asleep. 

When you go silent and the only sound he hears is the crickets in the night, Arthur looks down at your form, curled up into him like a kitten and almost as fragile looking as one, too. He runs his fingertip along your shoulder again, admiring how the appendage curves. And as he watches you in your euphoric slumber, his mind starts to wander now that it’s quiet and his wits are about him once more. 

It is amazing how this person who was once a total stranger to him can suddenly, and without warning, mean the world to him. You are everything Arthur has ever dared to hope for. And somehow, by some miracle, you have graced him with your affection. And Arthur knows it now: time, distance, background - nothing could separate you two. This is real and this is right. Arthur understands now that you are the person that he was always meant to find, and he is unimaginably captivated by you. 

In the quiet night air, now that the symphony of moans and panting are done, the only sound carrying through the still night air is the popping of the fire as it dies down. The faint noise of a hooting owl in the trees can be heard off in the distance. Left to his own thoughts, Arthur’s reason and self-doubt begin to creep up again, but it’s only for a moment. Spreading like black ink, Micah’s words ring through his mind : if Arthur really cared for you, he’d save you the heartache and keep you safe from him and the trouble that someone like him brings. 

But now, Arthur doesn’t think he could ever do that even if he tried. Selfishly, now that he has you, he doesn’t want to let you go. It would be like taking the air from his lungs or the blood from his heart. Arthur is all-consumed by you now. He could die tomorrow and he'll be a happy man. 

What if he doesn’t run this time, but stays and lets your affection for him, possibly even love, overtake him? Arthur never fathomed that even something as simple as the sound of your voice could ever calm his soul like you have. 

So instead of the foolish notion to leave you in order to protect you, Arthur determines he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe and protected in his care. He is your guardian, and you are his angel. 

As he comes to this conclusion, Arthur’s powerful arms involuntarily tighten around you as if someone was going to come and take you away from him. He leans down and places an ever-so soft kiss on the top of your head, causing you to shift even closer into him in your sleep. 

“I got you, baby-girl. I got you”, he whispers. 

-----------------------------------------

Several hours go by and you slowly wake from your blissful slumber to the sound of chirping birds in the air. The lightening sky of soft lavender and subdued pinks washes over the landscape and creeps its way into the hunting shelter, intruding upon the blissful solitude where you and Arthur are still tucked away. 

The last few plumes of smoke from the dying fire slowly waft through the air. Both of you must have been worn out from your passionate love-making as you are both in the same position as when you fell asleep in each other's arms. The slightly damp, cool breeze of the morning blows across your exposed shoulder, causing you to stir. You slowly stretch and curl into a tighter ball around the bulk of the man beneath you. You inhale deeply as your muscles flex and you instantly catch his scent. The smell of leather and cigarettes, mixed with a bit of clove from his soap, fills your nose. It instantly makes you smile in your hazy sleep, remembering where you are and that this is indeed not a dream. 

Arthur refused to sleep much overnight, keeping a watchful eye on you as you slept, but he did end up dozing lightly here and there. When he feels you move against his bare skin, warm and soothing, he peels open his blue-green eyes with a sleepy grunt and peers down at you. 

“Hey you,” he murmurs softly as he runs his thumb across your temple. You smile, inhaling deeply again, taking a moment to appreciate where you are before you reply with your own sleep-hushed “Hey you”. 

“We’re gonna have to get goin’ here soon, little miss. Dutch ain’t gonna be too happy if we’re out much longer.” Arthur’s voice is thick with sleep and, of course, carrying with it the reluctant tone to enforce what he's saying.

You groan in disappointment, burying your face back into him as you shuffle a bit as your limbs slowly awaken once more. “You sure that’s the way you want to go?” you ask coyly, as you start to leave kisses on Arthur’s chest while seductively drawing circles on his skin with your fingertip. 

“Aw c’mon, you’re killin’ me,” he whines, causing you to giggle mischievously. Arthur wraps you up into his arms and squeezes tightly before relaxing again. When you’re able to lift your head, you reach up to pull his face to yours and plant a soft, yet very intimate kiss on his lip. Your eyes create that dreamy, longing stare again as you look up into his face and run your knuckles along his cheek. 

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, you know that?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I know.” With a quick kiss to his nose, you slowly sit up and stretch, looking around for your clothes with a sigh of disappointment. “But I suppose you’re right. We should get going.” 

Arthur reluctantly sits up as well, leaning over to kiss your naked shoulder as he runs his hand slowly down your back, his touch tickling your skin. Your eyes slowly float closed as you turn your head into his, trying to savor every last bit of time you have alone together.

“Trust me, Darlin’, I’d stay out here with you forever if I could,” he mumbles into your skin as his nose and lips smoosh into your shoulder as if trying to melt the two of you together.

“Yeah, yeah, promises, promises,” you joke as you roll over to grab your blouse and skirt. Arthur sees the perfect opportunity and playfully smacks your exposed butt, pulling a slight squeak from your lips.

But soon enough, the two of you get yourselves together. You reluctantly pull apart from one another long enough to pack up the few things you had brought with you in your hasty departure yesterday and prepare to leave the little hunting lean-to and head back to camp. The sun has awakened as well at this point and begins to shine down, its beams freckling through the tree branches. It is a gloriously beautiful morning and you look upon it with a whole new sense of wonder and happiness in your heart. 

As you shake out the blanket and roll it up in your hands, Arthur stands hesitantly behind you, watching you gracefully move as you tuck the last bit of things onto Buck’s saddle. Noticing him out of the corner of your eye, you turn and give him a curious look. “Everything alright?” 

“I’m fine. Just rolling the last 12 hours around in my head," he mumbles, swirling his hand in the air by his temple. "It’s hard to believe what just happened.” Arthur smiles sheepishly, rubbing his hand along his chin as he thinks about his current situation. 

So much has changed in the last few days, let alone hours. From the fighting between you, to his ride to Rosewood; from the confessions to the embrace. And of course, the beautiful night you’ve just spent together. The river of emotions have weighed heavily on Arthur, leaving him delightfully overwhelmed and uncharacteristically content. 

You beam with sparkling eyes as you take a few steps over to him. “Well, now you can touch whenever you want to. That should be fun, yeah?” You reach your arms around his barrel-chest, squeezing him to you, and lift your face upwards to start placing sweet kisses along his face and neck. 

"Whatcha doin?” Arthur asks cautiously, a suspicious eyebrow raised, but one that belies the grin creeping across his bearded face. 

“Just lovin' up on you again,” you giggle into his neck. "Something tells me you're past due and I got a lot of time to make up for." 

A low hum rumbles from deep in his chest as Arthur folds you up against him, squeezing you into a strong embrace in return. He collects your beautiful face into his giant hands and leans down to kiss you deeply. Your breath rolls over each other’s as you indulge your senses yet again. Once more, the rest of the world falls away the moment your lips touch. The feeling leaves your knees weak and you have to fight the urge to push it farther as your arms tighten around his torso and begin to creep up his back. 

When he pulls back again, Arthur looms over you, looking down into your face and admiring the precious gift he’s holding in his hands. He gives a slight shake to his head, absolutely blown away by his dumb-luck and how he’s managed to fall ass-backwards into your life. Arthur stares at you for a moment, those vivid blue eyes of his bright with a whole new purpose behind them as you reflect back to him the most resplendent smile he has ever seen.

“Mine,” he whispers.

“Yours,” you respond breathlessly. 

----------------------------------------

It is mid-morning by the time you and Arthur make your way back to camp. You’re not too sure of what you’ll come back to, but prepare yourselves for the teasing and cat-calls you’re sure are coming. Thankfully, though, it’s mostly knowingly smirks and waves that greet you. A slight wave of relief settles over you at that, as you are not sure how Arthur would react to such personal teasing. Despite the connection that the two of you have, he is still very much a private person. 

You both get Arthur’s horse taken care of, offer your apologies to a very agitated Blue for being left behind, and then head over to Pearson’s wagon to get some much-needed coffee. The camp is relatively quiet this morning, with a few members milling about with their own agendas. The slight breeze waffs the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee in your direction and pulls you like a tether. You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly rolling shut, and smile with the feeling of “being home”. This little moment is so perfect:  a beautiful morning, surrounded by friends, hot coffee on the fire, and your man at your side. 

“There’s the love-birds,” Pearson chimes loudly with a wink when he notices you and Arthur. The cook stirs the last remnants of breakfast in his pot, clanging the utensil loudly on the side to shake off whatever coats the spoon. The portly man quickly puts down the ladle and grabs the coffee pot and a few cups for you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” says Arthur, waving him off as his face turns a slight shade of pink. You simply smile and gratefully take the cup from Pearson’s hand. A quick, eager sip of the hot, bitter liquid cascades down your throat, warming you from the inside out and a soft “Ahhhh” escapes your lips. And before the two of you can do anything else, you are greeted by the sound of Dutch’s voice carrying through the air. 

“Well, well, nice of you two to join us again!” 

You and Arthur both turn to see Dutch and Hosea approach and notice Hosea holding a few rolls of paper in his hands. 

“Are you two done foolin’ around so we can get some work done around here?” asks Dutch, raising his eyebrows at you both in impatience with a slight wave of his arm. 

“For now,” you quip back. “But I was hoping to fool around a bit again before dinner”. You give Dutch a cocky smirk and a wink. 

Hosea's face wrinkles delightfully as he tries to stifle a laugh while Arthur lowers his head to hide a huge smile under the brim of his hat at your insinuation. But the look on Dutch’s face is anything but amused by your comment right now. 

“Not in the mood. Right,” you say awkwardly under Dutch’s impatient glare, clearing your throat and quickly minding your place. “I’ll just...go somewhere over there.” You wave your hand dismissively towards the center of the camp before turning to Arthur. “I’ll see you later, Arthur,” you giggle. 

Placing your hand on his arm, you give it a slight squeeze along with a big smile. He gives you a quick nod before you quickly scurry away from the men. Arthur’s eyes continue to follow after you, landing on the curve of your rear as you walk away, instantly missing your presence. He reluctantly turns back to Dutch only to be met with the older man’s stink-eye look. 

“What?” asks Arthur innocently, chuckling a little. 

Dutch plants his ringed hands onto his hips in annoyance, tilting his head to the side just a bit as he looks at Arthur. “This is going to get really old, really fast, isn’t it?” asks Dutch with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, leave him alone, Dutch. He’s finally got a good thing goin’ there for himself,” interrupts Hosea approvingly with a knowing grin on his face. “Now, come on you two. We need to go over these carrier routes.” Hosea waves the papers he’s been holding in front of them and motions to the nearest table with his head. 

Leaving the three of them to their business, you take your cup of coffee and saunter over to the fire to take advantage of a rare quiet morning to relax. Noticing that you are back in camp, Abigail is quick to run up to you with a huge cheshire-cat-like smile sparkling on her face.

“Well, good morning, Miss (Y/L/N),” Abigail sings as she hustles over, shimmying up to you and elbowing your arm. “Soooo?” she questions you with a smirk.

But you playfully roll your eyes at her and shake your head as you take a seat next to the other girls who are already gathered around the fire and trying to wake up for the day. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell," you tease Abigail with a grin, demurely pulling your shoulder to your chin. 

“Well, we know there was more than kissin’ going on last night, so why don’t you tell us about that then?” jokes Abigail, swatting your arm.

"So tell us, (Y/N)! How was it?" Karen blurts out eagerly. Her sleepy face instantly perks up the moment you sit down.

"Karen!" scolds Mary-Beth in a hushed tone. Judging by their snickering, you can only imagine that your departure last night has been the talk of the camp.

"What?” Karen protests innocently to Mary-Beth. “I'm genuinely curious.” She waves her hand nonchalantly towards you. “I wanna know if it was worth all the trouble and the wait.” When Mary-Beth gives nothing but a disapproving stare, Karen leans in to her and swats her friend’s leg. “Oh c'mon, like you ain't dyin' to know yourself," she hisses. 

"Actually, I'm kind of curious about it myself," interjects Abigail, looking back to you with that same cat-like grin.

“Yeah, (Y/N), how’d it go?” asks Tilly, leaning forward in her chair and planting her elbows on her knees in keen interest.

It is so sweet to you how your friends want to share in your excitement. You’ve never had siblings, and even your friendships as a young girl were never as open and close as the relationships that you have quickly cultivated with these women. Your face begins to bashfully dust pink at their attention, yet you can’t help yourself as your smile gets even wider by the minute. 

“Some of the best moments in life are the things that you can’t tell other people about,” you gush, yet still trying to be elusive.

“Oh, come on! That ain’t fair! You gotta give us somethin’!” begs Karen, smacking her hands on her thighs and leaning in towards you.  

You simply reply with a long, mockingly-impatient sigh before your face turns a deeper shade of scarlet. You cover your face with your hands for a few moments before pulling them down to peek over your fingertips at your friends, blushing and giggling like a school-girl. 

"It was...perfect," you say with a dreamy, love-drunk grin on your face. 

“Ooooo” They all let out a collective excited giggle, elbowing each other and so happy for both you and for Arthur. 

—------------------------------

Fortunately, it is a bit of a slow day today and Ms Grimshaw is not chasing after everyone to get back to work for once. So you are able to just sit and socialize with the girls. You pass the time sipping coffee and gossiping, discussing what the plans are for the day and watching Jack play “swords” with a stick with Uncle. It is a perfectly content afternoon for once.

Somewhere off to the side you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat before they approach your little group. You turn your head when movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and instantly grin ear to ear when you see that it is Arthur. The way your whole body lights up the moment that you see him makes Arthur instantly wish you were back at the hunting shelter. You’ve only been apart for a little over an hour and yet it already feels like days. 

"Ladies", he addressed the group of you with a nod and polite touch to the brim of his hat.

"Hey, Arthur" they all giggle and smirk at the outlaw at their inside joke. You are quick to swat at them, trying to get them to hush.

"Uh...right.” His hand comes up behind his neck as he stands there awkwardly, suddenly a little uncomfortable with their smirking faces all turned to him. “(Y/N), can I talk to you for a minute?" He waves his hand to usher you away from the small group to speak in private. 

“Sure.” You bounce up from your seat to follow him, turning back over your shoulder with a quick glare at your friends in warning to knock it off with the teasing cackles. 

You and Arthur walk a few feet away from the girls before you stop and turn to face each other. "Don't mind them,” you say quickly to Arthur, waving at the girls.  “They're just..." and you roll your eyes and shake your head, totally at a loss for words.

“Hmmm…yeah I know how they can get,” Arthur acknowledges with a chuckle. He pauses for a moment, looking down at you with a bit of a dopey grin. This is the first time you’ve had a moment alone together again since you’ve gotten back and he’s missed you already. 

“Listen, I gotta leave for a bit. Hosea’s got a lead on some work, need to check it out. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyebrows raise a bit, waiting to see how you will react to this information.

“Okay”. You nod in understanding, giving him a simple smile. Your response is so easy and accepting. Arthur was expecting a protest or for you to be upset, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you are not. 

“Well, after last night, I wasn’t sure if it was proper to leave.” He gives you a sheepish, guilty look as his thumbs tuck into his gunbelt in his usual, comfortable stance.

You place your hands over his arms as you lean in closer. “It’s alright. Go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here.” 

Arthur hesitates for a moment as something else is clearly on his mind, and he shifts his weight from one hip to the other before he speaks again. “One more thing. Would you do something for me?” His eyes squint just a bit as he thinks on how to pose his next question.

“Anything.” You smile at him, moving your hands onto his chest now, and your fingers begin to fiddle with the knot of his neckerchief. Arthur hums a little, his eyes following your fingers and trying not to get distracted from his task at hand. 

“Stay here in camp ‘til I get back, would ya? Don't be goin' out with the girls or nothin'. I’d feel better knowing you were safe here 'til I got back.” Arthur’s face becomes more serious now. You instantly realize what he’s asking of you and why, and his protectiveness is quite touching. You are relieved to see that Arthur has already taken to the idea of the two of you being “together” and it warms your heart. 

“Sure, I can do that,” you agree and your smile grows even bigger like a plant that has been watered and set in the sun. You take Arthur’s chin in your fingers and pull him down as you raise up on your toes to kiss him sweetly. He blushes a bit at the public display of affection that he's not used to. But he loves it just the same.

"Be careful, please." You playfully scold him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Always am," Arthur smirks. 

From somewhere behind him, you can hear Bill yelling for him. “Come on Morgan, let’s go!” Arthur lets out an exasperated sigh as he looks at you, rolling his eyes before he turns to leave and making you giggle. 

“Play nice!”, you call after him as Arthur begrudgingly walks away.

"Never do!" he calls back with another smirk and a wink at you over his shoulder. 

Your eyes follow Arthur with a contented sigh escaping your lips as he walks towards the awaiting group that is about to head out. His broad shoulders rock slightly with his slow, swaggering walk; his burly arms sway at his sides, hovering above the guns that hang so naturally on his hips.

Yep. No doubt about it. You are just stupid for, and hopelessly in love with, this man. 

You shake your head at the wonder of it all and turn to head back to the girls.

Arthur makes his way over to the hitching posts to join the others in getting ready to head out on the scout job. He lifts his chin in acknowledgement to John who is already sitting atop Old Boy, waiting for Arthur to join the group. Then suddenly Arthur is brought out of his reverie by an unwelcome sound. 

“So you and (Y/N) have finally done the deed, eh, Morgan?” The sound of Micah’s voice grates on Arthur’s nerves like a knife scraping across metal as the man saunters over to follow Arthur to the horses. (Ugh, of course Dutch wants him for this job, as well.) 

“Well, how was she?” the bastard grunts.  “I bet she’s real frisky. Like a cat.” Micah shakes his eyebrows suggestively at Arthur, knowing full-well that he’s pressing his luck.

A lightning bolt of anger shoots through Arthur’s very being at the very mention of your name from Micah’s despicable lips. His jaw flexes tightly as he grits his teeth together. He reaches out and shoves his massive hand onto Micah’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. Arthur pulls a deep inhale through his nose in order to collect himself before he speaks. His eyes turn to that hard, icy-blue color as they pierce menacingly into Micah.

“Let’s get something straight right now.” Arthur points his finger at Micah’s chest. “You don’t talk about her. You don’t look at her. In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t even think about her. Or you and I are goin' to go rounds. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Arthur’s voice is low and unyielding. That hardness that the outlaw is known for rears its dangerous head in Micah’s direction and the weasel freezes, instantly knowing where that line in the sand has been drawn.

“Say it,” Arthur slowly grits out between clenched teeth as he menacingly towers over Micah. “Say you understand me, asshole.” 

Micah narrows his eyes at Arthur, the argument right there on the tip of his foul tongue, trying to decide just how far he wants to push this right now. But ultimately, he slowly swallows and concedes to back off. For now.

“Sure, cowpoke,” utters Micah, holding his hands up in surrender. “Anything you say.” His scummy, snakelike grin leaves Arthur with an unsettling feeling. If he didn’t like you being around Micah before, Arthur sure as hell doesn't like it now.

—------------------------------

It’s well into the evening when Arthur and the others come back to camp. It’s been a long, yet productive day and Arthur just wants to sit still for one damn moment and relax. Everyone who was left at home is sitting around the fire sharing stories and passing a bottle or two. Your head perks up when you hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance and you watch Arthur ride in. You notice how he slowly climbs down from Buck’s saddle, almost bone by bone, with exhaustion. As he turns to head into the camp, the outlaw’s tired eyes immediately seek you out amongst the group. And once your eyes meet, your smile draws him in like a moth to a flame. 

Arthur stops to grab a bottle of his own out of one of the crates before ambling over to the fire to take a seat next to you on the ground where you are curled up on a blanket. You nudge your shoulder into his side as he gets settled, placing your hand on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. The corners of Arthur’s mouth turn up as his eyes slowly blink at you with fatigue. The feeling of your warm body curled up against him instantly calms and centers him. He didn’t realize until now just how nice it is to have someone waiting for him when he comes home.

“Before you two get too cozy over there, you’re on guard duty tonight, Arthur,” announces Javier over the fire pit, interrupting your little private reunion. 

Arthur quickly throws an annoyed look in Javier's direction. “What? You gotta be kiddin’ me.”  

“I covered for you last night, amigo” Javier tips his beer bottle towards Arthur with a knowing smirk. 

Arthur groans with disappointment. Feeling his frustrations, you lean into Arthur’s side, your face close to his. “Don’t worry, it’s alright,” you whisper. “We’ll have plenty of time later.” Fortunately, you get at least an hour together to relax at the fire before Arthur has to take his leave to head to the look-out post.

Soon after, after the darkness has snuffed out the sunlight of the day, the camp begins to settle for the evening and the people begin to meander back to their respective places for the night. You stand up from your spot at the fire, stretching your stiff joints before bending over to pick up the blanket you were sitting on. Shaking out the fabric, you neatly fold the blanket over your arm and turn to head to your tent. 

You haven’t wandered too far off when you begin to hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you. And before you can say or do anything, the sight of Micah Bell comes into your line of vision. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you wonder what in the world he could possibly want right now. 

“Looks like you and Arthur have finally "consummated", as it were. Tell me, (Y/N),” Micah sweeps his hand out in front of him, “Can anyone take a ride in that saddle?" 

You can only glare incredulously at him for such an insinuation. God, he is such a disgusting pig. Apparently, Micah is not only going to antagonize Arthur about it, but he’s going to make an attempt at you as well. 

"I mean, if you're gonna spread them pretty legs of yours for the likes of Morgan, can't imagine you got any high standards." Micah arrogantly drags his dirty fingers over his nicotine-stained mustache as if he is about to eat a delectable meal.

You slowly tilt your head at him, your gaze cold. "And that is what burns you up the most, isn't it, Micah?" Your eyes narrow at him, trying to figure out his angle as you play his little game. 

Micah licks his lips and nibbles a bit, taking the bait in return. "What's that, Princess?"

"That I would concede to lay with a man like Arthur, yet I won't even give you the time of day.” You cross your arms over your chest as you hold his gaze in defiance. “That must really get to you, hmm?" you purr.

The smugness instantly drops from Micah’s face being replaced with a sneer. You step a few paces closer, right up into his face so that he can smell the lavender oil you wear. His eyes rake over your body, noting how your cleavage gathers under your crossed arms. He can feel your warm breath scattering across his face. Your boldness, your lack of fear of him, is as annoying to Micah as it is arousing. He sucks his teeth in an effort to regain his composure as he stands in front of you. 

"Know this, Micah. Arthur Morgan is twice the man that you could ever even dream to be," you say with a chilling dead calm. "And in more ways than one, I might add.” 

Micah’s mouth twitches at that last rub. "Well, (Y/N), I guess it's a good thing I ain't ever aspired to be more than I am, then." His tone challenges yours as he leans even closer to you, the tone in the air bordering on threatening.

"That is unfortunate," you say coolly as you confidently hold your ground. "For all of us. Good night, Mr. Bell." And you turn to head into your tent, leaving Micah standing there alone in the cold night air. 

—----------------------------------

Arthur leans his shoulder against the large tree, staring out into the darkness of the woods. The moon is full tonight, looming high above the tree tops and cascading its bright silvery light upon the silent world below. He stands guard over the camp as a brooding sentinel as he slowly draws on yet another cigarette. Smoke huffs out of his lungs like that of a locomotive. 

This is not the place he wants to be right now, as his thoughts drift and focus on you and your night together. Even now, as he recalls even the smallest detail of last night, it seems like a dream to him. He half expects to wake at any moment alone in his tent, surrounded by nothing but the lonesome night, as it all seems just too good to be true. He still has no explanation as to how you seem to pull him in, but you just do. Like that same silvery moon hanging above that pulls on the ocean tides, you draw Arthur to you; just as unyielding, unchanging, and just as magical.

Suddenly Arthur’s daydream is interrupted by the very person he’s thinking about. He catches a wisp of fabric in his peripheral vision. Turning his chin over his shoulder, Arthur sees you coming down the path. He watches as your breath swirls in the frosty air, preceding you as you approach. Like an ethereal being, the moon’s glimmer casts your hair in a soft backlight, causing your gown to be almost see-through in the luminescence as he can see the outline of your calves as you walk. Your delicate hand clasps your shawl around you in the chill air while you carry something else in your other hand. As you get closer, Arthur can see that you have come to bring him a steaming cup of coffee. 

A huge smile instantly erupts across Arthur’s face as he pushes himself up off of the tree. "Hey there, Beautiful. What are you doin’ out here this late?"

The nickname causes your cheeks to burn red more than the chill night air that nips at your tender skin. 

“Coming to see you.” You hand him the cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepts and immediately takes a sip. The hot liquid instantly chases the cold from his tired body and offers just the pick-up that he needed. “How’s it going out here?” you ask as you shiver a bit before pulling the knit shawl tighter around yourself.

“Oh, loads of excitement.” Arthur’s dead-pan drawl makes you laugh a bit.

You snuggle up to his bulky frame, putting your hands around his ribs and looking up into his face with your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. With his free hand, Arthur snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Despite the cold night air, he is so warm that you just want to curl up into him again like you did at the shelter. He leans in to kiss you, his plump lips finding yours once again. Starting off slowly, your tongue quickly begins to wrestle with his. He tastes like the cigarettes and whiskey he's been consuming while out here. 

Dropping his chin, Arthur starts to kiss the tender skin underneath your ear before he proceeds to drag his fingertip along the area. “I love this spot,” he says, his voice a husky murmur in your ear..

“Do you, now?” you sigh with a silky tone of your own.

“MmmHmm. Because when I kiss it, you make that sound.” And he leans in again, placing another kiss in the same spot, only this time sucking a bit harder as his teeth catch your skin. And as if on command, a breathless whimper escapes your lips before you can control it and your eyes flutter closed again. It makes you melt at how playful he’s become just from simply providing him the opportunity and the feeling of being safe to do so. 

After a few more moments of delicious kisses and nuzzling, you pull away just a bit, leaving your faces hovering close to one another's.

"I’d better get out of here," you whisper, "before I’m any more of a distraction." 

"Too late for that now," Arthur hums, dipping his face down as he rubs his nose to yours, trying to entice you into another kiss. 

"Tell you what.” You pull your face back a bit more to get his attention only to be met with a playful scowl of disappointment from him. “I’ll be waiting for you in your tent. When you’re done here, you know where I’ll be." You reach up to set a soft kiss upon Arthur’s stubbled cheek. And with a teasing grin, you turn and saunter back toward the camp, hips swaying exaggeratedly. 

Arthur’s eyes follow you, the movement of your hips almost hypnotic, causing him to sigh deeply. And just like that, you are gone just as quickly as you had arrived; almost like a dream. 

"Damn..." he says with a slight amazement. 

—---------------------------------

It’s shortly before dawn when Bill comes down the path to relieve Arthur from his post. The large man ambles towards Arthur rubbing his bear-paw over his eyes and yawning profusely.

“I swear he’s walkin’ slower by the damn minute”, Arthur grumbles to himself with a huff when he lays his exhausted eyes on the man. He shoots Bill a look of annoyance as he briskly walks past the burly outlaw to head back to his tent. “I got things to do, Bill,” he snaps. 

Bill simply chuckles with that deep voice of his as he adjusts his hat on his head against the brisk early-morning air. “Oh, I bet you do, my friend.” 

Arthur can’t get back to his tent fast enough. He quickly strides across the camp, hurriedly passing by the other snoring and sleeping residents. It's still quiet out and the sun has yet to poke its radiant head above the horizon line. With any luck, Arthur will have a few hours alone with you before the flurry of daily activity kicks up again.

Excitement travels through Arthur’s exhausted body as he reaches his tent. The very sight of his humble little nest that waits for him in the shadows offers him a whole new level of tranquility. He is quick to notice that it is all silent and dark in the space. He half expected a candle to be burning or something. 

Arthur hesitates outside the canvas before quietly pulling back the flaps and peers in before entering. And he is elated at the sight of you asleep on his cot, waiting for him just as you said you would be. In the back of his mind, Arthur harbored some doubt that you would be here, thinking maybe you’d change your mind for one reason or another. He cherishes the idea that someone, but especially you, would be waiting for the likes of him. 

Arthur quietly creeps in and fixes the flaps back down to ward off the cold autumn breeze before it wakes you. He smiles to himself as he quietly shucks off his jacket and holster, his eyes continuing to rest on your sleeping form as he quietly moves about the tent.

He carefully sits on the edge of the cot, taking a moment to watch you sleeping peacefully. His eyes roam over your body from head to toe, taking in the sight of you and marveling at the treasure he has in front of him. 

You're laying comfortably on your back, hair splayed round your face on the pillow. Your one arm rests up by your face, the other lays gracefully across your abdomen. Arthur’s head tilts to the side as he observes how your chest slowly rises and falls with calm breaths. Your eyelids occasionally flutter, making your lashes dance upon your angelic face. Oh, what it must be like to rest so peacefully, he wonders. Maybe now with you by his side, he’ll get to know what that’s like. Maybe. 

Arthur places his hand beside your head as he leans over to gently kiss your delicate lips. The action causes you to startle awake, a sharp gasp crossing your lips as your hands shoot to his chest in surprise. But you are quickly relieved to see his handsome face hovering above yours. 

"Sorry," Arthur murmurs with an apologetic grin. "Couldn’t resist." 

You hum with a sleepy countenance as you slowly sit up, the heel of your hand rubbing your eye in an effort to wake yourself. You reach over to cup Arthur’s face and kiss him back as a welcome. When you pull away, you look him over, noting the sheer exhaustion that coats his whole body. 

"You look so tired," you say with a sympathetic smile. 

"I am tired." A deep sigh of acknowledgement escapes from Arthur’s chest as he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger with his one hand.

You nod in understanding. "Okay, then." You smile sweetly as you take a moment to curl your fingers through his hair, touching your forehead to his, before you swing your legs over the side of the cot and start to stand up. 

Confused, Arthur sits up straighter with apprehension. "Where you goin’?"

You turn back around with a fluid and graceful movement as you catch his chin between your fingers in reassurance. "I’m just going back to my tent so you can get some sleep, is all." 

"Well…", Arthur huffs in disappointment, his face dropping and his hands flopping into his lap.

"What’s wrong?" you ask, slightly amused at his pouty face.

"I mean…I know we’re not gonna…you know…” Arthur waves his hand at you suggestively. "But I was hoping you’d stay with me while I get some sleep."

"Oh." A big smile erupts on your face. "Okay, then," you gush, biting your lower lip a bit and trying to contain your excitement. You move to settle back down onto the cot, scooching over and fidgeting to make room as Arthur lays down alongside you. 

“Boots, please” you say in a soft scold, tapping his shoulder.

"Huh? Oh!" And Arthur quickly sits back up to take off his boots. He’s so used to being on his own that he’s often just falling into bed, not even bothering to take off his jacket let alone his boots. Arthur is not used to having anyone in his space, let alone a woman in his bed. You look down with a soft smile as he pulls at his mud-dried boots with thick, clumsy fingers. 

He lays back down and gets settled once more. You both wiggle awkwardly, giggling as you do, so that you can both fit onto his squeaky one-person cot. You face each other as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You lift your leg over his, so that you can snuggle in tight, laying almost nose to nose to make room for each other. 

Finally finding a comfortable position, Arthur inhales deeply and lets out a long exhale. You smile as you watch the tension drain from his shoulders. (You swear he just lost about 2 inches in height in doing that.) You gently reach up and lay your hand along Arthur’s neck, fingers resting along his jawline, as your thumb sweeps across those scars on his chin. Your eyes scatter across the tired features of his strong and handsome face. 

You have no idea how this is going to play out between you two, but right now, you don't care. He is a risk, as you told him before, and your future together is an uncertain mystery. And yet, this is the most certain thing that you have felt in what seems like forever. Here, at this moment, in this precious, precarious little bubble, you are with Arthur, and that is all that matters.

"Hmmmm…that’s better," says Arthur, finally relaxed and content. 

“Happy, now?” you affectionately tease.

“Quite.”

"Goodnight, Arthur." Your honeyed voice sings to him in the darkness before you close your eyes again.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me

-Pete Townshend - The Who

*The line about the storm and the rainbow is based on a quote from the wonderful Dolly Parton, whom I idolize. And the “guardian angel” line is based on a meme that I saw.

***Ahhh! Finally! I've been working on this for over a year, but had to write the events that lead up to this first. But good news, this is not the ending! I have much more taking place after this. Some of it is fluffy, some will be smutty, some will be angsty! For those who are interested in reading a continuing storyline, I can tell you that my plan is to see this through to the end (which I have already written, btw). If anyone is interested in being on a taglist, let me know. (I am really bad at those, so I am trying to figure out how to keep track of that kind of thing.)

Comments and feedback are welcome! As I continue this story, I also want to develop my writing skills. So please let me know what you like and don't like. 

[felinisnoctis]

INTERLUDE: LORREN’S STORY

Something a little bit different - the story before Bonded Pairs, of how the space wolf came to the farm.

CW: Death, Cancer

They said it was bad luck on his part to bond with an elderly human like that.  Celeste already had grey hair and wrinkled skin when they met.  She’d been widowed a decade ago and she lived alone in a big house in the country, all her children grown up and gone.  They’d used to work the farm themselves, she told him, and she’d sold extra sewing on the side to help make ends meet, along with the goods from the farm.  They didn’t raise animals like her parents had, but they traded for ham and sausage and hunted deer and wild birds.

He’d taken it on himself to see that the freezer stayed well stocked with wild game.  He wrestled down a canid that came too close until it accepted him.  Celeste said she was a “wolf-dog” and sighed when he brought her home.  He chopped wood to keep the house warm and plucked figs from the trees for her to make into preserves.  She couldn’t sew anymore, her hands hurt too much, but she still loved to cook.

Then there came a time when the wood he chopped wasn’t enough to warm her.  He held her close to his chest, even as he walked the kilometers into town for her to see the apothecary.  She didn’t want to, she said.  She didn’t want to be a bother.  He took her in anyway.

They ran a bunch of tests and said cancer.  They said that they could try chemotherapy, see if they could shrink it enough to take it out, but it would be risky and she might die from the treatment.  She refused.  She was an old woman, she said.  Let her die at home.

He heard the whispering about him too, even though he pretended not to.

What happens when she’s not around?

He’s big.  Not primaris, but almost the same size.

Could go out of control…might cause a lot of damage.

Boy that size, not easy to take down.

He’d had to restrain feral marines before.  The area was isolated.  They had strong enough cages, in an emergency, if an astartes was a threat to himself or others or needed care and couldn’t understand what was going on.  He ignored the whispers. They didn't understand.

A few days later, her oldest grandchild moved in.  A youngster who would have been a techpriest in his era, and shared both their frequent lackadaisical attitude towards gender and their near-universal annoyance at what the mechanicus called “the laity” and Robin called “end users.”

Celeste slept more and more.  They’d given her something to ease the pain.  He stayed by her side as much as possible.  He could at least keep her warm and comfortable.  The blankets never seemed to help anymore, but holding her close did.

A few weeks later, he felt her breathing slow as she slept and heard her heart finally stop beating.  He knew it was coming.  He still howled and snarled as the loss tore at his soul, his own hearts beating rapidly as though they could give her her life back.

The funeral was a few weeks later.  He ran wild in the woods until then, ripping through the trees away from people and tearing the corpses of coyotes apart for food.  But he made sure he was dressed and groomed properly before he showed up at the little country church, his unarmored bulk barely fitting through the door.  He howled a prayer no one understood to the sky as she was lowered into the grave and covered over, even though the others shifted away from him as he did.

Then he went home.  She was gone, but he could still stay with her grandchild and keep the farm going.  She would have liked that, he thought, as he finished butchering the fresh turkey he'd brought Robin for dinner. Robin was rolling out fresh pastry noodles in the kitchen and would appreciate the meat.

[smolandweirdwriter]

Got headcannon(s) for you!

For literally every long trip the Bad Kids go on, Kristen and Adaine are the certified mother hens.

Kristen tries to have cool aunt vibes and she does. Just. She's still an older sibling. But she makes it work

Adaine has the baking down flat, she'll carry a nice Tupperware or 5 of baked goods to last the entire day. Cooking doesn't exactly fit with her, she's tried and although nothing was burnt (*coughfabiancough*) she isn't a big fan of it.

Kristen is a genius at anything corn, and ever since her mission to bulk up, amazing at salads and sandwiches. Her salad game is amazing. Her cooking is fine in general, but her absolutely shit dexterity does not help. If she's preparing food you better be prepared for batter on the ceiling and flour inside the drawers.

The two meet up the night before any long trip and the two grab a huge dufflebag and fill it with Emergency stuff like bandages and Epipens and sick bags etc. Yes Adaine could pull most of those out her jacket. Yes they'll still prepare for things.

If they need to cook food in the middle of a trip, Kristen and Gorgug will team up and make the food. Gorgug has probably the most kitchen skills aside from Kristen, but they do good together.

So the thing is, all of the Bad Kids have a specific set of behaviors that simply DO NOT CHANGE regardless of the nature of the road trip.

Kristen, for one, desperately wants everyone to have a good time and also, she doesn't want to get out of the van. she wants to enjoy her time listening to music, playing punch buggy, eating snacks, talking to people; she wants everyone to have everything they could ever need or want, right there in front of them. this means that she wants to bake allllll the goodies. Unfortunately for Kristen, she has Sookie St. James level clumsiness, especially in the kitchen, where there are far too many things to burn yourself with, trip over, spill, et cetera. She's been banned from cooking in Mordred Manor because she's set off the smoke detector so many times it broke. So she cooks at Seacaster manor with Cathilda's help (Fabian is NOT aware of this). She bakes up a storm of corn bread to take with them on the trip.

Adaine, for her part, is quite good at baking. Recipes are easy to follow, easier than spells. All you have to do is read the instructions and do what it says. She's not very good at cooking because she's not particularly skilled in the kitchen, and doesn't have quite the (albeit messy and chaotic) finesse that Kristen does. Adaine loves sweet things (a byproduct, perhaps, of not being allowed them as a child) and will help Kristen bake corn bread. (She sprinkles in chocolate chips sometimes.) She'll also bake cookies, muffins, brownies--whatever she's in the mood for, it makes it on the trip. (She usually ends up "accidentally" making a double batch of everything. Whoops.)

Kristen makes salads and sandwiches for everyone and has everyone's lunch and snack desires down to pat: Riz takes the extra-spicy chicken with lettuce and pickles, and he's addicted to those sweet and spicy candied nuts (so is Adaine, they usually sit together for a bit so they can share them); Fabian will not eat anything but kippers and the plainest salad known mankind (iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber slices); Adaine takes a steak sandwich, the bread toasted a bit too much but not burnt, with lettuce and cheese, and she also always packs chocolate-covered pretzels and lembas; Fig also loves an extra-spicy chicken sandwich, but she takes hers with tomatoes, salt and pepper, and mustard. Finally, Gorgug has a salad of so much quantity Kristen will pack two separate lunches for him: steak, olives, corn, chicken, arugula, spinach, tomato-- the works. He loves it every time.

Adaine and Kristen 100% end up, every time, unplanned and without fail, in the kitchen together at about 4:30 am the day of a trip going over the itinerary, packing list, making sure they have extra bandaids and blankets and sleeping bags and signal flares and spare tires. (they do. they can pull these things out of adaine's jacket. they don't care. better safe than sorry, right? they spend half an hour trying to fit everything in the trunk every. single. time)

Gorgug, of course, is the designated driver, and every time Adaine makes sure to tell him he gets a good night's rest, and makes sure he's taking breaks, drinking water, keeping his eyes on the road, everyone stop talking you'll distract him, Gorgug are you sure you're alright? She mothers him so hard he almost goes into a Rage just from sheer irritation despite knowing she truly means well.

Fig tries to play music; Riz tries to put on some boring podcast. they spend half the time listening to rock music and half listening to the corruption of the criminal justice system. gorgug hates both no mater what (the rock music because it's always fig and the sig figs and he truly can't stand listening to himself sing/play, and the podcast because, duh.)

Fabian refuses to help in any capacity. He sits in the backseat, kicks his feet up, and tunes out. He wanders out when they have breaks, and if there's a flat tire he's the one for the job, but honestly, he's not big on road trips. he goes because his friends are all going, but if he had to choose, he'd ride the hangman for days on end.

adaine is the one who checks them into hotels if they ever stay in hotels, and kristen scopes out the facilities and points out all the things everyone will like.

kristen takes soooo many pictures and forces everyone to pose for them every time and they all hate it. adaine can't take a good picture to save her life, and she physically doesn't know how to take a selfie and always makes someone else do it despite the fact that she's one of the tallest bad kids. she also has social media but is NEVER on it (she's always the first to respond to the text chain, though).

[purpleqilinwrites]

first step.

a/n: i can't get chilchuck and his wife out of my head!!!

fandom: dungeon meshi

pairing: chilchuck tims / his wife

genre: angst

info: told from the perspective of the wife; she is named (junnimay); takes place pre-canon

warnings: might not be canon-compliant

synopsis: everything in the house had a memory, but memory wasn't enough for her to stay.

word count: 2.2k

Chilchuck Tims / Chilchuck's Wife

It was supposed to be easier than pulling out a tooth. Instead, Junnimay found herself dragging her feet about the house as she took stock of all her belongings one last time before she went to bed.

Tomorrow, she would be leaving this house where she had spent almost half her life and the entirety of her adult years. This house where her daughters grew up and where her youngest was born a week late, coaxed out only by a long and complicated spell cast by a kind gnome living two houses down who happened to be a retired midwife.

This house where she once felt she had made a home.

Fler was the first of the girls to move out, wanting to live closer to the heart of the city where she was only a short walk away from the best clothiers in Kahka Brud and where she had better chances of meeting someone to marry. Mei followed suit half a year after, her hands hidden behind her back as she approached Junnimay one evening to announce the news that she had been given a room at a lodge owned by the Half-foot Union as a perk of the contract she accepted. Puck roomed with Mei for a brief period when she was employed by a wealthy tall-man family as a dog walker, before she decided to hop on a caravan with an elf she had befriended during that time.

With her daughters having places of their own to call home and Chilchuck being away on dungeon expeditions for years on end, there was nothing more than memory that kept her where she was. This house had served its purpose in her life, and she believed that it was a good time to move on from it. Even if she hadn't thought too hard about what to do next, moving out of this house and taking Fler up on her offer to live together seemed to be the right first step.

Most of the shelves in the house were bare even before Junnimay started the process of packing up about a week ago. Mei and Fler took the bulk of their belongings with them when they moved out. Junnimay stored the things they left behind in the basement, where she had marked out one set of shelves for Mei and two for Fler. Puck didn't have the luxury of space that her older sisters had, taking only what could fit in one carrying pouch and one trunk that was comically large in comparison to her then newly ten-year-old self. The rest of Puck's belongings were moved to the set of shelves in the basement that Junnimay had set apart for her.

Besides several wooden chests of lock-picking tools, two cupboards of various bottles of alcohol and the odd item of clothing that cropped up here and there, there wasn't much else in the house that belonged to Chilchuck. It made cleaning up easy when she first did her rounds in preparation to move out, putting anything that belonged to one of her girls onto their respective shelves in the basement. If she found anything that belonged to Chilchuck, she would stuff it into any bare spots in the lowest sections of the cupboards of alcohol where he also left things that he didn't know where else to place.

Before dawn broke, Junnimay was already awake. Despite having tossed and turned persistently before sleep finally came over her, she surprised herself with how easily she emerged from beneath the blankets and rose from the bed.

Having changed out of her nightclothes and gotten herself ready for work, she checked every corner of the house as if she were an inner city guard on night patrol, making sure that everything was as she left it the night before. When she was satisfied, she tied on her cloak and laced up her boots and left for the bakery for a short morning shift.

Mei was already inside the house when she came back, hunched over an open trunk as she loaded in her mother's books that had been removed from the makeshift shelves around the alcove that overlooked the sea.

That was her favourite part of the house for the longest time. Looking at it now and seeing it devoid of the signs that she had just been lounging there with a new novel and a cup of honeyed milk made her feel as though someone had reached into her chest to pinch at her heart.

("You drink more milk than the girls," Chilchuck said, all smiles and good humour as he finally emerged from the girls' bedroom after tucking them in. Junnimay laughed, leaning into his labour-roughened palm when he tucked himself into her side and smoothed his hand over her cheek. "All that milk and you've never been taller than me."

"Well, it'd be a waste if I drank honey straight from the pot, wouldn't it?")

There was a reason that she left the alcove as the last part of the house to gather her belongings from.

"I'm back," Junnimay said, softly so as not to startle her daughter who was currently preoccupied with helping her pack up. "Thank you for your help."

Mei continued her work, not looking up in order to keep her concentration. "I'm about half-done here," Mei said. "Fler's upstairs, and Puck's on her way with the wagon and the horses."

Since her books and her clothes were being taken care of, Junnimay ventured into the basement to bring up a trunk she had brought from her parents' house all those years ago. She was hit with a sudden urge to open it up and poke around inside it when she tugged off the dust cover. Something about the weathered leather encasing trunk made her feel like she was a child waiting to open her birthday present again.

("What are you doing down here?"

Junnimay jumped from her seated position on the basement floor at the sound of Chilchuck's voice. She turned around to see him coming down the stairs and fixing her with a curious look.

"You got a secret pet in here or something?" he asked, scanning the area around her. She let out a sound that was between a scoff and a chuckle, standing up and dusting off her now-wrinkled dress.

"The girls would be here too if we did have a secret dog to hide from you," she said, smiling.)

Junnimay was caressing the time-worn grooves on the latch that spelled out her mother's name when Fler shouted for her from upstairs. It didn't sound as though Fler was hurt, but she still rushed towards where she thought Fler might be when she called just in case something was wrong.

"Mama, do you...?"

Fler was standing in front of one of Chilchuck's cupboards where he kept his alcohol, her back facing her mother as her voice trailed off. Hearing footsteps behind her, Fler turned around to face Junnimay, clutching something to her chest that looked very familiar.

It was a pot of honey from her hometown.

("Jun," came Chilchuck's voice from directly in front of her. "You can open your eyes now."

When she did, she was greeted with the rare sight of her fiancé with his cheeks pink and his ears pinker as he held out a painted pot of something to her. Junnimay reached out, and he all but shoved the pot into her hands. Fumbling a little with the pot that weighed much more than it looked, Chilchuck was quick to latch his hands onto the decorative indents so that neither of them wouldn't drop it.

"Chil, is this what I think it is?" she asked, even if she already knew what was inside the pot from the sweet, sweet aroma wafting through the cloth covering the mouth of the pot, bouncing on her heels.

Chilchuck nodded, his eyes darting about awkwardly before he cleared his throat. "As promised, only the best," he said, his words coming out in an ambiguous string with how he spoke without moving his lips much. "Just for you.")

"You told us Papa got this for you a long time ago! Do you remember?" Fler was trying to gesture excitedly at the same time as she held the large piece of stoneware in her arms, coming close to dropping it more than once. "You told us—"

Junnimay wanted to answer the question, but her ability to speak failed her.

She had long since emptied the contents of the pot, being overly generous with the spoonfuls she took from it when she wanted to sweeten her milk. The girls, too, mimicked her large portions when they took turns scooping out honey for their bread in the mornings.

Chilchuck had once said something about him not being made out of gold coins, after he was drawn into the kitchen by the smell of cured meat made in the style of their shared hometown cooking in rendered lard. He had caught sight of Puck with honey smeared across almost her entire face and walked over to her to wipe it off. Puck's bowl was more honey than bread, which prompted him to remind his family that he was not, in fact, made of gold.

Junnimay could see herself laughing as she flipped over the slices of meat in the pan, knowing that Chilchuck was censoring himself since he was in front of their daughters who were too young to be spitting out expletives.

"... Of course I remember," Junnimay said, putting on a smile and inwardly cursing at herself for doing so. "I asked for a lot of honey, so he bought some for me." There was no point in putting on a smile. There was no point in pretending.

What was she pretending for?

Fler coiled her arms tighter around the pot, squeezing. Junnimay could tell that there was something she wanted to say but she didn't know how to say it. She could see it in the way Fler was staring at her face but not making eye contact, the way Fler was incessantly shifting her weight from one foot to the other and then back again.

"Why did you stop asking Papa for things?"

When Fler finally spoke, Junnimay felt the question batter the breath out of her. She inhaled slowly, finding relief in the stretch of air filling up her lungs, thinking and thinking and wishing she had the answer.

Why did she stop asking Chilchuck for things? For help? For the time of day? Why—

"Asking someone who's not around is hard, isn't it?"

The words were bitter on her lips. She spoke the truth, though oversimplified for the sake of not having this difficult conversation on this day when she needed to be strong for herself. There would be a time for that in the future, but not now.

Fler's eyes misted over with the arrival of tears. Junnimay began to fret over if she had been too harsh, but Fler started nodding to show that she understood, a slow and measured nod at first before she repeatedly bobbed her head.

"... You know, sometimes, I can't remember what Papa looks like," Fler started with a wobble in her upper lip, turning away from Junnimay for a moment to return the empty pot of honey to the place where she found it. Junnimay met her at the open cupboard doors and drew her daughter into her embrace, squeezing. "I understand where you're coming from, Mama. But— I wish— I didn't have to miss Papa so much."

"I know how it hurts, little heart. But we still have each other," Junnimay whispered, starting to choke up from her own tears. She began rubbing circles into Fler's back, swaying and humming a lullaby with Fler in her arms the way she did with all her daughters when they were much younger. "We'll always have each other."

(This neighbourhood that Chilchuck had chosen was predominantly gnomes.

The vicinity was different from their hometown where everyone was a half-foot and everything was sized accordingly. Everything was built a little larger than they were used to. Junnimay supposed it suited her husband, since he was the tallest half-foot she knew.

Gnomes weren't much taller than half-foots, so she supposed that having to reach a little further to place things on the upper shelves was something she could learn to live with. She was more relieved that Mei and Fler could grow up in an area where she need not worry about her comparatively smaller daughters getting trampled by the much larger tall-man or kobold children who didn't know better.

Away from the centre of Kahka Brud which boasted architecture quite heavily in favour of the taller races, this gnome community along a cliff that looked out on the sea was similar enough to the village they grew up in. It was the perfect place to build a home away from home.

Chilchuck stopped at the shortest house in the row of fourteen that lined the edge of the cliff.

"This is it," he said, a grin on his face so wide that his skin threatened to split. "Our new home.")

[dailycharacteroption]

Living Avalanche (Brawler Archetype)

(art by Rshupe on DeviantArt)

They say the strongest foes hit like a ton of bricks, or a Mack truck, or perhaps, yes, even an avalanche. Name your heavy and swiftly falling/moving object of choice, and you can construct a simile about how hard that big guy in the arena can hit you.

But for some, a mere verbal comparison of physical strength is not nearly enough. Some wish to truly emulate the might of falling snow and rock, to leave their foes utterly overwhelmed by their physicality the same way poor souls are crushed and suffocated under an unstoppable torrent of matter sourced from a higher elevation.

These so-called living avalanches may or may not actually be from a mountainous region, but it doesn’t matter, for their primary strategy remains the same: overwhelm foes with the combination of Newton’s various laws to knock back, trample, and bowl over their foes with their weight and force.

Mass is important here, so it’s very unlikely to see a wiry Living Avalanche. Instead, they may combine raw muscle with a stout frame and a healthy layer of body fat as well. (Think less body builder, more professional wrestler or weight lifter, maybe even sumo wrestler.) and are likely quite proud of their bulk.

No matter what form they take, however, they can truly be an unstoppable force like a wall of ice crashing down the mountain.

Overrunning and rushing foes is the bread and butter of this style, and so not only do they learn the basics for doing so without leaving themselves open, but become especially good at those maneuvers, ignoring training in other combat maneuvers and even cascade multiple foes into each other with their overwhelming force.

They even learn how to drive foes they overrun into the dirt, and push foes much larger than themselves.

They are not entirely offensive though, as they also evoke the immovable object, hardening their bodies to absorb damage from all but the most piercing forces.

Using their foes like stepping stools, more masterful warriors can overrun multiple foes at once, not only also knocking them prone, but driving them down with enough force to injure them, and at the zenith of their ability, such attacks can also potentially deal grievous wounds.

This archetype is perfect for a warrior that wants to be able to further punish foes when they overrun, and control the positioning of multiple foes at once. They can get in and out of the midst of their foes with relative ease, so keep that in mind when your allies have area effect spells.

With their ability to handle multiple attackers at once, I can imagine this martial style might have emerged in regions where travellers can be expected to be accosted by large groups, be they swarming monsters, brigands that use their numbers to their advantage, and the like.

So bulky they resemble the boulders of their mountain home, the Tumbling Stones are a clan of gargoyles that revere highest peak of Graflon Range: Mt. Pabul, as a sacred figure. However, their favored method of worshipping the mountain is very un-neighborly, preferring to come down on foes from above with the force of an avalanche and either crushing them directly or sending them to a plummeting demise.

The Valley of Killing Spirits is perpetually blanketed in fog, but the reason of it’s name comes from the trench mists that long ago wandered in, killing any living creatures they came across. The villages in the mountains above know to avoid it, but they aren’t above using their martial arts to drive interlopers into the valley, hoping that those that survive the fall with placate the evil within.

The Rhino is the current champion of the arena, famed for his ability to overpower other gladiators even when they all attack at once. He bowls over even foes twice his size with little effort, but he says little of his past, trying to avoid the fame that nevertheless follows him around.

[othernaut]

Character Creation Challenge, Day 23: Liminal Horror

Everything was foggy. Consciousness returned sullenly, like a teenager hiding under the blankets, unwilling to get out of bed. It was the cold that brought me back, the insistence of it, and with the upwelling of consciousness came the realization that I had been in a car accident.

My eyes snapped open. My steaming breath fogged the interior of my van, a private cloudbank. I was upright on the highway - somewhere in the newly-stirred sauce of memories, I was sure I had flipped at least once. The panic, then, when I remembered. I was hit from behind, hard, hard enough to snap my neck forward, spin the world on its axis, bring those paranoid certainties: Whiplash, internal decapitation. Everything went white, and now I was here, still on the highway, still upright.

The panic was horrible, sudden, explosive, but gave way quickly to a creeping unease when I realized that everything was dark around me. No streetlights or brake lights, no headlights, none of the flash and bother of emergency signals that I would expect after getting rear-ended at speed on the highway. The bulk of the cars visible through the frost on my windows were cold and dead, painted with the filmy white of blown snow. No one inside. No movement apart from thin gusts drifting sheer waves of surface snow down the flat plane of the highway.

I tried the ignition: nothing. No spark, just the click of the key turning. Cell phone showed 82% battery, no wifi, no signal. The chill crept along my cheeks, my breath steamed the inside of my windshield. I scrabbled, clicked away my seatbelt, got halfway out of my seat before I remembered the potential neck injury. I gave myself a quick once-over, like I'd been trained: No weakness or tingling in the extremities, no bruising or blood in my rearview reflection, no visible injury or deformity in my neck or spine. No way to tell if I was confused or concussed; I just had to trust. Carefully, monitoring my body for pain, I eased over into the back seat and retrieved my oopsie bag. The fact that I felt nothing wrong, saw nothing wrong, was another mote of incongruous unease - I had seen people hospitalized for less. Paralyzed for less.

Hefting the duffel onto the front seat, I unzipped and began digging around for a chemical warmer. The subject of vehicle emergency kits was a fraught one at the fire station, with some of the crew content to keep first aid and a window hammer in their glovebox and others maintaining full-on bug-out bags. Mine was a middle ground, a mix of loose road flares, salient car-extrication equipment, and gun shop MREs. I'd been sneaking loose chemical heaters to stuff down my jacket on cold nights. Only two left. Regret.

Activated, pinned beneath my underwire and glowing warm into my core, the heater provided the first bit of real comfort I'd experienced since waking up. The steam in my breath slowly dissipated as the inside of the van began to heat; frost faded from the windows and I could see the world outside more clearly. Not encouraging. Middle of the night and the traffic was stock still, dead silent, mausoleum dark. The brightest thing out there was the full moon, which looked lopsided and weird in the warp of my windshield. There were no tracks on the highway, tire or animal. The blowing snow had covered the road in a thin patina of undisturbed white. It was as if the cars around me hadn't driven here, but been gently placed down, like a kid arranging Hot Wheels on a playmat.

And maybe that had happened to me, too. Deep inside me, below the chemical heater, the panic began to flutter again. I checked my phone again, checked the ignition again. No change. I wanted to do something, I wanted to go somewhere. This wasn't a good place to stay.

All impulse, I threw open the door and crunched my boots down on the highway. Immediately, that deep unease magnified into something near-tangible in its intensity. The highway isn't something anyone should be standing on. If you're standing on the highway, something's gone wrong with your day. The highway shouldn't be quiet. Even in jams, there should be idling engines, people leaning against their cars having a smoke and complaining, entrepreneurs walking down the lines selling gas station snacks. I wanted to crack a road flare, scream for help. I got most of the way there, too, but the sound died in my throat, clamped down by a muscular surge of survival instinct too overwhelming to ignore.

I was still and silent as the world around me. There was no change. There was no relief. There was something wrong with the moon.

In the distance, somewhere along the edge of the jam where the cars thinned out into a snowy strip of empty road, I could just about see the bulk of a building. Pit stop? One of those ubiquitous fucking OnRoutes with the strung-out Wendy's managers and damp bathrooms. All dark, of course, but my drifting unease grasped that change in scenery with a fierce, hopeful pressure. It looked grim from here, but there might still be power there. There might be people, someone who could explain this situation to me.

I took two, crunching steps down the road, stopped, turned back to my van. Door hanging open, it was the only thing in this vehicular graveyard not covered in snow. Something imperceptibly sad about that, but I couldn't say what. I walked back, reached in for my oopsie bag, unzipped it again. I kept a hatchet in there, forty bucks at the Canadian Tire. Only ever used it to open beers. It felt good to have something in my hands. I zipped the duffel back up, hefted it over my shoulder, resisted the urge to slam the car door and clicked it softly shut instead. Stayed there a minute, my gloved hand resting lightly on the door panel.

I didn't want to leave her. Some abundance of sentiment. Felt like leaving your dog tied up outside a grocery store - no matter how you assure her you'll be back in ten minutes, there's always the worry you'll never see her again. When your car got stuck in a snowbank, you were supposed to sit with it and wait for rescue - heck, how many times have I said that very thing to underdressed teens kicking along the side of the road?

But what else was there here? I felt so big, so noisy out in that great silence. I felt like something was out there, something invisible out on the still and frigid grass or up in the curved plane of the sky. Something was watching. The natural state of the human creature was inside, maybe with a cup of coffee and a show on. Out here was the province of another form of life, something much older, much stranger than mere nature.

Step by fearful step, I eased through the boneyard bulks of the dead cars, stepping kitten-soft and dancer-quick. I kept my eye to the horizon, where the pale, plastic-sided bulk of the pit stop dented the uniformity of the plain. Once I got used to the sound of my lonely feet crunching in the flat drifts, I ventured to brush handfuls of snow off the car windows as I passed. Each interior was a still, dark snapshot of a life interrupted. Coffee cups, Tic Tacs, and stacked receipts in the cup holders. A big bag of goalie gear in the back seat, child size. Half-empty Dollarama bags, rifled-through for snacks. No corpses. Thank fuck, no corpses.

Easier this way, to focus on the human things. Step by step. Look up, now and then, to sight the pit stop, gauge your distance. Don't look out at the yawning emptiness of the icy, open plains. Don't look out over the unreal peace of the empty highway. Don't look back to the van, to the last, lonely little monument to your own life, your own individuality, now indistinguishable from any other dead car.

Don't look up to those far-distant stars, to whatever's pretending to be the moon.

*****

Name: Kataryna "Kit" Pankonin Strength: 11, Dexterity: 10, Control: 14 Hit Protection: 5 Background: Volunteer Firefighter Gear: Collapsible ladder (bulky), axe (d6), fire extinguisher, flashlight, bolt cutters, gas mask, lighter, flare x2, 3 days food and water, chemical heater x2, duffel bag, smartphone, $215 Details: Authentic vintage aesthetic, lost a loved one under mysterious circumstances, believes individuals can make a difference. Traits: Small but sturdy physique with a dimpled smile. Tolerant, but if you get to her, she'll never let it go. Gravelly voice (smoke inhalation is no laughing matter). Disowned by family. Connections: Good friend (significant person, only one to take her in after the family situation, kind of a disaster but i love her dearly, name: Tam), family member (contact, younger brother, works in government, advocates for services, only one of the fam to still talk, name: Julian). Vehicles: Big ol' van (Uber with it when not on call, can set it up for sleeping).

*****

Why am I like this?

While performing this exercise for The Dark Eye, I joked about those cultural touchstones that would be invisible to a native but obvious and charming to an outsider. Specifically, the method by which I made this joke was to expand it into a hypothetical situation where I, a Canadian, were to design an indie RPG, but then include a complex hypothermia table with real-time frostbite math, like the kind everyone does in their head whenever they've got exposed extremities in the cold, right? Right?

Why am I like this?

Liminal Horror is one of those itch.io bundle games, one that's been sitting unused and unviewed in my bundle inventory since, like, 2022. As a system, it's extremely rules-light, up there with Brindlewood Bay in having just as many mechanics as it needs to and no more. I wouldn't call it OSR, but it has a couple similarities, like the 3d6-in-order character creation and d-whatever weapons listing. Frankly, the mechanics are a skeleton, a basic set of material the game expects you to drape your own liminal skin overtop of. It provides guidance for how to translate liminality into horror, but doesn't provide a set setting for it - the game expects you to know and recognize the situations which conjure that eerie, empty feeling, to have something in mind when you go to build your game. Like, in my case, the unreal, oddly conspicuous feeling of an empty, snow-scattered street at night.

It's not like Liminal Horror doesn't have flaws. The simplicity of the system can sometimes get in its own way, necessitating bespoke, on-the-fly rules generation if you have to do something complex and specific. The lack of an example setting makes it difficult to picture the rules in action while you're reading through the book. Sometimes the lightness of the rules stray over the edge, dancing away from "getting out of the way of roleplay" and to "giving no indication of what to do". But another thing borrowed from OSR is the idea that each game is your own, you can hack it up, remove bits, or graft on your own, mutant addenda as pleases you and your table. Don't like the unequivocal mechanical goodness of the Fallout tables? Make your own, with blackjack (ie: the hand-held knockout weapon) and hookers (ie: monsters with meathooks for hands that want to string you up and bleed you dry).

The bit that tips Liminal Horror over the line into something I would (and will) fuss with again is that the absences I see in the rules aren't limiting, but inspiring. Now that I think about it, that's actually the most liminal part of the game. Liminality in horror comes, at least in part, from overlaying unmet expectations onto the unknown. It's like that painting (by Dragan Bibin) of the dog gazing through the open door. I... don't know if that was engineered in this game, or if it was something that arose unexpected from the lightness of the rules, but it's something I felt I needed to note.

Because halfway through writing this little bit of fiction, I stopped and went, "Wait, how WOULD I model frostbite in this system?" And then I did that, just like I joked about doing before. And then I expanded on the liminal horror of the cold and empty highway into what wound up being the skeleton for a functional module. Then I realized it would also function perfectly well as a solo module, and began making notes in that direction. And now I have half a solo module written for Liminal Horror about the thing I just fucking joked about doing, half a workday still left to complete and, as if to underline the absurdity inherent in the universe, a driveway to shovel.

Why am I like this?

If I ever do get this solo module into a completed state, I'll throw it up on itch. For free, because I want to. For now, I better get the fucking salt out before the mailman slips and sues me. Vive la Canada, something is wrong with my brain.

Next up: The stars my destination.

[laser-knife]

The mountain of blankets on the bed shifts for the first time in months as Techno emerges from his hibernation. Sleepily stumbling out of bed, he makes his way towards the kitchen for his first meal since... November? Maybe early December? He's not sure.

He's the (currently) human GPS, not the human timepiece, alright chat?

Techno just woke up so there won't be anything in the fridge or freezer, but his pantry should be well-stocked with canned and dried goods. Gods just thinking about the idea of having food is making him hungry. He buys in bulk every fall, usually with some help from friends, so his cabinets should be stuffed with everything from soup to ramen to canned vegetables to pasta to-

It's empty.

"Heh?!?! Where the did all my food go?" It's gone, all gone, every can and box. They even took the expired box of stuffing starter that had been hiding in the back of the cabinet!

Well.

First order of business: find someone to mooch a meal off of.

Second order of business: figure out who stole his food and get revenge.

[wholesaleuniforms4school]

Buying Bulk Throw Blankets for Schools and Organizations

Why Bulk Throw Blankets Are a Must-Have

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One of the best choices on the market is the Fleece Throw Blanket available at Wholesale Uniforms 4 School. These blankets are made from high-quality fleece, offering superior softness and durability. Bulk purchases allow schools and institutions to maximize their budget while ensuring that every student or participant stays comfortable in any setting.

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Stock up on premium fleece blankets today and make a lasting impression with high-quality, cozy essentials!

[paysferemart]

The Art of Accessorizing: Selecting the Perfect Scarf or Shawl for Every Season and Occasion

As winter's chill sets in, the quest for warmth becomes paramount, guiding us towards accessories that marry function with fashion. Scarves and shawls, timeless in their appeal, offer both insulation and an avenue for personal expression. Their versatility allows them to adapt seamlessly to various seasons and occasions, enhancing ensembles while providing comfort.

Seasonal Selections

Spring and Summer:

With the arrival of warmer months, lightweight materials take precedence. Cotton scarves, celebrated for their softness and breathability, are ideal companions during this period. They effortlessly complement casual outfits, adding a touch of elegance without inducing discomfort. Linen scarves, with their natural fibers, provide a cool feel, suitable for both formal and casual settings. Silk scarves, smooth and stylish, are perfect for elevating any attire.

Autumn:

As the air turns crisp, slightly heavier fabrics become desirable. Wool-blend scarves offer warmth without excessive bulk, making them ideal for layering. Infinity scarves, characterized by their continuous loop design, provide both style and functionality, ensuring they remain securely in place during breezy days.

Winter:

In the heart of winter, warmth becomes paramount. Chunky knit scarves, often crafted from materials like merino wool, offer insulation against the cold. Cashmere scarves, with their luxurious feel, provide both warmth and sophistication. Blanket scarves, substantial enough to double as wraps, have gained popularity for their chic coziness and versatility.

Occasion-Based Choices

Casual Outings:

For everyday wear, versatility is key. Cotton or linen scarves in neutral tones can complement a wide range of outfits, from jeans and t-shirts to casual dresses. The emerging trend of triangular scarves offers a minimalist, Scandi-chic aesthetic, providing a fresh alternative to traditional designs.

Professional Settings:

Incorporating scarves into work attire can elevate one's look without compromising professionalism. Silk scarves, with their smooth texture and subtle sheen, can be draped over blouses or blazers, adding a touch of elegance. Opting for classic patterns or solid colors maintains a polished appearance.

Formal Events:

Shawls hold particular significance during formal occasions. A pashmina shawl, made from fine cashmere wool, exudes luxury and pairs beautifully with evening gowns. For winter weddings or events, faux fur stoles or velvet shawls not only provide warmth but also enhance the sophistication of an ensemble.

Travel:

On the move, functionality meets style. A versatile scarf can serve multiple purposes: as a blanket during flights, a head covering in conservative regions, or simply as an accessory to refresh one's travel wardrobe. Lightweight wool or cashmere scarves are excellent choices, offering warmth without occupying much luggage space.

Styling Tips

Layering: Layering multiple scarves or combining a scarf with a shawl adds warmth and texture, allowing for creativity and personalization in one's outfit.

Knotting Techniques: Experimenting with different knots can transform the look of a scarf. From the classic loop to intricate braids, the method of tying can significantly impact overall style.

Accessorize: Enhancing a scarf or shawl with brooches or pins not only secures the fabric but also adds a personalized touch to the attire.

Cultural Significance

Beyond fashion, scarves and shawls hold cultural importance worldwide. For instance, the Ajrak shawl from Sindh, Pakistan, is renowned for its intricate block-printing and rich colors, symbolizing the region's heritage. Similarly, the traditional Scottish tartan scarf represents clan identities and carries historical significance.

To explore a wide range of scarves suitable for every season and occasion, visit Paysfer eMart.

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Hydronix HX-SWC-45-1005/3 Universal Whole House Sediment String Wound Water Filter Cartridge 4.5" x 10"-5 Micron-3 Pack, White

Price: (as of – Details) 3 pack – the Hydronix swc-45-1005 polypropylene string wound filters have a particle retention size of 5 micron and are used in a residential and commercial water filtration system applications. The filter has an outside diameter (OD) of 4.5″ and overall length of 10″. made of 100 percent pure polypropylene cord, the cartridge has structural stability, and is resistance…

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What Are Hospital Blankets Made Of?

Hospital blankets are a necessary part of each and every hospital and nursing home. Since these blankets are closely connected to the comfort of patients, they are generally made of very comfortable, lightweight and skin-friendly fabrics. You can find hospital blankets in various fabrics in the market. This blog will help you know what are hospital blankets made of.

What Types of Blankets for Hospital Are Available in the Market?

Hospital Blankets provide a comfortable, cozy feeling to the patients during their stay in the hospital for treatment. They protect patients from the extremely cool temperatures of the hospital rooms, by offering enough warmth. Here are the common types of hospital blanket fabrics -

1. Woollen Blankets

Woollen hospital blankets are the best option for patients during winter. Since the temperature is already cool in winter and the rooms of patients in healthcare sectors are also so cold because of low-temperature AC that runs continuously, patients feel freezing. Woollen blankets for hospital, made from natural, very thick and warm wool, can save patients from freezing.

2. Cotton Blankets

One of the most common and widely used hospital blankets is the pure cotton blanket. Due to the breathable, very light and soft nature of the blankets, most of the patients prefer using cotton blankets in the hospital. Another reason behind extreme popularity of cotton blankets among all types of hospital blankets is their easy-to-wash nature. And having quick water-absorbing quality, these blankets can be dried up quickly after washing. Cotton hospital blankets are generally extremely durable also and they can stay in best condition for so long even after lots of uses and washes. Since hospital blankets are used almost every day and washed also every day in hospitals, durable and easy-to-clean cotton blankets are the finest choice for every medical sector.

3. Fleece Blankets

Another very warm and cozy hospital blanket fabric after woollen blankets is the fleece blanket. Fleece blankets are made from synthetic fabrics like polyester or others. Since fleece blankets are lighter in weight and easier to maintain than woollen blankets and get dry quickly, these blankets are now taking the place of age-old woollen blankets in several hospitals and nursing homes. The best part about fleece blankets is you don’t need to wash them again and again as they are disposable in nature.

4. Thermal Blankets

Thermal blankets are the most important part of a hospital. For emergency conditions in patients like shock or hypothermia, in which body temperature suddenly goes extremely low, these types of hospital blankets work best in those situations. Made of heat-reflecting materials, thermal blankets have the special feature of regulating the abnormal body temperature of a patient within a few minutes. They are also used in ambulances when carrying any serious patient.

5. Polyester Blankets

The uses of polyester blankets are increasing day by day in healthcare clinics because of their wrinkle-resistant, fast-drying and lightweight and flexible nature. Though polyester is a synthetic fabric, it does not cause any kind of harm to the skin of any patient.

Buy Different Types of Hospital Blankets Online from PNAK India

PNAK India, is a top reliable online platform to buy hospital blankets online. We supply blankets for hospital in various durable, soft, warm and skin-friendly materials that are easily washable and easy to maintain. We have hospital blankets in different colors for sale. We deliver bulk supply of wholesale hospital blankets to those who want bulk quantity blankets together at a time for their own hospital or for their retail business. We are ready to deliver products to any location within India. 

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How Snow Removal Affects Road Safety & Traffic Flow

Winter brings a magical, snowy landscape—but it also brings dangerous roads and frustrating traffic jams. If you've ever been stuck in a standstill behind a pile of snow or skidded across an icy intersection, you know how crucial snow removal is. But beyond just making the roads look clear, efficient snow removal plays a massive role in keeping drivers safe and ensuring smooth traffic flow. So, how exactly does it all work? Let's dive in!

The Importance of Snow Removal

Preventing Accidents

One of the biggest risks of snow-covered roads is the increased likelihood of accidents. Slippery surfaces make it harder to brake, turn, and maintain control of your vehicle. Even the best winter tires struggle against thick layers of packed snow. Proper snow removal reduces these hazards, helping drivers maintain traction and avoid collisions.

Ensuring Accessibility for Emergency Vehicles

Imagine an ambulance trying to reach a patient during a snowstorm. Every second counts, yet heavy snowfall can slow them down or even block their path entirely. Quick and effective snow removal ensures that emergency vehicles can reach their destinations without unnecessary delays, potentially saving lives in the process.

Reducing Economic Losses

Snow-covered roads don’t just disrupt drivers—they impact entire economies. Businesses experience delays in deliveries, workers struggle to reach their jobs, and public transportation grinds to a halt. Proper snow removal minimizes these setbacks, keeping the economy running smoothly even during harsh winter months.

How Snow Accumulation Affects Roads

Slippery Surfaces and Loss of Traction

When snow piles up, roads turn into ice rinks. Vehicles lose traction, making it easy to slide into other cars, curbs, or even pedestrians. The risk is even greater on slopes and sharp turns, where sudden stops become nearly impossible.

Reduced Visibility for Drivers

Heavy snowfall doesn’t just affect the roads—it affects what drivers can see. Snow-covered windshields, obscured road signs, and blinding flurries make it difficult to navigate safely. Even well-marked lanes can disappear under a thick blanket of snow, leading to confusion and potential accidents.

Increased Travel Time and Congestion

A road covered in snow means drivers must slow down, and in severe cases, come to a complete stop. Snowdrifts can block lanes, causing bottlenecks that bring traffic to a crawl. If roads aren’t cleared efficiently, commutes that usually take minutes can stretch into hours, frustrating drivers and clogging transportation networks.

The Role of Effective Snow Removal in Traffic Flow

Plowing and Salting to Improve Road Grip

Snowplows and salt trucks are the unsung heroes of winter roads. Plowing removes the bulk of the snow, while salt and sand improve traction by melting ice and reducing slipperiness. Without these measures, roads would remain hazardous for extended periods, making driving a nightmare.

Preventing Bottlenecks and Gridlocks

A well-maintained road means fewer sudden stops and slowdowns. When snow is removed quickly and efficiently, traffic keeps moving smoothly. Cities that stay on top of snow removal experience fewer gridlocks and maintain better traffic flow even in harsh weather conditions.

Enhancing Public Transportation Efficiency

Public buses and trains rely on clear roads to stay on schedule. Snow-covered streets can delay or even halt services, leaving passengers stranded. By prioritizing major transit routes for snow removal, cities can keep buses and trains running reliably, reducing disruptions for commuters.

Challenges in Snow Removal

Budget Constraints and Resource Allocation

Snow removal isn’t cheap. Cities must balance their budgets while ensuring they have enough equipment and staff to handle winter storms. Inadequate funding can lead to slow or incomplete snow removal, creating hazardous conditions for drivers.

Environmental Concerns with De-Icing Agents

While salt is effective in melting ice, it can damage roads, vehicles, and even the environment. Runoff from salted roads can contaminate waterways, harming aquatic life. Many cities are exploring eco-friendly alternatives, such as beet juice and sand, to minimize environmental impact.

Delays Due to Extreme Weather Conditions

Sometimes, snowstorms are so intense that even the best-planned removal efforts fall behind. High winds create snowdrifts, and freezing temperatures cause refreezing, requiring repeated treatments. In such cases, drivers must exercise patience and caution while authorities work to clear the roads.

Best Practices for Efficient Snow Removal

Pre-Treatment with Anti-Icing Agents

Applying anti-icing solutions before a storm prevents snow from bonding to the pavement, making it easier to remove later. This proactive approach can significantly improve road safety and efficiency in snow removal efforts.

Coordinated Plowing Schedules

Effective snow removal isn’t random—it’s a coordinated effort. Cities use priority routes, ensuring that major highways, emergency routes, and public transit lanes are cleared first. Having a well-organized schedule ensures that resources are used efficiently and roads remain as clear as possible.

Use of Technology and Real-Time Tracking

Many cities now use GPS tracking and automated dispatch systems to optimize snowplow routes. Live traffic data helps authorities identify problem areas quickly and adjust strategies in real time. This tech-driven approach maximizes efficiency and ensures that road conditions improve as quickly as possible.

Conclusion

Snow removal services is more than just a winter chore—it’s a critical factor in road safety and traffic flow. Without it, roads become hazardous, emergency services are delayed, and the economy takes a hit. While challenges like budget constraints and environmental concerns exist, best practices such as pre-treatment, coordinated plowing, and technology-driven solutions help keep winter roads safe and efficient.

Loyal Landscaping, LLC

1076 Hoagerburgh Rd, Wallkill, NY 12589, United States

+18456451132

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Use the application of Air Compressors in the Chemical Industry

In the dynamic world of the chemical industry, precision, safety, and efficiency are paramount. Among the technologies moving these essential aspects, air compressors stand out as necessary tools. They power various processes, from mixing and agitation to packaging and conveying, an India air compressor is vital in maintaining high standards of production. As an air compressor manufacturer, we understand the unique demands of the chemical sector and provide tailored solutions that empower us to achieve excellence. Let’s explore the vital applications of air compressors in the chemical industry and how they contribute to its growth.

Why air compressors are essential in the chemical industry

Air compressors play a pivotal role in ensuring the smooth functioning of multiple processes within chemical plants. From facilitating reactions to enhancing safety, their applications are various and indispensable. Here are some of the key reasons why an India air compressor is a cornerstone of the chemical sector:

Process efficiency: They provide consistent and reliable energy for operating machinery and systems.

Safety assurance: Compressed air powers emergency systems and maintains operational stability.

Cost-effectiveness: By optimizing energy usage, they reduce operational costs.

Environmental compliance: They contribute to sustainable practices through efficient air management.

Applications of air compressors in the chemical industry

Material handling and pneumatic conveying

Transporting bulk materials like powders, granules, and liquids is a daily necessity in chemical manufacturing. Air compressors enable pneumatic conveying systems, which are cleaner, safer, and more efficient than traditional methods.

Benefits:

Reduces manual labor.

Minimizes contamination.

Handles hazardous materials with ease.

Enhancing chemical reactions

Air compressors supply pressurized air essential for maintaining conditions in various chemical reactions, such as oxidation and polymerization. These reactions usually require precise temperature, pressure, and oxygen levels.

Examples:

Producing nitric acid through oxidation.

Facilitating polymer production for plastics.

Drying and dehydration

Moisture can compromise the quality and stability of chemical products. Compressed air-powered drying systems remove excess moisture from both products and equipment.

Key features:

High-efficiency desiccant dryers.

Low dew points for sensitive materials.

Pressurization and cooling

Maintaining the right pressure in tanks and pipelines is vital for chemical processing. Additionally, cooling systems powered by compressed air prevent overheating of reactors and other equipment.

Benefits:

Ensures safety in high-pressure systems.

Protects equipment from thermal damage.

Nitrogen generation

Nitrogen is widely used in the chemical industry for inerting, purging, and blanketing processes. Air compressors play a vital role in generating high-purity nitrogen onsite, reducing dependency on external suppliers.

Benefits:

Cost-effective and continuous supply.

Enhances safety by reducing oxidation risks.

Environmental control systems

Compressed air powers pollution control equipment such as scrubbers and blowers. These systems help chemical plants adhere to environmental regulations and reduce emissions.

Why it matters:

Promotes sustainable practices.

Ensures compliance with severe environmental standards.

Process automation

Automation is transforming the chemical industry, and air compressors are at the heart of this revolution. They power pneumatic actuators, valves, and tools, ensuring precision in automated systems.

Benefit:

Enhances production accuracy.

Reduces downtime and operational errors.

Types of air compressors ideal for the chemical industry

Oil-free air compressors

For processes that demand absolute purity, oil-free air compressors are the go-to choice. They ensure that compressed air does not contaminate sensitive chemical products.

Screw air compressors

These are perfect for continuous operations in high-demand environments. Their energy efficiency and reliability make them ideal for chemical plants.

Reciprocating air compressors

When high-pressure output is needed, reciprocating compressors are the best fit. They’re suitable for smaller, specific applications within the industry.

Choosing the right air compressor for a chemical plant

When selecting air compressors, consider the following factors:

Application requirements: Match the compressor type to your specific processes.

Air quality standards: Opt for oil-free models for critical applications.

Energy efficiency: Prioritize models with low energy consumption.

Durability and reliability: Invest in high-quality equipment to minimize maintenance costs.

Wrapping Up:

Air compressors are more than just tools in the chemical industry – they’re enablers of innovation, safety, and efficiency. With a reliable air compressor manufacturer as your partner, you achieve access to advanced technology and unmatched expertise. Whether it’s pneumatic conveying, process automation, or nitrogen generation, India air compressor is managed to upgrade your operations. Contact us at www.indoair.com today to learn more about our wide range of air compressors and how we can help you achieve your goals.

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Creative Uses for Bulk Picnic Blankets Beyond Picnics

When you think of picnic blankets, the first image that comes to mind might be a sunny park, a wicker basket, and a spread of delicious food. While picnic blankets shine in these classic scenarios, their versatility extends far beyond picnics. If you’ve purchased picnic blankets in bulk, you’re sitting on a treasure trove of possibilities (quite literally). Let’s explore the many creative ways these humble blankets can be utilised.

1. Beachside Bliss

A day at the beach is always better with the right gear, and picnic blankets are no exception. Their size, durability, and often waterproof backing make them perfect for sandy adventures. Bulk buying ensures your business, event, or group can enjoy comfort by the sea. From yoga sessions on the beach to family outings, having a ready supply of blankets transforms any shoreline escapade into an organised and comfortable experience.

2. Outdoor Movie Nights

Hosting an outdoor movie night? Roll out those bulk picnic blankets for seating that’s cosy and uniform. Guests will appreciate a clean, designated spot to relax as they enjoy their popcorn and flick. Plus, a neat row of matching blankets adds a polished touch to your event. Extra points if they’re branded!

3. Festival Essentials

Outdoor music festivals are a magnet for picnic blankets. They’re ideal for staking out a comfortable spot in the crowd. If your company is sponsoring an event, offering branded blankets not only enhances the attendee experience but also boosts your brand’s visibility. Buying picnic blanket bulk means you’ll have enough to make a memorable impression.

4. School and Community Events

Schools and community organisations can get a lot of mileage out of picnic blankets. Whether it’s a field day, a PTA meeting, or a charity event, blankets provide a versatile solution for seating or giveaways. Plus, kids love having their own space to sit on during outdoor activities. If you’re looking for an economical way to enhance such gatherings, bulk picnic blankets are the answer.

5. Camping Comfort

If your organisation caters to the outdoor enthusiast crowd, bulk picnic blankets are a must. These blankets serve as ground covers, extra insulation under sleeping bags, or even as makeshift shelters. They’re lightweight, easy to pack, and incredibly useful for a variety of camping scenarios.

6. Corporate Gifting with a Twist

Want to impress your clients or employees? A picnic blanket is a thoughtful gift that’s both functional and unique. Add your company logo and voila! You’ve created a keepsake that’s perfect for picnics, sports games, or simply lounging in the backyard. The key is buying in bulk to keep costs low while making a big impact.

7. Pet-Friendly Perks

Have a furry friend in the family? Picnic blankets are fantastic for pets. Use them as car seat protectors, bed liners, or outdoor mats. If you’re running a pet-friendly business or event, branded picnic blankets can be a hit with pet owners. Offering a practical, pet-approved item is a surefire way to win hearts (and paws).

8. Fitness and Wellness Events

From yoga in the park to outdoor meditation sessions, picnic blankets offer a stable, comfortable surface for participants. They’re also an excellent giveaway item for fitness brands or wellness retreats. Buying picnic blankets bulk ensures you’re well-prepared for any event while keeping costs manageable.

9. Emergency Preparedness

Here’s one you might not have considered: picnic blankets are incredibly handy for emergency kits. Durable and lightweight, they can act as thermal covers, ground barriers, or even improvised shelters. Stocking up on picnic blankets in bulk ensures your organisation can provide support in unexpected situations, be it for employees or the wider community.

10. Creative Marketing Opportunities

Finally, picnic blankets offer a creative canvas for marketing. Beyond branding, think about incorporating QR codes or fun designs that align with your campaign. Whether they’re used at a promotional event or given as a gift, picnic blankets can help your message stand out.

Why Bulk Picnic Blankets Make Sense

If these creative uses have sparked your imagination, it’s clear why buying in bulk is a smart move. Not only does it save money, but it also ensures you’re ready for any occasion. Whether you’re planning an event, running a business, or simply looking for a versatile product, picnic blankets tick all the boxes.

When sourcing your blankets, consider factors like material, durability, and design. Opt for options that align with your needs, whether it’s waterproof backing for outdoor use or plush fabric for comfort. And don’t forget to explore customisation options to make them uniquely yours.

Final Thoughts

From outdoor movie nights to pet-friendly perks, picnic blankets in bulk offer endless possibilities. Their versatility and affordability make them a go-to solution for businesses, organisations, and event planners. So, the next time you think of picnic blankets, remember—they’re more than just a square of fabric; they’re an opportunity.

Curious to learn more about the benefits of bulk picnic blankets? Loop back to the first article in our series: "Why Buy Picnic Blankets in Bulk for Your Events?"