#small camp with loft

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Epilogue

Summary: Joel had always been the one. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 6.5k Warnings: None! Enjoy whatever comes! A/N: So, here we are at last. The final goodbye to one of my favorite pairings :') It is so bittersweet to end their story, but I am so thankful you all have supported it and loved it along the way! Tommy & Beth's story will be coming soon, so I hope you guys stick around for it! All my love, xoxo <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

“Sarah!” You called from downstairs. “We need to leave soon so we aren’t late!”

“Coming!” She shouted back.

You could hear her footsteps shuffling across the loft, no doubt in a rush trying to find her backpack. It was the first day of school, and you were the brand new eighth-grade teacher—totally not because you wanted to keep teaching Sarah before high school. 

The three of you had spent the summer in a whirlwind, between camping trips and helping Joel work on a business plan for his own job. You even took a small trip to Boston to see your family; you needed to get the closure you deserved finally. But you couldn’t think about that trip now; you needed Sarah to hurry up.

“Joel,” you grumbled. “Can you please get her down here?”

Joel was leaning against the kitchen counter, his coffee mug half-full and lifted to his lips. He rolled his eyes at you, his lips curling into a soft smile. 

“I got it, baby. Go get your ass in the car, and I’ll make sure she has everythin’ together.”

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before slinging your bag over your shoulder. A large hand closed over your bicep, and Joel yanked you back into his broad frame. 

“No y’don’t. Give me a real kiss,” he chuckled.

He pressed a hand into your lower back, holding you firm to his chest as he bent down to kiss you. You deepened the kiss, your tongue overlapping his with a soft whimper off your lips. Joel swallowed every noise and pressed you against his lips for as long as he could.

“Grossssss,” Sarah groaned, startling you both.

You jumped back from Joel’s embrace, staring at Sarah with an embarrassed smile. 

“Can you guys not do that? At least wait for the wedding.”

Joel barked a laugh, kissing your cheek with wet lips before pushing you out of the kitchen. 

“I can kiss my future wife all I want, sweetheart,” he protested. 

Future wife. 

You loved it when he said that. You loved it even more when he was pinning you to the bed and whispering it in your ear as he fucked you. Lazy strokes and sweet words… The thought alone had you clenching your thighs beneath your skirt. 

Joel didn’t waste a moment proposing after you moved in. He and Tommy had snuck away one Saturday to a jewelry store to find the perfect ring, and he proposed that night. The tiny diamond sat snug on your finger, the gold band reflecting the sunlight every time you admired it—which you did a lot.

You and Joel were still working through the mess created after your accident, but there was no question that you’d marry him. At least you knew he wouldn’t run from the wedding; the thought of it happening kept you up some nights. 

Both you and Sarah arrived at the school with only ten minutes to spare. She’d be in your final class for the day, so you parted ways and made your way to your new classroom. Joel had helped you set up your room over the last week, hanging the posters you couldn’t reach and remaining adamant about keeping you from any possible chance of falling. God forbid you hit your head again; it wasn’t something you liked to think of often. 

Walking into the classroom, you quickly set up your lesson plans and placed worksheets on each desk. The first week of school would be the easiest for you and the students. A slight tap on the door jolted you from rushing around, and you looked up to see Maria sheepishly standing in the doorway.

“Welcome back,” she said. 

Neither of you had spoken since the end of the year, and you still weren’t sure what to say. Joel had explained to you that Maria wasn’t entirely at fault for anything; she only meant to care for you and keep you company throughout the years between. At the start of last year, he mentioned that he considered going after you, which was why Maria was always so pushy about talking to Joel. And she had, in fact, been the mastermind behind ‘Happy Hour’ when Joel showed up. 

You couldn’t stay mad forever, even if sometimes you desperately wanted to. Anger was all you had known for months, and you worked hard to replace it and battle through it as the summer went on. But right now, you could put that aside and at least be cordial with Maria. 

“Thank you, Maria.” You gave her a tentative smile. 

“Can I come in? I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you before the day started, and I was hoping we could chat.”

You nodded, motioning to one of the desks. Maria entered the room and leaned against the edge of the desk, waiting for you to settle into your chair. You tried ignoring the emails that continued to chime on your computer, attempting to give her your full attention, which she deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I had no intention of lying to you, but I only wanted to see you happy. After the accident, it was so hard for me to lose you in the way I did. Giving you a place to live after your breakup with Bennett and seeing you meet Joel… Then nothing. I cared for you like a daughter and wanted to continue being there for you.���

“I know you did,” you sighed. “It’s been hard having to adjust after regaining my memory, and it’s taking a lot out of me to try to work through it all. I hope you know I appreciate all the care you’ve shown me. Before the accident and after. I just needed time to process it all.”

“If you ever need anything, sweetie, you know I’m here.”

“Thank you.”

You reached your arms to hug her, and Maria took the opportunity without question. Her warm embrace was enough to bring you to tears; you did miss her—a lot. Pulling away, you lifted your hand a little to show off the sparkle on your ring finger. 

“Oh my gosh!” she squealed, grabbing your hand.

You laughed at her excitement and allowed her to admire the ring on your finger.

“The wedding is next month,” you told her. “Joel and I would love for you to come if you would like.”

“Are you kidding? Of course, I want to come!”

She pulled you in for another tight hug, muttering a litany of ‘thank you’s.’ Eventually, the school bell rang, she ran out of the room, and you settled back at your desk for the beginning of the day. 

Not even two minutes after the final bell rang, Sarah was barreling into your classroom with a big smile. You had just seen her in the third hour during her own class, but her excitement never failed to make your heart swell with happiness. 

“Ready to go home, kiddo?” You chuckled.

“So ready! I think Dad is cooking us dinner, and I’m starving.”

You ruffled her curls softly before tucking her under your arm and leaving the classroom. The person you were last year—before remembering everything—would have never allowed this to happen. Dating your student’s father was out of line and, quite frankly, not your forte, but this was an exception. A very necessary exception. 

As you pulled out of the parking lot, you heard your phone ringing in your purse. Sarah was quick to retrieve it, staring confused at the caller ID. 

“Who is it?” You asked, glancing away from the road.

“Aunt Beth.”

Shit.

Things hadn’t been great between you two since the trip back to Boston over the summer, but it was better. If you sat in silence long enough, the bitterness and anger returned in full force. Joel was your voice of reason, calming you down from the resurgence of emotions and always quickly reminding you of Beth's work to fix the relationship. You only hoped they weren’t empty promises and she would prove herself to be who she was before the accident.

“Here, let me see it,” you said, extending your hand.

Pressing answer, you held the phone to your ear and hoped Sarah didn’t see the trembling in your fingertips.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, sis,” Beth said. It was easy to hear the frustration in her greeting.

“Everything okay?” You asked. 

You came to a slow roll at the red light in front of you, relaxing your white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Sarah rubbed an assuring hand over your arm, and you turned to give her a sad smile. She was like her father, so receptive and aware of your emotions.

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t know, I just… Do you want me there? Are you sure?”

“At my wedding?” You questioned. “I already told you I wanted you there. I extended the invite to the entire family, including you.”

“I know, but being your bridesmaid feels wrong.”

A car horn blared behind you, and your eyes snapped up to see the green light staring down at you. You inhaled sharply and pressed the gas. 

“Joel and I already talked about it, and we both agree not having you there would be something I might regret one day. I want you and Stell both up there with me.”

“You’re sure?” She asked, her voice cracking.

“Yes, Beth. I’m sure. Now, are you flying out on the day of the reception or the day before? I just need to make sure your hotel room is booked and set up before you get here.”

“I’ll fly in the day before with Stell. I think Mom and Dad are coming the day after.”

“Okay, good. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of. Just please promise me you’ll be there.”

“I promise, sis,” she sighed.

You rounded the corner into the neighborhood and pulled up to the house. Joel’s truck was already parked in the driveway, his truck bed overflowing with work tools and wooden planks. You nodded at Sarah to head in while you finished the phone call—you needed a moment alone before going inside. 

“I just got home, Beth, so I’ve got to run. I’ll send you the information for the hotel and everything, okay?”

“Wait, before you go,” Beth hesitated. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m still really sorry,” she admitted. “About everything.”

You scrubbed a hand down your face, holding back a wave of tears that threatened to break your composure. Beth wasn’t one to show her emotions or speak them this freely. Her vulnerability was something you were still adjusting to, among everything else. 

“I know you are, sis,” you exhaled. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll let you go. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You didn’t get the chance to say goodbye before the phone line went dead.  Resting your head against the steering wheel, you let the tears run down your face. It was hard to control your emotions these days, and today was no different. Between seeing Maria and talking to Beth, you were exhausted. The wedding planning hadn’t been stressful until now, but knowing Beth was having second thoughts about even coming? The stress was starting to creep in.

A light tap on the window jolted you from your tearful silence. You turned your head to see Joel standing outside the door, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. Seeing him was the final nail in the coffin, and you lost it completely. He was quick to yank the door open and wrap his arms around your limp body. 

“Sarah told me Beth called,” he confessed. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this isn’t easy.”

You clung to his shirt, nestling your head into his neck. The work day still lingered on his skin, the smell of fresh wood and sweat flooding your senses. He smelled like home. 

“Am I making the wrong decision?” You choked out. 

Joel’s grip tightened around you, his sturdy frame grounding your emotions to cascade into. You fell victim to your cries, your tears dampening the cotton tee he wore. 

“You’re makin’ the mature decision, baby,” he stated. “It took a lot for you even to see them this summer, but the wedding will fly by, and this can all be put behind us.”

“I just don’t want to be let down again,” you cried. 

“No one's gonna let you down. I’ll make sure of it, ‘kay?”

You peeled yourself away from him, wiping away the tears that trailed down your cheeks. Joel’s brown eyes softened as he took in your fragile state, his lips turning down. Cradling your head in his hands, Joel brought your forehead to his lips for a comforting kiss.

“Hey, I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Y’know how I feel ‘bout you sayin’ that, baby,” Joel grinned.

The slight shift in the color of his eyes was warning enough to make your emotions skyrocket in a different way. You gave him a shy smile before pecking him on the lips and jumping out of the car. Joel quickly wound an arm around your front and hauled you back to him.

“You’re lucky we got dinner on the table,” he whispered in your ear. “Punishment’s gonna have to wait ‘til later.”

“Punishment?” You echoed.

“Mhmm,” he hummed, dragging his mouth over the shell of your ear.

You shivered at the touch, your body molding against his. Leave it to Joel to always turn your mood around; it’s what you loved about him. The worst days could be changed in minutes, and you weren’t afraid to be vulnerable with him. You also weren’t afraid to rile him up, too.

Shifting your body slightly, you brushed your ass against the crotch of his jeans, rewarding yourself with the hardening bulge of his cock. Joel groaned at the brief touch, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you giggled.

 You repeated the motion, Joel’s body tensing behind you.

“Oh gosh,” you feigned distressed. “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re gonna regret that, baby,” Joel growled. 

With a sharp smack on your ass, Joel urged you toward the front door—not before readjusting himself several times before entering the kitchen. 

Sarah had long gone to bed by the time you and Joel retired to your room. You took time showering and readying for bed while Joel sprawled against the sheets. Peeking around the corner, you caught a glimpse of his body, nearly naked, except for a pair of black boxers. It still didn’t feel real that you had found your way back to him, and it especially didn’t feel real that you’d be marrying him in less than a month. 

“I know you’re starin’ at me over there,” Joel chuckled.

You emerged from behind the door, a grin on your face. Joel propped himself against the headboard, his hands locked behind his head and his biceps flexing slightly. 

“Obviously,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m allowed to admire my handsome future husband.”

“Get your ass up here, baby.”

You happily obliged and jumped onto the bed, straddling his waist as you bent down to kiss him. Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he deepened the kiss, his hand carding through your hair to anchor you closer. 

“If I’m not mistaken,” he muttered between kisses. “Y’said somethin’ earlier that you shouldn’t have.”

You trailed your lips down his neck, humming softly with each press of your lips.

“I did?” You teased.

“Three times,” Joel groaned. 

His fingers laced tightly between the tendrils of your hair, pulling your head up until there was nowhere to look but into his dark eyes. The swell of his pupils had replaced the soft amber colors of his irises, a mischievous look flashing across his face. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, baby. You’re gonna slide that beautiful body up here and ride my tongue ‘til you cum three times.”

“Three?” You repeated, your eyes growing wide.

Joel huffed a laugh and hooked his arms under your thighs. You fell forward, your hands bracing onto the headboard. Joel lucked out with you already being bare under your t-shirt; it was easy work for him, especially when you were already drenched with arousal. A small swipe of his nose over your throbbing clit was enough to elicit a soft moan from your mouth. 

“Bite your lip and stay quiet for me, baby,” Joel mumbled. “Can’t wake up Sarah with all your noise.”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

Joel flattened his tongue against your entrance and licked a long, slow stripe through your wet folds. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as he had instructed, you bit back a desperate whine that threatened to escape. You rolled your hips slightly, the pointed tip of his tongue dragging over your aching bud softly. The fire crept through your veins, catapulting you closer to the edge as Joel’s jaw worked relentlessly at your leaking entrance. 

“Joel,” you whispered, a faint whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh,” he hummed.

The low vibration of his hush radiated through your pulsating clit, forcing you to jerk away from his mouth. His calloused fingers dug further into the skin of your thighs, anchoring you down onto his face. His tongue worked faster at your clit, stroking it with tantalizing flicks of his tongue. Flames burst through your stomach with each move of his mouth, your thighs quaking in his grip. So close… you were so close. Joel felt it, too, and latched his mouth around the sensitive bud.

“Joel!” You cried, the orgasm barreling through your body. 

He didn’t let up, his tongue dipping into your entrance and lapping at the juices leaking from you. Your hand shot to the curls at the crown of his head, tugging him off of your sex, your body still twitching from the aftershocks of your climax. 

“That was only one, baby,” Joel muttered into the flesh of your inner thigh. 

He pressed wet kisses against your skin, working his way back to your center with small kitten licks over every inch of you. Your thighs clenched around his face, framing him perfectly between your legs. You glanced at him only to find his dark eyes staring at you. The air knocked out of your lungs, seeing him under you in such blissed-out beauty. Joel shifted his face up, revealing his arousal-coated mustache and wet plush lips. 

“Y’gonna give me two more?” He asked, his mouth curving into a grin. 

You nodded vigorously, guiding him back to your swollen bud. Joel rested his tongue over your center, nudging you silently with a slight tilt of his head. Dragging your hips forward, you lowered yourself onto his open mouth. Back and forth, you moved against his tongue, tremors wracking through your limbs with each pass. 

“Joel! I’m gonna—.” You choked on your words. 

With one hand grasped on the headboard and the other tangled in his sweat-soaked curls, you bore down and let your second orgasm surge through your body. Biting your lip did little to help the cry of pleasure that escaped your mouth. You lifted yourself from his face, attempting to unlatch yourself from his tight grip. 

“Nuh uh, baby,” Joel protested, his voice husky. “One more.”

“I can’t,” you whined.

You stumbled over his body, collapsing into the bed beside him. Joel rolled over you, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. The lower half of his face was coated in your arousal, his chin and beard glistening in the dim lights of the bedroom. You wound your arms around his neck, pulling him to your lips. The sweet smell of your arousal hit your nose as his mouth collided with yours. Joel groaned against your lips, coaxing your mouth open wider. You tilted your head to give him better access, your tongues dancing in unison in a heated kiss. 

You felt Joel’s hand slide between your bodies, his body shifting slightly as he pushed down the boxers from his waist. The weight of his heavy cock rested on your thigh, and you hooked your leg higher to give him access to your dripping sex. 

“Got one more in you, baby?” Joel asked, his mouth roaming down your neck. 

“I think so,” you said, your voice shaky. 

Joel suctioned his lips to the hollow of your neck, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. You gasped at the intrusion, your body adjusting to the girth of his cock as he split you open. Joel carded a hand through your hair and glued his eyes to yours as he thrusted into you slowly. Your bodies moved in a simple rhythm; when he drove into you, you careened back. Soft cries and heavy grunts, each of you flowing in perfect harmony. 

“So fuckin’ perfect,” Joel whispered.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you panted.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the swell of release at your fingertips as Joel speared into you deeper with each cadence of his hips. You were overstimulated and covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but you wanted to come undone with him. You wanted to fall over the edge together; you wanted this moment to be something you shared. Lifting your mouth to his ear, you whined softly, garnering a low growl from his chest. 

“I love you.”

Three simple words. It was enough to send Joel over the edge, his body tensing above you as he drove into you one last time. Your sex clenched around his cock, milking him through his release. His cock dragged against the aching walls of your sex as he pulled out, his body resting heavily on top of yours. With his head pressed to your heaving chest, you ran your fingers through the dark curls resting at the base of his neck. 

“You tired?” You laughed softly, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout,” Joel argued.

“Get some sleep, handsome. I love you.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

He nuzzled further into your embrace, a soft yawn exhaling from his mouth. You smiled to yourself, reveling in the fact that this was your life. Here, at this moment, everything you had endured was worth it. It was worth it knowing someone inexplicably loved you. Someone who wasn’t going to leave, no matter how hard things may be. Joel fought tooth and nail to have you back, and you learned to forgive his faults. His patience and unwavering love were enough to battle any doubts that lingered in your mind.

He was yours, just as much as you were his. 

**

Outside your bridal suite, storm clouds swirled in the sky. You had watched the news channel praying for a sunny wedding day all week, but the Texas weather laughed at your pleas. The thunderstorm looming in the distance was only the tip of the iceberg in your ever-growing levels of anxiety.

“Sis, it’s gonna be okay,” Beth urged. 

Beth and Stella were the only ones in the room with you, and they both sat at the edge of the bed, watching you helplessly pace the floor. You itched to undo the tight bun your hair had been wrangled into, the pain of each bobby pin shooting another jolt of pain into the onset headache forming in your head. 

“What if he doesn’t show? What if Joel doesn’t want this? What if—?”

“Oh my God, stop!” 

It wasn’t Beth that cut off your rambling, but Stella. She wasn’t one to raise her voice often, but it was enough to halt your frantic thoughts. You threw yourself onto the chair in the corner of the room, letting out an exasperated sigh. Stella rose from the bed, carefully sidestepping the hem of her silk bridesmaid dress as she waltzed to where you sat. She lowered herself to her knees and stared up at you with pleading eyes. 

“Joel loves you, sis,” she stressed. “He’s not going to leave you. All of these pre-ceremony jitters will go away the second you walk down that aisle.”

“But—.”

She held up her hand in protest, shaking her head sternly. 

“No more of that. You are going to put on your dress and get ready.”

You glanced at your wedding dress hanging on the back of the door. The white fabric was a haunting reminder of the rain-soaked dress you had worn only years ago, dirtied by the mud and broken hopes left in Bennett’s wake. You chewed at your lip to stifle back a cry, your brain ready to disintegrate with all the pressure building inside your head. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, the admission frightening you. 

Beth groaned, leaving the bed to join Stella on the ground. You had spoken little since she came into town, sharing only a few shallow words in passing when necessary. But the seriousness in her eye ignited a new wave of fear; her words could slice you clean through if you let it. Saying your name softly, Beth clasped a hand around yours and inhaled a sharp breath. 

“You can do this, and you will. I know you’re scared, but Joel is waiting for you. He’s been waiting for you for years, and he’s not going anywhere. Trust me when I tell you no one in this world loves you more than he does, okay?”

A tear slipped down your cheek at Beth’s words. The way she spoke of Joel was night and day from how she spoke of Bennett. Her words regarding Bennett had been laced with venom strong enough to poison even your happiest memories—whatever those had been. They were fighting words, and each punch was perfectly placed. With Joel, she only spoke with sincerity. Both she and Stella had been there to see Joel at his worst after the accident, watching the life he had made with you crumble away within the hospital. They had been there to experience his grief firsthand, and that was something you could never argue. Joel held a special place in both of their hearts, a bond you couldn’t remember but couldn’t deny. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, burying your head in your hands. You threw caution to the wind when it came to ruining your makeup. It was a lost cause at this point. 

“Hey, come here,” Beth whispered. 

She hauled you into her arms, wrapping herself around you. Stella followed her lead, both huddling around you as you cried quietly. Time had stolen so much from you, time you couldn’t get back with your sisters. Putting everything aside, you sat in the moment with them and let their strength hold you up. 

“Okay, okay,” you sighed, peeling yourself away. “Can you both help me get into my dress?”

Stella squealed excitedly, hauling herself up and hurtling toward the door where it hung. Beth gave you one final squeeze and a quiet “I love you” before joining Stella. 

You discarded your robe on the bed and stood awkwardly before them in your bridal lingerie. Both of them whistled at you provocatively, their eyes growing wide. You blushed at their giddiness, motioning for them to bring the dress to you. The three of you worked silently as you slipped into the tulle fabric. Beth worked at zipping up the back while Stella secured the gossamer sleeves over your shoulders. The fabric was cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the warm anxiety that simmered below the surface. You were ready after a few final touches on your makeup and the clasping of your heels. 

“Breathe, peanut,” your dad whispered in your ear. 

The bouquet in your hand was shaking from the trembling in your fingers. You stared through the glass door into the open courtyard where everyone sat, the sky darkening by the minute. In the distance, you could spot Joel's outline as he stood under the floral arch above the altar. He was right there…waiting. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” the wedding planner said, grasping the door handle before you. 

You turned your head to look at your dad, his features soft and emotional. If he cried, you’d soon follow, and you couldn’t ruin your makeup again. You squeezed his arm and nodded to the wedding planner. 

“I’m ready,” you whispered. 

With a gentle push of the door, you stepped over the threshold and into the humid air of the early evening. The soft crescendo of the Wedding March began to drift through the open space, and your friends and family all turned to stand. Your eyes shifted side to side, looking down each row at the warm smiles in your direction. Maybe if you didn’t look down the aisle, the fear of Joel running away wouldn’t come true. Look anywhere else. Your steps faltered, and you felt a wave of anxiety assault your nerves. 

“He’s waiting for you,” your dad mumbled. “Look up.”

You lifted your head and found Joel watching you with the brightest smile. His hair was tamed and slicked down with gel, and his beard was trimmed short—but still patchy in small areas along his jaw. His broad frame stretched out the black suit that was tailored perfectly to his body, and something about the refined look on him made your heart leap. If you weren’t already breathless, seeing his eyes stole any air left in your lungs.  Joel’s brown eyes sparkled with fresh tears under the gray skies. Not even the darkest storm clouds could darken the amber flecks glimmering in his irises. 

As you neared the altar, you also realized his hands were trembling. His fingers fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt, and his body shifted from side to side as he waited for you. The music drifted to a close as you finally approached the altar, just inches from Joel. He didn’t run. He was standing right there. 

You turned to your dad, giving him a tearful hug and a quiet thank you. Joel stepped forward to give your dad a firm handshake, a warm smile gracing his face. As they said their final words to one another, you handed off your bouquet to Beth, who stood behind you, along with Stella and Sarah. Sarah’s cheeks were damp with tears as she grinned at you brightly, her skin radiant in her green dress. You blew her a kiss and turned back to Joel. 

“Y’look so fuckin’ beautiful,” he exhaled, wiping a tear from his face. 

“And you look extra handsome,” you grinned.

Joel chuckled, clasping his hands around yours. Your fingers squeezed around his knuckles, and your thumb rubbed soothing circles over the rough skin of his hand. The officiant beside you cleared his throat, and you and Joel turned your attention to him. 

“Family and friends,” he began. “Thank you all for joining us today for this wonderful union of love.”

The officiant's words faded into the background as you stared up at Joel, capturing this moment in your memory. Years of loss, pain, and grief all led you to this moment—right here. With Joel’s hands wrapped around yours and his loving smile shining down on you, it was all worth it. 

“I understand that you both have written your own vows,” the officiant said, interrupting the flood of emotions inside you.

Beth tapped you on your shoulder, handing you the small paper you had scribbled your vows onto that morning. 

“Okay,” you sighed. You smoothed out the paper in your hand, your eyes hardly focusing on the words before you. 

You opened your mouth to speak but paused as the first drop of rain splattered across the ink. A laugh bubbled out of you as you tilted your head up toward the sky. Rain misted your face, the slow sprinkle of rain dampening the ground around you. 

“Would y’look at that,” Joel laughed. “It’s rainin’ on us, baby. I think that means it’s good luck, right?”

You beamed at him, watching the raindrops catch onto his thick eyelashes. Crumpling the paper in your hand, you let it fall to the ground and composed yourself. Joel lifted his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Joel Miller,” you started. “I can say, without a doubt, I was always meant to be with you. From the moment I ran into you, literally—.” You laughed at yourself. “I knew it would always be you. Even when time and differences separated us, a part of me knew I was missing something. You and Sarah were the missing pieces that made me whole. And I’m so thankful that the universe conspired to bring us back together and lead me home. I vow to you, Joel, that every day will be filled with memories we remember.

 I vow always to make you smile. I vow to always annoy you with my late-night conversations about books and poetry nonsense you most definitely have no interest in. I promise to stand beside you on the soccer fields, cheering on our girl through every win and loss. I vow to you, Joel Miller, to never leave and to always work through the hardest obstacles. Together.” 

“I love you so much,” Joel whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

You lifted a finger to wipe them away, your hand resting against his cheek. Joel sniffled back more cries, shaking out the rain clinging to his hair. 

“Alright, guess I gotta try and beat that now,” Joel joked. 

He crumpled his vows, the paper floating onto the wet ground where they melted into the rainfall. Joel barely managed to choke out your name before succumbing to tears all over again. 

“Man, this is hard,” he huffed. “I ain’t sure how y’did all that without losin’ it, baby.”

“You’ll be just fine, Joel. I’m right here,” you assured. 

He spoke your name again, this time only faltering at the end. You gave him an encouraging smile, your hand still caressing his face. 

“I can’t tell you enough how lucky I am that you’re in my life,” Joel began. “I ain’t ever felt a love like this, and I ain’t ever wanna lose it. I’m not a many of many words, at least not where it counts, but havin’ you by my side makes every single day brighter. There ain’t no better happiness than seein’ your smile every day or seein’ you be the mother to Sarah that she always deserved. 

Y’make me the proudest man alive, and I vow always to love you and care for you in every single way. I promise to read all the books y’read. I vow to remind you which cereal we buy at the grocery. I vow to stay truthful and always love you no matter how hard things may get. It’s you and me, baby. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You got me ‘til I stop breathin’.”

You were the one crying the hardest now—a vow of all vows, spoken upon the altar that had always haunted you. One thing remained true in the weariness and uncertainty of the last several years: Joel was your steadfast. He was the constant that worked against the odds and continued to fight for a love you had since forgotten. Through the heartbreak, grief, and endless nights alone, you now had the one man the universe had created just for you. 

I love you, you mouthed. You couldn’t trust yourself not to entirely wither into a heap of sobs as his vows sunk further into your heart. 

“Now, if we may have the rings,” the officiant urged.

Tommy handed the ring to Joel while Sarah stepped forward to give you the wedding band you both had picked for her dad. 

“Thank you, kiddo,” you whispered, bending down to hug her. 

You and Joel repeated each word the officiant said, slipping the wedding bands onto each other's ring fingers. The rain was coming down harder now, pelting your face in wet splashes and rolling down your bare neck. Joel’s suit was soaked through, yet he didn’t care. Neither of you could stop smiling. 

“With the power invested in me and the state of Texas, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Miller! You may now kiss your bride.”

“About damn time,” Joel snorted. 

His hands swept under your shoulder blades, dipping you low as he bent to kiss you. The moment his wet lips touched yours, everything became a reality. Joel was your husband. You molded your body into his embrace, your arms winding around his neck. He kissed you recklessly as if no one else around you existed. And truthfully, the world could have collapsed around you, and you would never have known it. You wanted to remain in his arms for eternity. 

This was your home. He was your everything. 

The reception had drawn into the late hours of the night, and the buzz of a few drinks had your body relaxed and at ease. Whatever stress you had before the ceremony it had long since vanished, swept away with the rain as it continued to pour from the sky. The train of your dress was stained brown from the mud, yet you didn’t care. It was a memory of the day, and you wanted to keep it with you forever. 

“One last dance?” Joel asked, extending a hand to you.

You rose from your seat, placing your hand in his. Somewhere during the night, Joel had discarded his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Seeing him this dressed up was far more dangerous than you expected; you craved to undo every button traveling down his torso and strip his tailored pants right from his muscular legs. But those tempting thoughts would have to wait till later. 

Half the attendees had left for the night, leaving only your family members and a few friends still scattered around the ballroom. As Joel swayed your bodies to the music, you caught wind of an argument drifting through the music. Turning your head over your shoulder, you watched Beth and Tommy go toe to toe in a standoff. 

“Do you think we should go calm them down?” You asked. 

Joel glanced towards his brother and shrugged.

“M’sure they’ll sort their shit out, baby. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me from enjoyin’ this night with you.”

“You’ve seen Beth when she’s angry,” you reminded him. 

“And y’know how grumpy Tommy can get,” Joel countered. “They can handle themselves.”

You both moved to the music in silence; your eyes settled on one another as you spun in slow circles. Joel hooked a hand under your knee and dipped you, only to pull you up just as quickly to crush his lips to yours. 

“When can I take y’home?” He muttered between kisses. “I’ve been dyin’ to take that dress off of you all night.”

“As soon as this song ends, I’m all yours,” you smiled. 

Joel’s brown eyes darkened under the twinkling lights, and dimples appeared on his cheeks as he grinned at you. 

“Baby, you’ve been mine from the start.”

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

the same sweet shock | alpha!rhett x omega!oc

Summary: Somehow, Rhett and Tessa always knew he was meant to be her Alpha. That she was meant to be his Omega. And after nearly ten years of waiting, they are finally one. (wc: 3127)

Warnings: omegaverse stuff/lore (of which i am not well verse do not hang me), language, SMUT 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (pretty much just straight filth, heat stuff, rut stuff, fingering, pinv, use a condom kids unlike these dweebs, gland biting, and of course knotting), rhett being the best alpha

✎……👍👍 enjoy

✎……MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT

Rhett’s place was actually a loft in one of the barns up close by the Abbott family ranch house. They still stored hay up there, but there was a bed and a mini-fridge and one of those small Coleman camping gas ranges set up on a table if he wanted to cook up something. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something for when he got locked out of the house or just wanted some space to breathe. And right now, he needed a lot of space to breathe as he laid a whimpering, panting, writhing Tessa Abernathy onto his bed.

When he put her in his passenger seat at the bonfire, she was still wearing jeans and a few layers. The entire five minute drive she had squirmed and whined softly, sweating into his cloth seats. Rhett had told her, as she threw her head back and rubbed her thighs together, that she could take something off if she needed to.

He just didn’t expect her to peel off everything but her t-shirt. 

The only thing Rhett knew about heats was from sex-ed class in high school. Nearly a decade ago and too vague now that he was dealing with it. Now that he had had an Omega in his front seat touching herself just to make the ache stop and panting his name. 

But something like instinct was taking over his brain as he made quick work of his clothes, shucking them off and leaving them scattered on the floor. She was touching herself again. Two fingers shoved deep in her center, her free hand underneath her thin shirt — tweeking her sore breast. She whimpered his name again and it felt like a burn.

“M’comin’, Tess, m’comin’.”

Something like a second mind was telling him what she needed from him now as the Alpha who had marked her. A distinct smell of her covered in him that drove him mad. He needed to touch her. Fill her. Breed her. His cock twitched at the thought, that something clouding his brain as he growled low in his throat. As he watched her juices leak out around her fingers, his hand roughly palming himself through his boxers. He meant it when he said he wanted to take things slow with her. Even if those thoughts in the back of his head had been telling him for months that she was his. He wanted it to be her choice, he wanted this to feel right and good and natural between them.

But even rushed and unexpected — it still felt good and right. As he propped his knee up on the foot of the bed, continuing to watch her in nearly a daze.

Her eyes, half-lidded and hazy, caught him standing at the edge of the bed and she reached for him. Fingers outstretched as she whined softly.

“Alpha,” Tessa breathed, a few more tears running down her reddened cheeks. “Please. Hurts.”

At her word, the cloud abated, and he climbed fully onto the bed with her. 

He could smell something — could nearly see the scent hanging in the air. A trail along the hallway lined with lockers. Honeysuckle and the air of early morning. Crisp and sweet. 

On some instinct he didn’t understand, Rhett followed it. Let it lead him all the way to the nurses station up by the main office. Standing outside the door, a thought from somewhere else slammed into the forefront of his mind. Fill. He didn’t want to admit to himself that some part of him knew. Knew where this trail would lead. Knew what or who needed to be filled…Filled by him. He could already feel himself swelling in his jeans as he wrapped his hand around the door handle. 

Tessa Abernathy was sitting on the nurse’s exam table. Red faced, sweating, face pinched up in a grimace with fingernails digging into her thighs. She was on the rodeo team with him. Barrel raced and got pretty blue ribbons for her efforts. Friends with Laney — Walker’s girl. Quiet and kind and radiating with that smell of honeysuckle and early morning air. 

She was hurting. And somehow he knew he could make it better.

He stepped further into the room as he mumbled, “M’sorry, I don’...”

Tessa gripped her stomach — a whimper falling out of her as those tears finally fell. The sound went through him like a knife. Sharp and painful. He wanted to make it better. He could make it better. He could ease her pain and fill her and make everything good for her.

Omega. Fill.

The words screamed in his mind as he lifted his hand towards the strap to his backpack. Ready to drop it on the floor and cross the room to her right then and there. But then the nurse walked back into the room. Yelled at him to leave. 

And he did. 

He regretted that moment for the past ten years. Leaving her in pain. Leaving her empty. A memory he didn’t like to think back on. But then she stumbled back into his life. Beautiful and warm as the sun. Offering up a kindness he didn’t think he deserved but she gave so freely. But then she went into heat at that party and he couldn’t let anyone else have her. She was his. His. His. His Omega. His to fill. 

Rhett groaned as he knelt over her, cupping her face in his hands to kiss her properly this time. Their first kiss. Not what he wanted their first kiss to be either. But it was so much more than he felt it would normally be. More intense, more wonderful, more desperate. Tessa whined, high pitched and desperate into his mouth, both hands reaching and pawing at him with whatever strength she had left. One hand trailed down her jaw, felt the residual sweat and tears, before it slipped down her neck. 

Her mating gland was swollen — moreso than he had ever felt before. His fingers massaged gently as he licked into her mouth. But it made her moan, wanton and open, as her hips bucked up to meet him. 

Rhett smiled, small and adoring, as he shushed her; fingers pushing her hair back from her face. “Easy. Easy. I know’mega, s’alright. ‘M’gonna take care’a ya now.” 

When he was a kid, he used to find the honeysuckle bushes with Perry. Find the flowers in that early summer air, pluck one from the rest and suck the nectar from them. It felt like that to kiss her sweat slicked skin. Honeysuckle nectar sweet as he mouthed and licked and sucked down the side of her neck. As he peppered that swollen gland with light pecks of his lips.

Tessa thrashed and whined softly beneath him as he trailed one hand down her stomach, past that t-shirt he pulled effortlessly over her head, to find her swollen and dripping. An awe and a growl filled him at the way she gripped the two fingers he sunk into her, at the way she pulsated and moaned. When his fingers were fully seated inside her, he looked up to see more tears streaming down her face, her hands weakly pushing and pulling at him. He didn’t know if it was for him to stop or for him to keep going. 

He knew what she needed from him now. What she needed and craved on some base instinct. But still, he didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted this to be good for her in every way. 

“Rhett,” she cried as he pushed those two fingers in and out, making her whole body shudder.

“I know wha’ya need, sunshine, I jus’...Jus’ soak my fingers like a good’mega n’ll give it t’ya.” She keened high in her throat and it made him grin. “Tha’s it. Takin’ my fingers s’well.”

His fingers stuffing her full seemed to have abated her for the moment, but after just a few pumps she seemed to know it wasn’t what what she really craved. Not what she really needed. Her hips are squirming and jerking, her head thrown back as she took what he gave. But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough. 

“Please, Rhett, please — oh — need t’please…Alpha, please, please, can I — want it so bad. Need — Need t’be full,” she panted, eyes barely peeled open as she clawed at his back.

And he knew it too.

Biting into her jaw gently, he whispered, husky and deep, “Wan’ya t’cum f’r me first.”

It was like she was waiting for permission. Going stiff beneath him, she gasped, fingernails digging into his flesh as her walls convulsed around his fingers. Refusing to let go. She whined as he pulled them free, his hand soaked to the knuckle. But still she squirmed, her hips searching for something. Anything. Him. His cock, his knot, ready and aching to fill her.

Tessa opened her eyes, a few more tears leaking down her face, some clarity in her countenance for the first time since he marked her. He kissed her then. Gentle and consuming.

“Thank you,” she whispered, trying to tug him closer even though they were chest to chest, skin to skin.

Rhett shook his head, cupped her cheek. “Don’.”

“Why?”

“You didn’...Didn’get t’choose.”

She smiled, soft and sunshine bright. “Yeah I did. I chose you, my Alpha. Back when I’s seventeen…So good t’me.”

That made Rhett growl, low and showing some teeth. That second brain fuzzing all his thought as he flipped her onto her stomach. Practically ripping his boxers off as he urged one of her legs to bend, spreading her open for him. His cock was red, nearly purple at the tip, as it leaked and slapped against his stomach. He had never knotted someone before either, a biological process that only occured when an Alpha bred an Omega.

But he could already feel it beginning to form, causing a near pain as he lined himself up with her leaking entrance.

“Such a good Omega, sunshine, fuck — so good. My Omega. Mine.”

He was rambling now as he pushed in nice and slow. Some noise like a moan was falling consistently from her mouth, high pitched and breathy as she took him easily to the hilt. Every one of his nerves felt like it was on fire as he waited for her to adjust, or at least tried to. Even the feeling of him filling her was enough to make her flutter around him. He struggled to breathe even as he lost all composure and began to thrust deep and heavy into her awaiting cunt.

Each thrust forward forced a noise out of her, forced her higher up the bed. Her hands scrambled to reach for something, reach for him, and she didn’t stop until he grabbed hold of the back of her hand and laced their fingers together. Holding her down and grounding her. Grounding him.

“Fuck, you feel s’good,” he grumbled in her ear as he pressed himself into her back, blanketing her in him.

Changing the angle of his hips, he knew he hit that spongey spot inside her when she choked for breath. Rhett watched her mouth drop open further, her eyelids flutter, her breathing pick up as he gave short but powerful thrusts into that spot directly. Her fingers held a death grip on his own. 

“Good, ‘mega,” he grumbled, shifting closer. “That’s a good fuckin’mega.”

Tessa made some choked noise, shoulders hunching in on herself as he just kept going. Kept pushing right into that spot. He felt her clench around him, keeping him as deep as he could go — it made him shudder and twitch inside her. But he didn’t want this to end just yet. Didn’t want it to stop feeling this good. So he curled his free arm around her and pressed his fingers into her little bundle of nerves. 

“A-Ah!” she cried softly, legs trying to claw into the mattress and gain some traction. 

“God, y’re makin’ such pretty lil’noises, ‘mega. Think y’can make s’more f’r me?”

“S-Someone c-could hear,” she stuttered out, glancing towards the hay door that hung cracked open.

Being stuffed full of him and at least partially satiated, some of Tessa had come back into her it seemed. This was having the opposite effect on Rhett. The further they went the more lost he became. Lost in her scent, lost in her pussy, lost in filling her like his biology screamed to do. But she was also his Omega — and he longed to please her.

“What? Y’scared someone’s gonna hear ya take m’knot?” he questioned.

The thought made her flutter around him, but she still nodded. “C’Come check it out.”

She had a fair point, but if someone from the house hadn’t come to investigate her moaning at that point, Rhett was unsure if anyone ever would. But he could see the worry in her eyes, keeping her from letting go completely and caving into the pleasure he so desperately wanted to give her. So, he let go of her hand and brought two fingers up to her lips. He bumped the rough pads against the swollen flesh and she parted for him with heavy lidded eyes.

“That’s it — that’s my ‘mega,” he said with a grin as he pushed his fingers into her mouth and pressed down on her tongue, she practically went limp beneath him. “My fingers’ll keep ya nice’n quiet.” 

But that didn’t stop him from trying to draw every little noice he could from her. He wanted people to hear. Wanted everyone to know that he fucked his Omega that good. That it was him filling her and not anyone else. So he gathered the last of his composure and slowed everything down. Took his dear sweet time as he pressed against that spot inside her and held it there, as he circled her swollen clit with firm, lethargic circles. And he watched, revelled, in the way her jaw went slack around his fingers. At the heavy look in her blue eyes. At the way her chest heaved and her body went practically limp caged beneath him.

With every press and pull of him, with every breath she took, she made some noise around his fingers. He felt the vibrations of it al teh way down his arm, and it made a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. And he kept up that same slow, beautifully agonizing pace as she was brought closer and closer to release.

And he was brought closer and closer to insanity.

Her walls spasmed around his fingers as he massaged her in perfect time with his thumb against her clit. A sob echoed around his other hand as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“F-Feels good, ‘mega?” he stuttered, vision blurred and mind hazy but still grasping the last of his control.

Tessa nodded with another sob.

Until this point, she had been boneless on the mattress. But now her hands scrambled to curl around any part of him she could reach, liek seh was scared he would leave now that she was so close. Her breathing was heavy, hard, fast as she moaned and sobbed and drooled around his fingers. Tears running down her cheeks as she stared bleary eyed at the wall. He could feel her thighs quaking beneath him, her walls spasming and trying to pull him deeper.

“I-I got ya, ‘mega, I got ya,” he whispered as he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her swollen mating gland. “Let go.”

Let go she did. Rhett watched, the last of his sanity dwindling, as her eyes rolled back. Her walls gripped him so tight he didn’t think he could move even if he tried to. Something high-pitched and loud got caught around his fingers still pressing down on her tongue. He could feel her juices coating his thighs.

After that, Rhett wasn’t entirely sure what happened.

All he remembered was flashes of Tessa screaming in pleasure, skin slapping against skin, his own roaring yell…

His teeth coming down hard on her mating gland.

He came to as he felt his knot swelling at the base of his cock. As Tessa whimpered trying to take it. 

She threw her head back, brandishing the red bite mark and already purpling bruise on her neck, and whined: “Rhett…Can’t…”

He smoothed his hand up her sweat slicked side. Feeling like he just woke up from some nap he only meant to be thirty minutes but instead it was four hours. Not knowing what time or even year it was. 

All he really understood was that Tessa Abernathy was wholly and completely his. And that was good.

“Yeah, y’can, sunshine,” Rhett finally spoke, whispering into her neck and peppering that bruise with kisses. “Y’were made f’me, ‘member? Made f’y’re Alpha. Ju’ lemme help ya.”

As his knot pressed in bit by bit, he moved his hand, which had somehow slipped out from beneath her, back between her legs. She whimpered at the touch to her swollen bundle of nerves, sensitive and abused, but it seemed to help. Her whimpers of pain turned to soft moans of pleasure. And when it finally settled inside her with a quiet pop — he felt her spasm around him once more. Forehead pressing into the mattress as she keened.

His hand slipped up and there was a bulge in her lower stomach. It made him shudder to think that was him.

A silence settled over them after that. Caught in the afterglow — at the moment too perfect to be broken. Rhett felt an overwhelming need to make sure she was comfortable. An itch he was desperate to scratch. Still locked inside her, he rolled them both onto their sides and grabbed the quilt from the end of the bed to cover their naked forms. Tessa nuzzles back into him easily, and she fit against his chest like she was made to be there.

And maybe she was.

“M’sorry,” he whispered, unable to hold his tongue forever.

“Huh?” Tessa replied, voice laced with sleep, like she just on the edge.

“I —” he lightly touched the bright red bite mark. “I didn’mean to…”

She sighed, something content and knowing. He could practically feel her smile. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

She fell asleep shortly after that. Rhett out of words and feeling exhausted himself. There would be more to discuss when they both woke up in the morning, that was sure. And there would be questions that needed answered from his family, who he was certain heard some of what went on tonight.

But right then, it didn’t matter. Right then he wrapped his Omega up in his arms and fell into the blissful arms of sleep.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[ghostieblr]

Untitled | Part 2 ->

It feels like an entity of his own, the way his blood rushes inside his body, the way his bones and flesh too small to hold what he's feeling. It feels like he's one of those poor people the alien's egg is going to incubate in, tear through him to become the deeply terrifying, shapeless, haunting monster.

This feeling is overwhelming, something he can't really name. But it's not unwelcomed. It is, in some fucked up way, like a call to him — he feels that rush of power, of trust, too. The call to his magic. The way his breaths come out calmer.

He can't really name it, not really, but he knows this feeling is the most important thing he possesses.

So it's not really a shock when the demon looks at him and only him, one arm out like he's going to snatch it without permission, a sharp grin on its borrowed face. "You," the demon beckons, and Derek snarls, protective. Derek moves in front of him, like it's going to stop the demon. Like there's anything they can do except take this deal. The demon laughs, reedy and evil, and he's sure the person doesn't sound like this; this demon has taken over completely, and Stiles doubts they can save the man who is being possessed at the moment.

"What do you want?" Derek's fang slur his question, but he's understandable, and Stiles puts his hand on Derek's shoulder, pulls him by his soft henley. They were on a walk around the preserve, a routine perimeter check, but here they stand now, in the middle of this clearing where kids had definitely messed around in and found the fuck out.

The camping bags are still warm, but the trail to the kids has gone cold. Unless they take this deal.

"I told you, wolf," the demon sing-songs, and Stiles wonders where he got this body from. The man is clearly in his 30's, light brown hair, hazelnut skin, brown eyes. He cannot be one of the people who summoned the demon, here. "I want what's most precious to your pet."

Derek's been growling all this time, but now he roars, all restraint broken under the clearly verbalized threat.

Only Stiles' hand on Derek's shoulder stops him from leaping at the demon.

"Derek," he says, concerned. They have no idea how to deal with demons that aren't evil fox spirits. "Maybe this is the only way."

And he wants out. He knows what are his most precious things — his feelings. Especially for him. He wants to get rid of it, because there's rarely anything as painful as feeling like your world tilts on its axis when you know theirs stays the same. They're friends, and pack, and that is all they can be.

It would be okay to lose these feelings.

"Listen to him, listen to him!"

"Stiles, don't you dare move!"

Stiles moves around Derek and is again in front of the demon. "Will you leave, then? Never to come back?"

"I'd do you one better — I shall forbid any other of my kind to come back here."

Derek doesn't grab him back, but he does verbally accuse Stiles of being stupid. Stiles is grateful for their relationship to have come to a point where Derek knows better than to stop him when he's set his mind, and he's really fucking gonna miss his bubbling mess of a heart later.

"Deal," he says, and there the lips come, cold and cruel; a quick, dirty kiss that leaves Stiles gasping for breath.

He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, it's to Derek hovering over him worriedly. It makes Stiles feel packed, so he pushes Derek backwards, and stomps his way back towards the Loft.

Derek follows suit.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | December 11th-18th 2023

🎵 It's beginning to look a lot like Christmaaaaaaas 🎵

If you guys have any Christmas buddie fics to recommend, drop them in the comments!

Also, I see your reblogs, your tags and your comments, and I really appreciate them! 😊

Complete

We might end up real close by thewolvesof1998 / @thewolvesof1998 (S2E1: Under Pressure, PWP | 2K | Explicit): “Said you wanted us to bond. We might end up real close.” When Buck said those words to Bobby just merely few hours ago, it had been a joke about how if the bomb went off they would be reduced to blood, shards of bone and flesh, mixed so together that you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart without DNA testing. He hadn’t meant it in the way that it was now true with Eddie balls deep in him as he fucks Buck against the tile wall of the firehouse showers, both of them still fully dressed, uniform pants undone and pulled only down to mid-thigh in their haste.

in the moonlight you look just like an angel in disguise by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Post-S6, Cabin fic | 35K | Mature): While Christopher is at camp, Buck and Eddie go on a vacation of their own to a small cabin in the woods... It goes as well as you'd expect.

got nothing but love for you (fall more in love every day) by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (S6, Secret Relationship | 6K | Mature): 5 times Buck and Eddie are almost caught + 1 time they are

this is a place where I feel at home by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Buck&Bobby | 1K | General): After watching parents mourn the loss of their children, the 118 go to check up on their children. And Bobby... he's staring at Buck, and Buck is confused.

something 'bout the time of the year by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Christmas, Getting Together | 20K | Teen): “We need to talk,” Eddie looks up from his phone to see Christopher standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, his crutches leaning against the wall beside him. “That doesn’t sound good,” Eddie teases and locks his phone, “What about.” “Buck,” Christopher answers and walks over to the table, sitting down in front of Eddie. “He always tries to make Christmas happy for others. Aunt Maddie said they didn’t celebrate it when they were kids. We need to give him the best Christmas this year.” “You have a plan?” (Part 1 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

want your love in every flavor by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (PWP | 2K | Explicit): After getting together and Buck promising he'll stay the rest of the month at the Diaz house, they go back to his loft to pack. But the excitement of finally being together gets them distracted. (Part 2 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

Santa Baby by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (PWP | 2K | Explicit): Buck has to be aware of what the Santa suit did to him. And to the single mothers visiting, his mind supplies, and his fingers tighten their hold on the steering wheel. He hates when he gets jealous. Maybe it’s not jealousy, because he knows Buck would never flirt back or something. But he feels something when he sees those moms bat their eyes at him, probably imagining taking the sexy Santa home. But, he thinks, I am taking this sexy Santa home. (Part 3 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

happy new year by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Established Buddie, NYE | 2K | Teen): It's quite magical to actually have fireworks around them as they kiss. Buck had always felt them, imagined them in a very cartoony way. Now it’s real. The ground shakes slightly underneath his feet with the loud rumbles. The lights flicker against his closed eyelids. And Eddie’s mouth is warm and loving against his. (Part 4 of The Diaz Christmas Experience)

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won by oklahoma/ @malewifediaz (Christmas, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie goes to (mall) jail.

Of Love, Hospital Jitters And Christmas Lights by callmenewbie/ @callmenewbie (Established Buddie, Hurt Chris | 6K | Teen): Eddie and Buck end up in the hospital waiting room a few days before Christmas

to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Living Together, FWB | 14K | Mature): After a fire destroys his loft, Buck moves in with the Diazes indefinitely. Except neither he, Christopher, nor Eddie wants him to move out. Buck gets used to being fully included in the Diaz family and the changes it brings to be with them full-time. It's a dream come true, especially when things between him and Eddie start developing in a certain way.

when your world is on fire by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Established Buddie, Hurt Eddie | 6K | Teen): The 118 responds to what should be a normal house fire only to find out that one of their own is stuck inside and believed to be dead.

it's so dark tonight (but you'll survive certainly) by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (S5E6 Speculation | 5K | Teen): Eddie struggles with the aftermath of being held hostage and Buck is there to help keep him from crashing.

when it rains in california by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Getting Together | 4K | General): The minutes pass, and the rain falls with a scattered tapping on the ground. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen it rain like this in LA, quiet and calming, leaving a nice undisturbed haze across the city skies. He wants to bask in it, even for a moment. Well...maybe not in the rain. Buck’s more than okay watching it afar from the awning in Eddie’s backyard.

temptation comes from wants we cannot yet claim by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Coma Eddie | 8K | Teen): He thinks back to waking up with Buck in bed beside him, of family breakfast and lazy morning ins. All of that sounds…it sounds wonderful. Perfect even. And of course, he’d want it here. Here where he can experience these things. And even for a fraction of a second let his mind wander and believe it’s real. Even when it’s not. He knows he shouldn’t- can’t. But God, Eddie wants. He wants, and he wants- “You could stay here.”

can't make it stop, give me all you got by 42hrb/ @exhuastedpigeon (PWP | 4K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck fuck in a club at Pride

men made of stone and forged in fire (even you deserved to be so softly loved) by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (First Kiss | 5K | Teen): A quiet night in and a hand running through his hair, those two simple things usually don't do much to phase the average person. But Eddie is a different story.

share this hour of make-believe by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Quarantine, Pre-S4 | 1K | General): or, quarantine finds eddie sharing a bed with a pillow-thief and sleep-talker. he minds less than he thinks.

all i want for christmas by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Christmas, Proposal | 3K | Teen): Eddie decides to finally pop the question to Buck, but his proposal doesn’t go quite as he planned.

jadeite hearts could never cost this much by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Getting Together | Teen): Eddie and Buck spend their first night together after their first kiss. Adorable fluff ensues.

exactly what you were looking for by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Established Buddie, Proposal | 3K | Teen): While washing the dishes, Eddie comes to a gentle revelation.

a two inch difference by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): The height difference between Buck and Eddie is only two inches, which isn't a significant one by any means- until it is.

🔥 the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love by lemonzestywrites/ @lemonzestywrites (Friends With Benefits, Post-S6E13 | 25K | Explicit): “If…If you’re really curious about if you’re still good at sex, you can practice,” he says slowly, partly from nerves and also because Eddie is still unsure if he should even say it at all. But once again, self-preservation is only a few steps too slow, and Eddie rips the bandaid off before he can rethink it all. “With me.”

Hold Me Close and Hold Me Fast by giselleslash (Post-Lightning strike | 5K | General): Buck dies and Eddie knows he needs to finally let go of the fear that’s been keeping him from telling Buck everything, because that fear is nothing compared to seeing Buck suspended in the sky far from his reach and lost to him. He’s going to bring Buck home.

Be My Baby by elless (Established Buddie | 1,6K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie enjoy some time alone. And maybe take an important step forward in their relationship.

🔥 dream sweet of me by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Dimension Travel | 16K | Teen): buck is in an accident and wakes up in a universe where the 118 don't know who he is

you were the wilderness I crossed into by rowan_wood/ @transboybuckley (Post-Coma, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): or: the 118 has a 24 hour shift, and zero calls. The firefam spends it playing games, and everyone takes the opportunity to tell Buck just how much they love him. (Part 1 of bottle episode)

blind hope's my home by rowan_wood/ @transboybuckley (Fluff & Smut | 5K | Explicit): or: the first day of Buck and Eddie's new life. They fuck, they dance, they fall even more in love. (Part 2 of bottle episode)

WIP

🔥 Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 10K | 4/? | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

🔥 Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 20K | 19/? | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night by I_still_dont_understand_13 / @sherlockcrossing (Prompt collection | 15/? | 10K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

[lokh]

Okay, I won't lie NSW is more than slightly outside of my area of expertise when it comes to camping but the basics are the same anywhere. You said you have a tent and bag and some gear so we're not starting out at baby beginnings.

Step one, check the forecast. If its gonna be a heat wave or a cold snap or pissing rain wouldn't it be nice to know that before you're sitting miserable in a tent in the middle of nowhere? Plan accordingly, pack accordingly and you will be amazed how much you can deal with if you're prepared for it. Personally I have a nice rainshell with me at all times because it acts as a windbreak, water barrier, and exposure layer. I have taken a rainshell into the mojave desert where it never rains and I was right to do so because the wind got cold. I have occasionally been the overprepared dork, but I have more often been the only one not getting hypothermia.

Step two, know where you're going. As in, what to expect not just physically where it is. Are there restrooms? Water? Animals? Poisonous/stabby plants? Poisonous/stabby bugs? Other campers? Poisonous/stabby campers? Hazards? Cell service? Emergency services? Gas stations? Can you safely have a fire? Can you toast/grill your food or are you having cold dinner?

Step three, pack the most obscenely overdone toiletries kit you can imagine. Yes, this is actually important. My god, human bodies are messy. All your basic overnight goodies and then add sunscreen, bug dope, wet wipes or something similar, your own toilet paper and something to dig with if you're going out past available restrooms, and a small first aid kit. The kit doesn't have to be a full triage supply, tweezers, bandaids, antiseptic and maybe some gauze if you're clumsy. If you are gonna be doing a lot of walking/hiking I also recommend moleskin for blisters. Put the moleskin on BEFORE the blister pops.

Step four, look at the forecast again, assume it's wrong and pack for the worst weather possible. You need a dry pair of socks and undies. You need long sleeves and a spare shirt. Even if it doesn't feel like it, you will sweat through the day and get damp and if you sleep in the same thing you've been wearing you will get chilled. This is why every one says no cotton for camping, no matter where you are. I have a full change of clothes for sleeping so my day clothes can air and dry overnight.

Step five is food and its really each to his own for this one. If you're hiking out you will be more limited as far as weight/refrigeration, but thats somewhat of a trial and error thing. Freeze dried meals have their place but there is no reason it has to be your go to. Remember your water and remember that if you sweat and replace it with nothing but water you will be hurting. Powdered drink mix is your friend. If you're car camping and tenting next to the car I just bring a 5 gallon jug of water that stays in the car and refill waterbottles as needed. (Note: Senshi from dungeon meshi isn't actually an unattainable fantasy, you can cook a full scale meal in the backcountry if you really want to. It is several magnitudes more difficult than you would think if you are used to cooking in a kitchen, but it is possible.)

Step six is assessing your gadgets. If you want your phone you probably need a power pack to charge it. You will want a flashlight for the dark, not your phone, not glowsticks. If you want a camera you have to figure out how to carry that with you. You also need to figure out if you have cell service and a way to call for help. The more intense you get into this, the more you should look at getting a GPS or inreach/spot device, especially if you want to go alone. This is also a good time to come to grips with the falliblity of technology and get a paper map.

Step seven is for sleeping arrangements, which you seem to have covered. My rip is to set up sleeping stuff as soon as you get to where your making camp, so that way your bag has a chance to loft and your aren't fiddling with stuff sacks in the dark when your tired. And drunk if you're party camping. Open the sleeping bag before the tequila. Also a sleeping pad will protect your bag and also your joints so you don't wake up feeling like Rip van Winkle.

Have fun, be safe, don't be a dick and clean up after your self at your campsite. Sleeping in the dirt is a great time and I hope you enjoy your trip.

thank you so much!!!! i had a great trip but it wouldve been better if id followed your advice more carefully LMAO

[in-death-we-fall]

Slipknot

Calculated Carnage: The Numbers Don’t Lie

By Paul Gargano (google drive link)

Ten years ago, the Limelight was a landmark for bands who performed in New York City. Women danced in cages suspended from vaulted ceilings, stained glass surrounded a stage elevated on what used to be an altar and men and women mingled in lines for the unisex bathrooms. Built as a church decades earlier, the site had since been deconsecrated, converted to a nightclub, and angel-shaped disco balls hung where a crucifix was once suspended. It was the perfect–not to mention haunting and eerie–setting for the inspired debauchery of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll that made the late ‘80s and early ‘90s such revered times. And almost a decade later, recently reopened, it was the perfect venue to host the live chaos that is Slipknot.

Had there still been cages, more timid members of the crowd may have fled for them, seeking sanctity from the madness that overwhelmed the mosh pit, a floor previously occupied by rows of pews. In stark contrast to the gothic styling of the stained glass that overlooked them, Slipknot’s red jumpsuits were bright and glaring, punching into the flashing strobes and lights that lit the stage and sold-out crowd. It was a venue far too small for Slipknot–who had made their network television debut only hours earlier on Late Night With Conan O’Brien–but what it lacked in size, it made up for in character, with fans occupying choir lofts that overlooked the insanity.

It’s been a whirlwind year for Slipknot, and post-show was no exception, where #1 and #2–drummer Joey and bassist Paul, who both founded the band with #6, custom-percussionist Shawn–took some time away from the post-show madness to offer their insight behind the band that has taken the world by storm over the past year. They left the following morning for a European tour that was ultimately cut short by a personal issue at home–says Joey, “When you get a call that brings you back to where your whole mind should be, you’ve gotta take care of that stuff first and foremost”–and in the midst of planning this summer’s anticipated Tattoo The Earth tour with Sevendust and Coal Chamber, are already at work on their sophomore album, which they hope to release early next year. Who knew Des Moines, Iowa could be so inspiring?

METAL EDGE: Looking at what’s going on with today’s hard rock/metal scene, it’s starting to look a bit like the rap industry, with all the separate camps and alliances. #1 (JOEY): Honestly, that type of shit disgust’s (sic) me. #2 (PAUL): We don’t need it. It’s not that we’re going out of our way, we just say what we feel, so either take it or leave it. Korn opened a lot of doors when they came out, and that’s that. Limp Bizkit, well, I’m not going to go there… Wes [Borland] is a good guitar player. It’s scary. I picked up a magazine yesterday with a “Slipknot vs. Limp Bizkit” poll for fans to vote on, and it came out to be Slipknot over Limp Bizkit like 70% to 30%. I don’t know how that happened and I’m very worried about… I mean, you got a magazine that caters to the teenybopper metal crowd, and you’ve got every fucking issue with Korn, Marilyn Manson, Limp Bizkit and Orgy. And now Slipknot’s in every issue–I don’t like that. The thing is, I guess I can’t help it because if it matters that much to the kids, I say, “thank you.” You know how appreciative we all are, you’ve hung out with the band. You know how humble we all are about what’s happening to all of us. But, when the next record comes out, our record label is not going to fucking hear it until it’s done. No one’s going to hear it. No studio reports. There’s not going to be anything done. We’re going back to our old, old, old fucking dingy practice room with my mom coming down and fucking doing laundry in the middle of practice. That’s the way it needs to be done because we’ve accomplished this on writing music that we thought filled our emotional need. Now, the emotional need has been magnified so much because of the experiences we’ve been through, so it’s just gonna be a massively, apocalyptic, totally sick and disgusting record.

ME: Do you realize the impact you’re having on your fans? I was at your instore in New York City and it was more enthusiastic than any I’d seen before. Your fans really seem to connect with you. #1: Yeah, well that’s the thing. People always talk about needing to branch out and try different things, and I’m okay with that. We want to get our music out to different crowds, but I sometimes don’t. I wanna make sure that we please the fans that were there from the beginning and understood every aspect when no one else understood. I wanna make sure that that fan remains happy for every record. We expected to sell maybe 150-200,000 records–And not until after two years of touring. Well, I guess we filled a void in those kids… They needed this band for awhile. That’s the whole thing, I don’t necessarily want to lump myself in with those bands because I feel we have nothing in common with them, but I give total respect to Korn because on their first fucking record they opened up so many doors and they did something completely original. You’ve got the mainstay, bands like Black Sabbath, and they’re got a bunch of imitators, but there’s only one Black Sabbath. I’m not a fan of Limp Bizkit, but there’s only one of them–Even though they came after Korn. You’ve got the Deftones and stuff, they all have very energetic and very, at times, liberating music. Limp Bizkit I can’t get into, I’m not a fan, and I think we’re the total opposite of a lot of that stuff that band stands for. It’s for some people, it’s not for some people, and I don’t want to be liked by everyone–That’s the scary thing. It’s so weird that so many people have identified with what we’re doing now–It’s very scary. #2: Yes! And it’s amazing, too, because we don’t get a lot of help from the radio and MTV like these other bands. We occasionally get our video played, and there are some radio stations, but it just proves that the kids need something different. They’re sick of the same old shit being pumped down their throats.

ME: There’s an extra psychological burden, “We’re not just a band anymore, we’re a cultural force.” Did you ever want that? #1: You know what? Yes, I have, and I love the fact, I’m very fucking fortunate and grateful. I do not want to decrease it in any way. I do want to make it bigger. I wanna make it bigger by keeping the fire real and by keeping the emotion and all that shit real. And not worrying about my record label breathing down my neck like they did last time for rough mixes and fucking, “Can you try and make…” No! Ther’s why the ante has been upped on making such a fucking… You could even say it’s overcompensated and fucking disjointed as far as our personalities are concerned. We were going to record in May, but we’re going to stay out and tour because the demand for the record and the demand for us to tour now is so huge in the States–We haven’t been there, we really haven’t toured since early January and that was only like two-and-a-half weeks. Our shows were sold-out, but now we’re selling 30,000 copies a week and we’re beating the system by being played on MTV–which I’m not a fan of–and radio stations like the L.A. K-Rock and the New York K-Rock. I guess I thank them for playing us–We could have it a lot worse–but the fact is, the next record probably wouldn’t turn out the same because we’ve been through a lot of experiences now. We’re going to work so hard on it and I think it’s going to be so ground-breaking for the fact that when you go through all the things we’ve just gone through, it will never be like this again. That’s why it’s very hard for a lot of bands to copy their first record and I love that people say that. Our first record is that good. It is a very pinnacle-type album. I’m so glad that people say that because I still have that hunger that I had when I was fucking playing in front of three people in Lincoln, Nebraska with a bartender and then a cat outside, grasshoppers and fucking crickets. We are maintaining that type of a focus. #2: When we started this band, I knew it was something kids needed. I didn’t think it would be like this, but I had a feeling. Nothing’s settled in yet. We’re on the road playing shows, and that’s basically all that’s settled in! Get up and play another show! [Laughing]

ME: But it’s not enough to just “play another show” every night, you guys are beating the crap out of each other and takin’ bumps. #2: Who wants to see a band up onstage staring at their shoes? That’s not entertaining. We definitely have our bruises and our sore body parts after shows, but once we get the masks and coveralls on, I could have a broken leg and still go out there. In Australia, I tore cartilage in my knee, I couldn’t bend it, and I just taped it up really well and went out there. Shawn’s played with broken ribs. We just don’t feel the pain.

ME: You need to look into some aspirin endorsements! #2: Advil would be real nice! [Laughing] It hurts, the masks aren’t comfortable at all–it would be awesome to play in shorts and a t-shirts (sic), but that’s not us. After the show we can rest all we want.

ME: There’s a definite sense of surprise in your stage show, you never know what’s happening next. Does anyone ever take it too far and cross the line? #1: No. It can never go too far. Never too over-the-top. For a band like us, that’s the first sign of us not being what we stand for.

ME: Joey, from your vantage point onstage what do you see looking out from behind your kit? What goes through your head? #1: Honestly, I can’t even put that in words. You’re the first person that ever asked me that, but it’s something that I think about every day. I guess I see the other side of when I was in the audience watching Slayer or Metallica. I’m usually the first person out onstage, and everytime I come out there are literally tears. I really can’t explain it, it’s so grand, it’s so bigger than words. Literally, I’m getting cracked up just talking about it.

ME: Did you anticipate this kind of success, this fast? #1: Well, sometimes, but that’s just society’s control. Welcome it. If it happens this fast, welcome it and use it to your advantage and make sure that you… Like I said, I thanks all of our fans so much for fucking supporting what we have done, because it’s made me not wanna fucking destroy myself. Back in Des Moines, I thought I was literally going to die if I didn’t get to do this. I get to do it now. But, the whole thing is, when you climb one mountain, it’s time to make sure the next mountain gets climbed and the next one .And you gotta re-evaluate the goal because we got this many people on our side now. It’s like Guns N’ Roses coming so fucking fast, the next thing you know, the dude hasn’t put out a record in like a decade. Like Mike Patton, probably one of the most fucking insane performers and songwriters of the decade–He is so underrated, went on to sell millions of albums in the early ‘90s, and continually turned around and spit in everyone’s faces by putting out albums with some of the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard. We always say that if things get too big, too fast, if there’s no room for the band to grow because we’ve already accomplished so much, it’ll be time for the band to stop. Johnny Rotten said that the easiest thing to do is stop being a rock star if you don’t want to be one anymore–I thought that statement had so much integrity, and it’s had such an impact on me. I think about that quote every day. #2: It’s amazing. Just to be able to see the country and play these shows for kids all over the place, it’s the most amazing thing. I can’t believe people get paid to do this. I would pay to do this! It rules, I can’t ask for anything more. I just sit back, smile, and if there’s any bullshit, I just smile and let it go on by without bothering me.

ME: Do you think there’s a need for rock stars in society today? #1: Yes, because I needed them, and if I didn’t have them I wouldn’t be where I’m at. It’s like giving two cents back to the music that meant so much to me growing up–Black Sabbath, Slayer, Venom and Mercyful Fate. I showed up at the Clash of the Titans tour long before anyone else did because I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Tom Araya, and last summer, I got to hang out with him. That’s a weird thing, but I needed it to become who I am today. That’s why I’ll welcome it if it’s happened this fast, because people obviously needed it. When we were practicing for pre-production of our album, we were in the same rehearsal space as KISS. I was drawing their logos all over my books in school, now we were practicing next to them, we were standing outside listening to their whole set. The funny thing was, when they all left the room, we were stealing sticks and stuff! It’s being that fan, because we still are that. On OZZfest, I’d watch Slayer from the front row every day, not like a rock star standing on the side of the stage with a laminate.

ME: Has being from Des Moines had a lot to do with your development? #1: Absolutely. From day one. Had we come from L.A. or New York, we would not have the band that we have. Honestly, we grasped on to something early on that meant something so much, then you take that and revel in it, building, building and building, practicing, practicing and practicing, and creating, creating and creating. You magnify those three things, you keep it going and you network, and if you can do that coming from where we’ve come from, you can do it anywhere, because it was a virtual black hole that Corey describes as a graveyard with buildings. #2: It’s weird, it’s almost impossible to get A&R people to Iowa. Half the people don’t even know where it is–”Iowa, isn’t that the potato state?” No, it’s corn country. No one wants to go to Des Moines for their weekend! Finally, Ross Robinson came out and said that regardless of the label, he’ll do the record. Now there are people looking all over Iowa for bands, but there’s just the one and only… People were hoping it would be the “new metal Mecca,” but it’s only us! There area (sic) few good blues bands out here, though.

ME: How long was Slipknot in the making? #1: Ten years in the making. From the day I started playing drums, the day I started playing guitar. Me, Paul and Shawn started the band. Paul and I were playing in different side projects, and I met all those other guys because we’d set up shows with friends’ bands and we’d be playing for each other. There was no one in the audience. When you put up a flier you’d get fined $50. There’s no audience. Not a fucking person. And we had no money because we spent it all (sic) drum stands and guitar strings, struggling to buy that shit. There were no newspapers or radio stations that would tell you about the bands. No doubt, man, all this stuff that’s happened to the band? You don’t even hear about it there. We go home and it’s like we never left. A girl that was on Jenny Jones was big news, but Des Moines doesn’t recognize the gold album, selling out all our shows, being on Conan O’Brien, doing OZZfest. They do’t even write about it. You wouldn’t believe it, but it’s the truth. It just goes back to show me why that place is so fucking special, because it’s such an integral part of making music. I’m glad it’s still like that, because when I go back home, the only thing I want to do is get back on tour, work hard on writing music and stay doing that until the album’s finished.

ME: Was there a certain point where you had the vision that would evolve into Slipknot? #2: Well, it wasn’t planned, it definitely evolved. The lack of anything in Des Moines definitely fueled it, and we just went from there. When we got together, we didn’t have any rules about what it would be, we just got together and the nine people made it what it is. All day, every day, that’s what the band is. The band’s my life, it means everything, it’s my family. It’s what I love the most, and it’s what I hate the most.

ME: It sounds like you’ve accomplished more than you ever hoped to, what’s next? #2: For now, just doing our shows and being with my best friends. But in the long term, it’s going to be world domination. That’s what we’re trying to accomplish. #1: Once you climb one mountain you need to reevaluate and climb another one. We’re going to continue to tour and knock it out, all the way through Tattoo. Then we’d like to go into the studio. Then the next step is to take the most anticipated disjointed, apocalyptic, gross-sounding, disgusting type of exorcism you can imagine and put them all on one record. Every song will be twice what every song on the last album was. It’s all about the band maintaining the good attitude and integrity, and the same fire and hunger that we’ve had, and taking that and magnifying it and making a way better album. #2: Our next record is going to be over the fucking top. It’s going to be stupid!

ME: With things blowing up so fast, what are you proudest of as a band? #2: I’m proudest every day of just being in this band. What blows me away most of all is the fact that I get to do it. The fact that I’m in a band with my best friends, playing songs that we wrote in a basement, and seeing all the emotion from people who come out and get it every night. #1: Our middle finger attitude. How we’ve beaten the system in less than a year, all eyes have turned, and we’ve answered to nobody. That’s why I’m glad it happened as fast as it did. Hard work over time? Sure, good things come, but when it happens that fast it’s more poignant and people remember it more. It’s freaky and it’s very surreal, but that’s why I did welcome it. There’s a reason it happened so fast, because those kids need to stand for something. That’s why I think the next record may shun some people. Is it too over the top? No, it can’t be.

ME: Are you afraid of being “too metal”? #1: We’re fully metal, and we’ve always said that. People are afraid of that word because when Pearl jam and Nirvana came they were supposed to make music more open-minded, but they really made it more closed-minded than ever. We’ll always be a metal band.

ME: You were offered OZZfest this year, why not do it again? It’s a big risk headlining your own tour. #1: There are a lot of reasons why we didn’t do it. It was very cool to do it, but I don’t need an encore performance of it. The Tattoo tour wasn’t our concept, someone came up with it and brought it to us and it was something that we were into. We stepped in. It’s cool to start something from the ground up and not know if it’s going to work. I like everything to be very unpredictable, like playing a show.

ME: It seems like you guys have just gone out of your way to defy everyone in any position of power. Is that conscious? #1: No, because we’ve always done it and we still don’t make any money–There are nine people in this band! The stage manager will come up to us before the show and say, “Please don’t burn anything on the stage, don’t throw your drums, don’t break anything…” Well, that’s a bad thing to tell us, because we’re in debt anyway. Break it all, spend all the money! We’re not making any smart fucking business calls! That’s what lawyers and managers are for. It’s all about being in the moment and being in the vibe, and you can’t deny that. If you deny human feelings, you’re a fraud. #2: I think people are drawn to honesty. Who wants smoke blown up their ass? People want to know that we’re for real. People are drawn to it because they’re sick of all the other bullshit.

ME: We’ve heard about a lot of the bands that you don’t get along with, what are some of the bands you really respect? #1: Amen. They’re very good friends of ours and have the same type of fire even though they create a different style of music. I’m a very big fan of Mike Patton’s [Faith No More] projects and the Melvins. I respect all those guys because they don’t care. They make music just for themselves, they don’t let outside influences get to them.

ME: If you could leave your fans with any one message, what would it be? #2: Be yourselves and don’t fuckin’ worry about everyone else. Do your own shit… And, thanks! From the bottom of our hearts, we thank every kid who’s ever bought our album, checked the website out, or given us any support. If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t be doing this interview, so from the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

[say-hwaet]

If I Had to Do it All Again

Chapter 8: He's Just a Boy, Part II Next Chapter: Nine Summary: In an effort to make Isaac feel special, you and members of the gang put on an impromptu party. Warnings: Language, Mature themes Word Count: ~10,400

The farm, that you’ve unofficially named Icicle Creek, is doable. You, the children, Susan, and Hosea have taken the cabin, as it is too small to host anyone else. Dutch insisted on taking the upstairs, but Annabelle wouldn’t have it, insisting that the elders and the children come first. When he argued that Susan wasn't that old, Annabelle retorted that she could be of help to you when it came to the children. This infuriated him, and so he has taken off again. You’re unsure as to when he will be back and while Annabelle doesn’t ask, you know that she still worries for him.

Nobody says anything, but you all know that things are shifting at camp. Tensions weave through the cold air like frost, and you feel them prickling at the back of your neck as you go about your daily tasks. The silent shifting allegiances and whispered opinions hang heavy around the fire at night. You keep close to Hosea; his steady presence is a calming force in the unpredictable whirlwind that is your life now. Occasionally, you catch Hosea glancing at you, his eyes full of an old wisdom that seems to weigh heavily on him these past few days. You wonder if he senses the storm brewing just beyond the horizon, not of snow, but of steel and gunpowder.

You’ve been keeping Alice in her wrap lately as you help Pearson cook and keep the cabin clean. You like to have your hands free and can rest easy knowing that she’s still warm when she’s bound close to you.

You wish that you could make a cake. Or a pie. Or something for your son. Today is his birthday and you have nothing to give.

Isaac has grown so fast, sprouting up like the wildflowers you used to pick back when the land around was more forgiving and less fraught with danger. Five years old today, and his eyes sparkle with the same mischievous light as Arthur's, yet there's a gentleness in him, perhaps from you, that softens his features in a way that makes your heart ache with love and fear. You want to keep him safe, shield him from the harsh realities of the world you all now inhabit, but you know it's a wishful thought. Life out here doesn’t allow for innocence to remain untouched for long.

“Girl,” Susan’s voice interrupts your thoughts. From the table, as you’ve been cutting some deer meat, you look up to see Susan enter the cabin with a basket. “Turns out there’s a root cellar just below the barn. Found some root vegetables and jars of peaches.”

Your heart lifts a little at the sight of the provisions. "Thank you, Susan," you say, genuine relief coloring your voice. Peaches are Isaac's favorite, and though they might be preserved, they will still make his day special.

Susan nods and sets the basket on the table, her face stern but her eyes soft. “How’re you doin’?”

You sigh, feeling yourself let out more than you usually do. “I’m just glad for four walls and a roof.” Then you lift your eyes to meet hers. “I’m sorry you’re in the loft with Hosea.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t trouble yourself, girl. It ain’t the first time and it won’t be the last. I'm used to snoring and any loud noise.”

“Don’t you get tired of it?” you find yourself asking. “I’ve only been in this for a few months, and I ache and pray for a life different than this.”

Susan gives a rueful smile and leans against the wooden table, the lines on her face telling stories of her own long journey. “Every day,” she admits, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “But then I remember the alternative is far worse out there for folks like us. We’ve got to stick together, find freedom, that’s livin’ to me.”

Freedom. There it is again. Dutch and his fancy words and promises. You grip the handle of your knife tightly, trying to take deep breaths. “I just want something better for my children.”

Susan clicks her tongue. “Well, this is the lot you got. Best to make the most of it.” She readjusts the scarf around her head and turns to walk back out of the cabin. “Holler when the food’s ready.”

On her way out, the door swings open, and Arthur nearly slams into her. “Hell, sorry, Ms. Grimshaw!”

Susan lets out a sharp huff. “Ain’t you gonna watch where you’re goin’? Good grief, Arthur, you’re like a bull in a china shop.” With that, she storms off, leaving Arthur standing in the doorway, a sheepish look on his face.

Arthur steps inside, closing the door behind him. His eyes scan the small cabin before landing on you and the nearly prepared meal. “Smells good in here,” he comments, trying to remain casual, but you can see the sparkle in his eyes. He clearly had something to tell you when he came bolting in here, and now he hesitates, as if weighing how much to share. "How’re you doin’?" he finally asks, his voice higher than usual.

You shrug, setting the knife down and wiping your hands on your apron. "Fine.” You begin to pick up the cutting board and go to the stew pot.

He begins to look around and his brow pinches. “Where’re the children?”

“With Annabelle. She’s giving Alice some social interaction while I cook dinner. She can’t be attached to me all the time.”

Arthur takes a deep breath, leaning against the nearest wall. “Right.” A silence falls between you and he watches as you turn your back and scrape the scraps of meat into the pot, hearing the soft sizzle as they fall in with the already sautéed vegetables. 

The glow of the fire casts a warm light against your skin, and as you bend down to hang the pot back above the fire, Arthur can’t help but admire the scene. It's a little piece of domesticity, something that he’s always wanted deep down.

How did you manage it? He hopes to God that you have people to be there for you. How did you manage to explain how a widow got pregnant a second time? He wishes that he could have seen you pregnant with Alice, all round and soft and ruddy-cheeked. He remembers how you were when you carried Isaac, and he always worried for you when he was gone. You were so pathetic and sweet, your eyes sparkling as you took his hand to place it on your belly. 

There was something about you, carrying his child, that frustrated him. It was an odd feeling, and he had to keep himself at arm’s length, lest he say or do something he’d regret. You were beautiful to him, desirable, and he was afraid of it. He was afraid of the heat in his abdomen, the cotton in his throat. How his heart would not stop pounding…

On second thought, maybe it is best he didn’t see you pregnant again. 

Realizing that he’s letting himself get distracted, he remembers why he came in here and he clears his throat. “I figured out a present for Isaac.”

You rise to a standing position and stare at him with inquisitiveness. “Oh?”

He smiles, allowing himself the excitement, and he comes near you, reaching into his satchel. “I got him this.” And out of his satchel comes a small journal. “I know he can’t write much right now, but I don’t always use my journal for writin’ anyways.”

You feel your shoulders slump. You’ve been slacking on your lessons with Isaac. When living in Aspen’s Way, it was a regular routine to sit at the table and have him read or write phrases for you. You’ve even kept some of his writings in your own journal, but you haven’t opened it in months. Maybe when things have calmed down, and you aren’t too busy, you can pick up where you left off.

You look down at the small, fabric-covered journal. All blue and hard-backed. It is very pretty, not something cheaply made.

But you know Arthur’s broke. And so are you.

You pause after washing your hands in a nearby basin to look up at him. “Where did you get it?”

He blinks. “At the store. In the nearest town.”

“But you don’t have any money.”

Arthur’s brow pinches and he tucks the journal back in his satchel. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean. I know you’d lose your mind if I stole it.”

You weren’t about to accuse him of theft, but his defensive tone makes you pause. You take a step closer, lowering your voice to a whisper. "Then how, Arthur? How did you manage it?" The warmth from the hearth flickers across your face, reflecting the nervous flicker in your eyes.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable under your gaze. He’s afraid to tell you about the money that he found under the very floorboards you’re standing on, lest someone hear and repeat it back to Dutch. Things are changing, and anyone desperate to remain on Dutch’s good side would be quick to reveal such information. Arthur just needs more money. Just a little more, and he can get you and the children out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Arthur—”

“Look, it ain’t for you to worry about. I didn’t steal or nothin’. I came by the journal good and honest. Okay?”

You study him for a moment, the soft expression in his eyes, the pinched brow. You decide to trust him. “Okay.”

He nods, then goes back into his satchel. “And…I got this for you.” He grabs your hand and places a small paper bag in your palm. Curious, you open it and find small, peppermint candies. “They didn’t have jellybeans. You like jellybeans, right?”

Your breath catches slightly at the sight of them. They’re not much, but in these lean times, even a small peppermint candy feels like a luxury. You look up at Arthur with a mix of gratitude and bewilderment.

“Why did you get these, Arthur?” you ask softly, your voice barely above the crackling of the fire. “You didn’t have to…”

He shrugs. “I wanted to. I know you hardly think to treat yourself and you was always cravin’ sweets when you was…” His voice trails off and he takes a step back. “Anyway.”

You’re grateful for the gesture and indulge yourself by taking one out of the bag and plopping it in your mouth.

The cooling mint spreads through your mouth, a sharp contrast to the warm, dry air of the cabin. For a moment, your troubles seem to melt away just as the candy dissolves. You let out a small sigh and close your eyes, savoring the sweetness. When you open them again, Arthur is watching you with a softness in his gaze that you seldom see.

“It's good to see you smile, Eliza," he says softly.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, touched by his concern. "Thank you, Arthur," you murmur, stepping closer to him. "For these…for caring."

He looks away, uncomfortable with the emotion, but he nods silently, acknowledging your words. The air between you feels charged with an unspoken understanding. You watch as he busies himself with the satchel again, perhaps to hide his discomfort, or maybe to find something else to distract the both of you from the intensity of the moment.

Suddenly, the door swings open, again, and Hosea steps inside. He’s covered in a light dusting of snow and before he can speak, he coughs harshly into his gloved hands. “That stew done, my dear?” When he lifts his head, he sees you and Arthur standing awkwardly apart and he tries to hide his grin. “I guess I should have asked at a different time?”

Arthur shakes his head, already making his way to the door. “No, it’s perfect timin’,” he says. “I need to get Boadicea in the barn.” And just like that, he slips out of the cabin, leaving you with Hosea and the stew pot.

Hosea closes the door behind him, shedding his coat and gloves, hanging them up with a meticulous care that's second nature after years on the road. "Well then," he begins, clearing his throat, "I reckon that I ought to warm my bones while that stew's cooking." He offers you a warm smile as he moves to the table, pulling out a chair and easing into it with a sigh. “It’s good to have warm shelter like this.”

You nod slowly as you grab a pail of water, your mind still on Arthur and your conversation. He immediately notices that your mind is elsewhere, for he smiles at you knowingly and leans back into his chair. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You chuckle and you go to pour the water into the pot, now that the meat has cooked long enough. “Do you even have that?” you chuckle as you take the wooden spoon and stir the stew a couple of times.

“Only figuratively, my dear,” Hosea chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mirth. He watches you stir the stew, his gaze thoughtful and kind. “You and Arthur get into a fight?”

You look up at him and give him a glare, your smile belying your slight agitation. “No, is that all you think we do?”

Hosea raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, his chuckle softening into a more serious tone. "Now, now, I didn't mean no harm by it. It's just that the both of you have a way of... how do I put it? Sparking off one another."

You sigh, resting a hand on your hip. “We’ve always made it a point to never argue in front of the children.” You look down. “But I guess we’ve forgotten everyone else.” You pause a moment, thinking about the times when you both had talked with raised voices, who all could have heard you. “But this was different. We weren’t arguing, we…we’re just trying to do something special for Isaac. It’s his fifth birthday.”

Hosea’s expression turns from jest to sober, his eyes widening and his lips parting. “You’re kidding.”

You shake your head. “No.”

Hosea raises his hands in a celebratory gesture. “Well, we oughta do something about that! We can get everyone together and—”

You shake your head again, firmer this time. You were hoping for something more intimate, just your family, where it wouldn’t inconvenience anyone. “No, Hosea, don’t trouble yourself with—”

But he isn’t listening, for he rises from his chair quickly and reaches for his coat. “Let me go talk to the others, you keep working in that stew.”

“Hosea—!”

“Stew smells great!” he calls just as he closes the door behind him.

You let out a sharp huff as you stare down the door. You know you won’t be able to stop him, though you can’t change the pit in your stomach. You don’t want to be a burden, and you fear how Dutch will react should he come back to camp to find everyone celebrating one of the very people he finds annoying. Dutch has rarely interacted with Isaac, and while you’re thankful, it bothers you that the poor boy isn’t acknowledged. You just want Isaac to never feel neglect or rejection, not as long as you’re alive.

You return to the stew pot and stir it a few times. If anything, you won’t let the gang go hungry.

***

“Go on,” Arthur coaxes. “Try it on.”

Annabelle slips her arms in the sleeves and after situating it across her shoulders, she begins to button up her new coat. Isaac watches on with interest as he holds baby Alice in his lap, his hands firmly holding her against his chest so she doesn’t fall. 

The coat fits Annabelle perfectly, warming her slender form and setting off her green eyes with its deep navy hue. She turns up the collar, letting it rest against her cheeks, and her face breaks into a broad smile. "Oh Arthur, it's perfect. Thank you!"

Arthur's eyes crinkle at the corners as he watches her, a sense of satisfaction filling his chest. It’s always meant something to be able to provide for his family, and the gang has been in great need for the past month or two. Now that he has some money in his pocket, he’s been making the effort to get at least one thing for every member. For Annabelle, it was to replace her old, worn-out coat.

“I’m glad you like it. This one seemed to be the warmest.”

“Anything without holes is the warmest, Arthur,” she answers, and Isaac lets out a chuckle. Though slightly humorous, the little boy doesn’t sense the sobriety in her jest.

Arthur can only nod his head. “I suppose you’re right.”

She eyes the wool and the breasted buttons, rubbing her fingers over them. “My husband got me a coat like this once,” she says reflectively, and a soft smile appears on her face. “I wore that thing until there was nothing but threads left.”

Annabelle rarely speaks of her late husband, and knowing of the tension between her and Dutch, Arthur begins to understand why her memories are more pleasant than the present. “Oh?”

She lifts her head to meet Arthur’s eyes and nods. “Yeah. Dutch has only ever gotten me jewelry or ivory combs.” Her smile falls. “While beautiful, it’s not very practical, is it?” Her hand goes to the top button of her coat, and she undoes it. Pulling her collar apart, her hand goes to the back of her neck and she takes off her necklace. Arthur watches as she holds out the golden chain with the jade stone pendant on its end, its shine catching the light of the fire. “Here. Give this to Eliza or sell it. Either way, it will do you more good than it does on my neck.”

Arthur swallows thickly. He remembers when Dutch gave it to her, after they robbed a train once near Mexico. A wealthy oil magnate’s wife wore it like a beacon, begging for it to be snatched. Dutch ripped it off of that woman’s neck like it was a piece of cheap twine, and strutted like a peacock when he gave it to his lover. Annabelle’s eyes sparkled, not having anything of such high value in all of her life. She’s worn it proudly for years since. 

“What’ll Dutch say?” he asks quietly. 

She pauses for a moment, eyeing the dangling, green teardrop as it sways in the air. “I love Dutch more than his anger for me.” And she pushes it towards Arthur, with a hidden sadness in her eyes. “Please. Take it.”

His eyes fall on the necklace and in his peripheral he sees his son looking up at him, expectantly. He isn’t sure what is the right answer in this situation. Does he accept the necklace? Sell it? He knows that if you ever learn where it came from, you’d refuse to wear it. 

The necklace is worth a lot of money. That much closer to liberation. 

Letting a few more seconds pass, Arthur finally takes the offered necklace. “Okay, Annabelle.”

She sighs, letting her shoulders relax. “Thank you.”

He lets the pendant rest in his palm for a moment before tucking it away in his satchel, his fingers grazing the cover of the blue journal. His eyes fall on his son and daughter, who have been so quiet and patient. He smiles at his boy reassuringly. “You’re doin’ good holdin’ her, son.”

Isaac’s lips then pull back into a smile and he looks down to kiss the top of his sister’s head. “Mommy says I’m her protector, Daddy.”

Arthur's chest tightens at the mention of you, a mixture of pride and sorrow swirling within him. He squats down beside Isaac, resting his hand on his son's shoulder, looking into those eyes so much like your own. "And she's right," he says softly. "You're doin' mighty fine at that, son." Arthur's gaze shifts to the bright-eyed infant in Isaac's arms, her tiny fist in her mouth as she gnaws on it contentedly. "You and Alice need each other, just as much as your mama needs both of you."

“Arthur!” the sudden call behind him causes him to stand straight up, turning around. It is Hosea, and he looks rather serious. “Send the boy to his mother.”

Arthur’s brow pinches in confusion, but trusting Hosea, he turns to his son and offers to take Alice from him. “Go on to Mama, son.”

Isaac hesitates for a brief moment, his young face etched with reluctance to leave his sister, but ultimately nods and lets Arthur take her. Once his lap is free, he slides off of Annabelle’s cot and walks to the barn doors, making his way toward the small cabin where you wait. His steps are slow, each one heavy with the weight of responsibility he feels even at such a young age.

Arthur watches him go, then turns back to Hosea. “What’s wrong?”

Hosea eyes the other members of the barn, his brow arching in his clever way. There is a tension in the air that is almost palpable, and Arthur can almost hear Annabelle’s heartbeat as she stands nearby.

Then, suddenly, a smile appears on Hosea’s face. “We got a party to plan.”

Arthur blinks, taken aback. “What?”

Hosea places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your own son’s birthday?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, what are you doing standing here? Haven’t you ever had a party?”

This is quite the trick question. Hosea has known Arthur since he was about sixteen years old. Anytime before that he rarely had a birthday. The last one he remembers was when he was six years old, the same year his mother died. “No, not really,” he answers. 

Hosea’s smile falters for just a moment, his eyes filled with a hidden sympathy as he realizes the ridiculousness of his question. “Well, then it’s high time you started. Life is worth celebrating, Arthur. Especially the legacy of a son.”

A legacy. What legacy? Of deadbeats? Of abusers? That’s the lot he had been given and he doesn’t want to leave that for his son. Arthur feels a weight heavier than the snow that falls outside at Hosea’s words, the need for escape that much greater. 

He feels a hand squeeze his arm. “Let us help you make the day special,” Annabelle says softly. “We don’t have much, but at least the poor boy can feel loved on his birthday.”

There’s no use in arguing. Letting out a sigh, Arthur nods. “Alright.” Then he meets Hosea’s eyes. “I don’t suppose you already have some ideas?”

Hosea grins from ear to ear. “Son, you know me too well.”

***

You bring the wooden spoon to your mouth and get a quick taste of the stew. Could use some herbs, but you don’t really have that as an option. Otherwise, it’s palatable and if you get any complaints, you are more confident to throw hands, if needed. 

This life has started to change you, roughen you, and while sometimes it can be a blessing, you are more afraid of losing yourself. While once appearing weak and helpless, there was something that you liked about it. You were invisible, unassuming, like a spotted deer hiding in the underbrush. 

But that became an insult after that night when Willy called you a doe, so perhaps you ought not to be a prey animal anymore. 

But what will it make you now?

You dip the spoon back in the pot and scooping up some more, you cup your hand underneath it as you bring it out and carry it over to your son. “Here, darling. Try this and let me know what you think.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Isaac takes the bite of stew that is offered him and he smacks his lips for a second or two. “It ain’t your dumplings, Mommy.”

You know. Chicken dumplings are his favorite. But you don’t have chicken and you don’t have flour. Just deer, carrots, and potatoes. Oh, and a couple of cans of peaches.

You manage a small smile, brushing a stray lock of chestnut hair from your forehead as you watch Isaac's honest reaction. "Well, we make do with what we got, sweetheart," you tell him, the maternal instinct to protect and provide for your children overriding the disappointment in your voice. You return to the stew pot and stir it absentmindedly a few times. “Why don’t you go ring the dinner bell?”

The dinner bell, being an old cowbell that Reverend Swanson found, is a crude but essential part of camp life now. Isaac nods obediently, his small frame disappearing out the door with the cowbell in hand. The clangs soon echo through the area, a signal that gathers everyone together like a family, however mismatched it might be.

But instead of the sound of many footfalls, there is a dead silence. You lift your head and look to the door just as Isaac steps back inside.

“Nobody’s coming,” he whines, his lips pulled into a frown.

You chortle. “They didn’t just disappear. Why don’t you ring the cowbell again?”

But Isaac insists that it will fall on deaf ears. “They won’t come, Mommy.”

Won’t come to dinner? You’re more inclined to think they’re just in the barn and can’t hear, but he did ring that bell pretty loud.

In a hasty motion, you hurriedly remove your apron, throw it on the table, and reach for your coat. “I say we figure out why the sudden hearing loss around here!” You take your shawl and wrap it around your head, tying a knot just under your chin. Smiling at your son, you look him over to make sure his coat is good and buttoned before taking his hand. “Let’s go, darling.”

And with that, you and Isaac step outside.

The first thing to greet you is the biting cold, the snowfall picking up. You don’t want to be searching around the farm forever, but you are determined to silence your son’s disappointment just as much as your curiosity.

The snow is deeper than it was a couple of hours ago and you glance down at your son’s boots. He will be growing out of them soon, and this thought nudges at your heart — another reminder of the relentless march of time and all that you need to provide.

You trudge together towards the barn, Isaac's small hand clasped tightly in yours. The snow crunches beneath your boots, and the wind howls around the wooden structures, making them creak ominously. 

As you look around through squinted eyes, you see how barren everything is outside. You’d normally expect to see John guarding or Susan dragging someone to clear a better path to the cabin, but there isn’t even a sign of life.

Where is everyone?

You can’t let yourself panic, at least not yet. You need to check every place that at least one of them can be found. The barn, being the largest, is the obvious choice to start. You grip your son’s hand tighter as you trudge through the snow and he tries his best to keep up with you.

The two of you reach the barn, its large doors looming ominously in the dim light. You push against one, the old wood groaning under your effort as it swings open. The inside is dark and still, smelling of hay and horse. You hesitate at the threshold, peering into the shadows.

"Hello?" your voice echoes, and your eyes try to adjust to the darkness. Why is it dark? Usually, the lanterns are lit and the barn is full of noise and conversation.

That’s when you hear a whisper. “Now…!”

The space immediately becomes lit as the lanterns are uncovered and hung. Looking at the missing gang members, your mouth is agape as you back up toward the doors, holding your boy close.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ISAAC…!!” most shout in unison.

John elbows Bill firmly in the arm and he grunts. “Uh, yeah, happy birthday, kid.” And then he grumbles something as he turns to leave the other end of the barn.

The sudden cheerfulness slices through the tense air, and your heart, which had been clenched tight with worry, begins to relax. Isaac’s face lights up with a pure, unguarded joy as he takes in the scene before him—straw bales arranged into makeshift seats, a small table laden with modest treats, and everyone, sans Dutch and Bill, gathered around to celebrate.

Your attention falls on Hosea as he approaches you with a cheeky grin. “All we are missing now is that stew!”

You grin and shake your head. “You scheming fox.”

He cackles loudly. “You didn’t think that we'd let today pass without a celebration, did you? Isaac deserves a bit of happiness, especially today.”

Isaac, still clutched in your arms, wriggles free and dashes towards the table, his laughter mingling with the sounds of the gang's playful banter. You watch him, your heart swelling with love and relief, the tension draining from your shoulders as you realize the danger was imagined, a fabrication of your own fears. Arthur catches your eye from across the barn, his smile reserved yet genuine, a silent acknowledgment of the day's importance not just to Isaac but to you as well.

“I’ll get that stew.” You say as you begin to back away.”

“By yourself?” Hosea asks and he shakes his head. “Nonsense. Have Arthur go with you.”

And hearing his name, he walks over and coughs into a closed fist. “Shoah.”

Hosea grins, happy with the assignment. “Good. We will keep the boy entertained until you return.”

Arthur nods, his expression hardening slightly as he readies himself to accompany you. The warmth of the barn, filled with laughter and flickering lantern lights, feels like a sanctuary compared to the cold uncertainty outside. But you aren’t one to quit so easily. Many times you’ve had to trudge through deep snow to milk the cow or collect eggs. It was your way of life.

You meet Arthur’s eyes, feeling slightly awkward, as he reaches an arm over you to push the barn door open. You step out first and are greeted by the setting sun, it’s red orb peeking through the tall trees. There may not be as much snow as in Idaho, but it certainly is cold. You pull up your coat collar and step forward, hearing Arthur’s heavy footfalls behind you.

He coughs again and clears his throat.

“You alright?” you ask without looking back.

“Ahem. Yeah. Just…got this frog in my throat or somethin’.”

“Drinking warm water should help with that,” you answer.

Arthur chuckles, a low rumbling sound that seems to stir the chilled air between you. "I had a feelin’ you would have a suggestion. Always findin’ answers before there’s ever a problem," he says, his voice carrying a hint of jest and a trace of something warmer, something left unsaid.

You glance over your shoulder at him and catch a twinkling gleam in his eyes that makes you feel inexplicably comforted despite the cold. "Well, someone has to," you reply, managing a slight smile. The silence that follows isn't awkward but filled with a shared understanding, a connection forged over years and trials.

The path to the Cabin is short but it feels longer somehow, just like when you and Isaac were heading to the barn. Is it the biting cold? Or something within your own perception? You don’t know, but when you finally reach the cabin you exhale a puff of air you didn’t realize you were holding.

Arthur quickens his steps to reach the door before you and opens it. 

“Thank you,” you murmur and you quickly get inside so he can close it quickly to keep the warmth in.

As your eyes adjust to the space, your eyes fall on the pot still hanging above the fire. You begin to walk over and grab the metal hook that allows you to lift it.

“What’re you doin’?” Arthur asks behind you.

“What does it look like?” you chortle.

“That fire is still burnin’ hot. Let me get it so you don’t burn yourself.”

You look over your shoulder and look at him unamused. “Arthur. I’ve been doing this for the past five years. If I let the fear of being burned stop me, we’d all be starving.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows and chuffs a soft laugh, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. "Alright, alright," he says, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "You win, Eliza. Just tryin' to look out for you is all."

You nod and smile, grasping the hook, and returning to your task, you work it under the metal handle of the pot. You begin to lift it and soon realize that the full stew pot is much heavier than you anticipated. But not willing to let your pride be damaged, you keep trying to lift it with the awkward leverage you have.

As you concentrate on the task at hand, your fingers deftly maneuver the pot's handle onto the hook. But suddenly, just when you think you've got it secure, it starts to slip off. Panic rises in your chest and your heart races as you struggle to regain control. “Oh…!”

Just before disaster strikes, you feel a warm body press against your back and strong arms wrap around your own. Arthur’s grip on the metal hook is firm and steadying, and together you manage to save the pot from crashing to the floor. A few drops of broth escape, but it is a small price to pay for avoiding a disaster. Relief floods through you as you turn to thank your savior with a grateful smile and nod of appreciation.

“See? Havin’ some help ain’t so bad,” Arthur says humorously.

You roll your eyes, but let a smile appear on your lips. “Oh, be quiet.”

Arthur’s chuckle fills the small cabin as he steps back, giving you space once more. The fire crackles and pops, sending sparks dancing up the chimney, their brief lives casting flickering shadows across his face. He watches you with those eyes full of unspoken words, a half-smirk lingering on his lips. “You want some help carryin’ it over?”

You feel the weight of the pot in your hands, the handle digging into your curled fingers. “Well…” you sigh. “Maybe I could use just a little help.”

Arthur’s smile broadens and stepping closer to you, his left hand grips the handle, his hand touching yours.

Together, you lift the heavy pot and carefully carry it across the room towards the front door. The muscles in Arthur's arms flex under the strain, a reminder of the many hardships he has endured and survived. His presence, so strong and reassuring, fills the small space with a sense of awkwardness, the same that you felt when you first met, when he rescued you and walked you home.

You feel that way now. Simple, delicate, a damsel in distress.

It was how you once were. You don’t look back at your past self with regret, or even empathy, but reflection. Oh, how you’ve changed.

And Arthur knows it. He can’t help but think back on those days, when you were so shy and quiet. You’re more outspoken now, the way you handled Uncle and his teasing. You were handling it on your own, and lately, Arthur has begun to wonder if you really need him. The children do, sure, but do you?

Stepping out of the cabin, you both face the cold air again. You take a deep breath, as a breeze flushes through your nostrils and you tuck your head down to hide your nose and mouth in the collar of your coat.

“Doin’ okay?” Arthur asks before he starts to cough again.

“I should be asking you that,” you answer back. “You need to get out of the cold.”

“Don’t worry about me, darlin’.” He looks ahead, not meeting your eyes. “I’m fine.”

Arthur is rarely ever sick, at least when he’s been around you. Even so, you had always made sure he was comfortable and fed when he came to Aspen’s Way and now, since being in the gang, you’ve hardly ever put a thought into his well-being.

You feel guilty. Absolutely horrible. Just because circumstances have changed, that shouldn’t mean that you change your method of care.

You keep looking at him, hoping that he’ll look your way. He doesn’t, stubborn as ever. You know he’s avoiding your gaze.

“Arthur…”

“I’m alright. Let’s just…get this stew in the barn. Everyone is waitin’.”

You continue toward the barn, the journey weighted down by a heavy silence that stretches between you like a taut rope. The crips night air bites into your skin, but it’s the weight of unspoken worries that really chills you to the bone. Arthur’s persistent cough and the slight hunch of his shoulders tell you more than he wants to let on. Once you get this stew on the table, you’re going to see if you can do something about his cough.

Arthur extends his arm to pull back the barn door and you both maneuver the pot as you step inside. The warmth greets you and you feel your skin tingle. There is also the sound of a banjo playing, and you spot Uncle sitting on a barrel, playing a jovial tune. Reverend Swanson is nowhere to be seen. 

Just beyond the table, Hosea, Pearson, Susan, and Isaac are dancing in a circle, hand in hand, and laughter swirling between them. John watches from the table, his hand reluctantly tapping along to the beat of Uncle’s song. Reverend Swanson and Strauss are nowhere to be seen. 

You haven’t realized that Arthur has taken the pot from you and has made his way over to the table. Your attention is solely focused on your son. The look on his face, his eyes squinting too hard on account of his joy bursting at the seams.

Annabelle, with Alice in her arms, strides on over to you, a soft expression on her face. “It’s good to hear the boy laugh.” You turn to look at her and see your smiling babe. She knows who her mother is and wiggles her body as she attempts to flap her arms. You grin and gasp playfully, offering to take her. Annabelle obliges and bringing Alice close, you plant multiple kisses on her cheeks. “And it’s good to see you smile.”

You meet Annabelle’s eyes as you rest your baby against your torso, supporting her back as she sits against your folded arm. “Have I been that bad?”

Annabelle smiles empathetically, tilting her head just a bit. “It’s understandable, the way things have been…what you’ve been through.”

She only means recently, but little does she know. You look away back to your son and see his shining face. “What matters is that he’s happy.”

“Ain’t that tiring?”

You look back at her again, pulling your hair out of Alice’s mouth. She’ll grab anything near her to explore with her senses, one of them being your hair. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s honorable to think of others, but when you have nothing left, then you have nothing to give at all.”

You look back at the table and see Arthur’s now sitting there, with his elbows propped on the surface and his head supported in his hands. The longer you look at him, the more exhausted he is. 

You have the children. He has everyone relying on him. How blind have you been to his cause? Badgering him about leaving, always wondering when your break will be. You are beginning to understand that it isn’t a decision made easily, especially when more people seem to be joining you. Two more mouths, albeit with little skills to offer, have hardly contributed anything but amusement and conversation. 

You see John saying something to him, to which the fatigued outlaw nods his head. You aren’t sure what they’re discussing, and while curious, your main thought is to get these people fed. 

Glancing at Alice, you adjust the bonnet on her head. “Help me serve these party guests?”

Annabelle sighs. She’ll continue to try and convince you to slow down, but it looks like it will be another day. “Of course, Eliza.”

With a baby in your arms, you and Annabelle command the space, serving bowls of fresh, hot venison stew. It is but mere seconds when the bowls are in their hands that they begin to chow down, ravenous and aching for warmth in their bellies. 

You finally serve yourself and still keeping Alice in your arms, you set her down in your lap as you sit at one of the corners of the table and begin to eat the stew. You have mostly broth and vegetables, as you got the bottom of the pot, but it is still warm as it settles in your stomach. Alice watches you curiously, her dusky blue eyes moving as you bring the spoon to your mouth. You haven’t quite started her on solids, yet. Almost nervous that there won’t be enough food to go around once she starts eating something other than the milk you provide for her. Perhaps, now that her teeth are starting to come in, you can acquire some cheesecloth and introduce foods slowly, as you did with Isaac. 

The room is filled with the sound of spoons scraping against bowls and the low murmur of voices, a symphony of survival that you’ve come to know well. You watch Arthur from across the table, his eyes occasionally lifting to meet yours before they flicker away, clouded with worries you can only guess at. Your son sits between Hosea and John, and he calmly observes the two as they converse, or don’t, with the others. Some hard tack is passed around to dip in their bowls to soften the hard biscuits, and the conversations simmer down as they gnaw on them.

And after a few more minutes, Hosea breaks the silence. “Alright! It’s time for the birthday boy to open his presents!”

Isaac’s eyes brighten, full of surprise and wonder. “Presents?”

Hosea shrugs. “Well…they aren’t exactly wrapped.” In a quick motion, he bends down and picks Isaac up playfully, letting out a soft grunt. “What say we have a look?”

Isaac doesn’t hesitate to nod his head. “Okay…!”

Hosea grins and walks to the barrel that Uncle had been sitting on and sets him down. “Now, you sit here, and we’ll bring the presents to you!”

Isaac isn’t in the mood to argue, his brown eyes gleaming with excitement. “Okay…!”

Hosea turns to the gathering. “Well, everyone? Let’s present our gifts to the young prince, shall we?”

You watch as the gang reaches into their pockets, bags, and under the caps of their hats for hidden gifts. You feel somewhat awkward, considering that all you were able to whip up was some canned peaches that Susan found. Had you been less forgetful, you would have had time to get him a pair of drawing pencils or something. 

“I think the queen should stand next to her son, to help him out, yes?” Hosea chuckles, holding out a hand towards you. 

You shift on your feet awkwardly. “Oh.” After readjusting Alice in your arms you weave between Pearson and Susan to reach your son, who kicks out his legs alternately as he remains seated on the barrel. 

“Come stand by me, Mommy!”

As you turn around and stand by your son, you see the line forming, all eager to give the boy their gift. 

Hosea is the first in line, holding his gift behind him, and he steps forward. “So, I hear you like reading?”

Isaac shrugs bashfully. “Not right now.”

Hosea chuckles. “I know you’ve been very busy, but I think a good story can help with that.” Bringing his gift forward, you see that it is a book. It is slightly worn, the hard cover’s fabric fraying on the corners. “It’s Black Beauty . Have you heard of it?”

Isaac thinks about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No.”

Hosea looks down at the book in his hands, and he runs his hand over the cover. “This book belonged to someone most precious to me. She loved this story. It’s about a horse. Some parts are sad, but beautiful…” He looks up to meet Isaac’s eyes and you see how they glisten in the lantern light. “Very beautiful.” He holds out the book to your son, who gratefully takes it. “Have your mother read it to you,” he says softly after clearing his throat.

Isaac clutches the book to his chest, a small smile breaking through his initial shyness. "Thank you, Mr. Hosea," he murmurs, eyes wide with the promise of a new story to explore. Next in line is Annabelle, who approaches with a bashful step and clasped hands. “Aunt Annie!”

She smiles and as the book remains in his lap, she sets her gift on top of it. It is a small figurine, a bronze horse, that stands on two legs and has tiny gemstones for the eyes. “To go with your book.”

Not a practical gift, but Isaac has never received anything like this before. It is beautiful, clearly a treasure. You look at Annabelle as she smiles at your son. Surely, this gift meant something to her. It’s too valuable of a gift to give to a five-year-old boy.

Isaac's eyes light up in wonder as he picks for the figurine, turning it over in his small hands, marveling at the way the lantern light catches on the gemstones, making them sparkle like tiny stars. "It's pretty, Aunt Annie," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

Annabelle takes a gentle step back, her eyes on the copper horse. “Happy birthday, Isaac.”

“What do you say, Isaac?” you prompt. You haven’t raised your boy to not have manners. 

Isaac looks up from the shimmering horse and directly at Annabelle, his small face serious with the gravity of receiving such a gift. "Thank you, Aunt Annie," he says, his voice firm and clear in the cozy warmth of the cabin. "I love you."

Annabelle's smile widens, her eyes soft and nearly glistening. Without missing a beat, she goes in for a hug, wrapping the small boy in her arms, and kissing his face with soft pecks. “I love you too, you sweet boy.”

As the warm moment unfolds, you catch Arthur's gaze from across the room. He's leaning against a wooden beam, arms crossed, his eyes a mixture of pride and something more solemn, unreadable. His presence has grown so constant now, yet you still feel a shiver whenever your eyes meet.

Annabelle finally steps away and lets the next person step forward.

Pearson gives the boy a bar of dark chocolate, claiming that it was made from chocolate from an island he had been to once. You aren’t sure if you believe it or not, but you let it slide. Let Isaac believe in far-off places. Hopefully, he can see it all one day.

Susan gives him her dominoes game set. While the whole gang has used it for times of fun and play, she designates him as the new owner of the set and the new rule that if he ever wants to play, she will play with him, no questions asked. Now, for Susan to even grant such an honor, is the true gift.

Now, finally, it is John’s turn. You’re surprised he has a gift. Not that you would ever expect anyone to procure anything, given the circumstances, but the fact that he stands before the boy, with a wrapped bundle in his hands, still leaves you speechless.

John stands uneasy, this being the closest he’s ever been to the boy, and he clears his throat. “Hey, kid, erm…” He looks down at the bundle in his hands, trying to find the words to say. He seems to weigh the object, as though assessing whether or not his gift idea was even a good one. He clears his throat again. “I figured you could grow into these…” He begins to unwrap the cloth and Isaac leans forward to get a better look. When the cloth is pulled away, you nearly gasp at the sight of a pair of spurs.

They aren’t new, by any means, but they’ve been taken care of. The metal gleams under the low light of the lanterns, and even in their used condition, they hold a certain charm. Isaac’s eyes grow wide with wonder and excitement; clearly, he understands the implication of such a gift—these are tools of a cowboy, symbols of a life riding horses and taming the wild.

“Oooo…!” Isaac oggles, his hands still holding onto his other gifts, but visibly itching to reach out and touch the shiny spurs. 

Arthur steps forward, his face breaking into a rare smile as he watches his son's delight. “Looks like you’re ready to ride with the big boahs now, son,” he says, his voice thick with pride.

Isaac nods vigorously, his excitement barely containable. “Let me put ‘em on…!” he giggles and he tries to hold out the gifts towards you. “Mommy? Help?”

You move to readjust Alice in your arms but Arthur steps forward, taking the gifts from the boy. “Here, partner. But I think they’re too big for you yet, son.”

Isaac frowns as he eyes the spurs still in John’s hands. “Not too big, huh?”

John actually cracks a smile. “You will need to grow into ‘em, kid.”

Isaac's face brightens once more, accepting the challenge as if it were a promise of adventures to come. He takes the spurs from John and holds them up against his tiny boots, his imagination clearly picturing himself riding alongside the men he admires. “I will! I’ll grow so tall and strong like Daddy!”

The room fills with a soft, warm laughter at Isaac’s joy and Arthur feels grateful that he can see his son so happy. Times have been hard, and it is easy to ignore the opportunity to allow certain joys to occupy his life. He’s glad that Hosea had this idea and encouraged him to do this, though spur of the moment, it was.

He has his gift to give now. Though it may not compete with the shiny spurs, it still may put a smile on Isaac’s face. He turns to set the gifts on the table and reaches into his satchel. He reinserts himself into the gathering and Uncle notices him and quickly backs away. The laughter and conversation die down and all eyes fall on the rugged outlaw.

Hosea grins. “Ah! Saved the best for last!”

Arthur chuckles. “I ain’t shoah about that…” He goes to his son, and holds out the journal. “It’s about time you started puttin’ all that learnin’ to practice, partner.”

Isaac’s eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as he takes the journal, his fingers brushing against the fabric cover. He flips it open, his small face scrunched in concentration, then looks up at Arthur with a questioning gaze. "What do I write, Daddy?"

Arthur picks him up, holding him close, and points to his son’s chest. “Everythin’ that comes from here, son. Thoughts, dreams, what you did that day. Anythin’ you want.” He watches the interest in his son’s eyes and can’t help but smile. “You can draw too, if you want.”

Isaac gasps. “Like you, Daddy?”

“Why, shoah!” Arthur nods.

“And draw Mommy like you do?”

Arthur swallows and hears John chuckle behind him. He doesn’t want everyone to know what he does. Drawing you and his children is of a personal nature and he tries to play it off with a chuckle of his own. "Yes, boah. You can draw your mama, your sister, anythin’ that catches your eye." Arthur places Isaac down and ruffles his hair, his heart swelling with pride at the spark of creativity he sees lighting up his son's eyes. “I’ll give you one of my pencils, so you can have somethin’ to use for now.”

Isaac giggles happily. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Uncle picks up his banjo again. “Well, let’s warm up our bones with good dancin’!”

The air fills with the twang of Uncle's banjo, the rhythmic clap of hands, and the soft shuffle of boots on the dirt floor. You watch as you stand to the side, your daughter Alice nestled against your hip, her small hand gripping yours tightly. The lanterns swing gently overhead, casting moving shadows that dance just like the group before you.

Arthur comes to stand beside you, grinning at his daughter. “You like the music, little lady?”

She squeals happily, reaching out to him. As natural as it can be, you hand Alice over to him and he holds her against his chest. She instantly goes for his scruff, letting her little fingers dig into his whiskers, exploring his face with her sense of touch.

“You ever dance, Arthur?” you ask him.

He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “Nah, I ain’t much of a dancer.”

“We’ve never really danced together, have we?”

He turns to meet your eyes. “No, I don’t think we ever have.”

You look towards the group as they dance with your son, letting him be included and loved. You’re warmed by the scene, relieved that your son is having a good birthday. If anything good can come out of being in a gang, it is being surrounded by people who care about your children. “I guess not.”

Whoosh…!

The barn door swings open, letting in a gust of wind. The lanterns swing on their hooks, the flames dancing as they’re threatened to be squelched. The music instantly stops and those dancing quickly halt and turn to face the visitor.

The figure at the entrance steps in, closing the barn door firmly behind them.

Then, a familiar voice speaks into the barn. “Well…! Was wonderin’ where everyone had gone. Didn’t know we were havin’ a party.”

It is Dutch. And you know his inquisitiveness isn’t just out of curiosity. It is like a lion finding its prey and cornering it in a trap.

You instantly feel your body grow tense and you reach out towards Isaac. “Darling, come here.”

Isaac, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere, scurries over to you. His eyes are wide, a mirror of your own apprehension. As he reaches you, you pull him close, feeling his small body firm against yours.

Arthur tightens his hold on Alice, who seems oblivious to the tension, still entertained by her father’s beard. “Buh-buh…” she babbles. 

Hosea, eager to ease the tension, steps toward his longtime friend. “Dutch! We would have told you, but you had already gone.” He looks back at Isaac and smiles at him. “The young prince is turning five today.”

Dutch steps into the light. His cheeks are red from the cold, but there is a fire behind his eyes. He juts his chin upward, eyeing the gathering who has been partying without him. “Is he now?” And then his eyes fall on the gifts resting on the table. The food is already eaten, the few treats begging to be devoured. “It’s a king’s feast, alright.”

Hosea can sense where this is going and he takes another step forward. “We merely scrounged up what we could for the boy—”

Dutch already going to the table, he picks up the only item of any value—the bronze horse. “Seems you were all doin’ more than scrounging.” His eyes lift to Annabelle, who remains where she stands. “For a gang that is scraping the bottom of the barrel, I can’t help but feel like I’ve been left out of the windfall here.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, like the storm clouds that threaten on the horizon. You feel Isaac lean back into you, the intimidation clearly working. Arthur turns to you, offering back your daughter and you take her into your arms. After patting your back once, he steps forward, his footfalls the only sound heard in the barn against the howling winds outside.

“We ain’t holdin’ out on you, Dutch. Or anyone. These things ain’t nothin’ but simple gifts—”

“That new coat.” Dutch says suddenly, pointing a finger at Annabelle. “How did she come by that then, hm?”

Arthur isn’t about to be told that he can’t help people. Can’t help his gang. Can’t help the people that need food and clothes. “She came by it the way she should have gotten it months ago.” His gaze is steady, unwavering as he stands in defense of not just Annabelle, but his values.

Dutch’s eyes narrow, his gaze piercing. “You sayin’ that the money came out of thin air? That you spoke that coat into existence, like God?!”

You don’t want your children to see this. You reach to take Isaac’s hand. “Get your coat on, darling. We’re heading back to the cabin.”

Arthur doesn’t flinch at Dutch’s words. “At least God seems to care more in them stories the reverend reads than how you’re supposed to care about us! Quit choosin’ my son’s happiness for your excuses, Dutch! He’s just a boah!”

Arthur's voice cracks the solemn air, high and hard, like a whip snap against Dutch's accusations. You feel your heart thunder in your chest, every beat echoing Arthur's protective stance. Isaac tugs on your dress, his little face upturned to you, confusion written all over it. "Mommy, we going now?”

You look down at him and quickly nod. “Yes, put on your coat.”

Just as you look back, Dutch points a firm finger at Arthur’s chest, his voice a low growl. “You ain’t gonna get special treatment in this gang, Arthur. You ain’t gonna be pullin’ stunts like this thinkin’ this redeems you…”

Dutch's words hang heavy in the dusty air of the barn, each syllable laden with a threat. Arthur stands his ground, his jaw set firm, eyes blazing with a fire that could melt steel. He steps closer to Dutch, reducing the space between them, his voice low but fierce. "There ain't no redemption I'm seekin'. I'm simply tryin' to do right by those who can’t do for themselves. If that's a crime, then I reckon you might as well hang me now."

Your breath catches in your throat as the tension twists tighter, like a rope about to snap. Dutch's face darkens. “You think that low of me, son? I ain’t the people we’re runnin’ from.”

“Runnin’? I thought we was standin' for something more than just dodgin' the law!” Arthur's retort slices through the silence that had momentarily settled over the group, and the men around shift uncomfortably on their feet. You feel Alice’s small fingers tug your hair, almost trying to get your attention.

Susan sees your struggle and comes close to help escort you out. “I think it’s gettin’ late. Your little ones must be exhausted.”

You nod and following her prompting, you let her lead you towards the barn door. Your eyes don’t leave Arthur as the tense argument ensues.

“Don’t you talk to Dutch like that!” Bill barks. “He raised you!”

“I ain’t talkin’ to you, you sack of—” And suddenly, Arthur begins to cough. Hard.

The cough racks his body so severely that he has to clutch at a nearby post for support. His face turns a frightening shade of red, and you feel a pang of fear strike your heart. The argument, the tension, all fade into background noise as your focus narrows down to Arthur, struggling for breath. 

You stop in your tracks, fighting against Susan’s grip. “Arthur—?”

“Susan—” he coughs as he swings his arm in front of himself, waving you off. “Get ‘em outta here…”

And just as you want to protest, Susan pushes you toward the door. “Let’s go, girl.”

Outside, the cold wind hits your face, a sharp contrast to the stifling tension inside the barn. You clutch Alice tighter to your side, her small body trembling either from cold or fear, perhaps both. Isaac tugs at your other hand, his young eyes wide and scared. "Mommy, is Daddy gonna be okay?”

You don’t know how to answer, all you can do is try to conceal the worry on your face. “Let’s get you in bed and I will check on him, alright?”

He doesn’t look satisfied but doesn’t protest. “Okay, Mommy.”

Once you reach the cabin, Susan makes sure that you reach the steps. You all get inside and she closes the door firmly behind you. “You get your babies in bed,” Susan sighs. “I’ll get the fire goin’. Should have known it would die out.”

But you are feeling agitated by the nonchalance of her actions. Is she really going to act like this? After leaving in the middle of that? Arthur isn’t well. He’s being interrogated by Dutch. And here you are, helpless.

“Susan—”

“Go on…!” she orders and gets on her knees in front of the hearth.

You bite your lip and rush the children to bed in the other room. Isaac sleeps with you, and Alice in her crib. Isaac clings to the wool blankets, his eyes still wide with questions and fear. Alice is quieter, her small fingers tangled in your hair as you try to lay her down gently.

After ensuring they are settled, you turn back to the main room of the cabin, to find Susan preparing to leave.

“Susan…!”

She whips around quickly. “Arthur can handle himself. He’d be more upset if you were still in there.”

“But I can’t just—”

“You can. And you will.” After a second, her eyes soften. “Please, hon. Get some rest. This ain’t the first time they’ve fought, and it won’t be the last. I’ll have Arthur come see you in the morning.”

You nod, hesitant, the fear gnawing at your insides like a hungry dog. Watching Susan disappear into the darkness outside, your heart pounds against your rib cage, each beat echoing Arthur’s name. You close the door behind her and lean against it, closing your eyes for just a moment, soaking in the silence of your questions and your anxieties.

What has become of you?

And why do you suddenly feel the weakest you’ve ever been?

Thank you for reading! Your feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

Tag Requests:

@photo1030 @eternalsams

[jqbasesave]

Sulani Rebuild - No CC, Island Living Only

Available on the gallery ID: quiescence90

Or download the tray files from SFS

Lot info follows:

Part One | Ohan'ali Town

1. The Sand Bar - A Bar venue.

2. Ohan'ali Beach - I added a bar, food stand, and the Island Living vending machine as well as a small picnic area on the pier.

3. Tangled Flat - A starter home furnished for parent sims with a toddler.

4. Lagoon Look - A family home furnished for parent sims with 2 children.

5. Kin-Ship - A large family home furnished for the Kealoha family (parents with a teen and a toddler). It's actually a rebuild of my first build in Sulani.

6. Chieftain's Villa - A spacious home furnished for the Hoapili family, plus a guest room.

Part Two | Mua Pel'am

1. Fortuna's Wreckage (Key Point) - I decided to move the shipwreck here and renamed the boat "Fortuna" as in, for the love of tuna. Furnished as a loft for one stranded sim.

2. SIMCA (Admiral's Wreckage) - As in "Sulani Islands Marine Conservation Area". A National Park venue furnished as a sorta station for Conservationist sims.

3. Caldera Camp - A lookout with a bathroom, kitchen, and bunk beds.

Part Three | Lani St. Taz

1. Sand Simoleon Beach - Another Beach venue.

2. Pier Perfection - A starter home furnished for a couple on their honeymoon.

3. Reef Finery - A family home furnished for the Ngata family (couple with one child). There's also a home gym.

4. Journey's End - A fancy large house furnished for the Kahananui couple. They also have a guest room and a home office.

5. Sapphire Shores - A Lounge venue with Wedding Venue requirements included, although I don't own MWS so I don't know how different it would be.

[octoberobserver]

Buddie Fic - Sneak Peek

As Buck woke the morning of June 16th 2024, reality crashed down hard on him.

This Father’s Day was going to be a lot different than any he had had in recent years.

For starters, the Grant-Nashes were out of state visiting family as they waited for the purchase of their new house to go through and for Bobby’s hopefully imminent reinstatement as Captain of the 118, and secondly…

Christopher was in Texas.

Which meant…Eddie was alone.

Had been alone for weeks now. Except, well, not entirely alone. Buck had initially kept finding excuses to camp out on his couch and eventually, after offering up his loft to Bobby and Athena for the next few weeks, was now practically living with him.

This was how he found himself waking up on the Diaz couch, roused from a dream where the three of them were in an ice cream parlour under the sea, to find a text from Bobby waiting for him on his phone, which lay on Eddie’s coffee table.

Bobby - 9:32 am

Sorry I’m missing Father’s Day dinner this time, kid. Dinner at Angelo’s next week to make up for it? May says hi and wants you to know her card is going to beat yours this year.

Buck snorted, quickly typing a reply as he climbed out of his makeshift bed.

Me - 9:32 am

She talks a big game, but I have her beat again. She’ll see. My card has dalmatians on it, Bobby. Dalmatians! Dinner at Angelo’s sounds good. Happy Father’s Day, pops. 🥳🎈💜

He was halfway through brewing some coffee and contemplating what to make Eddie for breakfast when his phone buzzed in his hand. 

Bobby - 9:43 am

You too. I know today in particular, will be hard on you and Eddie. But I know you’ll have his back. And he’ll have yours. Eddie’s invited to dinner, too :)

Buck’s heart cracked as his eyes roamed over the text before he allowed himself a small smile at the old-school emoticon smiley. 

“That Tommy?”

He jumped at least a foot in the air at the sudden voice. 

Head shooting up, he drank in the sight of his best friend, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking tired and dishevelled in his sleep pants and an old T-shirt that Buck was convinced used to be his. It had been Eddie’s default state for weeks now, not helped by the overbearing presence of Captain Gerard at work and the aching absence of Chris at home. 

(Read my other Buddie fics here)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged when the full fic drops! 😊

[martyrbat]

enough — batman secret files (2018) #1

(ID below cut!)

[ID: A short story titled Enough. It centers around Bruce Wayne being alone at a little cabin out in the middle of some woods on top of a snow-capped mountain. Bruce internally narrates throughout the entire story. The barren cabin is lonesome amongst the pristine, white snow as Bruce enters the cold, muted building. Inside there's several books, oil lamps, a stone fireplace, and candles on basic, open faced wooden furniture – indicating that the house has no electricity. The cabin is one story and has an open floorplan with a single upstairs bedroom, which has only a ladder leading up to the small loft. There's a chest underneath a window and Bruce sits on the old, yellow couch in front of the blazing fireplace.

He thinks to himself, ‘There're rumors that somewhere, in Gotham's most beautiful, snow-topped mountains, a monster is running around. I have a suspicion Man-Bat is behind the strange activity. Mountain climbers losing their camps, ski resorts with missing guests, a strange beast being seen in the dark... Something covered in hair, something remarkably large.’ He takes his parka off and sets down his large duffle bag to slowly unpack it — revealing a thermos and a bow with several large, pointed arrowheads. He pulls out his Batman gear — which includes an insulated suit that's lined with fur, his belt, and a protective face mask that reflects his eyes in the red-tinted visor. He forlornly admits, ‘I can handle large, but what I can't handle… Is how damn lonely it is up here. Alfred says I could use some alone time. Truth is, I'm not such a fan of myself.’

Outside in his costume and cape, Bruce is tracking through the icy woods and the thick, rising snow. He's armed with his bow and arrows as he narrates, ‘To avoid detection by what I assume is probably Man-Bat, I'll try to capture him using only my hunting skills. I admit I'm a little rusty. The arrows I've brought are lethal to some, but they're just enough to incapacitate a beast of his size. It should be enough.. I hope it's enough.’ But the snowstorm rages on, forcing Bruce back inside the cabin since he believes it's not worth the risk of freezing to death if he stays out. He now lays in the upstairs loft's bed. The oil lamps on the wooden bedstand is unlit, causing the bright snow through the window to be the only thing that casts any light in the dark room. It reveals a framed photo of a picturesque landscape hanging over Bruce's head on the wall. In it, there's a peaceful lake and tall, luxuriant green trees.

Bruce solemnly stares up at the ceiling and thinks, ‘I find myself focusing closely on all the sounds of the forest, trying to learn the rhythm.’ The snow whirls on… A branch cracks… The cabin itself creaks and groans — causing Bruce to sit upright with a jolt! He squints out the window in an futile attempt to actually see something out there. He cerebrates, ‘Three nights and only the sounds of falling snow and branches. I've tracked nothing larger than a doe, there's been no news of an attack or sighting, maybe he's left the mountains… or maybe he's just hiding.’ Bruce lays back down, this time with his back to the window. He keeps an eye open — waiting and nearly hoping for any sign of life other than his own in the desolate, icy land.

We're shown Bruce outside again as he fights against the harsh wind to get back inside the cabin after another unsuccessful search for Man-Bat. He rubs his face tiredly while hunched over a small oil lamp as the stovetop coffee brews. He reflects, ‘Six nights alone, darkness lasts longer than the day and again the storm pushes me back indoors. This is beginning to feel useless. I'm really quite over myself. Maybe I'll call Alfred and ask him to—’ But his self-deprecation is cut short by a sudden thump! Then another loud crack! Again and again, coming closer and closer to him!

Bruce sets down the coffee as his mind rapid fires the possibilities of the quickly approaching, potentially dangerous loud noises! ‘Is it the branches in the wind? Or is it something else? Am I paranoid? I can't visualize what I'm hearing. There's no time to think about the cold now, I'm all alone up here. That sounds remarkably large.’ Bruce arms himself with his bow and arrow and hesitates outside the door as his paranoia continues, ‘I hope this is enough. A hunter knows its prey, but I'm realizing I have no idea what's on the other side of this door. Does it understand I'm on the other side? I am alone out here. No time to think.’ He flings the door open!

Geared in only his suit with no gloves or headgear, Bruce aims his bow blindly as he stands outside in the merciless elements. He tensely waits in the dark, thinking to the unseen threat, ‘I don't see you, but can you see me?’ There's another loud thump and crack. With one last hope that it's enough to tranquilize the potential attacker, Bruce fires the weapon.

The sharp arrow proves itself to be lethal as it pierces his unfortunate target. The threat — merely a lonesome, defenseless deer — falls dead in front of the horrified man. Bruce rushes forth and remorsefully buries the animal with the snow. He walks back to the cabin with the repeated, dejected confession: ‘Truth is, I'm not such a fan of myself.’

END ID]

[plushieclan]

Moon 8 Gathering

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Tigerpaw was basically jumping with joy as he prepared the food for the Gathering. Starleaf was coaching him through what to do, an exhausted look on her face. Nightflower chuckled. She remembered when it was her doing tedious tasks. Part of her almost longed for her apprentice days again… but it sure was nice to have her own space!

Since Crystalclan’s camp was so vacant of good shelter within the wider structure, apprentices lived in the nursery. When it was all ten of them in the same den? Now that got crowded!

To be honest, Nightflower wanted to stay home. But there was no was she’d risk it. After all, Firepaw would be a warrior any day now. It would be a bad move for her to miss the Gathering— she wanted to be there when her friend finally managed to graduate.

Firepaw’s mentor Smallcloud had passed a few moons ago, so she had to receive a new one. Apparently, he wasn’t much better. His name was Cowfur and much like his namesake, supposedly all he did was sleep and ignore her training. Maybe Firepaw was just exaggerating.

Still, Nightflower could see how that could get annoying.

The Gathering was extra packed that night— there were new faces everywhere she could see. She figured the occasion was the face on the loft with the leaders. A younger cat, looking to be about her age, stood next to the Wanderer’s representative.

Darkstar jumped onto the loft to join them. He wasn’t the last leader tonight— Redstar was lingering in the crowd with two smaller cats. He said one last goodbye before getting into place with the other leaders.

Starleaf bounded over to the steps, where the deputies stood. Bloodthorn’s spot was empty last moon; but this moon, a suave-looking cream tom was in her place.

Tonight, her father was the one to start the proceedings.

“All is well in Crystalclan. We have one new warrior, Applesnow! She has worked hard for the position.”

The aforementioned Applesnow just smiled away, seemingly oblivious to the attention placed on her. Nightflower made sure to yell her name extra loud, so that she’d notice they were talking about her.

“Huh? Oh, it’s my turn already?!” she snapped back into reality, before folding in on herself in embarrassment. “Oh… um… thank you?”

Next, it was Badgerstar’s turn.

“There isn’t much to report. Our clan is doing well.” he stated, before lumbering off to the side.

Redstar came to the front next, a serene smile on his face.

He held his paw up, pointing into the crowd. “Swampclan has had a momentous moon. Two wonderful kits have become apprentices. Please celebrate Jaggedpaw, our newest warrior apprentice, and Sharppaw, our first cleric apprentice.”

“YEAHHH!” a loud, loud cheer ripped through the crowd. It came from the mouth of a small, scrappy molly with eyes as crimson as Redstar’s, one of the ones he was talking to earlier. She was definitely Jaggedpaw. She punched the shoulder of the apprentice next to her, who had a meeker attitude. Nightflower assumed this was Sharppaw.

Redstar lifted his pointed paw into the air, silencing the gathering.

“I’m afraid to announce that our deputy Bloodthorn has retired. In her place, Bergamotfur has become our newest deputy. I hope you will all wish him well on his journey.” Redstar said without missing a beat. His smile never faltered.

With that, he stepped back to allow Finchstar to take the front.

Finchstar was not a tom who showed a lot of emotion, from what Nightflower had seen of him. Mainly, it was reserved for his family— in the form of joy. But today, he looked… troubled. She wondered why.

“Today, we have one new warrior. Please welcome Firefall.” his voice lacked enthusiasm.

Nightflower cheered as hard as she could for her friend. If anyone deserved it, it was her! Firefall was a very good name too. Although, as she looked at Grangeclan, she could see an unease settling over them. They were cheering the least out of any of the clans. What in the world could that mean?

He stepped back, and Nightflower expected things to end there. But instead, the Wanderers representative stepped forward.

“I am training a new apprentice to take my place. Penny will be replacing me in due time. However, she has much to learn, so I will not be leaving yet.” The rep mrrped in laughter. “Penny, step forward and say your piece.”

Penny was a tuxedo cat like Nightflower, but with much smaller ears. Her eyes were a bright orange, rather than Nightflower’s purple.

“Um, hello. As you know, I will be taking the position of Torch-bearer in the future. Fran has been a good mentor so far! As part of my training, I will spend a moon living in each camp. I hope to see you all soon!” Penny smiled as she spoke, even though she seemed nervous. She stepped back, and the Gathering began

The extra cats began to cheer. They must have been Wanderer’s cats, she figured. One of them was talking with Starleaf— a grizzled dilute calico molly. Starleaf beckoned Nightflower over.

“You can go congratulate your friend in a bit— there’s someone I want you to meet first.” Starleaf spoke outwardly with a curtness, to keep up appearances. Of course, Nightflower knew her mother well enough to tell that she was quite excited.

“Who is it, Starleaf?” Nightflower said, careful to keep familiarity out of her voice.

Starleaf motioned to the calico molly, and they slinked out of the Four Corners through a rotted board. Nightflower quickly followed after them.

Once they were far enough away to avoid eavesdroppers, Starleaf smiled.

“Nightflower, do you know your grandmother?”

She blinked. Her… grandmother?

The calico molly laughed. “Oh, the little one wouldn’t remember. She was just a week old!”

Nightflower gasped. “I’m so sorry… I can’t remember you. I’m a terrible granddaughter!”

“Come on, don’t worry dear. My name is Squirrel. I’m your mother’s mother; your grandmother. I used to lead a squad of the Wanderers, back in the day. Now your mother’s sister’s taken it over.”

“I-It’s nice to meet you, Grandma!” she stood up straight.

“How’s retirement been, Mom?” Starleaf asked.

Squirrel chuckled. “Oh, it’s been nice. Your father’s No-furs keep me fed, and it’s fun to see the new recruits struggling in the yard! Maya was too busy to come with me, but she says hi.”

“Maya?” Nightflower asked.

“Ah, you haven’t met any of your aunts and uncle, have you?” Squirrel chuckled. “Maya is one of your mother’s sisters. She’s the one who took over my squad. There’s also Hazel, my son, and Shauna.”

“Penny is Shauna’s daughter.” Starleaf clarified. “That’s why your grandma hauled herself all the way here.”

“Ah, and what a good decision that was. I’m so glad you’re doing well here.” Squirrel smiled. “I wish your littermate was still with us. But I supposed she’s watching over you from your stars, isn’t she?”

Nightflower’s thoughts lingered on Ravenkit, and how she had seen her last moon. “Yeah. Sometimes I wish I knew what she was thinking.”

Starleaf seemed surprised. “You’ve seen her recently?”

“Yeah. She led me to Grassfoot on the First Snow. I wouldn’t have found her if it wasn’t for Ravenkit.”

Starleaf furrowed her brow. “I— I didn’t know that. Nightflower, will you remember to tell me next time you see her?”

Nightflower gasped. “Oh! Yeah Mom, I promise. Sorry, it slipped my mind.”

The grief lingered in Starleaf’s mind just as it did Nightflower’s. She hadn’t really considered how hard it was for her mother to not know what Ravenkit was doing… and to watch one child grow, while the other stayed the same for all of eternity.

Squirrel butt her head into Starleaf’s, then Nightflower’s. “It’s so good to see my kin again. If you’re ever in the area, be sure to stop by the No-fur den, ok? Conan and I will be so happy to see you around. And make sure you take care of Penny, alright? Don’t let those Swampclan bastards hurt her!”

Starleaf turned to Nightflower. “You can go now. I’m going to stay to catch up with my mom for a bit. Enjoy the Gathering, ok?”

Nightflower smiled. “Alright. Bye Mom. And it was nice meeting you, Grandma!”

“Good seeing you too, dear!” Squirrel waved her off.

—

When Nightflower had returned, everyone had started eating. She picked up one of the last pieces of prey, a small sparrow, and ran over to where Firefall was sat.

Their friend group was tucked into a corner, away from the fire. Not many others were near them due to how cold it was that night, but the friends huddled together for warmth. It was Shimmersky and Lynxclaw on the outside and on the inside, was the new warrior of the day.

For a molly who just passed the greatest milestone of her life, she looked awfully conflicted. Just as much as the rest of her clan. Nightflower set her food down next to Firefall and turned to her.

“Hey new warrior!” She said excitedly.

“Hey.” Firefall repeated without much enthusiasm.

“What’s with the long face?”

She just turned away.

Shimmersky nudged Nightflower “Hey, trade prey!” Shimmersky had a big, juicy vole by her side. Nightflower was happy to oblige.

The friends sat side by side, silently eating prey, before Lynxclaw spoke.

“Ok, enough of this! Firefall, what’s going on?! You’ve been practically counting down the days before you became a warrior, so why are you so upset now?!”

Firefall looked at her food. “I… I can’t tell you. I’m not supposed to discuss it with the other clans.”

“Other clans?!” Lynxclaw was indignant. “Firefall, we’re your friends! We’re not some enemy!”

Nightflower looked at Shimmersky, then back at Firefall. Shimmersky nodded. “Go for it.”

“Hey, I get it Firefall. I get it.” Nightflower started. Firefall seemed to relax a bit. “If it makes you feel better… I have a secret of my own.”

Lynxclaw’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not supposed to tell the other clans, but… you’re my friends. I think it’s time for you to know.” Nightflower said, “I’m not Shimmersky’s littermate. I’m Darkstar and Starleaf’s surviving kit.”

Firefall and Lynxclaw’s eyes went wide.

“I-is that really safe to be saying out loud?!” Lynxclaw whispered. They knew just as well as Nightflower did the danger of what that meant. “I mean, we won’t tell anyone, but what if someone heard that?!”

“You… survived. You survived that. You’re… you’re the cat from the prophecy.” Firefall looked at her with a new expression; one of determination.

“Yeah. I know this is dangerous. But I trust you guys. And I want you to know that we trust you too, Firefall. We’d never tell your secret to anyone else.”

Firefall nodded. “Ok. Ok…” she looked up. “Do you know what reincarnation is?”

Nightflower shook her head. Shimmersky and Lynxclaw seemed similarly confused.

Firefall continued. “Basically… if a kit dies really young, they can sometimes use their power to be born again. They lose their memories, but get a second change at life. It’s purely Starclan power— they don’t even need a second parent to be reborn.”

Nightflower could see where this was going.

“One of my clanmates— Ashrise— used to get really weird around me. A few others would too, but especially him. And I never used to know why. But… this moon, my parents sat me down. Apparently… I’m the reincarnation of one of his dead kits. They figured this out because… well… apparently my father can’t father kits. So my parents were really confused as to how I came to be. And when I was born, I looked a lot like Ashrise’s kit Emeraldkit.”

“Emeraldkit?” Shimmersky asked. “This must have been long before our time. I’ve never heard of that name before.”

“Pearlheart went to Starclan to ask, and well… all of the other kits were still there; except Emeraldkit. And her littermates confirmed it. I’m… someone’s dead kit. I don’t know what to do. Do I talk to Ashrise? He’s… technically my father. But at the same time… I love my parents. Rainleaf and Bloomfur are the ones who raised me. And I don’t know… do I even have room for another parent?“

Nightflower looked at Firefall. “I don’t think it should be up to us what you do. In the end, your decision is your decision. But… I mean, I don’t think it’ll hurt to get to know him. Maybe give it a try? In my experience,” she thought about Rime and their porch, “another parent never got rid the ones that came before. They just became another person to love.”

Firefall seemed to think about it a bit. “I… yeah. I’ll give it a try. Maybe not yet, but someday. Ashrise has always been nice.” she sighed. “It’s weird to think about how I’m technically the deputy’s sister.”

Lynxclaw thought for a moment. “Have you been able to meet Emeraldkit’s other parent?”

Firefall scrunched up. “No… that’s the weirdest part of this whole situation. They won’t tell me anything about Emeraldkit’s mother or how she died. The whole clan’s been on edge about it. Something… bad happened. Something really bad.” she sighed for a moment. “All I know is that she was the cleric before Flyheart. I don’t know a name though.”

Both Lynxclaw and Shimmersky looked as confused as Nightflower felt.

“Well, just know that we’re here to support you, Firefall. If you ever feel like your clan’s too hard to be around, you can come stay with us in Crystalclan.” Shimmersky butt her head into Firefall’s. She chuckled.

“I’d offer too, but Badgerstar is the worst. He probably won’t let you stay. I’d fight him for you though!” Lynxclaw added.

“Thanks guys.” Firefall smiled. “I might take you up on that offer. Not the fight one though— I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Nightflower settled in closer to Firefall. “We can stay with you until the end of the Gathering, if you want.”

She laughed a bit. “I think I’m getting flashbacks to that first Gathering.”

“Hey, you get your turn to mourn too. It really sucks to be isolated from your clanmates.” Lynxclaw looked over to the side, eyes focused on a small group. Nightflower could see Penny speaking with Yarrowheart and Badgerstar.

“Agreed.” Firefall said.

The four settled into their spots, talking idly until the gathering ended.

—

Nightflower and Shimmersky had said goodbye to Lynxclaw and Firefall, wishing them the best. They joined the rest of their clan on the way out. Everything had seemed to conclude normally. It was just Swampclan and Crystalclan left in the Four Corners. Both were on their way out. Nightflower was with Starleaf.

“Where will Penny sleep when she comes to our clan?”

Starleaf hummed. “I think the elder’s den would be best. It’s empty for now, so she’d be quite comfortable there.”

Nightflower started to make a statement in agreement, before the loudest yowl she’d ever heard ripped across camp.

“YOU FOX-HEART!”

Nightflower turned to see Jaggedpaw, the apprentice from before, wrestling with Tigerpaw.

“I’LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!” her claws were sheathed, but her eyes were filled with as much venom as her words. She had managed to pin Tigerpaw down.

“IT’S NOT THAT SERIOUS, MOUSEBRAIN!” Tigerpaw shouted back, kicking her with his hind legs.

She was unrelenting, leaning into him. “Apologize.” she spat.

“NO! I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING WRONG!” he writhed under her paws.

Nightflower had started her way there, but Starleaf had already bounded over to separate them.

“That’s enough, Jaggedpaw.” a voice interjected.

Redstar himself calmly strode towards the two apprentices.

“F-Father!” Jaggedpaw smiled.

“Get off the apprentice this instant.” He said.

She looked horrified. “B-But… but he insulted our clan!”

Redstar’s expression never changed. “You are the one insulting our clan with your conduct. Get off him.”

She retreated, stepping off Tigerpaw with a scoff. As she left, Nightflower could swear she saw tears prickling at the corners of her eye.

“This Gathering has already concluded. Jaggedpaw will be punished later for this mistake.” Redstar said, before beckoning the rest of his clan to leave. They exited out of the main entrance.

The Swampclan cats whispered among themselves as they left. Nightflower could have sworn some of them were laughing.

“What were you thinking?!” Starleaf yelled at her apprentice. “Fighting at a Gathering… do you know how that looks? It’s dangerous!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Tigerpaw bristled under the scolding. “I wasn’t even talking to her! All I said was that it’s creepy that Swampclan is making kits apprentices!”

Starleaf sighed. “Because of you, we could have been in a serious situation. You need to learn to hold your tongue better at Gatherings.” she placed a paw on his shoulder. “What would I have told your parents if you had gotten hurt?”

Tigerpaw scoffed. “She’s just a kit. She can’t hurt me.”

“Really? Because it looked like she was winning to me.” Pebblepaw added with a smirk.

“Shut up Pebblepaw!” Tigerpaw lunged after his sister, who ran away laughing. He followed after her, huffing in anger.

Starleaf looked very tired. “She won’t be a kit forever…”

“There’s no way he can hear you, Mom.” Nightflower replied.

“I know. I just worry for him. He’s too impulsive for his own good.” Starleaf sighed.

Nightflower bumped into her mother’s side. “He’ll learn someday.”

“I hope you’re right, Nightflower.”

—

Jaggedpaw was huddled in a corner of the nursery, wrapping her body around her paw. All she could hear was Rosekit’s raspy breaths. She huffed, turning in on herself.

“Do you want me to look at that, Jaggedpaw?”

She looked up to see Alderflower.

“No. I don’t need any medical care. Focus on stupid Rosekit.”

Alderflower looked at Rosekit, who slept soundly despite her mangled leg. Jaggedpaw couldn’t understand. Why in the world would she care so much about a kit that wasn’t even hers? Why wouldn’t she just let it die?

“Rosekit is stable. Her wounds aren’t bleeding.” Alderflower finally replied. “Yours are. Let me look at them.”

Jaggedpaw acquiesced, holding her injured paw out to Alderflower.

Alderflower gently took Jaggedpaw’s bleeding paw into hers. “He did this to you, didn’t he?”

“No. He didn’t. And even if he did, I deserved it for disgracing our clan.” Jaggedpaw snapped.

Alderflower licked her paw clean, which made Jaggedpaw wince. “Alright, I won’t push.”

She grabbed some cobwebs out from beneath the nest, placing it on Jaggedpaw’s wound.

“It should heal without a scar. You’ll be alright.” Alderflower smiled. “Do you want to sleep with me and Rosekit tonight?”

Jaggedpaw turned up her nose. “No. I don’t want to.”

She looked out of the nursery to the empty apprentice den, where she slept all by herself. Snow had begun to form a thick layer on the ground.

“But the apprentice den is really cold, so I suppose I have no choice.”

Alderflower moved over to make room for Jaggedpaw. She reluctantly slotted herself inside.

She’d be a great warrior someday. One that made her father proud. Today, she slept in the nursery. But tomorrow, she’d plot her revenge.

[allzelemonz]

Finding and Feeling (2.2): A Plea

Pairing Type: M/M Rating: T/Language, violence Warnings: Internalized homophobia, drinking, pining, murder, mention of prostitution Summary: Bill struggles with his thoughts now that Kieran is readily in plain sight. Other Chapters

As much as Bill would like to deny it, he can’t keep his mind straight. He just went out with Lenny, intending to teach the kid a few tricks but he ended up letting him take the lead. Bill just can’t quite get his head right. And it has absolutely nothing to do with the O’Driscoll. Of course not. Over the past few days he certainly hasn’t gone soft over the fact that the kid practically whined his name when he begged for food. No, of course not.

Bill feels fine. Perfectly fine, normal, and non-inverted.

And yet, when he sits down by the fire, he angles himself so he can see the O’Driscoll through the moving bodies and poles and ropes. He’s slumped forward. That’s how he spends most of his day, probably trying to relieve the weight from his feet and legs. He straightens up and Bill catches just a glimpse of blonde hair. Miss Adler stops in front of the boy. While Bill can’t hear what exactly she says, the message is very clear when she upturns a bowl of food on the ground in front of the boy’s face.

Bill’s heart stings at the sight. He clenches his fist unconsciously, giving Miss Adler a hard stare as she walks away. If there were no consequences, if it wasn’t wrong, Bill would untie the boy himself and feed him something filling and warm, protecting him from everything. But there are consequences and it is wrong. There is no reason Bill should feel so protective, so bothered by the hazing, but he does. He watches the boy slump forward again and Bill can imagine the soft groaning and whining even though he can’t hear it. His heart beats quickly and he decides to attempt silencing it with a long swallow of beer.

In the next few days, Bill tries to keep himself from Kieran for his own sake. The last time he gave in to some inverted attraction, nothing ended well for Bill. Of course, he has a bit more agency now, but he doesn’t know things well enough to be certain of his safety. Besides, this is a fluke. He’s not actually attracted to the little weasel. That would be crazy.

So Bill busies himself. He takes what jobs he can to make his heart beat for something other than the shrill sounds the O’Driscoll makes or the sweat that covers his partly exposed chest. When he is in camp, he drinks enough to numb his mind. Arthur sometimes catches Bill falling from his seat from the drunken state, Javier certainly uses it to beat him at poker several times over. All the while, Bill still catches himself staring at the O’Driscoll some nights when no one is around. How easy it would be to do something.

One night, when Bill has to slap himself out of his thoughts, he forces himself onto Brown Jack and rides aimlessly. He thinks about going into Valentine and trying to make his mind right with a working girl, but the last time he tried that he practically scurried away when she merely touched his chest. Instead, he stops Brown Jack where he can see smoke lofting into the sky. When he gets closer he finds a little camp of O’Driscolls and smirks to himself. Naturally, he shoots all the men he sees and loots the camp. It gives him a small reprieve from the intrusive thoughts and he happens upon a bottle of whiskey that he downs without question.

With only stumbling left in his repertoire of mobility, Bill leans against his horse and looks up at the stars. “I dunno, Jackie.” He mutters. “‘m sick, ain’t I?”

Brown Jack tosses his head in protest, huffing a storm.

Bill cracks a smile, walking around to pat his horse’s nose. “Yer a good boy, Jackie.”

The norse nuzzles into Bill’s hand and Bill produces a treat as if automatic.

“Shit.” He groans, leaning his head onto the horse. “Only thing that makes sense.”

Brown Jack nudges his nose over Bill’s shoulder and the man doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around the big horse’s neck. Tears well in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall, he won’t let the sissy feelings make him go so far. Instead he clings to his horse, idly running his fingers through the unbrushed mane and trying to make his mind be quiet.

[casualsnickers]

Month of Emmet Quick Write #17

Prompt #17: AU

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon AU time. Team Conductors is a Supply Team whose sole job revolves around setting up base camps so that Exploration Teams can progress safely. Emmet is a bit jealous. Think PLA but in the PMD universe. This one's all exposition.

Read the whole thing below the cut.

“Right here! We’re right on schedule!”

Emmet huffed, setting one hooked claw into the cliff’s crevice before hauling himself onto the small allotted clearing that his brother, Ingo, had pointed out during their ascension. Emmet got onto his feet, stilling as a large shadow settled over him.

“Move it, short-stack.” Lady Sneasler chuckled as she passed Emmet, playfully ruffling the dark fur atop his head as she javelined a stalactite into the ground, quickly affixing a scrap of gray cloth to the tip. “Here we are! We’ve finally arrived at the midpoint of Mount Coronet! And after hours and hours of wandering around the base, no less.”

“No thanks to Ingo,” Emmet muttered under his breath. 

Emmet was a part of an exploration team. One that he had formed with his brother years in the past when they used to be baby pokémon. Exploration teams explored. But Emmet and his brother, Ingo, had formed a team with the sole purpose of making waystations within mystery dungeons. A supply team. Setting aside floors within mystery dungeons and setting up Kangaskhan Rocks so that other weary teams could rest, refuel, and maintain their inventory before continuing along their own tracks.

Exploration teams couldn’t function without supply teams. Both were two sides of the same coin. Exploration teams found mystery dungeons and supply teams set up communications and rest stops within dungeons. And it just so happened that Emmet’s team- Team Conductors- was the most renowned Supply Team in the whole region. They had been the first team contacted to begin laying out a chain along the sheer size of Mount Coronet. A difficult task. Just arriving at their first base camp had taken an entire week. 

Emmet was the chief battler. He did almost all of the fighting and strategizing and he always led at the helm whenever a new mystery dungeon would appear. Ingo was the item master of the group. He could sniff out items through walls and he was the only one in the group who knew how to construct Kangaskhan Rocks in the first place. Lady Sneasler had been the caboose to the brother’s two-car train. She had been invited by Ingo to join the party- without Emmet’s consent- but the noble pokémon had shown her worth in her charisma. She was able to access high-risk dungeons that both Ingo and Emmet had been forbidden from going in on their own. That in turn had led to both of the brothers gaining levels quickly, raising their reputation even more.

Apparently, Ingo had heard Emmet’s smart remark, clawing his way up last. His red eyes glinted with barely disguised annoyance. “I was attempting to discover all of the treasures hidden on our last platform! Forgive me if our food stocks were low!” He then shook out his pale, spotted fur and affixed his dusty, old black cap onto his head.

“I think we were just fine,” Lady Sneasler commented as she popped an entire Perfect Apple into her mouth. “Though,” she murmured, staring outward at the massive cliff view, “I’m surprised that we were the first ones to get here.” Sneasler unloaded the basket at her back, stacking a few supply crates against a rocky wall as the two sneasel-brothers worked around her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Lord Braviary’s team- Team Loft Wing- weren’t those idiots supposed to get here first?”

“They were!” Ingo slid down from his place in the cliff, taking a drink of water from the pouch on his bag as he shook spare splinters from his paws. “You must remember, my lady. We- Team Conductors- are the Supply Team. It is our duty to install and maintain the tracks necessary for our passengers to swiftly ascend through Mount Coronet. It wouldn’t be at all unusual for us to arrive at our destinations slightly faster than our trailing cars.”

“But. It is weird.” Emmet scanned the remaining miles of mountain stretching above them, the hair along his dark coat rippling at the prospect of reaching the snowy portions of the mountain. While both Ingo and Sneasler were poison and fighting types, Emmet was a dark and ice type. He had been waiting patiently to reach the colder areas near the summit. And of course, he pouted upon realizing that they had numerous stops to go before they would even reach where frost had been forming.

And so Team Conductors worked. Ingo erected the necessary Kangaskhan Rock. Sneasler tore apart the cliff floor and made it even, managing to dig up a clean spring to drink from. Emmet set up the open supply stocks, sorting through the items the three of them had been assembling throughout their long trek of Mount Coronet. In no time at all, the three had configured a working base camp of operations, even managing to get a fire going. They would remain in that particular base until another exploration group came and escorted them higher.

Mount Coronet was the largest mountain in the land, rising so high that it was theorized that only legendary pokémon could scale their way past the thick, foreboding cloud layer. Almost every exploration team in the world had begun making leeway toward reaching the summit after a strange rift had been torn open at the peak. A rift that- according to the words of multiple guilds- were causing teams to disappear in droves.

Emmet’s own guild- The Pearl Guild- had been some of the first to approach the base of the mountain and install as many supply floors as they could. And while Team Conductors was strong, Emmet wasn’t naive or stupid. There were plenty of stronger teams out there that were depending on his team and many other supply teams to support them as they stormed on ahead. 

Emmet wouldn’t lie to himself and betray the fact that he too wanted to discover what lay in the rift. But then his brother would strangle him and so too would Lady Sneasler if he strayed from his post.

“Oh, here we go.”

The clearing rumbled underfoot as a group of pokémon made their way up the cliff and onto the platform, pausing upon sighting Team Conductors resting by the fire as they stood loosely in the shadows of the cave.

The pokémon in the lead- a stocky Charmander with unnerving black eyes- eyed Emmet first, steam pouring from their mouth. They then squinted, cocking their head to the side. “Are you a member of Team Conductors?”

“Yyyup. That’s us,” Emmet retorted, flashing his badge at the newcomer. Jealousy boiled in his gut. “Do you need assistance?”

“No, not at all.” The Charmander then peered over their shoulder and waved their tail forward, one clawed hand grasping a water-rotten map and the other pointing at a break in the cliffs were shadows from the campfire had settled. “Team, we’re clear to proceed. Get what you need from the rock and then join me up the cliff.”

“Yes, captain!”

[celestial-coordinates]

Introduction

Finally decided to make a Tumblr for my sci-fi project that's been languishing on Amino for literal years.

The City

Astar City sits in the heart of the Atlantic, an artificial island that breaches the boundary of earth and the greater reaches of space. I is here that the greatest minds are trained, taught and cultivated to carry humanity forward in the pursuit of betterment--and to avoid the mistakes of the past. Guiding them are our allies and friends from beyond the stars, each bringing to the table something unique that enriches the lives of those living with and without gravity keeping them on the ground.

At the northernmost point stands the base of the great Gravern-Tybbs Space Elevator, the hub of planetary travel and resource management for Astar City and the very reason for the island to be built. The city itself consists of three 'rings' with the outermost zone being subdivided at the cross-quarters:

Northeast: the docks that import and export goods from the elevator to the rest of the world.

Northwest: the factories that shop materials used in the city itself or to be exported.

Across the midline is the Elgiss Channel that separates the industrial zone from the rest of the outer ring.

Southeast: Glassgow Park, a touch of nature to greet the incoming visitors and new citizens of Astar City.

Brightside amusement park lies at the southern tip of the island, full of neon and fiber optics.

Southwest: Elysium Square, named for the fields of heroes, this part of the outer ring is a type of nature reserve where festivals, recreation and camping occurs.

The secondary ring is the widest and most densely populated, hosting the library, museum, businesses, apartments, the university, etc. Different zones have developed based on local population and need, with various cultures carving out corners of the city for themselves, each connected by the monorail that covers the middle ring.

The inner ring is also known as Pillar Place and hosts only three buildings the locals refer to as "the ladies of Astar City" for their nicknames: Astrid, Ingrid and Ester.

Astar Technology, Research & Development (AsTReD) is the jewel of the city where the greatest minds of all species bring their skills together to move forward. There is a direct landing zone for small ships on the roof of the building which stands the tallest at 123 floors.

The Inter-Global Resource Department (InGReD), or “trade center”, manages the accounts and resources of Astar City, regulating repairs, jobs, money and relationships between earth and the colonies. Boasting 119 floors, it is the second tallest building in the city.

The third building is colloquially called “the ambassador apartments” but it's legally named the Exo-Endo Suites for Terran Relations (EESTeR) which are somewhere between a hotel, a timeshare and an apartment block for political figures to stay and to house the ambassadors of the Kuana which handle the translations and interactions on behalf of their patrons. The Lofted Gardens sit atop the spire, capping it at 115 floors.

No building in the city is allowed to exceed 100 floors as to not conflict with The Ladies.

The digital currency of the city is the kibb, which has an exchange rate of 100KBB=1.25 USD (kibb are counted like Japanese yen with no decimals or fractional dollars).

The Citizens

Boasting a colorful array of denizens, Astar City boasts not only the greatest diversity of new-earth cultures in one place, but also the most non-earth cultures as well. In the wake of The War for Change (also dubbed WWIII or the Eco-War), many cultures and countries on earth were fractured, lost or sub-divided as populations were deposed and borders redrawn. In an effort to preserve history and their memories, surviving groups were approached to document their culture and struggles post-war; some of these survivors eventually migrated to Astar City for work, settling in the new districts and reshaping their identities into what they are today.

Of the races/species represented, there are:

Humans, both Enhanced (robotic) and Modified (gene spliced)

Robots, the smallest faction, consisting of pure synthetic 'life' developed from rapidly advancing AI made by humans

Viispaa, currently majority Primes, some Curantis and Puer, a few Inimicus and Artifex (other subtypes coming soon)

Aska'a Thani, the second most common non-human under Viispaa

Kuana, though they remain in orbit and rarely come to the surface

Ravulcaba Mercs and Merchants, the most recent inclusion to the roster having appeared after responding to distress caused by stray Miscreant activity

Lem'iran, a single individual currently in hyper sleep with an unknown wake date

The System

By the onset of the 3030s, earth (also known as Terra, Geos or Gaia) and its resident sapient species, the humans, have touched the corners of their solar system and set up stations of one kind or another on most available surfaces. In 2375, the three races agreed that all space within 40 AU of Sol/Helios (our sun) would belong to humans by right and thus determined by them how it would be distributed and moderated. [dates are temporary and under reconsideration]

Moon/Luna/Selene: colonization of the moon started in 2260 as the first major unification project between the Kuana, Aska'a and humans. However, political and bureaucratic policies on earth forced the colony to declare independence in 2269, dubbing themselves the Greater Alliance Lunar Commonwealth, later dubbed Galuc. They celebrate the birth of the first off-world infant which opened the filed of psionics in 2272, with the colony town developing into something of a college-town. The University of Galuc is the only facility in the system greater than Astar University in terms of academic scope, with focus on the study of psionics, low-gravity survival and colonization of hostile landscapes, and deep-space communications and observation through the use of Arecibo II. Sim chambers are a staple of the lunar economy, with the short ride from the space elevator to the docking bay being little more than a train ride for citizens of Astar City.

Mercury: around 2380, in response to changes in the judicial system of earth, a high-security "reformation" station was built on Mercury though everyone knows its a prison. Intended to 'make use' of those who failed to contribute to society, the station ensures escape is impossible due to the harsh terrain of Mercury and its abysmal climate. Considered a one-way trip, the facility doubles as a factory for manufacturing and refining certain materials while utilizing a system similar to the moon's for being solar powered. After a failed uprising by inmates cause massive losses around 2600, the guards were replaced in majority with AI.

Venus: despite rovers surviving for upwards of 36 hours on the surface, in 2400 Venus was deemed "still hell" and quarantined as a waste dump for materials that don't decay, such as plastics; lack of terraforming technology has made planets like Venus "unsuitable" for colonization. Some materials such as radioactive waste are ejected into the sun for removal.

Mars: in 2375, after the Galuc colony debacle settled, Mars was considered for a new base of operations. The founding colony was established as a terraforming research facility, however as they gained space and samples, our alien allies began bringing embryos from other planets to help diversify our resources and fill niches that had not been needed on earth. While the technology for proper terraforming hit wall after wall, advancements in robotic AI allowed for opportunities to better mine asteroids for material. The Mars colony itself turned its focus to conservation and study of exotic animals, becoming the system's largest wildlife preserve and only place currently allowing the display of non-Sol species.

Belt: under control of the InAMi Corporation (Inner Astroid Mining Corporation) since 2727

Jupiter: with the onset of gravity-assist launching methods becoming standard practice and trial runs of quantum radio broadcasting, the year 2572 saw the beginning of Jovian lunar colonization to help facilitate asteroid mining. By 2586, the Jovian Lunar Bases dominate the field in terms of mining exports and AI development for industrial workplaces.

Saturn: while Saturn's moons were under observation for colonization since 2586, the first bases weren't established until 2601 due in part to the fuel requirements and resource limitations, but also from the mysterious, radioactive wreck found floating between Saturn and Uranus in 2590. The make of the ship was not familiar, life signs were absent and no race claimed a missing ship, thus it was hauled to an asteroid base for study and dubbed The Shell. High levels of radiation and no comparisons for deciphering the salvage brings the study to a crawl.

Uranus: 2697 saw the first attempt to colonize Uranus, however energy requirements caused major hiccups along the way, forcing the orbital station to be shut down until alternatives are found. Inami Corp funds a smaller station to facilitate the development of electro-magnetic generators while supplying fossil fuels to the station. A gamble is taken on whether or not Neptune's moon, Triton, has liquid water which could be used for hydro-electric power. After the prototype solar-powered hypercells are perfected, the colony station comes back online on restricted power in 2836 with a focus on using magnetic fields for energy.

Neptune: in 2735 the gamble paid off and a team was sent to try and establish a power facility in the back half of the system. Despite this, tensions arose between the sentient races regarding the withholding of technology, creating The Frozen Period where advancement and colonization effectively stopped until 2825. Proper colonization of Triton begins in 2862, growing it into a power station and foothold to the Kuiper belt by 2870.

Pluto: In 2881, a unknown signal from outside the solar system is detected; origins are unknown and unclaimed, but the possibility of more life on their level existing encourages a project for converting Pluto and the other demi-planets to be fitted with signal transmitters to boost and detect further broadcasts. In 2891, after siphoning most of the unstable radiation from The Shell and spending a considerable amount of time breaking down the remnant of a language, it's discovered the console received a signal whose imprint matched the mysterious signal from a decade prior, which had previously been written off as interference from sunspots. In 2913, the Exo-Solar Communications Station (ESCoS) comes online.

Kuiper belt: under control of Inami Corp's sister company, OKAMi (Outer-Kuiper Asteroid Mining) since 2878.

[valemya]

𝟐𝟓 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒. ❆ ⋆⁺₊❅ .

⌗ 𝟐. gingerbread houses ; What does your house look like in your dr? Who do you live with? What is your favorite aspect of your house?

Alrighty so technically I don’t have a house in my dr. But I go between two living spaces, one in the jedi temple on Coruscant, and the other in my General’s quarters on the Venator ship.

I don’t really have a solid visual of how my dorm in the temple looks, but it’s a pretty squished shoebox-style room with an attached fresher. I have room for a loft bed and a desk opposite each other, and a built in closet by the entrance. Because I’m a jedi and all, there is a small space for meditation, which is separated from the rest of the room by a step. It it’s a little wooden alcove attached to a giant floor to ceiling window with a nice view of the upper levels of Coruscant above the clouds. I’ve got a little cushion/pillow on the ground to sit on up there too. My favourite part of the dorm is how I’ve decorated and made it more of my own space. As the Jedi think they’re prestigious, their architecture reflects it. The walls in this dorm are a strange material, think something with visual similarity to beige marble yet more of the integrity and sensation of steel. Dunno what it is, but it doesn’t matter because I’ve covered 80% of it in various posters and pictures during my more rebellious padawan years.

I don’t live with anyone here, not in the room anyway. The hallway outside is filled with other jedi dorms but there is no expectation to share space, everyone has their own individual dorm and fresher. That being said my Padawan Ezra will sometimes set up camp underneath my loft bed with his sleeping bag and pillows and his stuffed loth cat plushie, which doesn’t bother me too much cause I’m a heavy sleeper anyway. I don’t often get the opportunity to bring the boyfriend around either.. yknow jedi rules around attachment and stuff. But some rules are made to be broken

The other place of residence I have, which I find myself staying at considerably more frequently than the temple, is my quarters on the venator star destroyer. This I do have a picture of, though I imagine the space to be a little more efficiently utilised than what we’ve got here. That empty space in front of the kitchen/cabinetry area would usually hold either a lounge of some sort, or a fold out table to have dinners on. This place is more utilitarian than my temple dorm, so I’ve got an abysmal lack of decor and personal flare in it. A few holo pictures are scattered around, but there isn’t much going on besides that. My favourite part of this living space is the lighting however, it can be switched to any colour but I do usually keep it at a romantic pinky colour 😏

That leads into the last part which is who lives with me there. This room being on my personal(ish) Star destroyer allows a lot more freedom with who I can invite to stay. This is the primary room where I get to spend time with Tech, so whenever I’m graced by his and the batch’s presence for missions or whatever, this is where we will both sleep. The rest of tbb take the marauder sorry

credit to @solstices-dreams for the shiftmas prompts 🎄

[startseeingstars]

Delicate Destruction - Euronymous (Lords of Chaos)

CH17 🎶 Ghastly - Glare 🎶

T/W - mature themes, drug/alcohol use

It had been a blur of a night - as were many of my nights lately. I woke up to a knock on my bedroom door, head thumping, room spinning and I groaned. Krista was laying beside me, snoring lightly, her make up a mess. I bet mine would be the same.

Another knock sounded on my door and I grunted an invitation in.

Erik opened the door, holding a bowl of cereal.

"It's 3pm." He said before shovelling a spoonful into his mouth.

"Fuck."

I pushed open the shop door, wincing as the bell above me chimed loudly. I removed my sunglasses and threw my hair into a ponytail, tying my apron around my waist.

"Where have you been?" Hammed asked, annoyed.

"I'm sorry." I muttered, heading for the till, ready to serve the next customer in line. He jumped on the grill and I took a few orders, running on fumes. I glanced up as I handed an order to someone, spotting Øystein and the gang sitting at one of the tables. He looked away when I saw him.

We hadn't spoken a lot since that night at the bar, and that had been almost two months ago. We had seen each other around and made civil small talk but I'd always left early or avoided him completely. Work was the one place I didn't have that luxury.

As business slowed, Hammed began helping me wipe down the benches. "Why were you late today?" He asked as he cleaned. He wasn't mad, but I could tell he was getting sick of my shit. I'd been late a lot recently. Even completely forgot about a shift and no showed.

"I'm sorry, Hammed. I overslept." I scrubbed the bench harder than I needed to.

"You've been having a lot of late nights lately." He commented. "Is everything okay? You seem unhappy." I looked up and saw Øystein watching, listening.

I swallowed.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry." I forced a smile, finally meeting Hammed's gaze.

"I appreciate you checking in on me. I promise it won't happen again."

Jan approached the counter.

"Else," he greeted me with a warm smile. "You look tired as fuck. You sleeping?" His eyebrows furrowed, his expression quickly changing. I chuckled.

"You really know how to charm a girl."

He offered an apologetic smile.

"Haven't seen you in a while. How's Krista?" He asked, avoiding my gaze. I smirked.

"Single, if that's what you're asking." I swore I saw him blush.

"That obvious, huh?" He shuffled on his feet for a moment. "We are having drinks at the bar tomorrow night. You guys should come." He seemed hopeful.

"Drinks? We're there." I laughed. He grinned.

"Sweet, see you guys tomorrow."

I returned to my cleaning, a little anxious about hanging around Øystein again. Maybe he wouldn't even be there? No matter. Even if he was, there were plenty of others I could talk to.