#sparkling sanding sugar

[blossomsinthemist]

Jack Frost's Iridescent Chocolate Bark

[cherryredstars]

you know what season it is!!! back shots in a sundress with no panties!! i strongly request rich people private beach sex! boat sex! rich sugar daddy husband who is never really home but when he is he WRECKS your body!!

Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara, Simon Riley, John Price x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Public Sex, SugarDaddy!Characters, Simon isn't gentle in this one (sorry!)

A/N: My favorite season!!!!

Unedited

| SIMON "GHOST" RILEY: CAKE BY THE OCEAN

He can't help himself when his pretty baby is all dolled up for him.

You got that cute little sundress he bought you on, letting out little giggles every time the wind picks up and you have to hold your dress down like the better version of Marilyn Monroe. He doesn't understand why you do it though. You're the one who begged him to take leave so the two of you can spend the warm weather at the beach house, wanting to spend time on the private beach. Plus, if you really cared about decency, you wouldn't have left without panties. He thinks you're adorable, clueless to the fact that you've flashed him a handful of times already.

But maybe that's part of some secret plan you've been plotting. especially when you pout at him and demand he let you rub sunscreen all over his body.

I just don't want your scars to get irritated, Si.

He thinks your a fucking liar. How else would that explain the way you so willingly sprawl out on the beach blanket you've brought along, your bare ass exposed to him as your dress is bunched around your waist. In the sun, he can see your dripping cunt glistening with arousal. He fucking loves the pretty gasps you let out when the wind fans over your folds, a tiny plea for him to stop his teasing following after. His poor, spoiled baby, so desperate to have a different kind of fun at the beach.

He doesn't care for the beating sun burning his back as his thick cock slides through your puffy folds, more focused on the way your insides are a thousand times hotter. The only thing he needs coating his skin is your sticky arousal as it drips around his cock, a foamy ring of white forming at his base as he thrusts into you. He hates sand, but he doesn't mind the way it gets on the blanket as you pull on it, crying and hiccuping at him how it's too much.

"Si! It's too hot, I'm getting all gross and sweaty!" You sob out, teary eyes looking back at him.

He coos at your cries, giving your ass a hard smack before rubbing the pain away. You could have just told him you needed something to help you cool down. He's more than happy to help as he licks over your skin, his saliva coating your neck and shoulder blades. You taste like the sun and sweat, and he knows that after his he'll need to eat out that pretty pussy of yours to see how they add to your addictive taste.

He must have spoiled you too much, rolling his eyes as you start complaining about how sticky your skin feels with his spit drying on you. He shuts you up with a few punishing thrusts, only tolerating your incoherently wobbly moans and cries. He grits his teeth when he feels his high peaking, swiftly pulling out of you with a groan as he hot seed shoots onto your back. It darkens the fabric of your dress, pearly lines sitting on your sparkling skin.

Simon chuckles as you whine under him, his rough hands rubbing his cum over your skin in a thin layer.

"Gotta make sure your pretty skin is nice and coated, love."

His cum looks close enough to sunscreen, anyways.

| MIGUEL O'HARA: HANDS ON THE WHEEL

"Keep 'er steady, baby."

You only moan back in reply, your hands tightening around the wheel. Your hands are sweating from the sun's heat and from the heat radiating off of Miguel's body as he thrusts into you. The sound of your wet cunt is drowned out by the sound of the ocean, but Miguel is more concerned about the ocean of wetness that gushes around his cock. Your grip on the wheel has nothing on the vice grip your pulsating walls have on his cock.

His large hands reach up, his chest pressing against your sweaty back as his hands cover yours. He guides your hands slightly to keep the wheel straight, his thrusts not stopping. He's trying to teach you how to steer the boat through groans, and you only moan and whine in response as your mind gets consumed by the way his cock drills into you. Miguel curses when your grip on the wheel slips, your body falling forward as your orgasm crashes into you and the wheel spins quickly out of control.

His hand instinctively clasps around your neck to keep you from hitting your head on the wheel, making your back arch as he pulls you close to him as his other hand works to fix the wheel. His cock slips out of you, the ends of your fluttery dress pushing over his angry tip. He grunts as he thrusts his cock into your back, groaning as he spurts hot strings of pearly white dampen the back of your dress. You babble as you come down, feeling the wet parts of your dress starting to cling to your skin.

"Didn't I tell you that ya'gotta be careful while at the wheel, mi vida?"

Well, whose fault is that.

| JOHN PRICE: PRETTY HOUSEWIFE

This by far is his favorite part of coming home.

He loves getting home after a rough deployment, only to find his pretty little wife waiting dutifully at home for him. You treat it like a special occasion, making his favorite meals in that cute little apron and sundress that has his cock throbbing. You're so good to him. It's only right that he shows his appreciation with a good fucking.

He doesn't care if his hot plate of food is getting cold as he bullies his cock into your needy hole. You're so tight from not being filled with his cock for so long, your fingers not stretching you out the way his fat cock can. Your little moans and cries of his name are the only nourishment he needs at the moment. His pretty little wife takes him so well.

"Looks so gorgeous f'me like this, doll." John grunts at you, chuckling at the way your walls flutter around him.

This is by far the greatest way to be welcomed home, and of course he's gotta give you the first of many gifts he's got you while he was away. He groans low and deep as he shoots the build-up of cum that's been sitting painfully in his balls, watching as it gushes around his cock as your pussy gets stuffed full. You look so pretty sitting across from him in that sundress, trying to keep as much cum as possible in your snug cunt as he finally digs into his home-cooked meal.

No way in hell he'd let his seed go to waste.

[ira-hydrangea]

Twisted Sugar Realm

One fateful night, a mysterious comet of crystallized sugar streaked across the sky and crash into the forgotten land of Cookie kingdom. The crash created a strange new realm , now known as the Twisted Sugar Realm—a land where magic and sugar intertwine in dangerous ways.

Amidst the chaos, a Cookie born to balance it out. The Chosen Cookie, Y/N Cookie. Unlike ordinary Cookies, this cookie possesses a unique core of pure, ancient magic that holds the key to restoring balance. With their power, a balance soon found itself in Twisted Sugar Realm.

To help keep the balance, they appointed 7 Leaders Cookie and bestow them, the crystal shards. In return, this 7 Leader Cookies also pledge their loyalty to Chosen Cookie, swore to always protect them from the evil of all of this Cookie Land.

As the Twisted Sugar Realm formed, the magic of shards help reshaped the land giving each of the Leader Cookies authority to rules over their respective territory.

Crimson Tartland {The Kingdom of Order & Roses}

A kingdom where strict rules shape every layer of its golden crust. Once a land of warmth and harmony under the Sweetheart Queen, it is now governed by the Crimson Judge, who enforces absolute order. The land is shaped like a massive gingerbread castle garden, with candy-cane hedges, tart-filled fountains, and chessboard-patterned roads made of caramelized sugar.

Here, perfection is law, and those who dare disobey risk sugar petrification, becoming nothing more than lifeless cookie statues. The kingdom’s towering tart walls, caramel rivers of discipline, and the Crimson Court of Judgment reflect its ruler’s unyielding will.

Cinnamon Dune {The Kingdom of Spiced Winds}

Cinnamon Dune is a land of endless golden sands and sweet, spiced winds. Ruled by the Caramel Mirage King. This desert kingdom is lush with treasure and magic but the desert’s harsh landscape offers little mercy to those who seek to exploit it, where shimmering mirages confuse travelers and masked secrets lie buried beneath the dunes. The land is also steeped in cinnamon curses, and only those who understand the desert’s rhythm can survive its sweet, yet dangerous charm.

Molasses Abyss {The Kingdom of Sweet Shadows}

Hidden deep within the Twisted Sugar Realm, the Molasses Abyss is a dark and mysterious kingdom ruled by the Abyssal Confectioner. A sugary ocean of unknown depths, filled with secrets and syrupy contracts. The ocean is no longer water, but a dark, swirling mass of molten molasses and caramel waves, constantly shifting. This land is consumed by thick, dark molasses seas, where sweet contracts bind its inhabitants and where every deal comes with a price.

Gilded Sugar Oasis {The Kingdom of Sweet Serenity}

Gilded Sugar Oasis is a vibrant kingdom ruled by the cheerful and extravagant Sultan of Spiced Honey. This land is an oasis of golden honey rivers, saffron deserts, and lush palm trees that thrive under the warm, never-setting sun. A never-ending festival takes place here, with sugar-coated fireworks, golden candy pavilions, and a bustling dessert market. The rivers flow with liquid honey and sweet saffron syrup, with bridges made of almond brittle.

Beneath the radiant skies, the Gilded Sugar Oasis flourishes, offering endless riches and warmth, but with a touch of danger—for not all sweetness comes without a cost.

Crystalized Belle {The Kingdom of Shattered Beauty}

Crystallized Belle is a kingdom of breathtaking beauty and fragile perfection, ruled by the Sugarglass Monarch. The land is a stunning realm of sparkling sugarglass palaces and glimmering crystal flowers, where every corner reflects the pursuit of flawlessness. beauty is both power and prison, where imperfections are swiftly corrected, and those who fail to meet the highest standards risk being shattered into decorative pieces.

In Crystallized Belle, only the most refined and beautiful can thrive, but one wrong step could lead to a fall from grace, forever trapped in sugarglass.

Candied Circuit {The Kingdom of Sweet Innovation}

Candied Circuit is a kingdom where technology and candy collide, ruled by the enigmatic and tech-savvy, the Candied Phantom. This land is a mysterious blend of glowing neon candy wires, sugary circuitry, and futuristic confectionary factories, where everything is powered by candy magic and high-tech sweets. In Candied Circuit, the future of sweets and tech intertwines, but beneath the glowing surface, there are whispers of experiments gone wrong and sugary creations that have turned into dangerous, sentient beings.

Eclipsed Sugar Hollow {The Kingdom of Eclipse Magic}

Eclipsed Sugar Hollow is a mystical kingdom bathed in eternal twilight, ruled by the enigmatic Midnight Ice Sovereign. This realm exists in a perpetual moonlit glow, where macaron towers rise from dark chocolate rivers, and silvery sugar leaves flutter under the cool night air.

The kingdom’s magic is tied to the eclipsed moon, imbuing its people and landscape with dark enchantments and lunar energy. In Eclipsed Sugar Hollow, the lines between reality and dream blur, as illusions of sweet serenity hide hidden dangers. The land thrives on moonlit macaron magic, but the secrets of its power are as elusive as the changing phases of the moon itself.

The Sugarveil Haven {The Kingdom of Sweet Secrets}

The Sugarveil Haven is a land cloaked in mysterious sweetness, ruled by Y/N Cookie, the Sweet Mystery Keeper and also known as Chosen Cookie. Nestled in the heart of the Twisted Sugar Realm, this kingdom is enveloped in a constant, gentle sugar mist that gives the land an otherworldly glow. The veil of sugar hides the kingdom’s hidden wonders, where magical pastries and unseen treats linger just beyond reach, waiting to be discovered.

The kingdom is known for its whimsical charm and enchanting serenity, where the sweet aromas of sugar veil the truth behind its seemingly perfect facade. Secrets are woven into the very fabric of the realm, and only those with a true understanding of its mystical nature can uncover its hidden treasures.

In Sugarveil Haven, Y/N Cookie wisdom and quiet power guide the kingdom, balancing the delicate line between curiosity and danger, as the fog of mystery whispers of a hidden sweetness that could either be the key to the kingdom's future—or its undoing.

In the Cookie Run Kingdom, The Gingerbrave Gang and the Ancients have learned a tale of a Chosen Cookie, a special cookie whose powers could either save or destroy the entire Cookie world. This Chosen Cookie are maybe the key to restoring balance to the realms and unlocking a hidden power that can undo the damage caused by Dark Enchantress Cookie's spreading influence. With hope that this power can help them to defeat Dark Enchantress Cookie, the gang and the ancient decide to journey into the Twisted Sugar Realm and find this Chosen Cookie.

But what is the meaning of the journey if it not without trials?

[goalsongspinkthongs]

SUGAR - MATT REMPE

Y/N had known Matt for as long as she could remember. They had spent endless summers together, playing hide-and-seek in the park, climbing trees, and building forts out of old blankets in his basement. It wasn’t unusual for them to talk for hours on end, laughing about stupid things, or just sitting in comfortable silence, sharing the kind of friendship that made people think they were inseparable. And, in a way, they were.

But somewhere along the way, things had changed. The hugs had gotten longer, the glances a little more lingering. She’d caught herself daydreaming about him more than once. And when he smiled at her, there was a warmth in her chest that she couldn’t ignore.

Yet, despite everything, neither of them ever said it. They never talked about the way their hearts seemed to beat a little faster when the other was near. They had too much to lose. What if it ruined everything? What if their friendship—this thing that meant more to Y/N than anything else in the world—fell apart? She wasn’t ready to risk it.

"Matt’s just being Matt," she’d tell herself. "It’s just a stupid crush."

But the feeling wouldn’t go away.

Matt had always called her sugar. It was a nickname that made her cheeks flush every time he said it, even though it seemed so innocent. He used it in a way that made it feel like it meant something special, like he was the only person who got to call her that.

"Hey, sugar," Matt would say, grinning like he knew a secret.

And every time, Y/N would smile back, the flutter in her stomach a dead giveaway.

"Hey, Matt," she’d reply, her voice quieter than usual. She hoped he didn’t notice.

But he did. Of course, he did.

"Why do you always act so... weird?" Matt asked one afternoon as they sat on the swings, the setting sun painting the sky a soft pink. His legs were too long for the swing now, so he had to stretch out to avoid hitting the ground. But he didn’t seem to mind.

"I’m not weird," Y/N muttered, focusing on her shoes. She kicked the sand beneath her, pretending like she didn’t feel the way his gaze seemed to be on her constantly.

"Yeah, you are." He chuckled, nudging her with his elbow. "You’re acting weird right now, too."

"How am I acting weird?" Y/N laughed, though it didn’t sound like her normal laugh. It sounded too nervous. She couldn’t look at him. Not now.

"You know exactly what I mean, Y/N." He nudged her again, his eyes sparkling in that way that made Y/N feel like she might be falling into a trap.

She just shook her head, her heart thumping hard against her chest. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

It wasn’t like she could admit it—admit that her feelings for him had changed. She couldn’t risk it. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if she ruined everything?

Matt’s grin faded, and for a moment, it was just the two of them in silence. He didn’t nudge her again. He didn’t call her sugar. He just looked at her, his eyes soft but unreadable.

Y/N swallowed hard.

“Matt—” she started, but before she could finish, her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the moment. She pulled it out, relieved for the interruption.

“Hey! You still meeting me at the café later?" It was a message from Molly.

Y/N sighed, knowing that Molly would never let this go.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can.” She typed back quickly. “I don’t think I’m in the mood.”

“Well, you’re meeting me, because I am SO over this whole ‘I’m scared to tell Matt I like him’ thing. You have to tell him, Y/N. What are you waiting for?”

Y/N read the message again and groaned.

“Molly, stop. I can’t just tell him that. What if it ruins everything?”

Molly didn’t hesitate. “If it ruins everything, then it wasn’t meant to be. But at least you’ll know. You’re driving yourself crazy, girl. And Matt? He’s not exactly hiding how he feels. You’re not as good at pretending as you think you are.”

Y/N stared at the screen. Her heart skipped a beat. Could Matt really feel the same? Did he know? Was it that obvious?

She turned her phone off and shoved it back into her pocket.

"You good?" Matt asked, noticing the shift in her expression. "You seem... distracted."

Y/N swallowed and stood up from the swing. The wind ruffled her hair as she took a deep breath. The words were right there, stuck in her throat, waiting to spill out. But she couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t hide from it any longer.

“Matt,” she said, her voice shaky. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Matt looked up, eyes wide, his usual grin replaced by something a little more serious. “What’s up?”

Y/N took another deep breath, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I think... I think I like you. I mean—no, that’s not right. I—” She exhaled, trying again. “I’ve liked you for a really long time, Matt. I didn’t know how to say it. And I thought it would ruin things, but I can’t hide it anymore. I don’t want to.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Matt blinked at her, his face unreadable. Y/N felt like she might die from embarrassment. This was it. She had just ruined everything. She had just destroyed years of friendship with one sentence.

And then he smiled, just a little, but it was enough to make her breath catch.

“I was wondering when you’d finally say it,” Matt said softly, stepping closer to her. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her skin like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You’re not the only one, sugar."

Y/N felt her heart stop, then start again, faster than ever.

“You like me too?” she asked, barely believing it.

He nodded. “I thought you knew.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing in relief. “I didn’t. I didn’t know.”

“Well,” Matt said, “I’m glad you said it. Because I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without ruining everything too.”

Y/N’s heart soared as Matt reached out and pulled her into a hug. A real one, not just the usual friendly hug. She buried her face in his chest, feeling the warmth of him surrounding her.

“I love you,” Matt whispered into her hair. “You know that, right?”

Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at him, her heart full, her eyes wide. “I love you too.”

[frankensteinsfrankie]

Glitter Bomb Gone Wrong!!

Gender non-specific reader × Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, TW- Gun Shot accident, technically a home invasion, but not really. It's pretty much just shenanigans and fluff minus one paragraph!! Word count 1,545

Johnny really only had himself to blame. It started small, just with Kyle. Small things. Like taking the disgusting things that the military calls dessert, small cookies and brownies that were crunchy and needed more sugar. Still, when one is gone for so long, anything sweet tastes amazing. And then things escalated, itching powder in sleeping bags, clothes going missing every time he stepped out of the shower, baby powder in his shampoo.

Kyle had no clue why he was the target of this sudden prank war. But damn it if he wasn't going to play his part. Kyle wasn't known for his mischievous nature, but if you mess with a man's dessert, anything is possible. He put sand in Soap's shoes, really working it into the crevices, and underneath the inserts. That shit was never coming out. When Johnny woke up, all of the laces to his shoes and boots were completely undone. He had to spend an extra 30 minutes re tying his shoes, and Price was not happy. After two more missed morning runs, the Captain knew he had to sit them down and set them straight. When they got back from the field, and onto base, John called them both into his office. It was just going to be a standard talking to, at least until he sat down.

Ppppfpfffpffpffttttt...

Stifled laughter came from Soap, Gaz stayed quiet, frozen in fear and disbelief as the whoopie cushion deflated. A deep sigh came from Price, who put his face in his hands and rubbed them back through his greying hair. He was getting to old for this shit. He rolled his eyes.

"Get out."

They stood.

"Not you, Gaz, sit back down"

He sat.

"Close the door on your way out," Johnny closed the door, wondering if he went to far this time.

"Captain, I'm so sor-"

"Shut it, Gaz."

"Yes, sir."

And then, the plotting began. By the end of the week all three of them were trying to one up one another with dumb, relatively harmless pranks. And then, once again, Johnny went way to far.

Ghost had been indifferent to the shenanigans of the rest of the 141. He rolled his eyes at Soap and gruffed roughly whenever Gaz tried to include him in anything. He thought the whole thing was ridiculous and couldn't even begin to understand why Price was even entertaining this (To his defense, even an old man needs to feel young every once in a while). That was until he got home. He opened his bag with his masks, all of his clothing and gear. It was all covered. Covered in bright pink, very fine, glitter. The final nail in the coffin though, was a letter sitting on top of his newly pink mask, shimmering under the dull lamp sitting by ghosts bed.

"A little something to sparkle up your day."

Johnny's handwriting. He had signed his crime with a purple glittery pen. Where the Hell did he even get a purple glittery pen.

Of course Soap had waited until they were no longer living on the same base to get Ghost involved. A cowards move. But that wouldn't stop him, Ghost was now a man on a mission. An admittedly stupid mission, but still. The Task Force were close on or off base, they all lived in Manchester, just in case they needed to band together quickly for whatever reason. One text and the plan is formed. Johnny's lived in a small one bedroom two bathroom flat that was actually pretty nice. A pretty standard bachelor's pad. Price had a key. Gaz had a duffle bag filled with spray glue and glitter. Ghost had a plain black medical mask, as his was still in the dry cleaners going in for it's third round of washing.

The plan began without a hitch, glitter in between the couch cushions, on top of the ceiling fan, and into all of the air vents they could get too without moving furniture. They put glitter in his milk, in his cereal boxes, and in his shampoo. They were just going to scare him a little bit, and leave a couple surprises for later. One glittery shock after another. He'd be finding it around his flat for years. It would easily still be embedded in the carpet for the next sorry tenant who moves in. An easy plan, in and out in 10 minutes or less. It didn't even look like anyone had been there. What wasn't part of the plan? Johnny's little bird.

When they opened the bedroom door, they had no idea what would be waiting beyond it. You. Waking up slowly, stretching and reaching out to the space next to you without opening your eyes, "Come back to bed, my love." When you noticed you weren't smelling Johnny's signature cologne, you finally sat up, facing the three large men standing in your door way. They were frozen, shocked, confused. Johnny had a bird? Why hadn't he told them? The bastard never shuts up, but he didn't think to mention something like this? All of this happening in seconds, but to you the fear is nauseating. The adrenaline takes over before anyone has any opportunity to speak. Your hand was acting with a mind of its own. Quickly, within just a moment you were holding the small hand gun Johnny kept under his pillow. Before anyone could react you shot. Aimed for the biggest one, the one you were most afraid of. Two seconds later John was holding your gun, Kyle was holding your arms down, and Ghost was leaving blood smeared against your wall as he held his shoulder tight. No sound, no yelling, he just stood there, applying pressure to his wound. You wanted to scream but your voice was caught in your throat.

"Easy there, Easy." Kyle let go of you. "Where's Johnny?"

"What are you doing here?" You asked, not wanting to give up your fiancé to complete strangers who seemed dangerous.

"We work with him, my name is Kyle, this is John, and the one by the door is Simon." Something about Kyles voice soothed you. You had no reason to believe that he was telling the truth, but you recognized those names. And there's comfort in a name.

After a half a moment of awkward silence, you heard the door open. You shouted out for him, and Johnny ran into the room, knife drawn. He froze in the doorway, taking a look at you. And then his Task Force. And then the blood on the wall. And then back at you.

"Are you alright, Bonnie?"

"You should ask him," You responded gesturing to the man standing nearest the door.

Johnny looked at the wound, and then the Gun in Johns hand, he recognized it as the one from beneath his pillow. Putting two and two together, Johnny burst out laughing.

"That's my bonnie, aye Lt?" He doubled over, laughter bringing tears to his eyes. Kyle started up next, and soon he was full on laughing as well at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. The laughter was contagious, soon everyone except Ghost was at least smiling and chuckling. Afterwards, Johnny replaced Kyle by your bed side, and you finally got up and out of bed. Clinging to his side, although you knew you were safe, the adrenaline was still pumping through you. You felt a little unsteady. When you looked back at Simon, and the blood pouring from his shoulder, you felt your stomach churn.

Although you insisted on taking him to the hospital, everyone else seemed to shrug you off. He was fine, and Johnny had what was needed to fix him up. "Right as rain" he had said, in that accent that made you feel tipsy on life.

Now here you are, 2 in the morning, sitting on the floor with Johnny and Kyle because they didn't want to glitter bomb you (only your fiancé). You could hear Simon and Price from the bathroom. Turns out tough ol' Simon has a little fear of needles. When they came out, and joined you, you apologized for about the hundredth time, and he just brushed it off.

"Nah, you did what you should've done, I deserved, and really when you think about it. This wasn't your fault at all."

You cocked your eyebrow and hummed in response.

"No lovie, it was his fault" Simon pointed at Johnny with his good arm. " 'e put glitter in my bag"

You laughed first but then smacked Johnny playfully. With an exasperated voice, "Is that where all my glitter went??" You grabbed his ear, "and my purple pen???"

The rest of the guys enjoyed the sight of their buddy finally getting the reprimand that he deserved.

Later that week, after replacing all of the ruined food, you had the boys come over. This time, to clean up the mess left behind. And don't worry, you made sure that Johnny did the bulk of the cleaning. It was his fault this whole thing started in the first place.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Hi! Uh, I'm probably the least qualified to ask but Beach day adventure for the gang, perhaps? Maybe a pool party, with a bit of a showtime fanservice on the side? 👉👈

BEACH DAY

A DIGITAL CIRCUS ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

"Today's adventure is A Day At The Beach!" Caine proudly announced to his sceptical, and often cynical, audience. "All you have to do is enjoy the warm sand and clear waves! It's the perfect day to relax at the beach!"

"Wait.... seriously?" Zooble asked with a raised brow.

"I know some of the recent adventures have been a bit...much. So, we're going to have some fun in the sun! No strings attached!" Caine held his pose, looking at each circus member in hopes for a positive reaction.

"That sounds like fun." Ragatha spoke up. "What do you think, Pomni?"

"I don't know. Seems...deceptively simple. Caine, what's the catch?" Pomni squinted suspiciously.

Caine would sweat if he was physically capable. "No catch! Unless you want to go snorkeling! Then you can catch whatever you want! Haha!" He snapped, causing Jax, Ragatha, Kinger, and Pomni's clothes to chage. "I even modeled new outfits for the occasion! Sorry, Zooble and Gangle. I didn't really have much to work with for you two." He shrugged.

Ragatha and Pomni shrieked with surprise. Ragatha wore a solid purple one piece suit. Pomni had a red and blue tankini two piece, her jester's hat still atop her head. Jax wore peach colored swim trunks with an open, pink Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses. Kinger's robe became a beach towel.

"Oh! This is...more revealing than I'm used to." Ragatha nervously chuckled.

"Okay, Caine, I'm picking up what you're putting down. This isn't too bad." Jax lowered his shades so no one could see where he was looking, despite his eyes being bigger than the shades.

Kinger looked at himself. "Feels...light."

Pomni covered herself in vain. "Caine! A little WARNING!?"

"Sorry, I was just excited to show you." And to see what it looked like on her. His code fluttered. She looked amazing. He cleared his voice and snapped again to open an iridescent portal. "Simply, have fun, my intrepid beach crawlers!"

Everyone started to the portal, but Zooble turned on their heel and walked away. Caine flew over in front of them. "Zooble, please! This really is a simple relaxing adventure! You've refused all my other ones! I'm getting desperate here! Just this one?? You have me on my knees!" Caine dropped to the ground, hands together in a plea.

Zooble looked back at the others, embarrassed. "Wha- Caine, get up! I don't- it's just- ugh...fine."

Caine gasped, scrambling back into the air. "YOU'LL GO!? REALLY???"

"If it'll get you to stop doing...all of that." Zooble said with disgust and followed the others through the portal.

The beach was beautiful. Warm sugar sand and sparkling blue ocean. Calm waves lapped the shore as seagulls called overhead. Beach chairs and umbrellas were already set up for them. Faceless NPCs stood at attention in a tiki bar.

"Wow, it really is what he said it would be." Pomni stood in disbelief, looking back at the portal. The others went off ahead. Pomni stuck her head back through to the circus. "Hey, Caine?"

Caine was still nearby, celebrating that he managed to convince Zooble to enjoy an adventure. He stopped his acrobatics mid flip and flew down to Pomni. "Yeeeees? Is there something I can do for you, my dear." He laid on his stomach in the air in front of her, at eye level, chin in his hands. "I'm on a roll today!" He kicked his feet, excitedly.

"Actually, yeah, there is." She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him through the portal, it vanished when they came out the other side.

"Woah!" Pomni pulled him too hard, sending him somersaulting through the air.

"Oops, sorry. You're lighter than you look."

"That's alright!" Caine stopped upside down, facing Pomni. "I'm streamlined." He laughed as his body did a back flip without his head. "Now, uh...what was it that you wanted?"

Pomni walked past him. "I wanted you to see what happy humans are like. Watch."

Caine uprighted himself, floating next to Pomni. Zooble was at the tiki bar enjoying a colorful drink. Kinger was building a massive sandcastle. Gangle was relaxing in the shade, listening to the waves. Ragatha was wading in the shallows, but Jax came up and pushed her over. He laughed but went into the water himself when he was tackled by a large wave. Ragatha got up and splashed Jax, who splashed back.

Caine's eyes watered. "They're having...fun."

"They are." Pomni smiled at Caine. "You did good."

"I did?" His voice cracked.

"Yeah." Pomni offered her hand to him. "Why don't you join us this time?"

Caine looked at her hand, only hesitant because he was afraid his actions would change them having fun. He slowly accepted her hand, firmly grasping it. "I'd love to."

[solarsturniolo]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Cove...sparkling blue waters, rocky seashores, sandy paw, sunsets, salty sea breezes, sand dunes, car rides with the windows down, You're My Best Friend by Queen, sunbathing naps on the porch, shy, happy tippy taps when Matt comes home from work, big cuddler, You've Got a Friend in Me by Randy Newman, big time swimmer, brings Matt her favorite stuffed alligator when he's sad, likes to sleep under blankets, loves taking silly pics, lilac purple, doesn't bark but will share a few polite 'awooo's when she's excited, saves her treats for later, The Best Day by Taylor Swift, loves sugar free cherry popsicles, tail never stops wagging, can't sleep without Isla beside her, brings Matt a new seashell on their daily walks, takes toys back to the toy box, swats at crabs, beach towels, Fade Into You by Mazzy Star

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Isla...Sunrises, hibiscus flowers, rolling waves, pink bows, loves her emotional support octopus stuffed animal, sandy snout, ukeleles, loves coconut water, rolling in the sand with Cove, spins in circles when Matt comes home from work, big pup cup fanatic, has her own mini hammock right next to Matt's, knows about Cove's secret treat stash, Somewhere Over the Rainbow / What a Wonderful World by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, a little nervous around water, bird watches by the window with Cove every day, very outgoing and people oriented, photogenic queen, Upside Down by Jack Johnson, curious around other beach critters, hues of pink and orange, Linger by the Cranberries, always does something goofy to make Matt laugh, leaves her toys all around the house, movie nights on Matt's lap, barks at crabs, Here With Me by d4vid

𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹ Tag list #1 𖥔‧₊˚ ⊹

@megamett44-lover @xtravrgnoliveoil @mattsturnswife @soursturniolo @sturnioz @luverboychris @meerkatzthings @soupuurr @gemofthenight @hi-7-hi @blahbel668 @mattspleasure @sturnybabes @sturniolosreads @bernardsleftbootycheek @egirlshit @nonamegirlxsturniolo @chrizz333 @sturniolopowers @mattsleftnipple03 @worldlxvlys @hearts4chriss @janiellasblog @creamoncreamoncream2 @meg-sturniolo @ellie-luvsfics @braindead4l @ghostlythinggoingaround @taekwite @querenciasturniolo @m4ttslvr @mqttittude @bewtyschooldropout @lovesturni0l0s @zebonos @h3arts4harry @riowritesitall @freshloveforthefit @esioleren @mbbsgf @kitkatbar1275 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnslutz @favsdti @sturnsmia @jensturnss @sturnioloskies @chrisissobabygirl @h3arts4nat @heartsonlyforchris

| Tag List #1 FULL |

જ⁀➴ Playlist 🌴🥥☀️

[blujaykai]

CA: Huh. This isn't that bad.

MA: Told you.

CA: Still could use an eco-friendly cover. And maybe a little more sugar.

MA: Fuck off.

-

These 2 are THE nerdiest nerds to ever NERD they literally work on complex coding (and some serious hacking but don't tell gov) in the same room together and call it relationship goals 💖💞💕

Mass loves the naturally sparkling gold of Cal's eyes and Cal adores Mass' soothing bay blue ones

When they argue they like to refer to their respective mountains of degrees and doctorates and be like "WELL IM A CETRIFIED BLAH BLAH" "OH YEAH?? BITCH I HAVE AN ENTIRE DEGREE ON BLCHAHSBJDN" and they could literally go on for HOURS bc they both have such high egos surrounding education/tech

Cal def swears more whenever they're with Mass ("You motherfucking shithead!" "Aw ily2 bastard.)

He isn't telling a damn SOUL about this but Mass loves being hugged by Cal for long periods. Although they're an awkward bumbling string-bean of a state Mass can't lie and say Cal's hugs (their arms are long so they can fully wrap em around him and its soooo comforting) don't warm his very core like Californian valley sunrises and shifting desert sands—a loving and nurturing embrace of the grand redwood forests he's come to cherish.

[apomaro-mellow]

Whatever Stevie Wants 2

Part 1

Wayne was in the kitchen, cooking with Eddie. Steve was lounging in their living room nest, watching as Vanessa crawled around, babbling to herself. She crawled over to him, still making random noises while patting his face. She was just as talkative as her sire. Even now, Steve could hear him from the kitchen, going nonstop over the tv and sounds of cooking.

“She’ll probably start talking before she even gets her first teeth”, Beatrice said from up on the couch. She had her granddaughter Violet in her arms as she dressed her in a new outfit. It was a lavender onesie with her name embroidered on it. Vanessa was already in her own, colored yellow.

Steve adored all their little clothes. “You’re so precious baby”, Steve said, interrupting Vanessa’s speech. 

She bapped him on the mouth and he just bit it gently, eliciting a gummy smile from her. He sat up, bringing her into his arms. They were only six months old and yet they already looked so different from their newborn stage. Both of them had gained weight and filled out, a relief to Steve who had been worried about their skinny limbs at birth.

Vanessa had only a few wisps of hair that had since then began to bloom right on top. The sides and the back of her head were still a bit bare but she looked adorable all the same. Violet’s head was more full but still curled only just slightly. Beatrice told Steve they were sure to see the girl’s true textures by the time they were a full year old.

Steve had always prided himself on his own hair. The Hair had literally been his name in high school. But admittedly, he didn’t have any experience dealing with curly hair of any kind. He had been watching tutorials though, wanting to do right by his girls when their hair really started to come in.

Dinner was pretty much always a family affair when they could do it. The band was still busy at times. But that made the moments when all eight of them could be together special. Eddie and Jeff both had their girls in their laps, feeding them from bottles that Steve had pumped earlier. Vanessa was already holding the bottle on her own. Violet could too, but she seemed to like it when others held it for her.

There was never a lull in conversation when all of them gathered, the conversation flowing from how the Cubs were doing, to what the band was doing next, to the twins, to opinions on grilling techniques. How things had changed from the lonely dinners Steve had alone in his apartment not too long ago.

The bottles put the girls halfway asleep and their fathers finished the job, settling them in their cribs for the night. Wayne and Beatrice turned in too, leaving Steve and the others to cuddle downstairs. Having all these hands to help with the babies was a great blessing. Still, Steve was getting a little stir crazy in this house.

He laid his head on Eddie’s shoulder, whining a little. Eddie immediately gave his full attention.

“What is it, baby?”

“You promised me a beach”, Steve said, a little petulant. 

“We’ve been-”, Eddie started before cutting himself off. There’d been plenty of times he’d seen Steve half dressed, tanning in the sun, but that had always been by a pool. They had yet to go to a beach together. And he needed to fulfill that promise right away.

Steve had been prepared to wait patiently for the schedule to loosen up more for them to go. But he was surprised when a few days later Eddie told him to pack his bags because in just a couple of days they would be in France.

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

“Well, what do ya think?”, Eddie asked, arm around his shoulders. 

Steve had on shades and trunks and he lifted the shades to get a better look at the beautiful sands and sparkling waters. The perks of being a sugar baby meant private beaches with hardly anyone around. Steve caught a few people in the distance, with nothing breaking the lines of their bodies. A private nude beach.

“It’s perfect”, Steve purred. 

Grant kissed his shoulder and then led the way to set up their own little area. A wide umbrella and they kept it simple with just a large towel to lay on. The moment they were settled, Steve shed the trunks and the rest followed suit. Steve was the first to rush into the water and Eddie was drawn to him like an alluring siren. Except instead of leading him to his doom, Steve trapped him in a splash fight.

Jeff and Grant joined in, while Gareth played the long game, wading close by until Steve was distracted. He grabbed him by the ankles, upending him. Steve came back up, sputtering and laughing, hair covering his face. He wrapped his arms around Gareth’s shoulders, leaning in close and then blowing a salty raspberry in his face.

“Agh! You tease!”, Gareth wiped his face.

Steve quirked a brow, taking that as a challenge. He dipped back down under the water then came up slowly, pushing his hair off his forehead while giving Gareth a sultry look over his shoulder. He then started to step towards the beach, knowing they were watching his hips and ass as more of it was revealed while he walked to the shore. He got to their place and sat down, beckoning the four of them over with just his eyes. 

Grant cut through the water the fastest and Eddie wiped out a few times in his haste but soon they were all around him. Grant was at his side, making Steve turn his head for a soft kiss. He nibbled his bottom lip and then kissed at Steve’s neck, giving special attention to the bond bite that Eddie had left.

If his rumble of approval hadn’t given him away, Steve would’ve known Eddie by his scent, spicy with want. Steve opened his eyes, feeling a hand on his thigh and seeing Gareth down by his waist.

“Who’s the tease?”, Steve smirked.

“I didn’t mean it”, Gareth said quickly, kiss his hip.

Eddie settled behind Steve, taking his lips for himself. In his bliss he could feel Jeff’s hands playing with his nipples, then cupping his breasts. Eddie wasn’t the only one who had taken a liking to his milky tits. All of his mates had done so, lavishing him, telling him how lucky their pups were to get something so sweet.

Then he heard Grant release a low growl, one in a warning tone that he’d never heard from the beta before. Steve opened his eyes to see another man standing a few feet away. A distance that wasn’t really respectable given their location. Most guests normally kept to themselves. Steve could guess what brought him over though. Gareth’s hand covered his pussy as his legs splayed out. 

It twitched a little at being watched by a stranger, but he waited for his alpha to speak.

“Can we help you?”, Eddie asked in a bitchy tone that really said ‘get lost’. 

“I was just…”, the man trailed off but his half-mast cock spoke for him.

“I think he wants a show”, Jeff confirmed.

Eddie curled Steve’s wet hair around his finger, dangling him like a piece of meat. Steve looked up at him, waiting to hear what he’d say and his hips shifted under Gareth’s cover. Eddie looked down at him, lips breaking into a smile as he kissed his forehead.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”, he asked, noticing that Steve hadn’t simply closed up or shied away.

Steve just let out a whine. He wanted his mates. He cared very little of some random alpha got off to it.

“I kinda feel bad for him”, Grant said, hand stroking up and down Steve’s sides. “He’ll never get to taste him.”

“Might as well let him see what he’s missing”, Gareth agreed, fingers starting to rub Steve’s cunt.

The man’s eyes were drawn there, trying to catch a peek between Gareth’s fingers, swallowing and getting harder. Steve let out a sigh when a finger finally went inside. Sometimes when there was a disparaging fan online, Steve wanted to throw something like this in their faces. To show the world how much he was adored and how much he loved his pack in return.

This right here was the next best thing. The man moved closer, stroking himself but didn’t cross the imaginary borderline that started at the edge of the towel. Eddie switched places with Grant, who squeezed Steve’s tits from behind.

“Fuck is he…?”

Eddie grinned as a drop of milk spilled from a nipple. “He is. Just had two of the most gorgeous pups. And more on the way if I have any say.” He kissed the stretch marks on Steve’s torso.

Then Gareth spread Steve’s lips as Grant lifted him onto his cock. He loved feeling all their hands on him, working together to bring him over the edge. He was sat down fully and leaned back against Grant, letting both Jeff and Eddie suckle at him. Jeff squeezed the swell of his breast, letting the milk fall naturally in his mouth while Eddie sucked and even bit at his nipple, demanding more. 

Grant lifted his hips and then brought him down, moving Steve’s body as he pleased. He couldn’t even hear his own panting over the sounds of skin meeting skin. Eddie had said more pups, would he carry Grant’s this time? His hips rolled, imagining his belly getting full by the time they got back to the states.

Eddie pulled off his tit with a groan and milked him more, letting it run down his body, some dipping into his belly button, which Gareth greedily licked up. 

“You were made to be pupped up, baby. Look how much milk you got”, Eddie preened, eyes transfixed as it continued to run down to his bush, even getting to his cunt, making an already slick situation even wetter. 

“Daddy, Daddy, oh Daddy please”, Steve panted but couldn’t be sure if he was speaking to just one or all of them. Because that was the truth wasn’t it? It wasn’t just Eddie, they were all his daddies now, and he, their baby.

When Steve came he was sure it could be heard over the crashing waves and that was a good thing. If he had drawn a whole crowd, it was a good thing. He wanted them to see the way Grant’s cum dripped out of him when his dick slipped out. Gareth was on him immediately, licking up his body and rocking his cock against Steve’s clit. It was on the precipice of just too much and had his hands digging into Gareth’s back.

“Gotta keep you plugged up, gotta keep it in”, Gareth said while pushing inside, fucking Grant’s cum back into him.

Steve whimpered against his mouth, hands moving up his spine to pull at his hair instead. Eddie kissed his temple.

“Make sure it takes”, he said before looking at the stranger and the mess he’d made on the sand. With only a subtle nod of the head, Eddie sent him on his way. He didn’t mind showing other folks the treasure he’d found, but only pack got to touch.

Part 3

[say-hwaet]

That's the Way it Is

Chapter 33: The Meaning of The Scar Next Chapter: Thirty-four Summary: Just when things couldn't get any worse for Arthur, he's been apprehended by strangers on a tropical island. Warnings: Mature themes, Language, Violence Word Count: ~8,300

Earlier that day…

The chains that bind Arthur rattle between his ankles, forcing him to walk like a ridiculous duck or some flightless bird. He walks at the end of a chain gang, Javier right in front of him, then Bill, then Dutch, and some other pathetic souls in ragged clothing. 

He had hoped that no one else occupied this island, but it is clear that isn’t the case. 

“We seem to be finding a lot of newcomers to the island,” a man, named Levi Simon, comments as he rides his mule. “Colonel Fussar is going to be pleased.”

“Low on laborers, Mr. Simon?” Dutch asks with a hint of a bite. “You pair us up with these stragglers? We're Americans.” He looks over his shoulder towards Javier and Arthur. “Well, some of us.”

“Oh, I’ve heard your story,” Simon chortles. “But we shall see if it holds up when you meet our source of information.”

Source? What source? How did word travel so quickly?

Was it Bronte? He must have sent word before he died. He must have suspected something long before anything was ever set in motion.

They’ve been doomed from the start.

“Well, whatever source it is,” Dutch begins confidently. “It will make no difference in the end. We are who we are, and no man or tale can change that truth." Dutch's voice carries a trace of defiance, masking the undercurrent of worry that threads through his words.

Arthur doesn’t care. He knows that the moment Dutch can do so, he will throw Arthur in the line of fire.

And Dutch ought to thank his lucky stars that he isn’t walking in front of Arthur right now. Just a simple reach of his hands and he could end it now before Fussar’s militia could put a bullet in him.

He looks at Javier, who has his head hung low. He wonders what could be going on in that mind of his, after everything that has happened. Arthur doesn’t dare speak to him, lest this gather the attention of the armed guards.

Simon speaks Spanish to his men and bids them farewell before trotting off, clearly going to intimidate someone else or oversee the sugar plantation. It is then that Arthur leans forward, trying to speak quietly to Javier. “What did he say?”

Javier quickly glances back. “If we try to run, the guards will shoot us.”

Arthur nods, backing away in line before a guard looks back at them.

“Who do you think their source is?” Javier asks.

Arthur, somewhat relieved that Javier is even speaking to him, leans forward again. “Could be anythin’. Bronte and Fussar knew each other, maybe he said somethin’ before he died…”

Javier nods pensively. “I’d say one of us could have squealed, but…” He looks down. “There’s only us left.”

Just the four of them. The reminder that you are dead at the bottom of the ocean aches in his chest.

The strained march continues under the oppressive heat, each man locked deep within his own thoughts. As he continues to trail behind Javier and the rest of them, his mind races with thoughts of you. Of Hosea. Of good times long gone. 

His heart clenches with a dull pain, the weight of memories pulling him down like an anchor in this endless sea of sand and sweat. He remembers your laugh, soft and melodious, a stark contrast to the harsh clatter of chains and the coarse barks of command around him. How you would tilt your head back as he kissed you, your eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint that always managed to draw a smile from even the stoniest of hearts. The warmth of those memories, though comforting in their sweetness, now sting with a raw edge, a cruel reminder of all that has been lost.

Arthur’s foot scuffs against the dry sand as he struggles to not bump into Javier.

The heat is relentless, as if the sun itself is trying to bear down on him, to crush whatever remains of his spirit under its fiery weight. But it's not just the physical discomfort that gnaws at him; it's the cavernous hollow of your absence, making each step heavier than the last. He tries to shake it off. He needs to keep his wits about him, for he has no one on his side now.

He turns to look at the coastline as they walk past the beach and just as they come around towards some trees, he hears an odd whistle.

Then the crack of gunfire.

It isn’t the men escorting them, for they begin to scan around with their guns pointed. That’s when a guard next to them gets shot and dies instantly, dropping the weapon in his hand.

Javier looks back at Arthur and they lock eyes, clearly thinking the same thing. Helping Arthur get some slack in the chain, Javier leans toward him as much as he can, recoiling as gunfire continues. Arthur hops to the right, bending down, and picks up the revolver.

Pulling the hammer back, he shoots the lock at his ankles, then helps Javier out of his.

Freed from the constraints, Arthur’s heart pounds in his ears, echoing the rapid gunfire. His gaze turns sharp, scanning the battleground as more guards are rapidly taken down. He sees that Dutch has freed himself.

Bill is still chained.

“Dutch!” Bill cries. “Help me!”

But Dutch only looks at him with cold indifference, his eyes reflecting a deep-rooted betrayal. As a guard spots them and aims his gun, Dutch's desperation turns to calculated cruelty. He seizes Bill and uses his body as a shield, the deafening sound of three gunshots ringing out as bullets pierce through flesh and bone. At that moment, Bill realizes the true depth of Dutch's treachery and the gravity of his own perilous situation. But too late.

His body flops into the sand, unmoving.

Bill. He killed Bill!

Javier looks at Arthur. “I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you!” he shouts as he is crouched behind a rock.

“This ain’t the time, Javier!”

The deafening roar of gunfire fills the air as the guard who shot Bill is mercilessly gunned down by the ruthless raiders. Dutch's eyes burn with fierce determination as he turns towards Javier and Arthur. He aims to finish this his way. But from afar, another threat emerges - more militia have arrived on the scene, their weapons at the ready. A low growl escapes from Arthur's throat as he curses under his breath, knowing they are now outnumbered and outgunned. The tension in the air is palpable as the men prepare for an all-out battle to survive.

“Quick! Here! Vite!” A voice calls to them beyond the jungle. “Everyone, follow me!”

But Dutch has picked up a gun and has it pointed at Arthur. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere, son.”

Javier looks between them. He takes a sharp breath and as he motions to run, he calls out to Arthur. “Go now, Arthur!” In a split second, he runs towards Dutch, ramming him with his body. Dutch loses his grip on his gun and Javier tries to hold him down.

Arthur's mind races as he tries to process the chaos around him. He can't just leave Javier here to face Dutch alone. But as more men close in on them, his resolve begins to crumble.

“Come with me!” the man in the jungle calls. Arthur looks up and sees a black man with a rifle in his hand waving him and the other survivors over. “Vite!”

Javier, though smaller in size compared to Dutch, is faster and lands punch after punch in an attempt to subdue him. "Leave now, Arthur! Let me meet my end while doing the honorable thing!"

Arthur hesitates, the weight of loyalty pressing down like iron chains. His breath comes in ragged gasps, heart threatening to break free from his chest as he watches Javier and Dutch grapple in the dirt. The sounds of gunfire grow closer, the ring of bullets singing a deadly chorus.

He has to go. If he can find Javier and free him, he will.

As for Dutch…

The next time he sees him, it will be the last time.

Clenching his jaw, Arthur turns and runs towards the voice in the jungle. His legs pump hard against the muddy ground, his chest heaving with exertion and emotion. Behind him, the violent struggle fades into a chaotic backdrop of gunfire and yelling.

He reaches the pirate, who leads Arthur and the two others deeper into the green, where light soon vanishes and the sound of Javier’s shouts fade.

***

After narrowly escaping the militia and leaving the cape, the Haitian pirate, named Hercule, leads Arthur and the two rescued laborers to a hidden camp. The remnants of some sort of structure, stagnant walls, and makeshift tables, leave a sense of desperation while also resiliency. There is a small group of Hercule’s men already here, polishing their weapons and handing out resources.

Arthur is unsure of these men. He doesn’t know them, and while Hercule saved him from death, he isn’t ready to trust him.

Hercule removes his rifle from his shoulder and rests it against a crate. “We will rest here for a bit.” As he speaks, Arthur notices that he has a strange accent. Arthur has heard French accents before but he hardly sounds like Charles Chatenay or like the other French-speaking folk in Saint Denis. “Arthur,” Hercule points to a cot in the corner of some of the ruins. “You can sleep here.”

Arthur nods his thanks, still skeptical. “You seem to know your way around this island.”

Hercule nods. “Me and my men come here to help or take what we can. Fussar thinks like a tyrant, so we treat him like one.”

Arthur can appreciate the sentiment. “His connections run deep. I’ve met him before. In America.”

Hercule raises an eyebrow, a hint of interest flickering across his otherwise stoic face. "America, eh? Small world or fate, maybe," he muses, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Either way, it's good you made it out alive. Fussar's reach isn’t just long; it's lethal." He studies Arthur for a minute. “We need every man we can to be rid of him.”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably, his mind racing back to the chaos of Blackwater and the faces of those he left behind. "Yeah, well, we've had our run-ins with men like him before." His voice is gruff, edged with the weariness of one who has seen too much.

“What are you doing here?” Hercule asks.

Arthur sits down on the cot and slumps his shoulders. “I ain’t too shoah. We was on a boat. My…” His energy now depleated, he doesn’t have the energy, nor the desire to explain it all to this stranger. “I’m always runnin’. Never stopped.”

Hercule replies with a solemn tone, showing understanding. “Aren’t we all?” Hercule turns to his men. “Donnez-moi de l’eau. Arthur a besoin d'un verre.” Hearing his name in that sentence, Arthur looks up and sees one of Hercule’s men approach with a canteen. Nodding once, Hercule takes it and offers it to Arthur. “Here, water.” Arthur takes it gratefully, quenching his thirst as Hercule continues talking. “Leon wants his people to stand up to Fussar, but most are too afraid.”

Leon is one of the other men that Hercule had rescued. He stands not too far off, eating out of a can that was given to him.

Arthur nods. “Fussar ain’t an easy target.”

“No, he is not. But if we work together, we can defeat him.”

“We?” Arthur asks. Something about leaving one leader for another disturbs him. “I ain’t someone’s dog.”

Hercule almost seems offended by this remark and takes a step closer. “I suppose I could have left you with that man who seemed intent on killing you himself, then.”

Arthur meets Hercule's gaze steadily, the tension between them palpable but not hostile. The fawn-haired man rubs the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against the rough fabric of his shirt. "Appreciate the save," he concedes, his voice low and grudging. "But understand, I have my own problems.”

Hercule gestures to the expanse of the island with open arms. “It seems that our problems coincide, monsieur. And Fussar is at the root.” He looks out toward where the call came from. “I guarantee that they took your friend back to their compound. No doubt they will try to interrogate him.”

“Javier?”

Hercule nods. “They aren’t consistent with mercy.” He takes another step closer. “Help me defeat Fussar, and I will help you rescue your friend.”

Arthur's brow furrows as he gazes out over the camp, the fire smoke and salt air mingling with the taste of desperation that seems to hang thick over the island. The idea of a bargain doesn’t sit right with him, but the thought of leaving Javier in the clutches of a man like Fussar churns his insides. If he is even alive, as Dutch would not have spared him after his act of defiance.

What has he to lose? If he is to die on this island, can it at least be in the effort of freeing men and women from being worked to death in sugar fields?

Arthur meets Hercule’s gaze, marine eyes like a stormy sea. “Alright. But we get Javier first.”

Hercule nods. “That will be better. We will want to get him before they beat him with an inch of life.”

“How soon?”

Hercule looks at the sky, measuring its distance between the blue and the horizon. “We will go at night. It is better for cover and most of the compound will be at rest.” He looks back at Arthur. “You sleep. I will wake you in a few hours.”

And with that, he turns to rejoin his men. Arthur sits back on the cot, finally able to catch his breath. His mind drifts back to you as he lays back on the rough cot, the fabric scratching at his exposed skin. He wonders where your body is. If it finally made it to the bottom of the ocean, if you’re at peace wherever you are.

The memory of you, the way your dark hair fell around your face, and how your hazel eyes were like leaves reaching for the sun, all cut through him like a rusted blade.

He hopes you are free up there, dancing in the sky, letting your hair twist wildly, your smile never leaving.

And so, with the sound of your voice in his mind, he lets himself drift to sleep.

***

A commotion startles Arthur awake, and he nearly leaps out of the cot. As his eyes adjust, he sees that it isn’t fully dark yet, nearing dusk. The sky is painted in deep shades of purples and magentas, colors that he normally would appreciate, but now hardly do anything to stir the artist in him.

He turns his attention to the source of the commotion, Hercule and his men, as they seem to be gathering about something. They speak in their native tongue, words that Arthur can hardly keep up with, or understand.

He rises to his feet, making his way over as his body tweaks in sore aches and dull pains.

Hercule must hear him coming, for he turns around and they lock eyes. “Arthur, you will not believe—!”

But he doesn’t need to finish his sentence, for the crowd parts just enough for Arthur to see what they gather around.

It is Javier and another man who he supports on his shoulder.

Javier's face is marred with bruises, his eyes swollen from blows, yet the relief in his expression as he sees Arthur is almost palpable. The man beside him, though unfamiliar to Arthur, seems to be in worse shape, nearly unconscious but for the grimace of pain that occasionally flickers across his features.

"Javier—What—? How’d—?”

Javier only pants, not able to speak.

Arthur can’t interrogate him right now, there will be a time for that. He pushes his way towards Javier, reaching out to him. “Here, let’s get you—”

Javier swats at his hand and shakes his head. “No, Arthur!” He pauses to catch his breath. “There’s a kid…he let me go…”

Arthur pinches his brow, confusion riddled across his face. “A boah?”

“Yes. He was different than the rest. Unpredictable, crazy, but he stole the keys, threatened the other guards, and let me go!”

Arthur shakes his head. “What’s that got to do with you?”

“I know they mean to kill him. I can’t let that happen.”

Arthur doesn’t care for this, not at this very moment. His mind’s still reeling from the sight of Javier, beaten but alive, and now, this revelation about a boy—a wild card amidst their strife. They need to regroup, tend to the wounded.

"First things first, Javier," Arthur growls, his voice hoarse with frustration and fatigue. "We need to get you and this man here some help. Then we can talk about the boah."

Javier offers the man off his shoulder. “Fine. Help him…” One of Hercule’s men takes this cue and helps to carry the man away. “But I’m goin’ back.”

“Javier—”

“No! I am tired of keeping my head low. I don’t want to be like Dutch. I don’t want people to die because of me.” He gestures to his body. “I may be bruised, but I’m not dead. I can still run. I can still get him out.”

Hercule steps forward. “Do you know where they’ve taken him?”

Javier hesitates, his face pinched and pensive. “I am not sure, but I have a feeling it is where they wanted to take us. Down in the compound, just beyond some ruins.”

Leon turns to Hercule. “That sounds like where my people are. We can rescue them!”

After a moment, Hercule nods. “Very well. We will help you.” He turns to his men. “Ai-je des volontaires pour aider cet homme à libérer les gens de l'emprise de Fussar?”

It doesn’t take long before three of his men volunteer, their loyalty firm and their resolve clear. Arthur watches the scene unfold with a guarded expression, torn between wanting to see Javier safe and understanding that his friend's moral compass won’t let him rest until he’s made things right.

He can’t abandon his friend now, not after sacrificing his life to save him from Dutch and the oncoming militia. “I’ll come,” Arthur offers.

Javier turns to Arthur, shaking his head. “No, my friend. Dutch may still be around. When the militia came, he fled, the coward. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t still looking for you.”

“And not you?” Arthur asks incredulously.

Javier, in a rare moment of vulnerability, offers a faint smile. “Arthur, if Dutch wanted me dead, he would have taken the opportunity already. But you…you’re different. You always were.”

Arthur’s chest tightens at the words, feeling the weight of years of loyalty and betrayal mesh into a complex knot inside him. Being marked by Dutch is like being shadowed by a relentless storm, always threatening to break. But here, in the dying light of the day, set against the backdrop of uncertainty and rebellion, Arthur finds a sliver of resolve. "Then I need to be there even more," he asserts, the gruffness in his voice unwavering.

But Javier insists otherwise.

“No, Arthur. This is not your fight. You have others to think about, back home.” Javier says sternly, his usual playfulness subdued by the gravity of their situation.

Arthur’s gaze drifts away, over the jagged horizon where the sun dips low, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange. Thoughts of the rest of the gang, hopefully with Lenny, fill his mind. He doesn’t want to go back. He’s ready for death, maybe he’s always longed for it, but even more so now that you are no longer on this earth.

Hercule doesn’t wait for Arthur to reply. “Alright. Let’s get you a weapon and something to eat, Javier. Then, my men will join you.”

As Javier follows Hercule, Arthur finds himself alone for a moment, the cool evening breeze carrying whispers of distant conversations and the rustling of leaves. Your image floats to the forefront of his mind, vivid and painful. He remembers the softness of your gaze, the firmness of your resolve, and the dreams you both secretly shared.

The hopes of escape.

What would you do in this situation? Would you try to go on living, as you wished him to?

At least, until death comes, he can be of use.

***

The snow crunches beneath Odliv’s hooves as she rides further north. Dutch has ordered Arthur to scout ahead, to see if any shelter can be found.

But really, Arthur knows it’s to give him something to do. Get him away from everyone, as he is not fit for any sort of company.

You’re dead. Your body is down in the bottom of the river somewhere.

How could this have happened? He had seen you the night before, so full of life and ready with the promised hope for tomorrow.

But everything fell apart in an instant.

Arthur has hardly been told anything as to what happened in Blackwater, nobody is ready to speak on it, yet, but he’s hoping things will clear up soon.

When we go west, I want lots of flowers…

Your voice echoes as clear as day, as though you were speaking right beside him. Arthur turns, his face into the wind, and the cold bites at his face. He tries to look into the vast expanse before him, but he can hardly see two inches in front of him.

Odliv whinnies loudly, shaking her head, and Arthur pats her neck. “I know, girl,” he says softly. “Just a little bit longer.”

He kicks her barrel gently, and she pushes forward, lowering her head and taking larger strides to combat the snow.

And I’ll make you supper every night. Would you like that, my husband?

He looks around again. He knows he’s going crazy. You aren’t here. You can’t be.

He lets a soft whimper escape his lips, a plea for Fate to stop playing tricks on him. “Quit it!” he begs.

The wind seems to laugh at his desperation, carrying his aching words away into the snow-laden forest. As the day fades into the icy embrace of night, Arthur's heart grows heavier with each step Odliv takes. The wilderness around him feels endless, a mirror to his sense of loss and aimlessness. He remembers the warmth of your skin. The smell of mint and the taste of strawberries on your tongue. The glow in your eyes as the fire reflected in them. Oh, how he wishes he were back there now. If he could go back in time, he’d tell himself to do whatever it took to get you to stay. To forego the robbery altogether and just leave. Right then and there.

But he can’t. Even if it were ever possible, he knows there’s nothing he can do to change what’s done.

He can only move on.

But he doesn’t want to.

He grips tightly to the reins as Odliv carries him further north and then crosses a cold, rushing creek. The land flattens out for a moment and in the white blizzard, he sees something with form and standing still. He squints his eyes and as they draw closer he sees it is an old fence line.

A fence means property.

Which can mean a homestead.

Which can also mean shelter.

Grateful for reality to distract him from his hauntings, he urges Odliv to step faster, and she does the best that she can. 

Through the densely falling snow, Arthur can barely make out the outlines of what was once a stable. The sight of it sends a flicker of hope stirring in his chest. Shelter—and perhaps a momentary reprieve from the relentless cold that seems to seep into his very bones.

He rides through the opening in the fence and riding up to the stable, he dismounts with slow movements, his body nearly frozen. Holding himself tightly, he walks up to the stable to have a look. The last thing he or the gang needs is someone already occupying the space.

He takes a look. There is an old workbench but nothing else. If there is a stable, maybe there is an old cabin? Or another structure somewhere?

Turning around, he walks back to Odliv and he sees her trembling. He feels awful for taking her with him, but he doesn’t have a horse anymore, Boadicea is dead and he had to leave her behind.

Odliv and he are all that each other has to remind the other of you.

He takes the reins and leading her along, he walks further in the fenced-in area, squinting his eyes to try to see through the storm.

He sees a dark mass ahead and makes his way over to it. Trudging through the deep snow, the darkness becomes clearer and clearer.

Oh, thank God. It’s a cabin. It’s old, but it looks sound.

There’s got to be more.

Isn’t it beautiful, Arthur? he hears you say.

He looks behind him and he could have sworn he saw something.

He hears you again. Arthur, what are you doing?

He shakes his head, trying to clear the hallucinations, the shadows of you that dance just beyond his reach. Arthur's breath comes out in ragged bursts, each one visible in the freezing air as he approaches the cabin. He reaches out a trembling hand to push open the door, half-expecting to see you inside, but he only sees an open space and a large fireplace in the center. Good; a place to help keep warm.

He’s seen enough. He needs to make his way back to the wagon train. Let Dutch know he’s found something.

And just as he steps out, he is frozen in his tracks.

He must be going insane. He has to be.

Odliv is nowhere to be found. But there you are. Standing in her place.

You are in your wedding garb, your fěrtúšek and Čepení.

“Kit—kitten…” he says sadly. “Where’s your coat? You’ll freeze…”

And just as his voice carries, the wind blows in front of him and you disappear.

His eyes dart around frantically, searching through the blizzard's swirling chaos for any sign of you, but there is nothing. Only the howling wind and the cold bites at his skin, reminding him of the harsh reality he stands in. “Kitka!” he cries, his voice hoarse. “Don’t go!”

He collapses to his knees in the snow, feeling the sting of both the cold and the sharp pang of loss that slices through him. Arthur's tears freeze on his cheeks, his heart aching with an unbearable weight. He had seen you, clear as day, yet he knows it couldn't be real. Just his mind playing cruel tricks, conjuring images of what he desired most in the world.

***

Dawn. While only hours since Javier and some of Hercule’s men had left, it feels like forever. Arthur stands on guard duty, unable to rest, for every time he’s nodded off, he begins to relive what happened back at Colter. His trepidation between sanity and delusion. As it did then, it now begins to creep upon him, blurring more with each passing hour. He knows he’s sleep-deprived, but he can’t do it. He can’t let himself give in.

Is this how you had felt every time a spell came upon you? Did you feel you had to wrestle with it each time you could sense its approach? He can’t ask you. He never will be able to ask you. Just the thought of it adds to the weariness that drapes over him like a heavy cloak, his eyes stinging from both the dehydration and sleeplessness.

Arthur scans the horizon, the first light casting long shadows across the jungle landscape. There are a few breaks in the trees, but he can only see the sky and hear bugs and birds as they make their morning sounds. Even so, everything is quiet—too quiet. He grips his rifle a little tighter, the need for vigilance still a necessity.

He hears footfalls behind him but doesn’t turn around.

“Do you trust your friend?” It is Hercule.

Arthur nods. “Yes.” And he tucks his chin. “They have been gone a while.”

“We need to be ready for what will come. I say that if they do not return, we move camp. We’ve stayed too long as it is.”

Running. Always running.

Arthur is sick of it.

But he doesn’t show it, he just simply nods his head and hears Hercule walk away.

The morning crawls higher, the golden hue falling over everything it touches, but its warmth only seems to mock Arthur. His eyes follow the golden shades downward and something catches his eye.

A sudden tremble in the jungle below.

“Regarde!” one of Hercule’s men calls out. Arthur is relieved it isn’t all in his head.

And a voice immediately calls back. “Don’t shoot…!” 

Arthur recognizes the voice immediately. He turns and meets Hercule’s eyes as they both make their way over. “It’s Javier!” Arthur calls.

As they push through the underbrush, Arthur’s heart hammers in his chest. Javier is staggering out from the trees with Leon, carrying a small figure, his face ashen and sweat-soaked. Arthur tries to reach Javier, but Javier and Leon are soon crowded by Hercule’s men and the other persons they had managed to rescue.

"What happened?" Hercule demands with urgency, scanning the jungle for any sign of danger.

Leon answers, panting heavily. “Fussar was about to hang this boy!”

“He’s the one who spared my life!” Javier grunts. 

Hercule steps back. “Take him to my tent.”

A man, without an arm, looks at Hercule. “I will tend to him, if you still have my—”

“We do have medicine, Baptiste. Follow me.” Hercule leads the way and Arthur barely gets a glimpse at the boy as he is being carried by Leon and Javier.

Arthur's gaze lingers on the small figure being hurried to safety, his mind racing with the implications of what they'd stumbled into. Fussar is ruthless, known for his merciless grip over the area, and any enemy of his has potential either as an ally or a liability.

But Javier is back, that is a relief. He walks slowly to a corner in one of the ruined walls and plops down in the dirt. Letting his head fall back against the wall, his eyes squint against the morning light. He rubs his face, then glances in the direction of Hercule’s tent, and sees Javier, Leon, and Hercule step out.

Javier scans about the camp and spots Arthur before weakly walking over to him.

“Glad you made it back, Javier,” Arthur says slowly, his mouth hardly able to find words.

“Have you slept?”

Arthur shakes his head. “Can’t.”

Javier exhales sharply and after a moment, finds a spot next to Arthur on the ground. He brings up his knees to rest his arms across them before dropping his head. “I don’t blame you.” They are quiet for a long time, minutes, before he speaks again. “I’m sorry about Kitka…your…wife…” Javier's voice trails off, unable to finish his sentence, weighed down by the unspoken grief between them. Arthur's jaw tightens, a flicker of pain igniting behind his eyes before he forces it away.

"Thank you," Arthur finally says, the words gruff and low, more emotionless than genuine.

“I didn’t know…” Javier struggles to find the words, what can he say to a man who has lost everything? “I should have…”

“It ain’t your fault,” Arthur says flatly. “Can’t bring her back.” He wants to think of something else and he turns his attention towards the tent again. “You brought the kid back, huh?”

Javier nods. “It was the right thing to do.”

“How’d you find him?”

“Hanging on the end of a rope. They were tryin’ to hang him.” Javier shakes his head, cursing in Spanish under his breath. “We got to him in time.”

“How old do you suppose he is?”

Javier shrugs. “Not that old. I’m surprised Fussar even has a boy workin’ for him. Interrogating for him.” He looks ahead, his brow pinched in deep thought. “Arthur, this may sound loco, but he sorta reminds me of—”

Suddenly, there is an odd shout coming from inside the tent. Arthur sits up straight and watches Hercule make a beeline to the tent just as Baptiste comes bursting out. His eyes search until they find Hercule.

“Le garçon est une femme! Le garçon est une femme!” Baptise cries.

“Quoi?!”

Arthur watches Baptiste’s body language as he points to his own torso and then to the back of his shoulder. “All bandaged up already! But not for a wound! Strange scar on the abdomen! Like a bullet had grazed the skin. That’s when I realized…!” And then he immediately switches to French, his frantic tone unchanging. 

Javier grabs Arthur’s arm. “Arthur…you don’t think that? That it could be…?” He then makes a growl with his mouth. “I thought I was goin’ crazy! But she’s dead, it can’t be…!”

Arthur remains still for a moment, the information sinking in like a stone in deep water. His mind races, piecing together fragments of possibility, hope daring to flicker in his chest. He stands abruptly, his movements stiff from hours of restlessness and fights, and strides towards the tent.

Hercule and Baptiste see him coming and share a quick look with each other as they try to stop him. “No, Arthur! You mustn’t go in there!” Hercule barks, his eyes wide. 

Baptiste fervently shakes his head. “Leave it be!”

But there is nothing that will stop him. Not until he sees for himself.

He pushes them aside and as they try to go to him again, Javier has already stepped in, holding them back with a firm grasp. "Let him go," Javier says, his voice carrying an edge of command that even the usually stalwart Hercule obeys.

Arthur flings open the tent flap and steps inside, his heart pounding in his chest, the hope and fear mingling into a chaotic symphony.

Inside, the air is thick with tension, mainly from his own presence causing the air to stiffen. The tent is dimly lit, the lamp casting an orange glow across the dark walls of the tent and the figure on a makeshift bed. A young face lays still on the bed, a sleeping but tight expression etched into delicate features partially hidden by a mess of short, dark hair and muddied face. A blanket covers the figure up to the collarbone.

Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as his eyes adjust to the dim light. He steps closer, ignoring the chattering voices just outside.

The figure stirs slightly, but remains asleep as they turn their head. It’s then that Arthur’s heart skips a beat, for under the strands of dark hair and the youthful guise, there lies a familiarity that tugs at his very soul.

Seeing a damp cloth in a tin cup, he picks it up carefully. Wringing it once, he brings it to the person’s face, gently wiping away at the dirt.

As Arthur wipes the dirt away, the features of the figure become clearer, and a wave of recognition washes over him. The contours of the face, though more drawn and tired than he remembers, still hold the essence of the person he had never thought he’d see again.

His hand trembles and he goes to his knees as he calls your name.

“Kitka…”

His voice is a ragged whisper, barely audible above the murmur of voices outside, laden with equal parts hope and dread. Your name hangs tremulously in the close air of the tent, his confession to the ghosts of all he'd believed lost.

Arthur's fingers pause on your cheek, the touch tentative, as though you might shatter under his touch like delicate glass. He's afraid to hope, afraid that this might be another trick of his mind, a cruel mirage in a desert of grief. Yet the warmth of your skin, the subtle rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it’s all undeniably real.

Tears relentlessly fall down his face and feeling the weight of it all, he lets his forehead fall into your torso, burying his face in the blankets and the softness of your belly beneath.

His sobs are muffled, heart-wrenching sounds that echo softly in the confines of the tent, a stark contrast to the whispered promises and long-held dreams that have kept him tethered through endless nights. The mingled scent of earth and gunpowder clings to your figure, a poignant reminder of the torment you must have endured to get here.

“Kitka…” he sobs. “You always...” His words, unfinished, are steeped in a depth of emotion that stirs the still air around him, hoping to call you back from the brink of oblivion. 

But your shallow breath only rises and falls beneath him and he clings tightly to the blanket that covers you. “Please wake up,” he pleads and his body feels heavy as fatigue threatens to overtake him. “Please…”

***

“I found a place where we can get some shelter,” Arthur says against the wind, as he faces the wagon train of outlaws and bitter souls. “An abandoned minin’ town…Let Davey rest while he…you know…” He turns Odliv around. “It ain’t far, come on…”

The gang follows him slowly, drudgingly, their spirits low and heads tucked. Not only to fight the wind and snow blowing in their faces, but for the ache of loss.

Jenny, Sean, Mac, and you.

Arthur tips his hat down and tries to shut out your voice as he continues to hear it in his head. It was a struggle to snap out of the last vision he was enraptured by, thankfully in time to find Odliv and hurry back to the fold.

This spring is cold. It is unforgiving.

There’s no way that the Pinkertons would try to follow the gang in this.

After a while, they eventually reach Colter, the abandoned mining town that Arthur had stumbled upon hours earlier. Dismounting Odliv, Arthur follows Hosea in the largest building.

With a lantern and revolver in hand, Hosea scans the inside of the darkened space, the silent creaking beneath his feet more ominous than desired. After a moment, he nods his head.

“Looks clear,” he says with a soft shiver, his breath rising like smoke. “Did you see anyone out here, Arthur?”

“No,” he answers flatly. Any other explanation and Hosea might deem him insane.

In the dim light, Hosea turns to Arthur, his brown eyes soft and empathetic. He’s about to open his mouth when the door creaks and others soon follow inside.

Davey is carried in the old cabin and placed on a table. Abigail goes to tend to him, as she and Susan had been while riding in the back of the wagon. He hasn’t spoken since being placed inside, clearly in a bad way.

Everyone is hardly speaking, the silence heavy, laden with the kind of despair that clings like winter frost.

Dutch steps inside, closing the door behind him and he pulls up the collar of his thick fur coat. “Everyone here?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

There is a pause, no one having the energy to speak up. Dutch begins to regard all of the faces present.

Then softly, Abigail speaks into the silence. “Davey’s dead.” And she tucks her chin. Jack, desperate for comfort, walks to his mama and she holds him close and leads him to a place to sit down. 

Arthur’s shoulders droop. Another life gone. Davey, a brutish man, feisty. Could fight like the best of him. But he and his brother were like two halves of the same whole. If one is gone, surely the other will soon follow.

Dutch’s brow lowers, his gaze intense. “Listen to me, all of you, for a moment.” They all look up to him, ready to hang on every word. “Now, we’ve had…well, a bad couple of days. I loved Davey…Jenny…” At the mention of their names, some of the women whimper. “Sean, Mac, they may be okay, we don’t know. But we lost some folks.” Dutch nods and others follow his movements. “Now, if I could throw myself in the ground in their stead, I’d do it…gladly.” Dutch points to the door with his thumb. “But…we’re gonna ride out…and we are gonna find some food. Everybody, we’re safe now. There ain’t nobody following us through as storm like this one…and by the time they get here…well we're gonna be…we're gonna be long gone. We’ve been through worse than this before.” He regards Simon. “Mr. Pearson,” Then Susan. “Miss Grimshaw…I need you to turn this place into a camp…! We may be here for a few days. Now, all of you, all of you…get yourselves warm. Stay strong. Stay. With. Me. We ain’t done yet!”

Then without saying another word, he turns around, grabs his lantern, and heads out the door.

Hosea walks up to Arthur, patting his arm. “Go on, son. We’ll have a place ready for you when you get back.”

Arthur lets out a slow breath and nods before he heads out himself, ready to face the storm once again.

***

I can barely close my eyes. All I see is the green and flecks of gold and brown. I see the black waves and cream in her skin. A ghost? A trick of the light? I ain’t sure. All I know is that I’m a shell of my former self, and the pain is too great to share.

Dutch is having me help out, and I’m glad to do it. It keeps my mind busy if only for a minute or two but I wish it weren’t. I wish I didn’t have to think at all.

I could go to the drink, like the last time, but I know that she wouldn’t want that. Wherever she is, she still wouldn’t want that for me.

I can only keep the ring close to my chest. That’s about the only thing that I haven’t lost yet.

I didn’t have time to grab any of her things. Her wedding headdress and her apron. Her clothes. All of it gone.

I don’t have anything but these damned dreams that torment me.

Only the occasional shuffling feet and the crackling of a newly lit fire punctuate the quiet. Arthur listens from a shadowed corner in his makeshift room, his eyes never leaving the floor. He closes his journal, slips it into his satchel, and slumps forward, letting his arms press into his knees.

He hears shuffled boots approach the entrance to his room. He turns his head slowly to see Hosea staring back at him.

“You alright, son?” Hosea asks.

Arthur puts on an embittered smile, rolling his shoulders. “Frozen. And you?”

Hosea chuckles. “About the same. Why don’t you sit over here by the fire? The flames aren’t going to warm you up if you’re sittin’ over here on your cot.”

Arthur thinks about it for a moment. He knows that Hosea means well, but he isn’t much for company. He’s in a vulnerable state right now, and there’s no doubt in his mind that the surrogate father figure will try to get him to talk.

Arthur shakes his head. “I think I’ll go check on folks. See how they’re all doin’.”

Hosea shakes his head, lightly frustrated. “Arthur, it isn’t wrong to think about yourself once in a while.”

Arthur pushes himself off the cot, the ache in his bones mirroring the ache in his heart. He nods slowly, knowing Hosea is right, but not quite ready to admit it. "Maybe later," he mutters, more to himself than to Hosea. With a heavy step, he makes his way out of the room, his mind swirling with memories that threaten to pull him back into the madness that circles him like a prowling wolf.

His body instantly tightens when he meets the cold air. He nearly loses breath as a gust of wind enters his nostrils and he has to quickly turn away in order to breathe. After a moment of inhale and exhale, he turns in the direction of the larger cabin, where the women and invalid are. 

He will check there first. 

Tredging the snow, he lifts his legs high to make it easier on his weak body; he's hardly slept in days. 

Careful, můj král, he hears in the wind. 

He freezes but for a fraction of a second. Then keeps going. 

It’s all in my head. It’s all in my head. 

He reaches the door and lets himself in quickly to keep the cold out as best he can. As his eyes adjust from being in the blinding light of day, he regards the sad souls inside. 

Swanson, sitting on a barrel, reads a passage from his old bible. It’s odd to see him in such ministerial spirits, as most of the time he’s hazed and laying down in the dirt. To hear him read such solemn words is even more encouraging than what most would figure. Arthur supposes that relatability is better than hopefulness. 

Hearing sniffling, he turns, and sees the huddled group of women. Mary Beth, eyes soft and cheeks rosy, comforts the woman that he and Dutch had rescued last night. 

A widow. In some ways, he can relate. 

If it were different circumstances, he could use the relatability; just come out and say that he himself just lost his beloved, only being married five days before losing you forever. Until he himself is six feet in the grave. 

But he doesn’t. He just watches Tilly and Mary Beth hold onto Mrs. Adler and speak soft words of sympathy and encouragement. 

“We lost some people too, just recently. All we can do is focus on your basic needs for now,” Tilly says gently. “You can’t rush grievin’ at all.”

Mrs. Adler sniffs loudly, clutching onto the blanket as it is wrapped around her. “I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Mary Beth squeezes her hand. “You won’t. But we’re here to help you. We can help you get back on your feet.”

Mrs. Adler nods, her eyes cast downward.

Arthur’s heart aches as he watches the scene, feeling a kinship in their shared grief that gnaws at his own concealed wounds. It’s a silent battle he is waging within himself, the struggle to balance the weight of his memories with the pressing demands of survival in this merciless world.

The wind outside howls against the walls of the cabin, reminding them all that they can’t expect to stay here forever. Just long enough for the storm to die down and wait out the thaw, then they can move on.

Feeling a chill, Arthur moves to the small potbelly stove in the corner and holds out his hands to warm them.

That’s when he hears soft footfalls behind him. Turning his head, he sees Abigail, head wrapped in a scarf and bundled in a worn coat. “Hey, Arthur.”

“Miss Roberts,” he says solemnly.

She looks apprehensive, as most are around him lately. While rightfully so, Arthur feels a little upset by it. It makes him feel slightly guilty, for being on edge with everyone, but if they only knew why, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to give him their sideways glances. “H-how…how’ya doin’?” she asks with a tremble.

He studies her for a moment. “Just fine. And you?”

Hesitating, she reaches out and squeezes his arm. “I miss her too, you know.”

His eyes soften, if but for a moment. “Sometimes…” he begins but then he shakes his head. “Nevermind.” His voice is almost a whisper, roughened by the swirling emotions he works so hard to control.

Abigail nods, seemingly understanding what he can’t say. “I know it’s hard. You and John knowin’ her more than the rest of us…” She glances out the window for a moment. “Arthur, I haven’t…Jack hasn’t seen him in two days.”

Arthur looks at her again, trying his best not to roll his eyes. “He’s probably got himself lost and needs someone to go after him.”

“Excellent idea, Arthur,” Hosea says. Arthur nearly jumps. He hadn’t heard him come in. Looking at him, he sees that Javier must have walked inside too, as the Latin lover has found himself a seat next to Tilly. “You and Javier can see what you can find. You two are the most fit men we’ve got.”

Arthur would laugh at the hypocrisy if he wasn't so tired. Hosea just got done lecturing him on self-care and here he is, jumping at the chance to reunite Arthur with his derelict brother. 

But even if he cared, Arthur is tired. He’s weary. The last thing he wants to do is go traipsing through snow to look for a fool who would be as quick as to abandon them all again if he had the chance. He meets Javier’s eyes, and there’s an unspoken loyalty behind them. Javier rises from his seat and goes to pick up his gun that he had leaned against the wall.

“I know that if it were reversed, he’d come looking for me,” the desperado says with a tired grunt. He nods towards Arthur. “Let’s go, brother.”

Arthur doesn’t want to look like the bad guy in this situation, especially in front of the women and little Jack. He lets out a deep sigh and readjusts his hat on his head. “Fine.”

And with that, he follows Javier out into the cold to look for a different kind of ghost. 

Thank you for stopping by my little corner on Tumblr. I appreciate you!

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[rorydrawsandwrites]

Sorry about your arm btw. I hope it gets better. Any funfacts about Hedonism city you wanna share? (I might've spelt that wrong mb)

It's the day after and it is no longer my arm that's making me suffer but thank you 👍 I just overworked it, if I draw a little less for a while it'll be fine

Fun facts, eh? Well I'm not sure this is interesting to anyone while the rest of the AU hasn't properly debuted yet... but I'll try:

The City is surrounded by all kinds of incredibly diverse and oftentimes conflicting terrain. White sanded beaches that sparkle like diamonds, snowy mountains skirted by pine woods, rocky deserts and canyons lined with sugar (yes, the Kingdom exists here), tropical jungles, temperate meadows... whatever suits your taste, a change of scenery is always an option!! Caine takes a lot of pride in these areas, as they took research and elaborate designing. Other than a showman, he's a bit of an artist at heart.

Jax is partial to the all-you-can-eat buffets. It's become sort of tradition that he takes the newbies out with him to his favorite one. Hey, no one say he's not sociable. (If his company isn't that enjoyed, at least the food will be...)

Also, I've decided for the time being that Bubble is a beer bubble. Always foaming at the mouth... Rabid thing.

Agatha tends to introduce herself to newcomers down at the Club, but her and Ginnie may also organize a "day out" to get them into the swing of things and show them how the world works!! And if Kinger is notified of their arrival, he will invite them to an evening of fine dining and live music at The Velvet Butterfly via letter. (Very classy.)

During the day Lulu works at a stereotypical diner on the outer part of the city. She's one of those roller-skating waitresses, and certainly seems chipper about her job.

Her programmed backstory is that she was raised sheltered within the kingdom walls by her overprotective parents. Between her extensive studies and being taught stict etiquette she barely left the castle, let alone went outside the kingdom, so that one day she may become the perfect ruler to take her father's place. She didn't mind the prospect of leadership but craved the taste of a more exciting, wild and unrestrained life, especially in that fabled City she had heard so much about from their subjects... One day, she could no longer take it and ran away, taking an outlaws' carriage. She loved her parents and her people, but she'd come to the decision that she needed to lead a life of her own and discover the adventures of a world far different from theirs. For what she's done she can't return yet, but one day, she might.

Her and Gummi belong in a category of NPCs known as "companion AI". Compared to the mannequins they have elaborate designs, backstories and personalities for the more immersive experience of talking to a fellow person; they also have the second best memory after Caine, seeing as they were created to be spent plenty of time with. This companionship can mean anything from simple acquaintances to romantic relations to... more intimate things, and even though these two are fairly new around they've experienced it all. Their feelings about it vary.

The major NPCs of other episodes will have a place in this AU as well, but I'll wait with the more detailed brainstorming until those come out. For now, Orbsman is a Spudsy's cashier Jax enjoys frequently humiliating and picking on. Martha Mildenhall, the resident ghost of a mansion as we can infer, hosts the players' feasts and various other events at her lavish estate, helped by mannequins and her little spook friend in the catering.

Caine is dressed like a pimp. No, really.

...I might revise this design.

[drtyelvisfantasy]

Coney Island Baby🛼🍦 ౨ৎ

Parings: Elvis Presley x reader

*50s Elvis

Summary: You and Elvis spend a romantic night at Coney Island. With thrilling rides, carnival games, and beautiful beach sunset. With your love blossoming under the Coney Island lights

Song for fic: Coney Island Baby- The Excellents

౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ ౨ৎ

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the boardwalk, you and Elvis strolled hand in hand, your laughter intertwined with the sounds of crashing waves and bustling crowds. The air was filled with a contagious energy, the scent of cotton candy and salty sea breeze, as the two of you made your way through the vibrant Coney Island.

"Y'know, darlin', I've always wanted to take someone special to Coney Island," Elvis grinned, his charming blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I can't think of anyone more special than you."

Heat rushed up to your checks as you blushed, feeling your heart flutter at the sincere sweetness in Elvis's voice. "I'm so lucky to be here with you, Elvis. It's like a dream come true."

Elvis chuckled, his voice filled with genuine affection. "Well, let's make this dream unforgettable, sugar."

You and Elvis approached a colorful booth, adorned with various stuffed animals and prizes that seemed almost impossible to win. You had your eye on a particular stuffed bear, the bear was huge and was pink with white hearts. You begged Elvis to win it for you, you even threatened him with tears just to get the stuffed bear. Elvis confidently stepped up, ready to take on the challenge. He picked up a few rings and aimed them at the bottles, his concentration evident on his face.

With each successful toss, you clapped and cheered, your eyes shining with pride for your talented boyfriend. Elvis's determination paid off as he won a large pink and white teddy bear, which he immediately presented it two you with a playful wink.

"Here you go, sweetheart," Elvis chuckled, holding out the bear. "Now you'll always have something to remind you of this magical night."

You hugged the teddy bear tightly, grateful for the thoughtful gesture. "Thank you, Elvis. I'll cherish it forever."

With prizes in hand, the two of you meandered through the park, enjoying thrilling rides and indulging in delicious carnival snacks. You couldn't help but giggle as Elvis challenged you to a friendly water gun game, your laughters echoing through the air as the two playfully sprayed each other.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Elvis led you towards the sandy beach. The two found a cozy spot and settled down, your toes buried in the soft sand. Elvis wrapped his arm around the your shoulders, pulling you close as the both of you gazed out at the breathtaking view.

"Even with all the fame and fortune, moments like these with you are what truly matters," Elvis murmured, his voice filled with vulnerability. "Just being able to share these simple, beautiful moments��it's what makes life worth living."

You snuggled closer, resting your head on Elvis's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I feel the same way, Elvis. It's the genuine connection we have that makes everything else fade away."

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, watching as the sun dipped lower, casting a radiant glow that painted the world in warm hues. It was in these quiet moments that your love truly flourished, an unspoken understanding and affection binding the two of you together.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon, Elvis pressed a tender kiss against your forehead. "I love you, darlin'. Thank you for being a part of my life."

Your heart swelled with love, your voice filled with emotion. "I love you too, Elvis. Thank you for showing me a love I never thought possible."

With the backdrop of Coney Island's twinkling lights and the rhythmic sound of the waves, the both of you continued to revel in each other's presence, cherishing the memories you both had created on this enchanting date.

Together, you both knew that no matter what the future held, your love would always be as timeless as the memories you shared under the Coney Island lights.

[juliaqueendragon]

Full List of Names Pre-2025-02-12

Comparison (Names only in 1st or 2nd Position down Below)

A 

Abyss 

Acacia 

Ace 

Agate 

Air 

Alpha 

Amber 

Amethyst 

Ancient 

Angel 

Anti 

Apocalypse 

Apple 

Aqua 

Aquamarine 

Arch 

Arctic 

Ash 

Attack 

Aurora 

Autumn 

Azure 

Baby 

Ball 

Banana 

Basalt 

Bat 

Bay 

Bear 

Beat 

Bee 

Berry 

Beryl 

Big 

Birch 

Bird 

Blaze 

Blind 

Block 

Blue 

Bold 

Book 

Botanic 

Bottle 

Boulder 

Bow 

Box 

Brain 

Bramble 

Brass 

Brave 

Bread 

Breath 

Breeze 

Bright 

Brilliant 

Broken 

Bronze 

Bubble 

Bullet 

Bumble 

Butter 

Butterly 

Cactus 

Cake 

Candle 

Candy 

Caramel 

Carrot 

Cash 

Castle 

Cat 

Chance 

Chaos 

Charcoal 

Charm 

Cherry 

Chestnut 

Chip 

Chocolate 

Chunky 

Cinder 

Cinnamon 

Citrine 

Clash 

Class 

Classy 

Clear 

Clever 

Cloud 

Clover 

Club 

Coal 

Coco 

Cocoa 

Coconut 

Coffee 

Cold 

Color 

Cookie 

Cool 

Copper 

Coral 

Core 

Corn 

Coyote 

Crazy 

Crescent 

Crimson 

Crow 

Crown 

Crystal 

Cup 

Cupcake 

Cute 

Daisy 

Dance 

Danger 

Dark 

Darkness 

Dash 

Dawn 

Day 

Deep 

Deer 

Demon 

Depth 

Desert 

Dew 

Diamond 

Dice 

Dip 

Disco 

Dive 

Divine 

Dizzy 

Doctor 

Dog 

Dollar 

Dolphin 

Domino 

Donut 

Doom 

Double 

Dragon 

Drake 

Dream 

Drop 

Druid 

Drum 

Duke 

Dusk 

Dust 

Dusty 

E 

Eagle 

Earth 

East 

Easter 

Echo 

Eclipse 

Egg 

Elder 

Ember 

Emerald 

Epic 

Evening 

Ever 

Extra 

Fairy 

Faith 

Falcon 

Fan 

Fancy 

Fantasy 

Far 

Farm 

Fast 

Fern 

Field 

Fire 

Flame 

Flash 

Flower 

Fluffy 

Flutter 

Fly 

Force 

Fortune 

Fox 

Freedom 

Frenzy 

Fresh 

Frog 

Frost 

Fruit 

Future 

Galaxy 

Game 

Garden 

Garnet 

Gem 

Ghost 

Giga 

Ginger 

Glass 

Glitter 

Globe 

Gloom 

Glory 

Glow 

Gold 

Grace 

Grand 

Grass 

Gray 

Great 

Green 

Griffin 

Grim 

Ground 

Guardian 

Hair 

Hall 

Hand 

Harpy 

Hawk 

Hay 

Hazel 

Heat 

Heaven 

Heavy 

Hero 

Hollow 

Holly 

Home 

Honey 

Horse 

Hour 

Humming 

Ice 

Illusion 

Indigo 

Iron 

Ivory 

Jade 

Jasper 

Jazz 

Jelly 

Jewel 

Juice 

Jump 

June 

Jungle 

Juniper 

Jute 

Kangaroo 

Key 

Kick 

King 

Kite 

Knight 

Koala 

Lady 

Lake 

Land 

Lavender 

Leaf 

Leather 

Legend 

Lemon 

Life 

Light 

Lily 

Lime 

Lion 

Little 

Live 

Lost 

Love 

Lucky 

Luna 

Lush 

Magic 

Magma 

Marble 

Maroon 

Marzipan 

Masked 

Master 

May 

Maze 

Mega 

Melody 

Melon 

Memory 

Metal 

Meteor 

Midnight 

Milk 

Mind 

Mini 

Mint 

Miracle 

Mirror 

Mist 

Mocking 

Money 

Moon 

Morning 

Moss 

Mountain 

Mouse 

Movie 

Music 

Mystic 

Myth 

Nacho 

Nature 

Nebula 

Night 

Ninja 

Noble 

North 

Nova 

Nugget 

Oak 

Obsidian 

Ocean 

Octopus 

Old 

Olive 

Onion 

Onyx 

Opal 

Orange 

Orchid 

Osprey 

Owl 

Paladin 

Pale 

Panda 

Paper 

Park 

Party 

Peace 

Peach 

Pearl 

Penguin 

Pepper 

Peridot 

Phantom 

Phoenix 

Pie 

Pine 

Pink 

Pirate 

Pixel 

Pop 

Posh 

Potato 

Power 

Proof 

Pumpkin 

Purple 

Purpur 

Quail 

Quartz 

Quest 

Quick 

Rain 

Rainbow 

Ranger 

Raspberry 

Raven 

Red 

Rich 

River 

Robin 

Rock 

Root 

Rose 

Row 

Royal 

Ruby 

Rune 

Sad 

Saddle 

Salt 

Sand 

Sapphire 

Scarlet 

Scary 

Scroll 

Sea 

Sequoia 

Set 

Shade 

Shadow 

Shark 

Ship 

Sienna 

Silent 

Silver 

Sky 

Small 

Snake 

Snow 

Soft 

Solid 

Solo 

Song 

Soul 

Sound 

South 

Spark 

Sparkle 

Spell 

Spider 

Spirit 

Sporty 

Spotlight 

Spring 

Spruce 

Squirrel 

Star 

Steam 

Steel 

Step 

Stone 

Storm 

Strawberry 

Sugar 

Summer 

Sun 

Sunny 

Sunrise 

Sunset 

Swamp 

Sweet 

Swift 

Table 

Tea 

Thorn 

Thunder 

Tiger 

Time 

Tin 

Tiny 

Titan 

Tooth 

Topaz 

Town 

Trail 

Tree 

Trouble 

Truth 

Tsunami 

Tulip 

Turtle 

Tuxedo 

Twilight 

Twin 

Twinkle 

Ultra 

Umber 

Un 

Unicorn 

Vanilla 

Violet 

Voice 

Void 

Wall 

Walnut 

Walrus 

Water 

Wave 

Way 

Weather 

Web 

West 

Wild 

Willow 

Wind 

Wing 

Winter 

Wish 

Witch 

Wizard 

Wolf 

Wonder 

Wood 

World 

Yam 

Yellow 

Yoga 

Youth 

Yule 

Zap 

Zebra 

Zombie 

Ace 

Agate 

Air 

Amber 

Anchor 

Angel 

Anthem 

Apocalypse 

Apple 

Apricot 

Aquamarine 

Attack 

Aura 

Away 

Bag 

Band 

Bank 

Beach 

Beam 

Bean 

Bear 

Beat 

Beauty 

Bee 

Bell 

Belle 

Berg 

Berry 

Beryl 

Bird 

Birth 

Biscuit 

Blaze 

Block 

Blood 

Blossom 

Blue 

Board 

Bolt 

Bone 

Book 

Born 

Bottle 

Boulder 

Bow 

Box 

Boy 

Brain 

Bramble 

Brass 

Bread 

Break 

Breath 

Breeze 

Broken 

Bronze 

Brook 

Brother 

Bubble 

Buddy 

Bug 

Bullet 

Butter 

Butterfly 

Cactus 

Cake 

Candle 

Candy 

Caramel 

Care 

Cash 

Caster 

Catcher 

Cave 

Chain 

Champion 

Chance 

Charm 

Chaser 

Cherry 

Chestnut 

Chief 

Child 

Chip 

Chocolate 

Chunk 

Citrine 

Clash 

Class 

Clear 

Cloud 

Clover 

Club 

Cocoa 

Color 

Comet 

Cookie 

Copper 

Core 

Corn 

Craft 

Crasher 

Crescent 

Crimson 

Cross 

Crow 

Crown 

Crumb 

Crush 

Cry 

Crystal 

Cube 

Cup 

Cupcake 

Dale 

Dancer 

Danger 

Dark 

Dark 

Darling 

Dash 

Dawn 

Deep 

Deer 

Demon 

Desert 

Desire 

Destiny 

Dew 

Diamond 

Dice 

Dip 

Disco 

Diver 

Divine 

Dollar 

Dolphin 

Dome 

Doom 

Dove 

Dragon 

Drake 

Dream 

Dreamer 

Drink 

Drop 

Druid 

Drummer 

Duck 

Duke 

Dusk 

Dust 

Eagle 

Earth 

Echo 

Eclipse 

Effect 

Egg 

Escape 

Eye 

Fairy 

Faith 

Falcon 

Fall 

Fan 

Farm 

Father 

Feather 

Field 

Fighter 

Film 

Finder 

Fire 

Fish 

Flake 

Flame 

Flash 

Flight 

Floor 

Flower 

Fly 

Flyer 

Force 

Form 

Fortune 

Frame 

Free 

Friend 

Frost 

Fruit 

Future 

Gait 

Galaxy 

Game 

Gap 

Garden 

Garnet 

Gate 

Gaze 

Gazer 

Gem 

Ghost 

Gift 

Girl 

Glass 

Glimmer 

Globe 

Gloom 

Glory 

Glow 

Goal 

Goat 

Gold 

Grace 

Green 

Griffin 

Ground 

Growth 

Guard 

Guardian 

Guest 

Gum 

Habitat 

Hair 

Hall 

Hand 

Harmony 

Harpy 

Hat 

Hawk 

Hazel 

Head 

Heart 

Heat 

Heaven 

Herb 

Hero 

Hill 

Hollow 

Home 

Honey 

Honor 

Hoof 

Hope 

Horse 

Hour 

Humming 

Hunter 

Hurricane 

Hype 

Ice 

Icon 

Idol 

Ie 

Ivory 

Jasper 

Jazz 

Jewel 

Joke 

Joker 

Joy 

Juice 

Jump 

Jumper 

Jungle 

Juniper 

Kangaroo 

Keeper 

Key 

Kick 

Kid 

King 

Kiss 

Kite 

Knight 

Knock 

Koala 

Lady 

Lake 

Land 

Lavender 

Leader 

Leaf 

Legend 

Lemon 

Less 

Letter 

Liberty 

Life 

Light 

Lily 

Lime 

Lin 

Ling 

Lion 

Live 

Log 

Loop 

Lord 

Love 

Luck 

Lucky 

Lush 

Ly 

Machine 

Madness 

Magic 

Man 

Mane 

Maniac 

Mare 

Mark 

Maroon 

Mask 

Masked 

Master 

Matter 

Maze 

Meadow 

Melody 

Melon 

Memory 

Metal 

Milk 

Mind 

Mint 

Mirror 

Mist 

Mocking 

Mode 

Moment 

Monster 

Moon 

Mother 

Mountain 

Movie 

Music 

Mystery 

Mystic 

Myth 

Nature 

Nebula 

Ninja 

Nova 

Novel 

Nugget 

O 

Oak 

Oasis 

Ocean 

Octopus 

Omen 

Onion 

Orange 

Orb 

Orchid 

Osprey 

Owl 

Pair 

Paladin 

Panda 

Paper 

Park 

Part 

Party 

Path 

Peak 

Pearl 

Penguin 

Pepper 

Peridot 

Petal 

Phantom 

Phoenix 

Pie 

Piece 

Pine 

Pink 

Pirate 

Pixel 

Place 

Plan 

Planet 

Plant 

Play 

Pop 

Potential 

Power 

Price 

Prince 

Princess 

Promise 

Proof 

Pumpkin 

Punk 

Purple 

Purpose 

Quake 

Quartz 

Queen 

Quest 

Quiver 

Rabbit 

Racer 

Rain 

Rainbow 

Rambler 

Range 

Ranger 

Raspberry 

Ray 

Reader 

Rebel 

Red 

Respect 

Rest 

Rich 

Rider 

Ring 

Rising 

River 

Road 

Robin 

Rock 

Rocket 

Role 

Root 

Rose 

Row 

Royal 

Ruby 

Runner 

Saga 

Sand 

Scout 

Scroll 

Secret 

Seeker 

Sequoia 

Set 

Shade 

Shadow 

Shell 

Shelter 

Shimmer 

Shine 

Ship 

Shore 

Shout 

Shy 

Signal 

Silence 

Silver 

Singer 

Sister 

Sky 

Smash 

Smoke 

Snap 

Snout 

Snow 

Solid 

Solo 

Song 

Soul 

Spark 

Sparkle 

Spell 

Spice 

Spider 

Spirit 

Splash 

Spot 

Squirrel 

Stallion 

Star 

Steel 

Step 

Stone 

Storm 

Strawberry 

Stream 

Strider 

String 

Sunrise 

Sunset 

Surfer 

Surprise 

[kreaturaadventura]

Australian artist duo Nicole Andrijevic and Tanya Schultz, under their moniker Pip and Pop, create magical installations out of brightly dyed sugar, glitter, and tiny cheap plastic toys. Created in a manner similar to Buddhist Sand Mandalas (whose profound impermanence of their time consuming compositions are meant to be a meditation on the transitory nature of life), Pip and Pop's works jump to 3D territory, oozing past boundaries in a day glo riot of neon and sparkle. Infused with plenty of Kawaii spirit and pop psychedelia, and saturated in the fluorescent colors used in children's toys and head shop posters, these playful yet meticulously-crafted islands of sugar speak to the ideas of material abundance and dreamy nostalgia of youth.

[mariacallous]

Hamantaschen are known to come in every variety: sweet, savory, inspired by Girl Scout cookies, and even made with boxed cake mix for the easiest hamantaschen recipe ever. Gluten-free hamantaschen are not only possible, they are absolutely delicious. Gluten-free no longer means baked goods that are dry, tough or have a strange aftertaste. Thanks to the wide range of gluten-free baking blends available in the grocery store, you can transform your favorite treats easily and with success!

By using a “cup for cup” all-purpose gluten-free flour, you don’t even have to do the math or busy yourself with any fancy mixing of flours. Just use the same amount of flour called for in the recipe and substitute the gluten-free blend. I love Cup 4 Cup brand but there are many excellent brands out there including King Arthur Baking brand and Bob’s Red Mill.

You can still have all the same fun with fillings and toppings as regular hamantaschen, and with this scrumptious recipe, no one will know the difference.

In this recipe for the best gluten-free hamantaschen, I flavor the dough with almond extract and fill the cookies with apricot pie filling. Once they’re cool, I drizzle them with an almond-y glaze and sprinkle them with sanding sugar for extra sweetness and a bit of sparkle. They’re the perfect fragrant, sunny bite for me, but you can substitute ¼ cup of whatever pie filling you prefer. We like pie filling versus jams and preserves because it is thicker, and therefore less likely to leak out of the crust. Other fillings we love include Nutella, cream cheese and dulce de leche.

This recipe comes together in only 1 hour (including 30 minutes of downtime while the dough chills) and yields 18-20 hamantaschen, so you’ll have plenty to share with family and friends this Purim.

Notes:

You can make the hamantaschen dough up to three days ahead and store in the fridge.

You can assemble the hamantaschen a day ahead and chill them in the freezer overnight before baking.

Store these hamantaschen in an airtight container, separating the layers with wax paper, at room temperature. They will keep fresh this way for up to 1 week. For longer storage freeze the hamantaschen on a baking sheet in a single layer. Once frozen, transfer to a Ziploc bag or other airtight container for up to 3 months.

[gimmickverse-fanfic]

Chapter Two- Hesitation

@intothegimmickverseofficial

Chell hesitated. Wait, why was she running through the rain? A droplet fell into her mouth. The flash of bright blindness hurt her eyes and left her on the ground, coughing, whispering to turn back.

Why wasn't she able to?

Even as Castillo watched, snake curled around her neck, she couldn't bring herself to help.

Even as Tinder and Earth called from the door, they found themselves paralysed.

Stanley had gone mute. SCP was frozen. Identify breathed and stopped. Moon and Sun didn't even look up.

Then, suddenly, footsteps as Tinder rushed to collect Chell barely before the lightning hit.

"Why the hell would you do that??" Tinder dropped Chell onto the sofa as footsteps echoes around them.

"I'm not sure." Chell paused. An echo of the truth echoed in her mind. Dare you cheat your way around the board for a chance at paradise? "I damn near thought I was having some sort of manic or psychotic episode. Alas, I was not. That was last week." She laughed.

Stanley was shaking, sweat dripping down her forehead, a choke in her lungs not quite prohibiting breathing but very strongly discouraging it.

"Why did you save me?" Chell stared, before fainting.

"I thought Stanley would like me to keep you in a preferable state... not torn to shreds by lightning." Tinder laughed before skipping upstairs to avoid SCP's torrent of questions doomed to circle them.

Even as the footsteps stilled, the house moaned and settled, even as the rain beat down as though it was trying to break in, SCP barely slept.

What had prevented them from moving?

A tiptoe here, a footstep there, and they were in front of Stanley's door.

"You awake?" SCP barely breathed as they ghosted through the room to loom above Stanley:s bed like a totem of doom.

"Hmm?" Stanley barely blinked. "Yeah, why?"

"How doesn't that scare you?" SCP mumbled before sitting down. "Anyway, what was it?"

"Invisible idiots holding us down. Unicorns. A tray of sand is magic and angry. I don't know." Stanley drew from her dreams and sighed, "Though you'd expect Chell to behave a little more... Normal."

"Who in this house is normal?" SCP snorted. Stanley chuckled before standing.

"Let's get some tea... or hot chocolate," Yawn, "And discuss this downstairs."

Chell remained cuddled up to herself downstairs, as Stanley made the chocolate and tea. SCP curled their arms around Chell before floating upstairs.

"Back so soon?" Stanley questioned Moon, who may or may not have been watching at the stairs to the basement.

"SCP-"

"Took Chell back to her room." Stanley stifled another yawn as she poured the milk. "How many spoonfuls of sugar does SCP like again?"

"Three, I believe," Chell shrugged, "but wh-"

"Shh, they're coming back." Stanley spooned in the sugar as SCP stepped into the kitchen, nodding at Moon and smiling at Stanley.

"Alright, let's figure this out." Stanley mumbled before passing the tea to SCP, who nodded in thanks, and they sat next to each other to contemplate the extraordinary.

Moon watched for a while before stepping downstairs. Sun was already there, sitting in a couch and reading some book or other.

Without a glance up, Sun parted the space next to her and let Moon huff down. Tensing, Sun flipped the page of the book and finally flicked her eyes up.

"What happened?"

"Oh, SCP and Stanley up at the small hours for reasons as of yet unknown to man and beast alike, the usual."

"Ah. Has anyone introduced those two to sleep yet?"

"I think Etho attempted to once, a while back, but SCP decided to throw themselves into some SCP containment chamber and Stanley decided that falling out of a window was better."

Sun laughed, in a way that made her name represent her; hair thrown back and sparkling in the dim light, a mythical laugh of strength and power, of charm and honour. Moon quivered to be  before such a goddess, and moreover to be left alive in such proximity.

"Wow..." Moon breathed. Sun stared. Her Moon was such a pretty one, shiny hair that fluttered behind her without a wind, eyes that twinkled in the dying starlight... proof that people really were made of stardust.

"Well, that's enough romance novels for one day." Sun quipped, letting her book fall to the ground as Moon leaned in, neither noticing the figure standing behind them.