#that way i can set up camp by the lake below it and stay the night to do the summit itself the next day

[atthebell]

Natal Macabro Slasher/Horror References

Spoilers, obviously, for a lot of classic as well as newer slashers and horror films generally. Content warnings for blood, gore, and graphic violence. I'm gonna order this generally by how influential I think each film is, although sometimes it's just whatever order I wanted to list them in. Additional disclaimers at the bottom along with some footnotes and fun facts.

Friday the 13th (1980) references:

The camp setting, though I'll discuss later other instances of this that are likely also inspiration.

Aguiar's mask is Jason Voorhees-inspired (though the signature Jason mask first appeared in Friday the 13th Part III, not the first film).

The axe is also a Friday the 13th reference-- though axe killings are very common in slashers, the specific scene of Brenda being killed by an axe to the head in Friday the 13th seems like inspiration for Aguiar's favored method of splitting people's heads open with an axe.

Alice likely having been Aguiar's adoptive mother* & also a killer (Pam Voorhees was the original Friday the 13th killer, then Jason took up the role in subsequent films)

Diamond Lake is a reference to Crystal Lake, the location of the original and most subsequent Friday the 13th films.

Halloween (1978) references:

The true pioneer of the slasher, Halloween kicked off the genre and is widely recognized as the first slasher as well as a pivotal horror film.

Solidified some key elements of the final girl trope, namely that the final female survivor has a confrontation with the killer herself

Scream (1996) references:

Ghostface uses a hunting knife, as does Jae in Natal Macabro.

Ghostface plays a game with Casey Becker in the original movie-- if she can guess horror movies correctly from clues he gives her over the phone, the killer won't hurt her boyfriend. Jae creates a game for their victims to have to find keys and avoid her in the house. Not completely the same but similar enough that I'm including it.

Ghostface's costume includes a hood, as does Jae's.

The imposter trope/unsureness about who the killer is and if the protagonist/final girl knows them is very much a thing in Scream, but I discuss it a bit more below as well

Cellbit loves this fucking franchise he is obsessed with Ghostface

Black Christmas (1974) references:

The film's poster is in the house, first of all

Christmas horror, obviously, set in a sorority house where some members have left for the holidays and others are staying, making them targets for the killer.

For a big portion of the movie, several of the characters' bodies are in the attic while other characters, unaware of the danger, wander the house.

Considered to be one of the first true slashers

The imposter element that I'll discuss somewhat below is definitely present in Black Christmas.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) references:

Made the masked killer trope popular, though it wasn't the first.

Leatherface, the main killer in the film, wears a mask made of human flesh-- just like Alice Lucina's Caçadora de Gente mask.

Includes the young people stopping at a random house trope.

You Might Be the Killer (2018) references

Similar masks, particularly with the lack of a mouth hole

The mask in You Might Be the Killer makes the wearer lose control of themself and kill others, sometimes going into a fugue state and being compelled to continue putting the mask on.

The Prisoners (2013) references:

This reference is the major reason I believe in the idea that Alice was Aguiar's adoptive mother in some way, as in The Prisoners, Helen Jones kidnaps a young boy named Alex and raises him to be a killer like her. The portrait of Alice in the house seems to be a clear nod to Helen (big glasses, white turtleneck, crazy eyes), and I've seen way too many Brazilians on Twitter talking about this movie as a reference point to think it's coincidence.

Saw (2004) references:

Let's play a game shit

Waking up locked in a location & needing to escape (through harming yourself)

Yet another masked freak

Dead by Daylight references:

Dead by Daylight isn't a slasher film, but it's a game entirely based around slashers, and it's a game Cellbit has played a lot of so I think it's fair to discuss.

Hooks and generators -- DBD didn't invent people getting put on hooks, see below, but it is the signature of the game

Underground/shadow travel by the killers

Killers participating in rituals to sacrifice survivors (this is also kind of just Ordem shit but yk)

Not really references, but Sobrevivendo ao Horror as an addition has a lot of stuff that lends itself well to a Dead by Daylight setting-- chase sequences and the mechanics involved, for instance. Very neat!!! It's a good system and a good supplement for slashers, which makes it interesting to compare to DBD as a video game adaptation of slashers.

DBD's whole Entity thing is also very Lovecraftian and very Ordem-like so that's fun as well

General slasher/horror tropes:

Useless cops/cops are in on the killings (Aguiar)

Hot blonde girl/hot cheerleader (Mel)

Genre-aware person who wants to leave the situation before others are scared (Shany)

Horror nerd -- Best example is Randy in Scream, and in Natal Macabro is represented by Nath. This trope can be represented very similarly to the genre-aware character trope, but they aren't inherently the same role.

Imposter (sorry)-- generally a group member who either hides that they are the killer or has some other ulterior motive, or serves as a red herring. Think Peter in Black Christmas, or Billy and Stu in Scream. Jorel fills this role but so does Aguiar, appearing to the first group to be an ally before revealing that he's in on the killings.

Previous murders/a location seemingly marked for repeat killings (think Friday the 13th, Scream, etc. & the previous camper killings in 2013 in Natal Macabro)

Axes and hunting knives as weapons, bear traps -- For the latter, I would look towards My Heart is a Chainsaw and the rest of The Indian Lake Trilogy-- all of which include bear traps, and the series is a great horror read & glossary for slashers. I believe there's also bear traps in DBD.

Camp location, particularly with an accompanying lake -- Present in Friday the 13th, Sleepaway Camp, and a ton of other slashers, present in NM with o Acampamento Lua da Benquerença.

Teenagers sneaking into an abandoned/supposedly abandoned house -- This trope seems to have originated with A Bay of Blood/Ecologia del delitto (1971), which was a huge influence on slashers, but is present throughout many horror films.

Secluded cabin location (typically involving young people) -- Occurs in Evil Dead (1981), The Cabin in the Woods (2011), etc.

Broken down vehicle/roadtrip -- Present in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre as well as many others

Complex parental relationships (particularly mommy issues) -- Present in Friday the 13th, relevant here if Alice and Aguiar are parent and child as I think they are

Hooks as weapons/killers putting people on hooks -- present in Black Christmas, I Know What You Did Last Summer (1997), and of course extremely central to Dead by Daylight, but Candyman (1992) is what really stands out to me as the slasher most connected to the hook as a weapon.

Other Christmas slashers/horror films: Silent Night, Bloody Night (1972), Home for the Holidays (1972), Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

Final girl-- a common trope in horror movies and particularly slashers. The most commonly acknowledged initiation of the trope comes from the 1973 giallo* film Torso, but it's most widely known from Black Christmas and, especially, Halloween, with Laurie Strode, Sidney Prescott, Alice Hardy, and Ellen Ripley being some of the most famous final girls in horror. Final girl is sometimes applied to men in horror films as well, most often Ash from Evil Dead, but is meant to be applied to women as the slasher franchise's relationship with female characters and misogynistic violence is a complex one. Final characters generally have become especially popular to talk about in recent years.

My many disclaimers/footnotes:

[1] I have no confirmation on any of these references (aside from the Black Christmas poster, lol), although some of them are extremely obvious if you're a fan of horror/have seen these movies. I'm also only listing the initial film in a franchise unless there's a clear reference to a later film-- you can get the picture from the first Scream, for example; you don't need me to go on about each sequential film including certain tropes/elements too. I am not an expert or even all that well-versed on slashers, either, I just enjoy doing research and like learning about film and horror history. If I missed any references, feel free to let me know and I'll add them to the post, or you can reblog with references you noticed too. Some of these I'll also admit are just me talking about important films to the genre that I think inform any conversation about Natal Macabro and any other kind of slasher. I also haven't seen every film I mentioned here, some I've only read the summary of, others I've seen only parts of.

[2] I know this is just one of my theories about NM but it seems pretty likely to me for this and other reasons included later (The Prisoners connection, for instance) so I'm putting it on the list.

[3] Italian giallo films were the precursor to slashers-- they were generally considered exploitation films full of gratuitous sex and violence, and paved the way for the kinds of plots, gore, and tropes that would become popular in slashers.

Fun facts:

Breno is not alone in being a Black final character! If you count George Romero's Night of the Living Dead, the first movie to feature zombies (though they weren't called that in the movie), Ben is one of the first final guys, although he's still killed by the end of the film, just not by "ghouls." There have been many other Black final characters in horror (Alexa Woods in Alien vs. Predator, Selena in 28 Days Later, Jeryline in Demon Knight, Tess in Barbarian, and more), though definitely not as many as there should be. The lack of Black leads, and specifically Black female leads, means slashers suffer in the same way many pieces of media do, along with the fact that so many of the characters that aren't the protagonist must die according to the formula. I've heard the latest Scream also has a Black female survivor by the end, so I'm excited about more diverse casting and writing becoming more prevalent within horror as a genre.

Some other character tropes present with the NM cast of characters: Jorel as the wimpy injured guy who turns out to suck, Leandro as the brooding suspicious guy who's actually fine, Lila as the weird spiritual person, Ricardo and Breno both as the jocks, Lucio as the more recent horror trope of influencers/filmmakers who get stuck in a horror situation.

Masked killers are EXTREMELY common in slashers, as they provide a way to hide the identity of the killer until the "reveal," a typical part of the film/story when the identity, backstory, and motivations of the killer are revealed, usually by the final girl/remaining survivors finding said information. They're also just great for marketing.

Noncomprehensive horror homework Letterboxd list

More recommendations:

Book recs:

The Indian Lake Trilogy (My Heart is a Chainsaw, Don't Fear the Reaper, The Angel of Indian Lake) - Stephen Graham Jones [IMO this series is THE way to learn about slashers if you're unfamiliar-- Jade Daniels is a veritable encyclopedia of slashers, and the narratives of the books themselves are wonderful and crazy and gory and just awesome.]

The Only Good Indians - Stephen Graham Jones

Out There Screaming - ed. Jordan Peele

For game recs: Dead by Daylight, Little Nightmares, Alien Isolation (don't actually play it it's terrible but go watch someone's playthrough if you're into self-flagellation and the Alien franchise), Resident Evil, Outlast, Killer Frequency, and plenty more survival-horror. Do NOT play Until Dawn, but read the Wikipedia page or something to understand how not to pay homage to slashers, because that's what that game is.

For stuff that I think relates to more typical Ordem content (aka more paranormal horror), I'd recommend Shirley Jackson, Lovecraft, and some Stephen King, although for the latter two there's a lot of disclaimers to provide and curated recommendations that you should track down.

[fidgetspringer]

Our 2024 Summary of Summits!

14. May - 667m. Our regular starting summit every year.

8. June - 978m. Dogless, but still worth it for one of my favourite summits.

19. July - 947m. Came back home after 5 hours without service to find the world in chaos (Crowdstrike incident)

27. December - 667m. The latest in the year we've ever done this summit.

And an honorable mention to the two summits I DNF'd this year. Both on my to-do list, and both the only summits I attempted this year that would have been new to me.

3. August - 1318m. And 14. September - 1326m. One DNF due to weather. the other because I got sick and had to turn back two hours in. Massive bummer but we'll try again next summer.

[sirenmoth]

Warm Winter

Werebear x Human!Reader

Synopsis: Your teddy be- i mean werebear partner doesn't like you out in the cold

Cold weather was a given living so far out in the woods, winter was when it got bad with the mountines of snows and skin biting blizzards, below freezing temperatures and scared fresh food other than meat and canned rations. Keeping a ental note to try and make and indoor greenhouse somewhere in the cabin to grow fresh produce when the spring thaw arrives. The small cabin as big enough and sturdy enough to keep the harsh elements of a mid november snow storm out, through the wind crept in through what cracks crevices it could find, another mental notes of what needed repairs.

Your partner slept more during these months to conserve energy, curling up on a makeshift bed of fur pelts and stolen camping equipment. You, however, didn't have that biological need to sleep for months on and off, becoming restless staying in bed all day. So you built a routin for the colder months, put in place when the sun starting setting earlier over the dusted white treetops and frozen over lakes. Keeping as quiet as possible, as not to disturb the ball of nesting fur in the bedroom. You saved the outdoor activities and chores for the warmer seasons, those usually consisted of fixing and repairing the damange the winter war has done, building up the little fort the two of you call home al over again, hoping it can survive another battle against the elements.

The cabin didn't have a lot of rooms, just a bedroom, living room, kitchen and bathroom, not much but it's home. You always leave the bedroom for later, giving it a deep clean in the fall before your partner goes to sleep and in the spring when your partner wakes up.

The first thing you do is start a fire, the small woodburner in the living is enough to provide heat for most part in the cabin, a massive wood pile sat beside it, another one sat in the kitchen by the stove. All lovingly chopped by your partner before they decided to crash for the winter.

Next you start on the kitchen, checking the food preservatives in the pantry and marking down what was running low and what was due to be expired soon down on a clipboard they brought a year years back when you asked if they had another to keep records for food during winter, knowing your partner it was from a campsite of unsuspecting campers who didn't know or didn't care they were in a bears' territory.

Picking up a bucket and broom on your way out, wanting to dust and sweep both the living room and kitchen. Thankfully the place stayed clean throught most of the colder months due to your being the only one active. Walking over to the bathroomand putting the bucket in the tub, the sink was too shallow for it, and walking back out to pick dust the shelves and organise. A quick glance outside, the snow has picked up into a light blizzard, white specks dances around in the air in rapid movments, the landscape now a frozen white desert. It was going to be a rough night, silently you prayed the cabin could stand up against it and keep you both warm and safe.

Finding a new place at the moment is less than desirable.

Retriving the bucket from the bathroom and turing off the tap, it was barely half full but everything needs to be conserved during the winter season. A loud bang rang out throughout the cabin, startling you, nearly making you drop the bucket. The source of the noise was one of the indoor shutters that flew open from a strong gust of wind, hastily you put the bucket down and , as quickly as you could, placed it back in its place, hoping no heat escaped.

An errie quite falls over the space, listening for movement, waiting to see if the noise distrubed the snoozing mass. A low growl emitted throughout the small space, the beast was awake and fully aware of a certain human missing from the nest. The sound made you froze, stopping the sudden repairs on the window shutter.

"I'll be there in a minute." you call out, finishing securing the shutter in place and closing it, latching it shut. Turing around you come face to face with the recently awoken werebear, grumpy and tired their sleep was interupted, standing hunched over in the door frame, staring you down. "I was just cleaning, I was going to come back to bed once I'm done." You attempt to explain.

Your explaination does very little as you're lifted up into the air and over their shoulder, dragged back to the bedroom, all chores supposed to be done be damned.

A strained groan leaves your throat as you get dropped with force onto the makeshift bed, then a heavy, hulking figure practiaclly collapse on top of you as soon as you make contact with the pile of fur and equipment. Smiling, you put up a fake struggle, squirming around to try and break free. Another growl is heard, a warning to stop it, still you continue to movie, trying to find a comfy spot. A strong paw traps you, pinning you down by the waist and pulls you in, close enough to feels your bears' warmth but not enough to suffocate you in their fur.

"I had work to do. Who do you think maintains this place while you sleep?" You poke at the soft pile beside you, which grunts in response, too tired to properly respond to your sarcastic remark.

"Mhm, I love you too." another grunt in reply. Rolling over to cuddle in closer, sighing contently, pressing your face into their chest. Feeling them curl around you like a personal heater, a furnace, keeping you warm from the cold. Sleep once again entered your mind, knowing you're not going anywhere any time soon, you let it.

Hopefully you'll be able to get everything you missed done tomorrow, along with what is also planned for that day. Knowing you hace your work cut out for you. Right now you let youself be effectively trapped and pinned to the bed, you decide staying isn't so bad, beside you need rest for the double work you've got set up for tomorrow.

[nesiclor]

(This is a long ass post)

Recently I decided to rewatch Steven Universe and as much as it's good, I'm still dissapointed by how they had to rush the finale and especially the epilogue. There was a lot of potential for I Am My Monster and I am a connoisseur of protagonist turned apeshit. So, just like I made a reimagine of Lush Caves, I made a reimagine of I Am My Monster, with a bonus storyline at the end(shitpost warning because I had no idea what to do for the dialogue. (Close-ups are below the cut)

Unironic notes:

Steven grows in size every time he feels attacked/surrounded. This is utilising the concept in Growing Pains where he grows when he feels stressed and scared in the hospital.

Spikes growing out of Steven's body should serve a purpose, since it's shown that he isn't exactly corrupted, but instead shapeshifting.

The slow-burn could be assisted with Steven fighting against his family and friends in an actual battle for him to see himself as a monster as it goes on, rather than going from 0 to 100 from one episode to the next. As for why he would be attacked, could be that he is lost in the mindset that he can mess up without facing the concequences, which means he could feel like he can attack the gems to avoid the confrontation he had in Everything's Fine, making the gems fight back for the sake of everyone's safety. An obvious idea would also be that when Bismuth, Lapis and Peridot show up to help, they see Steven attacking without getting a good look at who he is, attacking automatically, provoking him even more.

___

Note that the comic isn't a scene-by-scene, but more of a plot point-by-plot point. In an actual episode, there should be more pauses to let the weight of the situation set in. ALSO C'MON! POOF SOME BITCHES! ADD MORE TENSION! BREAK STUFF INSTEAD OF GOING *stomp stomp* grawbuhrgrawargh ON THE BEACH!

And just in case you get any ideas you'd like to add on to all this, then go right ahead. I would love to see like one of the most crucial parts of the show's character developments actually have more to it.

Anyway, here is a bonus brainstorm I had continuing after the small comic:

Lapis trapping Steven could happen because Steven tries to run away after poofing Amethyst. Steven would start running past Little Homeschool, allowing Lapis to spot him from the tower. Lapis would use a lake to restrict Steven, while Connie warps over with Lion to try to calm him down. Then the last couple of panels in the comic could happen. Lapis gets poofed, and Steven becomes big enough for all of Little Homeschool to notice. Steven runs further into the forest after his signature GRWARBHURGABRAWH. It turns out Steven was running over to Jasper's camp, only to see she's not there. Steven looks around before a boulder gets lobbed at his face. Bismuth and Peridot caught up with him and try to fight him, since they don't know it's Steven. But they quickly start to make a run for it, Peridot flying away with Bismuth while Steven jumps towards them. They're just about to be caught before Sardonyx hops up and bonks Steven in the face with her hammer. Sardonyx unfuses and tells Bismuth and Peridot to hide beneath the trees and stay quiet. They ask how to take the thing down but Garnet says "Don't attack him." Of course they ask "Him?", leading to Garnet elaborating that it's Steven. And, this is IMPORTANT AND THEY DIDN'T DO IT, add a shot of STEVEN thinking. Just STEVEN looking around. He gets lost in thought before he looks back at Little Homeschool and makes his way back to it. The gems hear the thudding get quieter and sigh in relief, explaining what they know about the situation. Their conversation gets cut off when they hear where Steven is going. Steven goes back to Little Homeschool and starts grunting and gazing around, punching holes into buildings and looking inside of them. Then drama drama before the Diamonds show up in their ship, pausing the commotion by picking Steven up and Spinel coming out to say he forgot his foot-thong-thingy. The Diamonds pause to see that Steven is missing and ask where he is, also getting explained to by the gems. They look at their spaceship-hand as Steven is charging up a roar that powers the entire ship down and causes it to crash. Steven walks up to the ship and stares at the sculpture of White's face on the ship, his pupils dilating. Then he goes into full mania as he punches the ship over and over. Then idk lol.

If you're wondering why Steven would be looking for Jasper, my idea is that Jasper helped him have actual control over his power, just not how he felt mentally. Steven thinks his form is his powers swelling up again and feels like Jasper is his only hope.

[justagalwhowrites]

Bestieeee! HAPPY LAVENDERSARY! I cannot believe it’s already a year since you started this story!😱 I guess that in my efforts to push myself out here more and my want to participate a little bit in this celebration, I’m sending you a question about Sylvie, Ellie, Doc, and Joel’s life after the epilogue, and I wonder if you have some thoughts about it? Love you! Congratulations once again for writing this amazing story!🫂♥️♥️♥️

AHHHH BESTIE!!!!!

I can't believe that it's been a year but I also can't believe it's been just a year, you know? Who even was I before Joel and Doc??? I don't know anymore. Question response below the cut!

I LOVE this question!! I've thought so much about their lives together, really. To start, Joel and Doc die when they're 101 and 90 respectively, the night of Doc's 90th birthday party. They go to bed together after being surrounded by their children and grandchildren (Sylvie marries Jonah in the 2040s after being childhood sweethearts. Andrew and Doc are overjoyed that they finally get to be actually related) and die peacefully in their sleep.

In between the end of the story and that time, they are leaders in Jackson where they help take care of the town and its people. Almost no one knows about what Doc did to save humanity, but she calls in a few favors because of it when it really counts. Jackson stayed operating pretty independently from all the new government systems being set up - something she helped facilitate.- and she also uses her connections and contributions to get another doctor into Jackson when she starts worrying about being able to keep up with the work. Joel tries to teach her guitar at one point and it goes very poorly. They settle for slow dancing to a CD in their living room and Joel playing guitar for her. They make sure they take time to go to the lake just the two of them in the summer because there's just something about the water. It takes a few years after humanity begins to function again but Joel is finally able to reliably get his hands on coffee beans. He makes a hobby out of making Doc her frilly coffees while drinking the straight black stuff he likes best. Ellie and Dina get together permanently about a year after Dina has JJ. Jesse is an excellent coparent. Joel and Doc love the crap out of that baby and Joel teaches him how to fish and throw a football and calls him sport. As the threat from infected eases, Joel and Doc take Sylvie, Ellie, Dina and JJ camping. They make smores and Doc sets one marshmallow on fire to make hers like Sarah did. Doc and Joel tell Sylvie and Ellie all about their older sister. The girls miss her, too, but in a way that makes their lives richer because that means they get to know her, too.

All in all, Joel and Doc get 45 years together, happy in Jackson with their girls and the family they made. It just took them a while to get there ❤️

You can also see what they got up to on the Lavenderversary with the last one shot I shared yesterday, ...Can Be Found.

Thank you so so much for being here and loving on these stories, bestie!!!! Your comments and asks are consistently some of the favorite parts of my day and I'm so happy to share this beautiful corner of the internet with you.

Love you!!!!

[secretdestinypainter]

The Best New Book Releases Out of 2024:

In today's world where everyone is having different screenings and digital distractions, I feel like there is something great and truly magical about diving into a good book. Books have the power to transport us with the well of knowledge, introduce us to fascinating characters, and make us think about different imaginations that nothing else can do not even this digital media. I love reading books and exploring new characters based on interesting stories. Let me join you on a journey to the enchanting world of books, where we can learn and explore adventure, knowledge, and inspiration awaiting on every page.

When it comes to new releases, I’ve been loving the Black horror girlie surge that’s been part of the Horror Renaissance, the latest of which is Dead Girls Walking by Sami Ellis. It’s a YA slasher that follows a girl looking for her mother’s body at the summer camp that — get this — her serial killer father once owned. Supreme horror mess of the highest order.

Another new horror title, albeit an adult one, is Diavola by Jennifer Marie Thorne. Diavola also has some family drama going on, this time set against a haunted Italian villa during a vacation. Finally, there’s the conclusion to troubled, half-Native teen Jade Daniels’s Indian Lake saga in The Angel of Indian Lake by Stephen Graham Jones.

Stepping outside of horror, Like Happiness by Ursula Villarreal-Moura sees protagonist Tatum Vega getting her newfound peace upended when news breaks that a famous author — someone she dated years ago — has been accused of assault. And, from the author of The Enchanted — which I inhaled when it was first published years ago — comes Sleeping Giants, a tale of foster kids, abuse, and real-life monsters. Lastly, Worry by Alexandra Tanner, is a debut described as “a Seinfeldian novel of existentialism and sisterhood.”

In the featured books below, there’s an entry into a popular cozy mystery series, queer love across timelines, a reimagining of Icarus, and more.

The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties by Jesse Q. Sutanto

isSutanto stays with her foot on our necks with these new releases, phew. After last year’s über popular Vera Wong’s Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, she’s back with another cozy mystery, this time a continuation of her bestselling Aunties series. Here, Meddy Chan travels to Jakarta to spend the Chinese New Year with family. But then, a former fling of one of Meddy’s Aunties — affectionately known as Second Aunt — shows up trying to stunt with bougie gifts. Well, one of the gifts was actually meant for a business rival, and it being accidentally given to Meddy’s family sets her and her Aunties up to become mixed up in a decades-long feud between Jakarta’s business organizations. When things get really real — and Meddy and her family are put in harm’s way — it’s up to Meddy to save them all.

There’s Always This Year: On Basketball and Ascension by Hanif Abdurraqib

Hanif Abdurraqib is the National Book Award-nominated author of A Little Devil in America, and here he aims his poetic eye at basketball. With his usual mix of the personal and communal, he looks at one of America’s favorite sports, examining its history, who makes it and who doesn’t, and LeBron James.

How to Solve Your Own Murder by Kristen Perrin

This is being compared to Knives Out, which makes it perfect for the fun-seeking cozy mystery reader. Almost 60 years ago, Frances was just a teenager at a fair with friends when a fortune-teller told her that someone would kill her. She spends the rest of her life trying to figure out her own future murderer. Then, one day, Annie is called to her great-aunt Frances’ huge country estate. She’s been murdered, and it’s up to Annie to figure out who did it. Good thing the dearly departed Frances kept detailed notes on potential suspects…

Icarus by K. Ancrum 

In this queer Icarus retelling, the titular character is an art thief, but one with a victim who kind of has it coming. Icarus only steals from the wealthy Mr. Black by replacing his priceless art with his father’s flawless forgeries as part of revenge for Icarus’ mother’s death. A strict set of rules keeps Icarus from being exposed, until he gets caught by Mr. Black’s son, Helios, one night. But the enigmatic Helios doesn’t turn him in — instead, he asks for Icarus’ friendship. This friendship turns into something more that threatens everything — even what Icarus and his father hold dear.

The Emperor and the Endless Palace by Justinian Huang

Across multiple timelines and lives, two men are reborn, each life proving to them the eternity of love: a young emperor gets seduced by a courtier in 4 BCE, an innkeeper helps a mysterious visitor in 1740, and a college student meets an intriguing stranger in modern-day L.A.

The Rise and Fall of the Second American Republic: Reconstruction, 1860-1920 by Manisha Sinha

Sinha gives us a new look at a pivotal moment in U.S. history: Reconstruction. Despite Reconstruction’s claim of granting true freedom to Black people after the Civil War, the country’s leaders proved to not be very concerned with equality after all. And, by looking at imperialist desires, northern labor conflict, women’s suffrage, and the Chinese Exclusion Act, Sinha shows how the failed promise of Reconstruction resulted in capitalism running amok and a special kind of race-based tyranny.

Blogs like these are immensely helpful for people who love to read different books which include their summary plots, characters, themes, and a major part of a story. If you want to have more synopsis regarding your favorite books you can schedule a book club event on tinyti.me website, where you can organize book discussions, meet and greet different authors, or get regular updates about upcoming book events or holidays.

[morganmaietto]

Dead Darlings tag

Thanks for the tag @winterandwords!

I have no idea what this is! It was made in 2021 and I never made anything else from this.

*Warning this is a zombie apocalypse snippet so it's probably gorey, and I think there's a few swears*

Open Tag!

Life as we know it is destroyed, everything’s in shambles, most of the world’s population has been infected by a virus that causes grotesque disfigurement and a strong desire for human flesh. The survivors of this new world call these monsters zombies, based on the obvious similarities of the camp stories that were told prior to the outbreak. Humans are scattered around the world, desperately scavenging for food and killing each other for it, if the zombies don’t end the human race, the humans will. The world may be ending, but a new one’s beginning.

Lucy was born thirty years after the outbreak, she lives with a group of survivors in a thick wooded area, which makes it harder for the zombies to navigate. Today is her first mission outside of the safety of the camp with her friend Ada, who is only two years older than her, is aiding her.

“Will you hurry up, by the time you’re done the sun will set.” Ada said.

“I’m almost done, and it’s still morning, I think we’ll be okay.” Lucy answered.

“Knowing you, the sun will actually set. And don’t forget your weapon, you know how the zombies get around you.”

“I won’t, now please go wait for me, like way over there. Thank you.” Ada rolled her eyes and went to the front of the gate.

Lucy sighed in relief, Ada was like her sister, but could get annoying sometimes. She zipped up her backpack and walked out of her tent.

“Finally let’s get going, my dad gave us a list of supplies to look out for, these ones are easy since this is your first time.” Ada said.

“He isn’t seeing us off?” Lucy asked looking around.

“No, you know how busy he is. The path to the left of us is safer, so let’s go down here.”

Despite the woods being so thick, it was very bright, birds were singing as they’ve always had and squirrels were chasing each other around the trees.

“It’s a nice day, can we check out that lake you told me about after?”

“Not today, the zombies have been getting a little too close to the lake. But you can see it from the hill that’s coming up.”

“Oh.”

The sun was beginning to get hotter as it rose overhead, and the big hill was in front of them.

“Can we take a break? It’s getting pretty hot.”

“Lucy, we can’t, look, you’ve been begging to go exploring right? This is the consequence you have to face, just walk in the shade and stop drinking so much water. You’ll need them once it gets hotter.” Ada sighed.

“At least you get to go out, I’m always left behind for some reason.”

“It’s for your own good. Now drop it, I’d rather not face zombies without my gun.”

“Why do you need a gun anyways? You should just use a bat.”

“Lucy please, look there’s the lake, we can look at it for a few minutes if you would please just be quiet.” Lucy looked at the lake in awe, it looked like diamonds in the sunlight.

“Wow that’s pretty.” She sat down to admire the view.

“Don’t, we aren’t staying long.”

“Oh lighten up will you?”

Then they started hearing rustling in the bushes below them and behind them, followed by zombie groans.

“Shit. Move now!”

They began running down the hill, Lucy almost 

And that's how I ended it... sorry it's such a bad cliffhanger.

[rhonddaandallaneuro]

Car finally with a new fuel pump we headed off to Pimba, the gateway to Woomera. Our new fuel pump made the drive a lot better but we still had troubles with the constant stammering as we tried to accelerate. Not willing to return nor stay in Coober Pedy any longer we pushed on.

Now this drive is perhaps the worlds most boring, with terrain no one wants to live in and it is so flat. Did drive past lots of dried up salt lakes but the scenes along the way were easily forgotten as we drove into the Pimba roadside establishment.

This place has the garage at the top of the camp and bare barren dirt below where the free camp is. The place has been improved since our last visit with “pay as you shower” facilities but is still basic as can be. Did the usual walking up to garage bar where the drinks were cold and the room cool. Not bad at all.

Spent the night listening to freight trains and road trains as they moved through the area. An early rise saw us head off to Pt Augusta where we refilled and drove through to Peterborough. Have to say the drive was just as boring leading towards Pt Augusta and slightly improved as we drove through to Peterborough.

From here we elected to drive some more we drove on to Renmark which is on the banks of the Murray River. Now this drive was a pleasure, passing old stone houses with numerous vineyards, ever so green. This place has some real swagger so we booked in the caravan park for two nights.

Could not resists a drive around the town which led us to a lookout just outside where you climb a three level tower to be amazed by the River Murray in it’s grandeur. The river has so many tributaries setting a maze of waterholes and tributaries. One can only imagine what it would be like without so much water drained from it before it reachs here.

The town itself is tidy with clearly local pride displayed in all residences. Did a 10 kilometre walk on Monday morning and would live here in a heartbeat if I could take family and friends. Will be back again.

[sticks-and-stone]

Crescent Lake Conservation Area

September 16, 2022 through September 18, 2022

Three months had passed since the Dutton Island overnight trip and our lives changed so much. I moved out of my second floor apartment, canceled my storage unit, and moved into a single story house with a two car garage. Jenna laid her father to rest, got a new job, and fell into a good routine. Naturally, after months of real life being hectic, we were more than ready for another camping trip. 

I went on to the St. Johns River Water Management District website and found an opening at the Crescent Lake Conservation Area. This was a new one for us, but I picked it because it was only about an hour and half away. My new place is about 15 minutes from Jenna’s house now, so traveling to and from camping trips became much easier. 

We both worked full work days on Friday so I met her at her house when we both got off and we departed from there. It took us closer to 2 hours to get there due to some traffic and frequent stops, but we finally arrived at the gate at about 8:30pm. After dark, as usual. On our way out there we kept stopping to look for some place to buy firewood. We had very little luck and had given up on it entirely when we came across a Winn Dixie. We walked inside and they had a huge pallet of bagged firewood on sale! This was our first good omen. Jenna and I tend to ride the vibes for camping pretty well. We keep a good attitude and good luck seems to come our way. This trip would be no different. Maybe even luckier than normal. The camping gods were on our side helping us celebrate the 3rd anniversary of our camping adventures!  

Once we got to the gate at the campsite, Jenna struggled to get it open so I took a crack at it and got it on the first try. Another good omen. The campsite was positioned about two miles from the gate along this long winding path just wide enough for my car. Once we arrived we saw the port-a-potty first and then a giant opening with a centralized fire pit surrounded by 4 benches, a standing grill, and a huge pavilion with 3 picnic tables and a fireplace. This place was stunning even in the dark. 

We pulled up next to the pavilion and before we even had time to get out of the car, Jenna said “there are lights in here!”. Our third, and most amazing good omen. We got out of the car and found the light switch at the back wall. We flipped the switch and the entire building illuminated. Right below the switch was an electrical outlet. This free campsite had full electricity! And here we were without the Electric Gear Box.

Ecstatic about our discovery, we were no longer stressed about arriving after dark. We took our time unloading the car and setting up. Jenna started with the fire, as that is her specialty while I unloaded the bins from the car and started organizing our space in this pavilion. It rained the whole time we were unloading, but it bothered us none. We were already so in love with this site and we had full cover from the rain. 

One of the tasks for this weekend was finding a decent bug repellent, so I laid them all out on one of the tables and started testing them out. The lights of the pavilion attracted plenty of bugs so I had an easy time figuring out which ones worked and which ones didn’t. We used these incense stick things propped up in an empty monster energy drink can. Those worked the best. But we also had an assortment of sprays, lotions, and roll-ons. 

Jenna had a hard time getting the fire started in the fireplace, so I took over while she started hanging her hammock between the posts of the pavilion. She was testing out a new sleep system this weekend as well. She has really taken to hammocking over the past year or so. 

At first, I had the fire going really well, but eventually I over-aerated it like I usually do and it went out. In frustration, I gave up. Jenna finished her hammock and took back over the fire and I got to work on my own sleep system. I was staying in my hiking tent since the cabin tent was still broken from my party weekend at Dutton Island, 3 months prior. I had never set up my tent on concrete and I had to get creative about staking it down. I ran paracord from the corners and staked them down in the ground outside the pavilion and tied a few off to tables inside. This looked okay and worked fine, but proved to be a bad idea later. What I should have done was set up outside the pavilion and hang my tarp over me for rain protection. I learned a good lesson. 

Once we got our tents and beds all set up, we sat at one of the picnic tables and pulled out our playing cards. Jenna spent the next hour or so kicking my ass in gin. Defeated, humbled, and exhausted, I retired to my tent. Jenna climbed up into her hammock soon after. I saw a couple of gnats in my tent, but they came in while I was crawling in. The tent itself did a great job keeping out the bugs. 

Jenna realized deep into the night that the poles she hung her hammock from were too close together. She ended up sleeping basically folded in half and nearly touching the ground. 

I awoke the next morning at about 7:15 without an alarm. My need to pee usually wakes me up while we’re camping. I’ve never needed an alarm. I attempted to use the port-a-potty but was startled by a tree frog trapped in there with me. I wouldn’t use it again the entire weekend. I don’t think that Jenna used it either. It was gross and in a private campsite like this one with no neighbors, relieving ourselves wouldn’t be an issue. 

Once I was back at our pavilion, I pulled out the kettle and single burner butane attachment and started on my coffee. I also made hot lemon water to help warm me up. It wasn’t cold, but it was chillier in the morning than I had planned for. I brought my laptop along this time to try and get some writing done, so I pulled that out and by 8am I was typing away, working on camping trip reflections from the months passed. 

I was up and writing for about an hour when Jenna woke up. Though I enjoyed the time to myself and my writing, I was grateful when she woke up! We chatted for a little bit and she helped me fill in a couple of blanks in my memory from our trips of the past. I took a break from writing to make myself some pancakes. Jenna opted for a protein bar. 

On a whim, we decided to see how close a spring was to our campsite. As it turned out, we were about 30 minutes from the Ocala National Forest which is home to 3 of my favorite springs! We decided on Juniper Springs since it had great hiking and Jenna had never been. So we packed up only what we needed and took off! 

We got to the park, paid the fee for day passes, and immediately hit the trails. We wanted to beat the forecasted rain. Before we started on the trails, we walked through the old water mill museum that they had onsite. The best trail started behind the mill, but there were maintenance guys there with the access blocked off, forcing us to go around the trail that runs through the campground there. We hiked for just a couple of miles and checked out Juniper Springs Campground. It is definitely on my wish list for camping.

Once we had our hearts’ fill of hiking, we came back to the car to cool off and had a quick snack. It started sprinkling a bit, but since we were off the trail, we didn’t really mind. We walked over to the restrooms and changed into our bathing suits. The air was chilly and damp, but we were going to swim in this spring no matter what. 

We swam for only long enough to cool our bodies down and then booked it out of there as the rain began to fall more heavily. We dried off by the car as best we could and then just laid towels on our seats and rode back to camp in damp bathing suits. As soon as we left the park the rain stopped and we were able to open up the windows and air-dry on the way back to the campsite. 

Once we arrived back at camp about mid-afternoon, Jenna got the fire going again and moved her hammock to the other side of the campsite between two trees. She struggled for a while to find the right spot and even the one she settled on gave her tons of problems. One thing about Jenna is that once she sets her mind to something, she gets it done. Getting this hammock up in a better spot was no different. 

While she worked on her sleep system, I worked on mine. I didn’t want to sleep in a rigged up hiking tent when it functions far better when anchored into the ground as designed. So I worked on getting it taken down so that I could move it to the field next to the trees where Jenna was setting up. 

The heaviest of the rain had passed us, but we were still expecting a small amount in the wee hours that night. My hiking tent is advertised as fully rain-proofed and I was excited to put that to the test. But that didn’t matter because as I was un tying it from the picnic table that it was anchored to, the top cross-over pole snapped clean in half. There was no way I was going to set it up to full functionality now. 

Luckily, Jenna still carried her hiking tent in her backpack and I was able to borrow it. So got that set up and put my sleeping pad and bag inside and covered it in the rain fly. This tent had already proven to keep Jenna dry during rainy nights, so I was grateful for the security but incredibly bummed about my tent. 

Dinner time was approaching so we left our sleep systems to go back to the pavilion (about 50 yards away) and started working on food. We brought the smoldering fire back to a blaze and I got back out the laptop and started back into writing. I made it through 3 camping trip reflections on this trip and I am never camping (at least car camping) without my laptop again.

Jenna cooked a sloppy joe Hellofresh meal that Laura had sent home with me earlier that week. Probably a top 3 meal that I’ve had while camping if I’m being honest. We have cultivated a near-perfect kitchen system in our car camping gear that there isn’t much limit to what we can make for a meal. 

Several trips back we decided to stop over-planning and overpacking for our meals at camp. Instead, we have switched to just planning on one big meal, typically Saturday night, and just snacking around the other meal times. I’ll still bring pancakes cuz they’re easy, but no more of the eggs-bacon-full lunch spread-huge dinner-second-breakfast deal. Now it’s simplified, far less expensive, less wasteful, and usually far higher quality. One of the many ways this trip helped us prove our skills that we had cultivated over the last three years. 

I cleaned up after dinner and wrote for another hour or so, but became exhausted very quickly. I retired to my tent (Jenna’s tent) by 9pm and was asleep soon after. 

I remember waking up quite frequently that night. I was nervous about bears for some reason. I just couldn’t shake the thought of one wandering up to camp, trying to get into my car or god forbid my tent. Jenna was within ear shot but this was the farthest apart that we’d set up our tents. So her presence wasn’t felt and the sinking feeling of being alone was. I must have been able to shake it, because I don’t remember anything else until I woke up at 3am with the sudden urge to pee. The pavilion (and the spot behind the solid wall where I had been doing my business earlier in the day and the night before) felt a million miles away. So I just stepped 20 paces away from the tent and squatted right out in the open and complete dark. 

The next morning I was up by 730. This time, I didn’t write or make coffee, I just pulled the tent and its contents to the pavilion and began the process of cleaning and packing away gear. Jenna joined me soon after and wordlessly, nearly effortlessly, we repacked the gear, exchanged the items we usually end up swapping on accident (or in the case, borrowed tents), and got the car organized in a matter of an hour. 

This is an impressive feat because normally I spend Sundays re-itemizing the gear lists and moving gear around from one bin to another. Sometimes I do away with bins all together and consolidate others, but this time felt very different. I didn’t change a thing. For once, there was no instance during the camping trip that made me think I could pack something better. The only thing I changed was how I separate the check lists out by type of camping:

Summer Primitive

Summer Glamping

Winter Primitive 

Winter Glamping

Backpacking

The type of camping that we’re going to be doing will dictate which bins we bring. For example, summer primitive camping means we’re going to be camping somewhere without electricity when it's warm outside. So I don’t need to bring the electric gear bin or my sleeping bag, but I will bring a sleeping bag liner or a top sheet instead. But the summer glamping type would mean we do have electricity, so I'll bring the electric gear but still use a sheet instead of a sleeping bag. The gear works basically the same in the winter, but I would bring a sleeping bag and for the winter glamping trips: a heater. The backpacking type is just that. The hiking backpack.

The hiking backpack contains a lot of core gear including my hiking tent, so it comes on all the trips. Primitive and Glamping just means we can bring the car to the site, so we can carry the bins that are needed for that weekend. I like this system a lot. I hope it sticks.  

Happy and content with our re-introduction into the forest, we hit the road to go home by 8:30. We stopped at Dunkin for a celebratory breakfast and iced coffee - our favorite way to reintegrate back into society. I had Jenna home by 10 and myself home by 10:30. It took me no time at all to unload the already-organized bins from my car to their spot in the garage. I emptied the contents of the cooler into my fridge and put the now thawed ice packs back in the freezer. I started doing laundry before taking a shower and a well-earned nap. 

This was the most satisfying feeling I had felt after a camping trip in a very long time. Reflecting on it brings me much joy and encouragement to keep going. I feel like the stress around camping that I was experiencing had a lot to do with my living arrangements and how difficult it was to pack and unpack from trips. It may have also been the frustration of getting my packing system JUST right. And the satisfaction of feeling like I have finally, after 3 years, accomplished that felt unbelievably gratifying. I am excited for the trips ahead of us. I finally feel like we are entering a new stage of our camping adventures. 

Stay Dirty, 

Stone. 

[hypmic-writings]

Scenario with Rio taking s/o to camp for the first time

━━ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ━━

Pairing: Riou Busujima x reader 

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,143

A/N: This one was adorable, I love camping and I feel like Riou would be such a pro at it! Always love some good Riou fluff! Hope you enjoy~

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You took in a deep breath as you came to a stop along the trail, smiling and letting your eyes flutter closed. The wind around you carried the sweet smell of fresh flowers blooming, leaves waving in the air as the trees danced, a river rushing down somewhere below where you were walking. It was an incredible feeling, the smells and sounds, and when you finally opened your eyes, you were grateful for the sights as well.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Riou asked, walking up behind you. He held the tent materials in his arms and gazed out at the campsite the two of you had chosen.  

“It’s gorgeous! Thank you so much for bringing me here, Riou,” you said, pecking him on the cheek before happily skipping towards the grassy knoll where Rou had already begun placing the rest of your camping supplies.

“When you told me you’d never been camping, I knew I had to bring you,” Riou explained with a serious nod. You chuckled at him and smiled.

“Can we make s’mores and go for a hike?” you asked, excitedly.  

“Yes, we can go for a walk later, but first we need to set up the tent,” Riou explained.

With that, the two of you got to work on the tent. You had expected it to be a complex process that would take hours, but Riou was a skilled camper and, with your help, was able to erect the tent in record time. It was nice to see your boyfriend in his natural element, fixing up the tent with ease and never once barking an order at you.

“Well done, Y/N,” Riou said, reaching out to give your head a small pat of affection. You beamed at him and nodded happily.  

“It looks so cozy, we did such a good job!” you said. You quickly rolled out the extra-large sleeping bag the two of you had bought and filled it inside of the tent, throwing your pillows and bags inside of it until it was perfect.  

“We’ll have to wait until tonight to see if everything works, but it looks good for now,” Riou claimed with a nod of approval. You resisted the urge to lay down on the makeshift bed in the tent and instead looked around the campsite.

“Should we go fishing today or do some walking?” you asked, glancing at the fishing rods Riou had brought.  

“We can go fishing tomorrow at sunrise. It’s quite nice in the morning on the calm lake. I come here quite often and there’s a spot not far away where the fish are quite active. Why don’t we do some of the trails today,” Riou told you with expert knowledge. You only became even more enamored by your boyfriend as you wrapped your arm around his own and grinned.

“Sounds great, let’s go!” you exclaimed, practically dragging Riou along with you to the trail.

The two of you spent the next few hours hiking, going along different trails and stopping now and then to look at all of the plants and wildlife you could spot. Riou showed off his knowledge even more by telling you the names and uses of all the plants, pointing to some and telling you to stay away while pointing to others and asking if you wanted to eat them.

It was a brand-new experience for you to be out in the wild like this with Riou and you savored every minute of it. Whenever there was a rocky part of the trail or it started to become hard to see, Riou would take your hand and guide you, showing you markings on the trees or other ways to know where to follow the trail.

By the time the two of you got back to your camp, it was close to sunset and you were exhausted. Riou, however, seemed to have been rejuvenated by the walk and was more prepared than ever for dinner. He set to work making the fire, something that was incredible to witness as he used nothing more than two sticks and some flint.  

The two of you had brought some burgers with you, and as the sun began to set, you were sitting side by side munching away happily at the food Riou had just cooked.

“These are cooked so well!” you pointed, raising up your burger. Riou hummed in agreement, happily munching away on his own.  

“When I was growing up, we used to always make burgers whenever we were camping,” he casually mentioned.

“Did you go camping with your family a lot?” you asked.

“Sometimes, but more so with my friends. My family didn’t necessarily approve of a group of boys camping out without adult supervision, but we managed to convince them to let us at least camp out in the woods behind our backyard,” Riou explained. When you let out a chuckle, he gave you a curious look.

“That’s really sweet. I’m just imagining you as a little kid learning all these camping skills,” you said as you snuggled up closer to Riou and the fire.  

“Yes, I was quite the adventurer even back in those days,” he reminisced with a faraway look on his face. You wondered what he was thinking and vowed that you would learn more about the man you loved and his past. You wanted to know everything about him and everything going on in that mind of his.

“Well, I’m glad you were so interested in all of this as a kid so that you could take me here today,” you said with a sturdy nod. Riou glanced down at you, arm wrapping around your shoulder as he pulled you into him.

“Yes, I’m quite glad you decided to come here with me as well,” he confessed. You took a moment to smile at him before pecking his jaw line and jumping up from your seat.  

“Alright, come on! It’s time for s’mores!” you declared, clapping your hands together. Riou looked up at you with a smile before nodding and standing to his feet.  

As the two of you worked to cook your marshmallows over the open fire, you laughed happily with your boyfriend, joking and smiling until you were both eating the perfect s’mores. Riou informed you that he only made s’mores with his favorite people, so it was quite a rare occasion. You smiled and thanked him once more for taking you camping as you popped another marshmallow into your mouth.

By this time, the two of you were sitting underneath the stars and the fire was beginning to die down. With a swift bucket of water to the coals, the two of you were plunged in darkness. Riou took your hand gently, leading you to the tent with his flashlight as you excitedly settled in for a night together in the tent.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[novaiya]

Love below 0°C - Arthur x Reader

Summary: You’ve just escaped from Blackwater, barely ducking from bullets that were shot your way. Your trusted horse, however, wasn’t so lucky. Stuck in Colter with no stables to buy a horse from, Arthur decides to go out and get you one, but not just any one, a White Arabian. Is the horse the only thing he's bringing back?

Words: 2.8k

Tags: Established Relationship, FLUFF, 

A/N: I think the last line in this piece is the best line I’ve ever wrote simply because oh the image it evokes :(

Based on this request: Could you please do a fic set during the prologue of rdr2 in Colter, that Arthur tries to tame the white Arabian for the reader because their horse died instead of Boedecia, it takes hours to do it and when he brings it back to camp he starts sneezing and catches a cold so the reader thanks him by taking care of him :D

If you prefer to read on AO3, click here.

The wind was brutal, hitting your body with such force that you were wondering how the horses were able to keep going. If it wasn’t for you holding onto Arthur, you were sure that the wind would’ve taken you away.

Having escaped from Blackwater, the entire gang have found themselves up in the mountains, caught in a snowstorm. Although the weather was cruel and you could already feel your limbs go numb, it beat being captured by the Pinkertons and the lawmen that would surely kill you more painful than the weather would.

As everybody rode on, thinking about the next move or the weather, you were thinking about your horse. From the East to the West and back to the East, he was with you through it all. A gift from Arthur, he was the first, and only, horse you’ve had since joining the Van Der Linde gang. He was loyal to you from the start, patient as you learned how to properly ride and take care of him, and he deserved more than to be killed by a stray bullet from a Blackwater lawman. Tears pricked your eyes as you remembered the image of him laying on the ground, taking his last breath right before Arthur ran up and scooped you away, putting you on his horse and riding away from the damned town.

Your head was laying on Arthur’s back as he rode through the snow, following the light of Dutch’s lantern. You were starting to doze off, Arthur’s back, warm and soft, being as good as any pillow. The voices of Dutch and the rest of the gang were fading into the foreground as you fell asleep, the sound of wind howling accompanying you into the dream world.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself in a bed, with a blanket over you and Arthur snuggled behind you. Despite the snow outside making the windows of the cabin tremble, you were as warm and cozy as you could be. You turned around in Arthur’s hold, facing him; he was so cute when he slept, with his mouth slightly open. His nose and cheeks were a bit red, indicating that he was probably out in the cold last night. You had to make sure to keep him warm and safe while you were in this weather, you thought, otherwise he was bound to catch a cold. You knew how reckless he could get, forgetting to take care of himself and putting others first. It was one of the best and at the same time worst traits of his.

As if he felt you watching him, he gradually opened his eyes.

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Morning,” you returned. “Were you out last night?” you said, running a hand through his hair and down to his reddened cheek.

“I was. Me, Micah and Dutch went to check out a homestead Micah found. The O'Driscolls got there first. Found a woman there, brought her back.”

“What about the homestead? Can we go back and stay there?”

“Unfortunately, Micah got to it first, burned the whole thing to the ground.”

“Jesus…” you drew, shaking your head.

The two of you were silent for a moment before Arthur spoke again.

“How are you feeling?” he said, eyeing you with a bit of worry. The two of you didn’t have time to discuss the situation till now.

“I’m okay,” you said, shuffling a bit and rising up so you could sit against the headboard. “Just sad about Happy. He didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, following you and sitting against the headboard as well. He smiled as he remembered the day when he gifted you your horse. Since joining the gang, you would either ride one of the unused horses kept by the hitching post, or ride on the back of Boadicea with Arthur. Despite never being without a ride, you felt that you were ready to have one you could properly call your own, and shared that with Arthur. Being the gentleman he was, Arthur quickly took you to the nearest stable and bought you your new horse (an act for which he got a kiss and which started your relationship) “I remember when the two of you first met, you didn’t even have to break him in. He practically wanted you to mount him,” he said with a laugh.

You smiled and chuckled a bit, remembering how quickly you formed a bond with your horse. That smile quickly faded as you realized you were never going to see Happy again. You shook your head, trying to push away the thoughts.

The two of you got ready before going out of your room and into a dining room-kitchen area of the little cabin you stayed in. Molly was standing by the counter, looking out of the window and sipping on a coffee. Hosea was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, warming up his hands. You went to the counter to make a cup of coffee for yourself and Arthur.

“I know it might be too soon,” Arthur said, coming up to you and taking the coffee you offered. “But we need to get you a new horse.”

His words stung you a bit; you felt bad for replacing Happy so soon, but you knew that you had to. If you had no horse, you couldn’t be a productive member of the gang.

“I know,” you said, looking down into your cup of coffee. “But how are we supposed to do that? We can’t just go out to buy one now, it might be too dangerous.”

“I’ve heard stories of an Arabian horse roaming in the mountains not far from here.” Hosea’s voice made both of you look at him.

Arthur turned around to face him. “Do you know where exactly?”

“Well, no one is sure for certain, and they are just that, stories, but people said they’ve seen it around Lake Isabella.”

__________________________

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” you said, standing next to Arthur’s horse as he mounted it, getting ready to make the trip to Lake Isabella.

“You know me darlin’,” Arthur said with a smile. “I’m always careful.”

You chuckled, slapping his leg playfully.

He bent down slightly, and you stood on your tiptoes, meeting him halfway and kissing him. His lips were cold, and so were yours, but neither of you minded. When you broke apart, he gave you a smile before spurring Boadicea and disappearing into the snowy plain.

You stood in the snow for a few more minutes, looking out into the distance where Arthur rode away to. You hoped he would be careful and take care of himself like he promised. He had a tendency of neglecting himself, being careless and letting himself get hurt or sick. On more than one occasion you had to make sure he wore warm clothes when you were in colder climates, or wore his hat when the sun was especially brutal. Despite being a one of the leaders of the Van Der Linde gang, stepping in for Dutch or Hosea when he had to, he could be so silly when it came to trivial things.  You chuckled to yourself. Good thing he had you, you thought, a thought that Arthur often had himself.

__________________________

The snowstorm was getting more brutal the further he went into the mountains. At some points, he couldn’t even see in front of him, everything hidden by the white of the snow. From time to time, the storm would get so brutal, Boedecia could barely move through it. Finally, after a few hours he could see the frozen Lake Isabella. Everything was covered in white; the trees, the rocks, the lake itself. All the animals that were able to withstand the harsh weather and roamed around too wore coats of white, blending in with the surroundings. In this scenery, Arthur stood out like a sore thumb with his dark blue coat and his black hat.

He hitched Boedecia to one of the trees that lined the shore of the lake before venturing out, trying to get a feel for the surrounding area.

He should get a fire started, he thought, warm himself up before getting to work. That’s what you would’ve done, at least, if you were here. He promised you that he would take care of himself. He felt bad for not doing that, but he hoped he would be in and out within an hour, so forth he went.

It was hours before he finally found her, having missed her white coat in the equally white snow a countless times. Finding her, however, wasn’t even the hardest part, breaking her in, that was. She bucked him off for what he felt like a dozen times. He could barely feel his face in the end, having been thrown off face first in the snow far too many times. Finally, as if the horse was just as tired of bucking off Arthur as Arthur was tired of being bucked off, she gave in, relaxing under him.

Despite being cold, tired and hungry, he forwent setting up camp to rest, already planning the route back to Colter. Being the completionism that he was, he didn’t feel that his mission was over until you had the horse’s reins in your hand.

“Let’s get you to your new owner,” he said, patting the mare’s platinum mane.

He whistled for Boedecia, and when she came, the three of them started their journey back to Colter. The snow storm still blew, but it was not as rough as it was before, and Arthur could see the path in front of him. He noticed how serene and quiet the area was, and if it wasn’t for his occasional sneezes cutting through the silence, there would be nothing heard. When his nose started to run, he cursed himself, using the cuff of his coat to wipe at it.

__________________________

You were standing by the window, sipping on your coffee and looking outside when you saw Arthur make his way up the path on a horse that was as white as a fresh winter snow. “Arthur!” you exclaimed and ran outside.

“Got a present for ya,” he said as he dismounted the horse.

As you looked over your new ride, taking notice of her beautiful, platinum hair and her equally platinum body, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the sneezes and sniffles that came from Arthur. Oh, Arthur! Of course he didn’t listen to you, you thought, probably didn’t set up a fire and most likely spent too much time in the snow. His selfless act, as much as it meant to you, came at a cost that you would now have to help him pay.

“Oh, Arthur,” you said after he sneezed again.

“I’m alright,” he said like he always did, waving away with his hand.

“C’mon,” you said, taking Arthur’s hand in yours and leading him into the house and your room. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Darlin’, I told you, I’m all right.”

He would not have been Arthur Morgan if he didn’t try to reject your help at least once. He hated being a burden to you or to anyone, especially when he was at fault. You, however, after being in a relationship with him for the past few years, learned to not pay attention to his rejections, simply continuing on with what you were doing. With your help, after a few minutes, he was down to his union suit, his clothes, heavy and wet, laying in the corner of the room to be hanged up to dry later. You fished out a fresh set of clothes from your unpacked bags, a pair of pants, a shirt and a warm jacket made of sheepskin, and gave it to him before leaving the room to get a hot cup of coffee and a meal for Arthur.

The room was quiet while you were outside, and Arthur had a moment to let his thoughts travel freely in his mind. He looked at his arms and his legs, clothed in fresh, dry clothes. He looked at the door where on the other side you, his love, were preparing food for him. The warmth that the clothes provided could not rival the warmth he felt in his heart through all your acts of love. He never imagined that someone could love him as much as you did. Not only that, he didn’t think he deserved it, after everything he has done in his life. The words were no match for what he felt for you as you opened the door, balancing a cup of coffee and a bowl of stew as you held the doorknob, your cheeks red from the cold, your eyes full of love as you looked at him.

__________________________

“You silly, silly man,” you said as you sat on a chair next to the bed, looking over Arthur. It has been a few days since Arthur brought back the white Arabian and with her, the cold he caught. He was sneezing, coughing, blowing his nose, the whole nine yards, yet despite all that, he still wanted to get back on his horse and to work. You had to all but tie him to the bed to keep him from going out.

“I need to go out with Dutch,” he would say between sneezes, trying to get up and go.

“They'll have to manage without you,” you would return, pushing him back on the bed and covering him with blankets. “I’m not gonna let you get any more sicker.”

The next few days were mostly spent in the confines of the four walls of your room, with you taking care of Arthur. Surprising yourself, he didn’t fight too much, giving in almost right away and letting you nurse him to health. He could get used to it, he thought, as you kept taking care of him, tucking him under blankets, bringing hot bowls of stew. On a couple of occasions, he caught himself imagining that he wasn’t in some broken down cabin in Colter, hiding from Pinkertons and lawmen, but in his own house, on his own land. The image warmed him up more than any bowl of stew or cup of coffee could.

As you were laying in the bed with Arthur, you could hear the snow storm playing outside, threatening to break the windows and invade the room. Although the walls were cold, with Arthur’s body and a blanket over the two of you, you were warm. By now, Arthur has almost completely recovered, the only trace of the sickness being a sneeze here and there, but it too was almost completely gone.

“You know,” Arthur started, making you look up at him from where your head was on his chest. “It’s in moments like these, when I can see us bein’ somewhere else. Just the two of us.”

He imagined the two of you on your own ranch or a farm. No bounties to hunt, no debts to collect. He could see himself as a rancher, not carrying his gun belt every waking hour, a dog by his side. He imagined you, in a light, flow-y dress, taking care of the house, bringing love and light to it just as you did to every tent the two of you have shared. Maybe the cold has made his mind delirious, but he could even see the two of you grow old together, sitting on a rocking chair on the porch of your house, your hair gray, your face littered with wrinkles, each one telling a story.

“Me too,” you said, imagining a similar scenery in your mind. The mess that had just gone down in Blackwater had shaken your trust in Dutch just as it had for Arthur. Something has changed, and despite continuing following Dutch, the two of you realized you could only rely on one another. It’s a realization, so crucial, which would come to play strongly in the next few months, a lifeline that would lead you to your happy ever after in the end, with you, in a flow-y dress on the porch of your ranch, watching as Arthur tended to the herd, no gun on his hip, only sweat on his forehead from an honest day of work.

[12timetraveler]

The Father and The Son

After Arthur disappears on a mission to try and make peace with the O'Driscolls, Hosea and Reader are faced with a difficult situation.

The first fic for my Short Sprint is done. I know this may not be short to some of y'all but staying under 10k words is a real challenge for me lol.

There's smut right off the bat so be warned

The whole piece can be read below and is also on my AO3

"Hose--mph"

"Hush, dove. We wouldn't want some poor passerby to hear," 

~~~~~~

You'd jumped on the chance to... Heh... to jump on your beloved. The moment Dutch, Micah and Arthur rode out of camp, on some mission to make peace with the O'Driscolls, you'd seen your chance and you were going to take it goddamnit. 

The mission was likely a trap. Hosea had said so. But Dutch, Micah and Arthur were more than capable of handling themselves. It was a risk, and they'd decided to take it, so there was no stopping them. 

As soon as they'd left camp, you'd pounced. Hosea was standing on the shore, puffing on a cigarette when you found him. You'd sidled up to him, slipping one arm around his back, the other coming up to rest on his chest. 

You'd purred some sweet words, quiet enough for only him to hear. He'd toyed with you a bit, knowing exactly what you were playing at, but that didn't last long. You knew he was just as eager to get his hands on you, as busy as he'd been dealing with the Brathwaite family. 

Without Dutch calling for him every five minutes, he finally had an hour or two to himself. The others could certainly spare him for an hour. He needed a distraction, a release, and you just needed him. 

So the two of you climbed into the boat that the old guard had "borrowed" on their fishing trip, calling out that you'd be back before sundown, and set out across the lake. 

You pulled ashore at one of the islands just across from Clemens Point, strolling along the beach for a moment before you said to hell with it and dragged him into the trees, where the two of you collided, teeth clashing in sloppy kisses. 

So here you were, drawers around one ankle, back against a tree, Hosea's clever fingers in your pussy and his sweet words in your ear as he pushed you toward a third orgasm. He loved to tease you, bring you over the edge again and again until you were hardly even coherent before entering you. He claimed it was to make up for his lack of stamina, but you knew he could last quite a while, given the chance. He just liked watching you come apart on his fingers. 

"Hose--mph," you cried, cut off by his lips covering yours. 

"Hush, dove." He murmured as he broke the kiss, lips beginning to trail across your face, down your cheek and to your neck. "We wouldn't want some poor passerby to hear," he rumbled. "Some innocent fisherman out on his boat, it's the last thing they'd be expecting." 

"I can't," you whined, tilting your head so he could love on your neck as you rolled your hips down against his hand. He had two fingers all the way to the last knuckle inside of you, his thumb and palm working your clit just beautifully. "It's too good. Hosea I... I can't... Hnnnn,"  

"Yes you can," he murmured. "I know you can. My clever girl, she can do anything she puts her mind to," he lifted his head, hazel eyes meeting your hazy, misty ones. "You can keep your volume down for me, can't you, you sweet, gorgeous girl? For me you'll do it." 

Damn him, he was pulling all the right threads, the master puppeteer working you like a marionette. 

You whined and dropped your head against his shoulder. "Yes," you mewled. "I... I'll keep quiet." 

"That's my girl," Hosea whispered, lips coming to your neck once more. "You never disappoint me. Such a good girl," 

You sobbed against his shoulder. Between his sweet praises and his magical fingers you just felt so fucking good. Like you were floating. 

"That's it, dove. You can muffle your sounds in my shoulder if you need to," he cooed against your skin. 

"Th-thank you," you sniffled, making him chuckle. 

"Sweet thing," he purred, stroking your hair with his free hand. You moaned as his fingers picked up the pace, hitting your g-spot perfectly as his palm rubbed your clit. 

"Oh sh-shit," you whispered, holding onto him for dear life. 

"Are you going to cum for me, dearest?" Hosea murmured. "The way you're squeezing around me, soaking my fingers. Oh, you feel like you're close," 

"Hosea," you whined. "I w-want you inside," you lifted your head just enough to meet his hazel eyes, so warm and comforting. "Please. P-please. I need to feel you," you could feel his cock through his pants, so hard and hot. You knew he wanted you. 

You sobbed when he shook his head no, flopping your forehead against his shoulder. "Please," you begged, clutching at his shirt with all your strength. "Please. Please, Daddy," 

It wasn't a name the two of you used often. But you knew it was your best card to play to get what you wanted. 

Hosea let out a wounded moan, burying his face against your neck. You heard the beginnings of a few curse words under his breath, and his hips rolled against your thigh just once. But he kept his resolve. 

"Cum for me first, sweetheart," he murmured, voice hoarse with lust. "Cum on my fingers one more time, and then I'll fill you up," 

You whined but didn't protest further. You were so close anyway. You could feel it building in you like a flash flood rumbling downstream to wash you down the gully. 

"Ah... Nnngh. Hosea," you moaned against his shoulder. 

"That's it, my sweet, beautiful girl. Cum for me. Come on, dove, cum for me," he groaned in your ear. 

You had to bite down on Hosea's shoulder as you came hard around his fingers, entire body shuddering with the force of it. You'd likely have fallen over if not for Hosea keeping you upright against the tree. For a moment you were blinded with it, aware of nothing but the immense pleasure in your core and Hosea's sweet voice in your ear.

"Good girl, dove. I'm so proud of you. So good for me," Hosea cooed in your ear as he gently eased you back down to earth. 

"H'sea," you slurred, fingers sliding down his body to his hips. He was already ahead of you, gunbelt dropping to the dirt around his ankles before popping the buttons free on his trousers. 

His cock slipped out through the opening at the front of his drawers and out of his trousers. He was so long, and presently he was hard enough to cut diamond, and the head was glistening with precum. All for you. 

You hastily gathered your skirts up out of the way and hooked one leg around Hosea's thigh. He grabbed your leg and helped you wrap around his hip, pulling the two of you closer. His cock bumped your sensitive clit, making you jolt in blissful oversensitivity. 

You could have screamed in pleasure as he pushed into you. You flung one arm around his shoulders, the other holding your skirts up. Your head flopped forward against his shoulder once more, muffling your sounds of delight as he sheathed himself fully inside of you. 

"God, dove, how do you feel so good?" He growled, clutching your waist tightly as he held himself deep inside of you, savoring the feeling of your vagina wrapped around him and giving you a moment to adjust. "You just feel..." Hosea sighed. "You feel like home," 

You whined and nodded against his shoulder. You knew exactly what he meant. You never felt more right than with Hosea balls-deep inside of you. You'd feel empty and lacking for hours after a good fucking like this. 

Hosea slowly withdrew his hips, teeth gritted with the effort it took to not pound you into the tree. You knew he was trying to ease you into it. But that's not what you wanted. 

"Give it to me," you keened, grabbing his shoulder tightly. "I can take it. I need you so bad. Please, Daddy," you begged, using that little name again, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist. 

Hosea groaned and his grip on you tightened. He shifted his stance ever-so-slightly and did as you asked, not holding back as he fucked you against the tree. 

Oh but it was everything you needed. You bit your lip to muffle your screams of pleasure as he split you in half. Not that the clap of skin against skin wouldn't give you away to any boatman who passed the island. Hell they may even be able to hear you across the water back at camp. 

Hosea, the normally composed man who had every move thought out, looked a mess in front of you. He was moaning and panting, eyes locked on yours as he took you. He had your hip in a vice grip, and the fingers clutching your thigh were definitely going to leave bruises. 

He wasn't going to last long, if the noises he was making and the tension in his shoulder under your hand told you anything. He definitely had some tells as he was getting close, and today each and every one were laid out for you. 

But you weren't much better off. You'd been longing to feel him for days now, barely able to contain yourself around camp. You needed him desperately, and finally having his cock inside, having it pounding into you, hitting all the best places, you were up in the clouds. 

"Dove I..." Hosea grunted. You could see how close he was, eyes squinted, brow furrowed. 

"Give it to me, Daddy," you whined. "All of it. Fill me up. I'm right behind," 

With a cry of your name, he came, hips slowing as rope after rope of spend filled you. The feeling, combined with the incredible sounds Hosea was making in your ear, was enough to send you over the edge, milking him for every drop.

Hosea buried his head in your neck, trembling with the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. Honest-to-god trembling. You were used to him leaving you trembling, but you'd only seen him this worked up maybe twice before. You loved it. 

You held him tightly, nuzzling your cheek over his head as you tried to catch your breath. The two of you were propping each other up, neither of you standing on steady feet. 

It was all either of you could do for the moment. Just holding each other, taking in the sensations. His silky hair against your cheek, your walls fluttering around his softening member, his hot breath on your skin. 

Hosea let out a shuddering sigh as his cock slid out. Suddenly you felt very empty and lacking. You grabbed onto him tighter, keeping him as close as possible. He seemed more than happy to do so, shifting his stance so he could tuck your head under his chin and rubbing your back with such a tender touch. 

He broke away for just a moment to turn his face into his shoulder to cough, but it was only a short coughing fit, and within a few moments you were tucked against him once more. 

"Oh dove," he sighed. "You need to be careful. You're going to be the death of this old man," 

"Maybe but what a way to go," you teased. He coughed out a laugh, clearing his throat before settling against you once more. 

"Indeed," he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. 

For the moment neither of you could move, just content to stay in each other's arms, tucked away amongst the trees. No worries, no problems, just you and him together. 

~~~~~~~~

"There you are, old girl," Dutch called as you rowed back into camp, pulling up alongside the broken old dock. You grabbed one of the posts, quickly securing the boat to the dock with a rope. "Where'd you two get to?" He asked, standing just on shore. 

"Took a boat ride around the island over there," Hosea explained, climbing out of the boat and reaching out a hand for you. "Just a little romantic boat ride," 

"Mhmm," Dutch folded his arms, watching shrewdly as you gingerly climbed out of the boat with Hosea's help, feeling a bit sore between your legs. No doubt he'd already noticed the damp spot on Hosea's shirt where you'd bitten down, and the state of your hair as well as his, despite your best efforts to compose yourselves. Neither of you were a complete mess, but you both looked a bit disheveled.

"How'd the meeting go?" You asked, knowing the slight hoarseness of your voice was also giving you away. Well so what if you'd both snuck away to fuck each other silly? It wasn't a crime. 

"Yes, how was Colm?" Hosea asked dryly. 

"Well," Dutch sighed. "There is no truce. We exchanged some words, I apologized for his brother, but in the end he said no and we parted before things could get ugly." 

"He didn't shoot at you?" Hosea asked, surprised. 

"No," Dutch shrugged. "Not sure what his game was. Maybe he was talked into it by one of his boys like I was," the three of you walked back through camp. "Seems it was a waste of time," 

"Where's Arthur?" You asked, glancing around. You didn't see his horse next to Silver Dollar, where it normally chose to graze. Nor hitched to any of the posts. And the large man was hard to miss in camp, but you didn't see him anywhere. 

"Not sure," Dutch replied. "He didn't show back up to the meetup spot after it was over," he shrugged. "We rode up the ridge to where he was supposed to watch and didn't see any sign of him." 

"So... You just left?" You asked, trying not to sound too incredulous. 

"He was... Grumpy with us the ride there. I think maybe he just needed some time away. And you know how Arthur is. He gets stir crazy and takes off for a few days but he'll be back soon," Dutch explained. 

You looked over at Hosea, who was nodding along pensively, but the furrow in his brow told you he felt something was wrong too. 

"You two worry too much," Dutch sighed, clapping you both on the shoulder. "He'll swagger back home in a couple days with some meat for the pot, money for the box, and a crazy story to tell like always. You'll see." 

"Sure, Dutch," Hosea said with a small smile. 

"Come on," Dutch urged, jerking his head toward the stew pot. "Stews ready. And you two look like... Heh. Well you look like you need to restore some energy," he teased, elbowing Hosea. 

The two of you exchanged glances but ultimately followed Dutch to the stew pot. You knew you'd discuss it later. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later and Arthur still wasn't home. You and Hosea had ridden into town to see if he'd ended up in the jailhouse, or the saloon. But there was no sign of him. 

There wasn't much either of you could do. There was technically no sign that something had gone wrong, but you couldn't help but worry. Something just didn't sit right. 

Hosea had kept a cool outward appearance, not wanting to worry any of the others, though you could see a couple of them were starting to wonder. Arthur often took off for a week or so, just doing little odd jobs and exploring, but it just felt out of character for him to do after a job like this, without telling Dutch or Micah. 

So outwardly Hosea tried to play it off like he believed Arthur was just out exploring, not wanting to stir up camp. But privately the two of you had discussed at length where he could be. You had a sneaking suspicion that Hosea had been right about the trap. 

Hosea stayed up late, watching the camp entrance hoping Arthur would trot back into camp with some wild tale about a ghost or something. Arthur was very dear to Hosea, more dear than he might admit, though he wasn't why with his fondness either. They claimed to see each other as brothers-in-arms, but you knew it was far more of a father/son relationship. And like any good father, Hosea was worried. 

You were too, of course. But you had to push your worry aside. Hosea was not sleeping, and nearly forgot to eat, had you not reminded him. You could do nothing for Arthur, wherever he may be, but you could make sure Hosea was taken care of so he could do whatever would need to be done about Arthur. 

Once again you found him standing by Silver Dollar, idly smoking a cigarette and just staring out at the trees, waiting, watching. The sun had only just set, and it was grey out, but the treeline was dark, and it was hard to make anything out. But still be stood, like a waiting sentinel.

"Hosea," you murmured, breaking him out of his trance. He hadn't even heard you approaching, the way he started before turning his head to see you. He smiled and pulled you in close, kissing the top of your head and tucking you in against his side, but not saying anything. 

You stood with him in silence for a time before speaking again. "A watched kettle never boils," you murmured.  

"I know," he sighed, eyes still locked on the treeline. "I just don't know what else to do," 

"Come to bed," you said gently. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll... I don't know. We'll ride out. Maybe head to Valentine, see if he ended up there. The O'Driscolls are still around there, maybe we can interrogate one. But there's nothing more you can do tonight," 

Hosea sighed and dropped his cigarette, stamping it out in the dirt. "You're right," he relented, turning fully to look at you. He leaned down and planted a kiss on your nose. "As always," 

You smiled at him and grabbed his hand, leading him back into camp and to your shared tent, a simple A frame tent that was set up near Arthur's wagon, with Strauss's wagon on the other side of your tent, closer to the horses. 

With some gentle coaxing you finally got Hosea to lay down and fall asleep with you spooning him, humming gently while rubbing his back and scratching his head. 

~~~~~~~~

A few hours later you woke, needing to relieve yourself. Much of camp was still up. You and Hosea had retired rather early. Abigail and Jack were settling in to their bedrolls, and Tilly was curled up on her pallet, but most of the others were still up, chatting around the fire. 

You quietly slipped out of the tent without waking Hosea, who was honestly dead to the world as tired as he was. It was a short walk out of camp to find a spot to go. 

On your way back to your tent you heard a commotion near the edge of camp. You squinted, trying to figure out who the rider was, slumped over their horse. But then you knew. You'd know that horse anywhere. 

"Hosea!" You yelled, sprinting toward the tent. Others had noticed the horse as well and were racing over to Arthur as he fell off his horse. As much as your body was screaming to go check on Arthur, you knew you needed to wake Hosea. 

As you skidded to a stop outside your tent, you were met by Hosea scrambling out of the tent, looking around wide-eyed. He grabbed your arms, steadying you before the two of you could collide. 

"Arthur," it was all you could say, pointing to the edge of camp. He took in your wild-eyed expression and followed your finger to the edge of camp, just in time to see some of the men hoisting up Arthur's limp body. 

"A-Arthur," Hosea stammered, racing over. "Arthur," he called as he fell in line with the others carrying him to his tent. You were right on his heels, ready to jump into action. 

"'Sea," Arthur croaked. He was in bad shape. His shoulder was bloody and singed, his union suit was torn up, and what you could see of his body was dirty and bruised. 

"I'm here, dear boy. You're safe. You're home," Hosea assured him, taking Arthur's outstretched hand. 

"Mrs. Grimshaw would you sit with him?" Dutch asked as Arthur was lowered onto his cot. 

"Of course," she began to say, but Hosea pushed past her. 

"No, no. I'll sit with him," Hosea said quickly. You and Susan exchanged glances and you nodded. Hosea could sit and look after Arthur, and you'd look after Hosea. 

"Alright. I'll go help gather bandages and the like," Susan said, stepping out of the way as Hosea settled on a crate nearby. You stood behind him, resting your hand on his shoulder. 

"Uh oh, Hosea," Arthur grumbled, giving you the best mischievous grin he could muster, as groggy and weak as he was. "She's giving us that look. The one that says she's not gonna put up with any horse shit," 

"And I'm not," you agreed firmly. "From either of you," you emphasized your point with a squeeze to Hosea's shoulder. 

"Arthur what... What happened?" Hosea asked, clutching one of Arthur's hands in both of his. You busied yourself in lowering the canvas around Arthur's tent. Arthur almost always had drawn up, liking a more open air set up, but he could certainly use some privacy right now. 

"You were right. Was a trap," Arthur rasped. "Wanted me for bait. Lure you all in," 

"Oh, Arthur," Hosea sighed, bringing their clasped hands up to his bowed head. 

"Well, you got away," you assured him, assured them both. "You're safe now. Safe as can be, anyway." 

Arthur grunted in response. You could see he was drifting off, exhausted and wounded. 

Susan slipped into the tent a few minutes later with a bucket and some clean rags, as well as a small bundle of medical supplies. With that, the three of you got to work in cleaning up your injured friend. 

Hosea propped the semi-conscious Arthur up while you and Susan unbuttoned his union suit and slid it off of his shoulders until he was only covered below his hips. The fabric around the bullet wound was burned into his skin in some places, and you had to carefully cut it away, debriding the wound as you went. Fortunately Arthur wasn't very awake for that part. 

Then you got to work cleaning him up. His torso was mottled purple with bruises, though no open wounds there other than his shoulder. But his face was covered in little cuts from his rough treatment. Carefully you cleaned his face while Hosea and Susan dressed his shoulder wound. 

Arthur was in and out of consciousness for the whole process. At one point he muttered something jokingly. All you caught was "Hosea" and "Jealous" as you were tenderly cleaning a cut on his cheek, hand unconsciously resting on his uninjured shoulder. 

Finally the three of you changed him into a clean union suit, leaving his injured shoulder out to make changing the bandages less of a hassle for all involved. 

Once his physical wounds had been tended, and a couple fresh tonics forced down his throat by a very determined Hosea, finally the man was left to rest. Susan took the dirty rags out to dry, and his torn union suit to be destroyed, as there was no salvaging any of it. 

Arthur was firmly unconscious by this point, mind turning off to force him to sleep. Hosea settled on a crate beside Arthur's cot, holding one of Arthur's hands in his own as he watched the man's chest rise and fall. 

"Hosea," you murmured anxiously. He looked up at you and gave you a weak smile. 

"You go to bed, dove. I'm," he looked back at his surrogate son. "I'm gonna sit with him tonight." 

You wanted to fight him on it. But you knew it was useless. You could stay up with him, but what good could you really do at this point. Someone ought to get some sleep and be useful in the morning. 

"Alright love," you murmured. "I'll be in the tent if you need anything." 

"Thank you, Dove," Hosea said, squeezing your hand where it rested on his shoulder. You leaned forward and he happily gave you a parting kiss before you stepped out and went next door to your tent. What little sleep you got was restless and worried. 

~~~~~~

The next morning you entered Arthur's tent to find Arthur awake, mostly, and Hosea snoring away with his head bowed and chin tucked against his chest. Arthur gave you a weak smile. 

"He stay all night?" Arthur asked hoarsely. You nodded. 

"Hosea, sweety," you murmured, shaking his shoulder gently. "Wake up, love," 

Hosea snorted awake, looking around wildly, ready to jump into action. You grabbed his shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck gently, easing him back onto the crate. 

"Oh..." He mumbled, seeing you, seeing Arthur, and seeing the sunlight through the canvas. "I'm sorry I..." He yawned and pinched the bridge of his nose, wiping the sleep out of his eye. "I must have dozed off. How are you feeling, dear boy?" 

"I'll be honest old man, I've been better," Arthur sighed. "But I'm alive and I'm back at camp so that's a start, I suppose." 

"Indeed," Hosea paused studying Arthur. He opened his mouth to say something. To apologize, to ask what happened, you weren't sure. But you could tell Arthur wasn't really up for it. 

"Love, go take a nap," you interrupted, gently tugging him to his feet. "I'll sit with him a while." 

Hosea hesitated, looking like he'd protest. He glanced desperately between you and Arthur. 

"Better do as she says, Hosea. Her wrath rivals Grimshaw's." Arthur teased. "Go take a nap, have a smoke, get some food."

"Alright," Hosea relented. "Just for a couple hours. Then I'll be back," 

"I'll be here," Arthur assured him. 

You grabbed Hosea, pulling him down so you could kiss his cheek. He gave you a crooked smile and pulled you in for a full kiss before ducking out. 

"You don't need to sit with me y'know," Arthur mumbled as you sat on the crate. "I'll be fine," 

"Someone ought to stay close. Mind your fever," you explained. "Besides, he'll never leave unless someone else is in here." 

"That's true," Arthur chuckled. A few moments later, he drifted back off to sleep.

~~~~~~~

Susan stepped in a few hours later, ready to take over from you. 

"I can stay a bit longer," you argued. You'd only be sitting there for maybe four hours. 

"No, I think you've got another job you need to do," Susan said firmly, pulling you to your feet. "Go take a look at your husband. He's currently sitting by the main fire." 

The sight that greeted you would have been a bit adorable if it weren't also so sad.  

Hosea sat in a chair by the main campfire, cin tucked into his chest, a half finished cigarette burned out between his fingers, snoring. He was exhausted, and you could see his eyelids were red, likely from him trying not to cry at the situation. 

It broke your heart to see. You knew how he was hurting from knowing Arthur had been captured, that he'd been held prisoner and tortured for days by Colm. That he'd had to break himself free, cauterize his own wound, and ride himself back to camp. It was heartbreaking. 

John sat not to far away from Hosea, cleaning his guns and keeping a subtle eye on him, likely making sure he didn't accidentally tumble forward into the fire. John looked up as you approached and gave you a solemn nod before standing up. The changing of the guard. 

You walked over to stand in front of your husband, trying to decide the best thing to do. You could leave him here to sleep. He surely needed it. But you had a feeling there was something he needed more. 

You reached out a hand and gently grabbed his wrist, shaking him gently. "Hosea," you cooed. 

Hosea started awake once more, looking around and quickly taking in everything around him. His eyes settled on you and his face softened just a little, as it always did when he saw you. 

"Hello dove," he yawned. "Sorry, I must have dozed off. Is it my turn to go sit with Arthur again?" He was already pushing himself to his feet, ready to go back to Arthur's tent. But you had a firm grip on his wrist, stopping him from walking.  

"No, love. Susan is with him. Come on," you said, leading him over to your tent. 

"I'm fine, dove, I..." He began to argue, but a quick look over your shoulder at him told him to stop resisting. 

You led him to your tent and closed the tent flaps behind you. You didn't say anything, just lay down in your tent and guided Hosea to lay down beside you. 

He lay on his back, certainly expecting you to snuggle up against his side like you always do. But instead you lay flat on your back and gently tugged him to cuddle up to you, his head resting on your chest. 

It took him a moment to adjust to the new arrangement, but he quickly settled in against you. The way he squeezed your waist told you that you were definitely right. With Arthur home safe and healing in his tent, Hosea just needed to take a moment. 

"Dove I--" 

"Shhh," you hushed him gently. "Just take a few minutes, no talking, just... Breathe," 

Hosea hummed and nuzzled in closer, tucking his head under your chin. You wrapped your arm up to play with his hair, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp in a way you knew he loved. 

The two of you lay there for a time, and at first you thought he may have fallen asleep. Then you felt his chest lurch, and heard a faint sniffle from him. Warm droplets of water fell down his cheek to your blouse. 

That's what you had expected. That's what he needed. 

You held him tighter as he began to weep, petting his hair and rubbing his back as his tears picked up. He clutched at your blouse and buried his face into the cool cotton fabric. 

Hosea's quiet sobs triggered a coughing fit. You gingerly sat up so you could cradle him against you in a way that wouldn't hinder his coughing fit. You gently rubbed his back, easing the ache in his lungs as best you could until the coughing subsided, and he could return to weeping against your chest. 

It broke your heart to see him all torn up like this. You knew he was blaming himself, blaming Dutch, blaming this cruel world for all it had done to his boy. As toughened as Hosea was, he was a tender man with a tender heart. He felt everything with such deep emotion. 

Hosea wept for about an hour, maybe a little more. Every time his tears would start to subside, they'd pick back up again as another wave of grief hit him. You never tried to stop him, didn't say a word other than a few gentle murmurs of sweet nonsense. But you never hushed him or rushed him. He needed to cry it all out, if you had to sit here all afternoon and night. 

Your own tears began falling. Crying for your friend, who'd nearly lost his life. For your beloved husband, who'd nearly lost his son. For the unfairness of it all. Your tears didn't even come close to rivaling Hosea's, but still you wept. 

Slowly Hosea's sniffles quieted, and the damp spots on your blouse grew cold, no longer warmed by fresh tears. Slowly Hosea lifted his head. He looked exhausted, but you could see the burden of hiding his emotions had lifted some, now that he'd been in a space where he could just feel. 

You gently cupped his face in your hands, leaning forward and kissing away the wet trails on his cheeks. Hosea just sighed and leaned into your touches like a cat. After your kisses, you used your thumbs to wipe away the remains of his tears. 

"Thank you, dove," he murmured, turning his head to kiss your palm. "I just..." He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence. 

"I know," you said, pulling him in for a long hug. "I know," 

[highwayphantoms]

DADWC :3 “Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again.”

thank you for the prompt! :D as @inquisimer requested, I wrote a little bit about Oriana <3

for @dadrunkwriting!

Words: 993 Characters: Oriana Lavellan, Cyren Lavellan Warnings: some brief but dark flashbacks

--

They leave Redcliffe Castle in a hurry after the queen arrives to evict the mages—and, presumably, the Tevene interlopers that the Inquisiton had already dealt with. With the bulk of the remaining rebel mages in tow, they stop for the night at the edge of the Hinterlands, well away from Redcliffe. Equal partners, she had said. The Seeker was still seething—not that Oriana was surprised—but she’d coordinated the camps without complaint all the same, granting Oriana the time and space to get away. She didn’t mind sharing a camp with mages—how could she, when her own mother was a mage? Nor did she mind sharing a fire with members of the Inquisition. Varric was a delight to have by the fireside after a long day, always ready with some tall tale about Hawke. (Oriana didn’t know much about the Champion of Kirkwall, but Clan Lavellan often traded with humans and she’d heard a few stories. None of them line up with the stories Varric tells.) She still watched the Seeker with a wary eye, but in truth Cassandra had been… shockingly welcoming aside from that first day.

Ordinarily, she would have stayed and pitched her tent alongside the others.

Instead, she takes her things and sets up away from everyone else. Not so far that she won’t hear someone trying to find her, but far enough that no one will hear her.

As she expected, Cyren joins her soon enough. Though he had remained outside the village while she confronted Alexius and then proceeded to mingle with the rebel mages in the aftermath, she’d known he would come to check on her sooner or later. She’d brushed off the others with ease—she hasn’t given any of them enough time and opportunity to learn her tells, and she does not intend to give them a chance. If any of them could tell that images of the false future she and Dorian had seen were still playing in her mind, rippling out like a drop in a pond, they had said nothing.

Cyren, however, takes one look at the way she silently, methodically fletches new arrows and steps close enough to pluck them from her hands. “Ori,” he says, low and even.

Suddenly bereft of distractions, she looks up to glower at him. “I’m fine,” she counters. “Give those back.”

He hums in response, an utterly unconvinced sound, and sets both her tools and her arrows-in-progress aside, just out of her reach.

Cyren carefully joins her where she sits on a low outcropping of rock, then leans his staff aside the rock ledge and turns to her. “I know that look,” he says, quiet even though there is no one close enough to overhear. “What happened in the castle?”

In lieu of answering, Oriana folds her hands in her lap and silently studies the grass below her feet. Spring has yet to reach Haven, up at the foot of the mountains, but here in the Hinterlands the grass has turned green once more and the trees have begun to produce new leaves. Life, beginning anew—but then, it wasn’t dead. Only dormant. The world she’d seen—a world in which the Inquisition failed—was dead.

Nothing and no one can raise the dead. A spirit might possess a dead body, but even an undead corpse is still dead. Nothing can change that.

“He was using the Breach to manipulate time,” she says at last. “I—we—were flung into a future where I vanished. The Inquisition was destroyed, but…” Dark cells in the bowels of the castle, some flooded with water from the lake, others consumed with red lyrium. The Seeker, Varric, Solas—all of them taken prisoner, all of them visibly unwell. Dying. The Nightingale, Leliana, reduced to a vengeful husk of a woman.

Cyren, dead. Barely more than bones and rotting flesh, recognizable only by the dull silvery glint of the connected rings he wears on his right hand.

He was looking for you. They ran him through with a blade and left him to rot.

An involuntary shudder runs through her.

A gentle hand on her arm jolts her out of her thoughts. “That won’t happen,” Cyren says firmly. “You’re still here. You haven’t disappeared.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I’m afraid of,” she replies, barely above a whisper.

“In this alternate future, I was dead,” he guesses, then sighs. “Would it be better if I left?”

“No.” She turns in an instant, grasping his wrist like he might walk away at any moment. He won’t, she knows that, but… “Don’t go,” she pleads. “I can’t do this alone.”

When she looks at him, Cyren quirks a small, wry smile at her. “You look exhausted,” he says, gingerly rising to his feet. Tugging her up with him, he adds, “Come on.”

Reluctantly, she follows—pausing only long enough to snatch up her tools and arrows, both finished and not. The sun is only beginning to set, but he’s not wrong. It feels like an eternity has passed since the last time she slept—and maybe it has. She won’t pretend to understand how Alexius was manipulating time, but that false future had felt so real.

No, it was real. Her muscles are tired and sore from drawing her bow over and over in that cursed future—and if that’s real, the rest must be, too.

As she spreads out her bedroll, Cyren does the same with his. Side by side, like they’ve done so many times over so many years. Then, after she sheds her boots and armor and sets them aside, she tries to settle. And fails.

Gently, Cyren says, “Just close your eyes. I’ll still be here when you open them again. I promise.”

They’re only words, but all the same, she drifts off into a dreamless sleep before she knows it.

When she wakes before daybreak, he’s still fast asleep beside her.

[duxhess-kryzewan]

Obitine First Kiss?

- Drowning -

When they had first landed on Corellia, Obi-Wan was relieved to be somewhere that had plenty of fresh water. The last planet they had been hiding on was dry and dusty and even Satine - born and raised on a desert planet herself - had became sick of the terrain.

The novelty quickly wore off the longer they trekked through the jungle. The forestry was dense, the humidity unforgiving. Every breath he took came with the unsettling sensation of drowning on dry land.

Qui-Gon had left them the night before last, leaving Obi-Wan with coordinates on where to meet the following day. He had a contact - a long time ally - who resided on miles away from the forest they were hiding in. If all went according to plan, they would have a new and unrecognizable ship and a safe means off the planet. All he was tasked with was keeping Satine safe in the mean time.

He didn't like to read too much into why Qui-Gon was so keen on leaving them alone together.

"The sky looks like it'll be clear tonight." Satine comments as they move into a clearing.

"It' seems so," He says, "Let's just hope it stays that way."

Storms were frequent and often unpredictable. One minute the sun would be shining, only for the clouds to roll in mercilessly pelt the planet with rain.

"From desert to storm," She huffs, "I can't tell which is worse."

He observes her intently as she walks; how her damp hair clung to her neck, how she would periodically run the back of her hand across her brow line. He sympathized with her discomfort. The air felt sticky, the breeze heavy as it blew past them. Satine had long since abandoned her attempts at maintaining her regality. There was no point anymore. She had been with them long enough to know they wouldn't judge her in the slightest for slipping out of her Duchess façade, and the climate made it nearly impossible to look the part.

Not that it mattered much. Obi-Wan didn't think there was anything that could make her any less beautiful.

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. An irrevocable attachment to her was the last thing he needed.

"Can we stop for the evening?" She asks.

He marvels at the gentleness in her voice. Before, in the beginning weeks she had been placed under their protection, she had huffed and whined until he relented and gave into her requests. The near death experiences and friendship they managed to forge over the passing weeks had humbled her some, and gave him enough insight to realize she was more than just an entitled Duchess. He was grateful they had found a way to be more civil to one another.

“As you wish."

They were nearing one of the many lakes that covered the planet anyway; a more than ideal place to set up camp for the night. Fresh water was something neither of them took for granted after their stay in the desert.

When they stop Satine wastes no dropping to the ground and leaning back against one of the trees that surrounded them. Foliage was another thing they both had become more appreciative of recently. The cover of trees, the simple ability to rest against something other than the hot sand, even the always lingering dampness of the soil.

He busies himself looking around around for wood dry enough to start a fire. It was by no means necessary for warmth, but it would be there luck that the temperature would drop with the arrival of night time, and it wouldn't hurt to have a source of light. The stars might have been bright on Corellia, but he would be hard pressed to consider it enough illumination for them.

His mind had been so preoccupied on setting up camp that he hadn't even noticed Satine's absence until a splash broke through the silence.

"Satine?"

He turns just in time to see her disappear below the surface of the water, and for a fleeting moment panic floods through him. What if she can't swim? What if something was in the water? And why is she in the water in the first place?

The relief he feels when she reappears is almost insurmountable.

"What are you doing?" He half yells, trying his best not to let the worry in his voice show.

She grants him an amused smirk, and something about the sparkle in her eyes sends a warmth trough his chest, despite how hard he tries not to let it do so.

"Cooling off, Obi-Wan." She says matter-of-factly, "You may not mind being covered in sweat and grime after trekking through the jungle all day, but I refuse to stew in filth."

He has to repress the urge to laugh. Roughing it may have humbled the young Duchess, but there was always going to be a part of her that was prim and proper.

"I'm a bit more preoccupied with your safety than worrying about my personal hygiene."

He glances to the pile of discarded clothes at the waters edge and is grateful for cover twilight provided him. If Satine could see the blush that colored his cheeks at the thought of her undress she would never let him live it down.

Satine scoffs and swims closer to shore, "As if you have to choose one or the other. Honestly, Obi-Wan."

She was right, of course. He hated the stickiness from the humidity and sweat that clung to his skin, but it hadn't been at the top of his priority list.

"Priorities, Duchess."

She laughs lightly and disappears under the water again.

The fire he was attempting to start was a lost cause, he decided. There was too much moisture for a flame to start. As much as he didn't like it, they were going to have to fair out without one for now.

So he settles for laying out his cloak in the driest area he could find and depositing their items on top of it. Qui-Gon didn't leave them with much, but the few items they did have were more than essential to their survival the next few days.

Obi-Wan decides that, so long as she is content in the water, he'll sit along the lakes edge and meditate. It had been too long since he had a chance to do so, and this was he could keep an eye on her.

​He settles at the waters edge, lightsaber and top layer of his clothing discarded beside him. The muggy air proved to be a challenge when taking a deep breath, but the sounds of the water and quiet of the night soothed him.

That was, until an unexpected splash of cold water hit him.

He sprang to his feet, the sudden chill catching him off guard. Below him, he found Satine smiling mischievously, still partially submerged in the water.

"Have you lost your mind?" He manages to sputter out.

She laughs, "Don't act like it didn't feel good. You know as well as I do the temperature is less than favorable."

He glares at her, but there's something to her smile that almost makes him forgive her. Rarely over the course of their time together has he seen anything resembling genuine happiness grace her. For all of the things that drive him crazy about her - and there were many, many things - there were just as many that made him adore her in ways a Jedi certainly should not. Seeing her smile was one of them.

“I was meditating."

"You do that quite enough."

"Its an integral part of connecting with the force."

Satine rolls her eyes, "Yes, so you've reminded me many times."

They had managed to cultivate something close to a friendship during their time on the run. Qui-Gon had insisted that he try and get along with her, both for the sake of their mission and for the sake of the Duchess.

He's sure neither Qui-Gin or himself could have anticipated the less sudden feelings that would blossom between him and the Duchess. Feelings that most definitely went against the code.

It scared him that part of him didn't care.

"Swimming in a random lake on an unfamiliar planet doesn't seem very becoming of a Duchess," He counters with a smirk, "Especially one so preoccupied with appearances."

"Neither is being on the run with a Jedi, but I've had to learn to adapt with what's given to me."

Her smiles falters for a moment, and suddenly he's filled with guilt. He could feel her emotional struggle through the force; how much anxiety and guilt she carries for leaving her planet in the midst of a civil war.

"I'm sorry," He says, "I didn't mean to imply anything."

The smile returns. It's softer, more understanding, but there all the same. He likes to see it on her.

"Forgiven," She stands, the shallow end of the water only reaching her waist, "Though I would appreciate your assistance."

She reaches out a hand towards him, all while he tries his best to ignore the way her wet underlayer of clothing clings to her. He hopes the cover of nightfall masks his blush.

"As you wish, your grace."

He takes her hand in his, fingers gripping her smaller ones tighter than what was strictly necessary, and just as he goes to pull her up onto dry land she roughly yanks him towards her.

He topples into the water, barely managing to catch his balance before he was submerged completely.

"Satine!"

She backs up quickly into deeper water, swimming away from him with a newfound sense of urgency. It doesn't stop the laughter though, or the wide smile she wore. It was the first time he's seen her that amused, and if he wasn't so distracted by his sudden frustration he would marvel at just how beautiful happiness looks on her.

"Have you gone mad?"

Satine laughs some more, "Oh please, it's just water Obi-Wan. You're doing little more than bathing and cooling off. Master Qui-Gon wouldn't be too pleased if I was left alone because you suffered heat stroke."

It was pointless to argue that the temperature wasn't near hot enough for heat stroke to actually overtake him and, though he would never admit it, the cold water did make him feel a great deal better.

"I'm not much use as a protector while unarmed and in the water." He decides to counter with, though he knows its a weak point. If the situation suddenly became dangerous he would just as well protect her here as he would on dry land.

Satine doesn't answer him and instead disappears once again below the surface of the water. The sky was clear, but not even the planets stars could provide him enough light to see where she had vanished too.

He had grown accustomed to the many facets of her over their time together. There were versions of her he learned how to handle; from a stubborn Satine to a solemn one. A mischievous Satine however was uncharted territory, and he didn't know whether to fear her or be amused by her.

There's only inches separated them when she ascends out from under the water, and he quickly settles on terrified.

He's utterly terrified, because never has another person looked so beautiful to him as she did in that moment. Lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring back into his.

"Satine..." It's a warning, but he knows deep down his heart isn't really in it.

"Obi-Wan."

She's kissing him then. Gently; a ghost of a touch that he almost isn't convinced is real. Her lips are cold from the water, breath warm against his skin.

Before he can think better of it, his hand finds hers under the water, his other sliding up the slope of her neck and coming to cup her cheek.

"We shouldn't be doing this." He whispers against her.

Satine pauses for a brief moment, "No we shouldn't."

He wonders what it says about them that neither make a move to stop.

It crosses his mind what Qui-Gon would say if he found them like this; pressed together in shoulder deep water, disregarding the promises both of them made to their people and to themselves.

Her hand slide up the back of his head and tangles into his hair, her fingers grasping his Padawan braid tightly between them.

"We should stop." Satine says before kissing him hard with a newfound sense of urgency.

"We should." He agrees, kissing her back with just as much force.

Her legs suddenly wrap around his waist and it renders him breathless. The code was cracking around him with every passing second, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop kissing her.

It dawns on him then; that he has fallen irrevocably in love with Satine Kryze.

[outpost-lw]

Lortober: Oct. 8th

Prompt: Create Wordcount: 817

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

Frodr sighs, frowning down at the threadbare fish basket that he’s only barely managed to fill the bottom of. Dusk was fast approaching and he could no longer see the river well enough to fish, not to mention that the chill biting at his skin under his wet fur was starting to become an urgent problem, but… he’d hoped for more.

They needed more.

They wouldn’t starve yet but the days were growing shorter and colder, and he was admittedly concerned. A bigger pack meant safety in numbers, yes, but it also meant more mouths to feed, and a harder time negotiating hunting rights for the territories they passed through.

Still, as he made his way back to camp, he couldn’t bring himself to truly regret their current circumstances. Yes, winter would be hard, but… they had a camp now. A proper one, with tents and everything. Even a couple of blankets to go around. There was life and trust and love and wolves to share a campfire – share warmth and joy – with.

There was a Pack.

A real one.

Something that he hadn’t believed he’d ever have, something that the darkness lurking in the back of his mind said was impossible, but it wasn’t, because here it was, right in front of him, and the lonely helpless echoes that still haunted him at night could, quite frankly, go throw themselves into Korvo's lake.

Picking out the diminutive form of his Alpha (his love, his light), he made his way over, eager to share his catch (hoping it would make her happy, would help ease her burdens).

As he came closer, he couldn’t help the amused huff that escaped him.

Skyndi was transfixed, all her considerable focus trained on where a scarf was slowly taking shape under the patient paws of their newest addition, and something about it was just so incredibly endearing to him that he almost forgot the way that the water caught in his fur had started to frost over ever since the sun had dipped below the mountains.

Still, he couldn’t very well just spend the evening standing around staring like a particularly stupid bison (no matter how much he wanted to), so he called out a soft: “I’m back.” He was immediately rewarded by Skyndi shooting up and jumping over to him in that particularly impressive way only Kits could really pull off before promptly herding him over to where their new pack member had set up some sort of crafting nest by the campfire. “Frodr! Welcome back! Oh, no, you’re soaked, you’re freezing, sit down before you fall down and warm up. Orrin, please, have some sense of self-preservation, we’ve talked about this!” Personally, Frodr thought her fretting was doing a better job at fighting off the chill than the fire would, but he could hardly tell her that, so instead he simply wagged his tail gently and did as told while listening to the warm rush of her voice as she threw a threadbare blanket over him.

“There, that’s better, now stay there, the soup will be ready in a bit now that we have the fish for it and you’ve more than earned your hunter’s right at first portion with that haul – I didn’t think there was that much fish left in the river at this time of year!” Frodr could feel his tail picking up speed and had to consciously stop his tongue from lolling out in a stupid grin, lest he make a complete fool of himself at the care and praise as she tucked the blanket in around him.

He’s not entirely sure he succeeded, given the very studious way the Crafter (he’d said he didn’t like his old name, but hadn’t picked out a new one yet, so the Pack had defaulted to calling him by his title) was Not Looking at them despite the distinct aura of amusement hanging thick in the air around him.

“There, that’s better. Now, look at this, you gotta see this, Frodr, it’s amazing; the Crafter can knit and he’ll teach us all and we’ll be warm and we’ll have trade goods, Frodr! We can finally create something! Yarn is still stupidly expensive, but! We can make our own, I’m sure we can, and then we’ll have food and no-one will go hungry and we’ll all be able to knit!!”

He promptly lost his battle with the silly grin at her enthusiasm and the sheer relief that coursed through him at her words. The Crafter had introduced himself as such, yes, but he hadn’t thought about the ramifications of finally having such a skill set in the Pack.

They had one more weapon with which to fight off the ever-present hunger and cold, now. “Oh. Oh, that’s lovely. That’s amazing!! Thank you, Crafter. Thank you!”

The Crafter just laughed and abashedly ducked his head.

“Happy to be of help.”

[fbfh]

might have almost died but at least my crush likes me back - percy x gn!crush!reader

pairing: percy x gn bad swimmer crush reader

wc: 1.4k

warnings: some swearing, near drowning, water monsters, nonsexual tenticals ever look up and wonder how you’ve gotten to this point, some general dumbassery but what did you expect

summary: was charging into battle against a water monster when you practically need a pool noodle to shower a bad idea? yes. was getting rescued by percy and finding out he has a crush on you worth it? abso fucking lutely. 

requested: yuh

song I listened to while writing this: what the water gave me - florance and the machine

Okay, jumping into the water was definitely not your smartest move, especially since you still need water wings when you go canoeing in the camp lake. In your defense, you have beef with this piece of shit monster. What are you supposed to do, not beat the shit out of it when it tries to go after your friends and sink your ship? No! Plus, will kicking it’s ass possbily impress Percy? Maybe! Is that worth it? Hell fucking yes! You jump in there with a plan; you’ll charge in head first, land on its back where its’ blind spot is, and attack while it tries in vain to reach you. The one thing you didn’t expect was for it to sink below the water and keep going further down, which is where you find yourself now. 

Okay, you think, don’t panic. Hard advice to take when you’re watching the surface recede as you get dragged further down. You’re still trying to stab the bastard, but it’s not working. You know when to pick and choose your battles - literally - and it’s time to retreat. You pull out your sword and try to jump off its back, but you don’t move. You look down, another spike of panic shooting through you, making your collar bones hot and stomach drop sickeningly. 

This piece of shit has two tentacles wrapped around your feet and ankles. 

Oh fuck.

You start to swing desperately at the gelatinous arms holding you down, but your movements are heavy and sluggish, and you can’t land a good hit. A heavy, deep dread fills you as you realize the depth of the situation you’re in. Your mind is already racing with the worst possible outcome, but you try to shove that away, and return to trying to free yourself. If you’re going down, you’re going down swinging. Plus, the others will probably realize what happened, they’ll probably come in for back up any second. 

A wall of stone and sand appears to your right, and you dare to look down at the trench the monster is dragging you down into. You haven’t been down here for too long, but the panic is making you feel light headed. If you pass out down here, that will really be the end. A shadow passes over you, or maybe your vision is going dark, you can’t tell. Either way, you try really really hard not to think about how screwed you are.

A blurry, overlapping combination of Fuck! and No! are all that go through Percy’s mind as he stares at the rippling, swirling water where you were one second ago. He can’t stop seeing the tips of your hair getting dragged into the churning blue depths. Overwhelmed with dread, he feels the water was over him before he realizes he even jumped. He follows the irregular currents from the monsters wake, never wanting so badly to vaporize this bottom feeder. A steely determination rushes through him, overpowering his fear, his worry for you, and yells louder than his racing panic about how hurt you could be; he is going to get you, and you’re going to be fine.

He had left you for one second - one second! - and you somehow managed to do the dumbest, bravest, hottest thing possible and charge after that monster. He pushes aside those thoughts. 

They’re instantly replaced with a rush of hypotheticals; the feeling of your arms around his neck, how you’ll blush when he asks if you’re okay, how he’ll kiss your forehead and tell you how stupid that was, maybe your eyes lock, your hands come up to his cheeks, and- 

He stops them again, chastising himself for thinking about that at the literal worst possible time. 

‘I have to find you first...’ He muses, catching up to the monster - and more importantly, you - a moment later.

‘And there you are.’ 

His shadow passes over you, and a bubble escapes your mouth. Another hot spike of dread cuts through him. He speeds up, drawing his sword, but hesitates when he sees the tentacles holding on to you. A new plan is immediately in mind. He’s only got one chance at this, he has to line up his shot perfectly. 

He speeds down, swings one immaculate arc with his sword, and cuts you free. He pulls you toward him with his free hand, making an air bubble around your head. His nerves calm slightly as you catch your breath, returning to your normal color. 

“Stay here,” he says firmly, helping you get your footing a safe distance from the trench. You nod, hands still clutching his arms. He can’t tell what adrenaline is from the fight and what’s from you, but it doesn’t matter. He’s ending this now. 

He turns back to the monster. 

“Hey shrimp breath!” 

The beast rises, turning to look at him. It was not expecting this. He raises his sword slowly, then races forward, slicing through its weak point. It lets out something between a roar and a shriek, sending currents that almost knock you over. He jabs the thing two more times for good measure. As soon as it starts to turn to dust, he swims back over to you, pulling you into a tight hug, and rising to the surface in one fluid motion. 

You gasp when you break the surface, mostly out of relief, but the feeling of going up doesn’t stop. It takes you a second to realize Percy is waterbending you both up, arching to the side, and setting you gently on the deck of the ship. 

“Are you okay?”

It takes you a second to process everything that just happened. Your mind replays the most terrifying - four, maybe five? - minutes of your life, ending with breaking the surface, rising back up to the boat, and having Percy’s hands on your cheek and shoulder, worriedly inspecting you for any injuries. Wait, what? You realize what he asked, and sputter out a response. 

“Y- uh, yeah, I’m totally fine-”

“What the hell was that?!”

You blink in surprise as he keeps going.

“That could have gone so wrong, why would you just- just jump into the fucking ocean without a plan b, or a life vest, or something!” 

Is he lecturing you? You hold back a smile as he continues, you don’t think he’s ever lectured you before. It’s really cute. 

He pulls you close, your cheeks heating up as he presses his face into the side of your neck. You feel more grounded in his arms than you probably ever have. 

“I… I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” He says it so softly you almost don’t catch it. His face nuzzles against your skin, taking in your presence, and presses the smallest kiss to your neck. 

Oh.

Your mouth hangs open as it dawns on you how he feels. 

He pulls away, face flushed, and rubs the back of his neck.

“Uh, do you…” he trails off, searching your expression for an answer. 

Of course you like Percy; everyone does. You don’t know one person at camp who doesn’t like him at least a little. Camp Half Blood culture is smelling like barbeque smoke, not questioning it when you find a new bruise or scar, and having at least a small to moderate crush on Percy Jackson. We’ve all had it. The giddiness from finding out he likes you feels almost fake. You snap out of your internal spiral, realizing you haven’t answered him yet.

“Yes- yeah, of course… I mean, hello, you’re Percy freaking Jackson. There’s a mile long list of people who have a crush on you.” 

He glances to the side. You’ve never seen him smile like that, it looks good on him. He pulls you close, thumb running over your cheek, foreheads almost touching. 

“There’s only one name on that list I care about.” 

Your lips meet, and you can tell how long he’s wanted to do this. He angles his head just right, and you reach a surprising new level of euphoria you didn’t know existed. You eventually pull apart and he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath for the second time. 

His words from before replay in your mind. 

“... it is my name, right?”

He laughs and pulls you into a hug. 

‘I could definitely get used to this.’ 

Standing on the deck, holding you in his arms, Percy is thinking the same thing.