#Gas Burning Firepits

[mimi-sophie]

Patio - Pergola Ideas for a sizable, concrete-based, craftsman backyard patio remodel that includes a fire pit and a pergola

[stickybreadcrown]

Fire Pit Art Antlers 36

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 8: She's The Salt Of The Earth And She's Dangerous]

A/N: Be sure to vote in the poll pinned to the top of my blog AFTER you finish reading!!! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace (again).

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “She's A Rebel” by Green Day.

Word count: 7.4k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I’m sorry if I was a creep when we first met,” Aegon says. He’s been oddly philosophical since he was burned. “I hadn’t seen a hot single chick in a while, and I wanted to fuck you.”

Cregan siphoned just enough gas from a decrepit Chrysler Sebring in Merna to take the Tahoe two and a half hours west to Little Thunder Bay Campground on the shores of Lake McConaughy, a manmade reservoir and New Deal project from the 1930s. You glance over at Aegon dubiously, amused. “Do I count as hot?”

“Yeah, Chippendales, you’re hot. In like a…you live in a cabin and knit sweaters by a crackling fireplace kind of way.”

You smile. “So you got over that.”

“Oh no, I still want to fuck you. Now I just know you better, so I wouldn’t want to offend you by being obnoxious about it.”

“That’s sweet, I guess. I appreciate your discretion.”

“No problem. If you ever decide you want to take a ride on a less distinguished Targaryen brother, let me know.”

The two of you are fishing from a boat launch, dry splintering planks of wood, opaque rippling water, soft wind and bright sunshine from an aquamarine, cloudless sky. Cregan found the fishing poles in the abandoned RV you’ve moved into, a Winnebago Spirit with one of those stick figure family decals on the back window, Mom, Dad, four lovely children and a dog too, all of whom are perhaps alive but more likely dead and in any case nowhere to be found here in this tranquil corner of western Nebraska, 150 miles from the Wyoming border. Helaena digs worms from the earth, then Rhaena slices them into wriggling segments with a hunting knife and brings them to you and Aegon to be impaled on barbed hooks. Aemond, Rio, Daeron, Luke, and Cregan are swimming about twenty yards down the beach, soaked boxer shorts and nothing else, splashing each other and scrubbing the grime off their skin from a morning spent gathering wood for the firepit and the grill; Ice is paddling joyfully alongside them. Baela floats on her back and peers vacantly up into the vast blue nothingness. Aegon is not permitted in the water, as his leg is an open wound beneath his bandages. You ask him as you recast your fishing line: “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

You shrug, smirking guiltily. You thought it was obvious.

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, slow and lazy. “Oh, I get it. A loser.”

“I didn’t say loser.”

“You thought loser.”

“I implied loser.”

“It’s alright. I’ve been called worse things by people I admire much less.” He contemplates his answer as he gazes down into the water, sluggish stoned reverie. Aemond must be almost out of morphine by now. At last Aegon says: “I think the first thing I ever learned was that no matter how hard I tried, no one was ever going to love me. Not in a normal kind of way, Disney movie love, Christmas rom-com love. So I stopped trying. Mother wanted me to play piano, so I bombed the recital. Father wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, so I skipped class, went golfing and yachting, didn’t even bother to pay someone to write halfway decent essays for me. If they couldn’t love me unconditionally, I wasn’t interested in meeting their conditions.” Then he chuckles, the breeze combing through his hair, ninety degrees and only getting hotter. “I refused to work. All you’ve ever done is work. You must hate me.”

“No, I get it.” You reel in your line; a fish has stolen the worm from your hook, tiny clandestine nibbles. You impale a slimy new victim and recast. “No one wants to be used.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I wasn’t going to spend my life doing shit I didn’t want to do so my parents could brag about me to their insufferable friends and absolve themselves of their mistakes. Mother married a man who didn’t give a fuck about her, Father ignored us all. Me being a success story would have given them the impression they did something right. I couldn’t have that.”

So Aemond had to be the success story instead. You glance down the beach at where he is bursting through the water and slicking back his dripping hair from his face, showing Luke a bone he found in the muddy silt of Lake McConaughy, hopefully not human.

Aegon follows your eyeline. “Aemond went the other way, I guess. Always so pathetically desperate for their approval. Scrabbling for crumbs of it like a rat. That’s what the thing with Alys was all about, it’s the only explanation I have. Older woman, surrogate mother, comforting but chilly, fawning but forbidden, always keeping him at an arm’s length and rewarding his tricks with treats.” He smirks flirtatiously, then sees that he’s hurt you. “Oh, um, I mean…look, it wasn’t…it wasn’t a good thing, you know? He wasn’t happy. It was a seven-year-long psychotic episode, not a relationship.”

“You mentioned that Criston likes Aemond,” you say, pivoting. “The…what is he? A family friend, an assistant?”

“My mother’s personal security guard. And yeah, he cares about Aemond. He’s proud of him, he trust him, he thinks he’s more capable than any of the rest of us, and that’s probably true. It’s definitely true compared to me. But that doesn’t mean Criston always knows how to express it.”

You look out over the water, trying not to imagine Aemond touching Alys, this woman you hate without knowing her face. You wonder if he ever wishes you were more like her: older, clever, entrancing, masterful. “It must have been a strange way to grow up.”

“Cold,” Aegon says. “Hollow. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, everything. You go through the motions but something’s always missing. When you’re little, you think it’s your fault, and then eventually you realize that they’re going to be miserable whether you’re there or not. But you can get out if you’re willing to run far enough.” He scratches at his forearm, and your eyes catch fleetingly on the black ink of his tattoo: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You had told Rio something similar when you were stranded on that transmission tower in Catawissa, Pennsylvania. “This is fucked up, and I don’t mean that I don’t feel bad about what happened to Jace, and I get that millions of people have died agonizing deaths, and that all sucks, believe me, I know, but this…” He gestures vaguely, to the zombies and the desolation and the collapse of everything you’ve ever known. “It was kind of my Get Out Of Jail Free card. And in a weird way…sometimes I feel like I’ve been happier since the world ended than I ever was before.”

You smile. You know what he means. “Even if your leg gets infected and we have to saw it off without anesthesia like you’re a Civil War soldier?”

Aegon laughs and shakes his head, his hair flopping around. It’s almost long enough for him to have a man bun like Cregan’s if he wanted one “No, probably not. Also, what’s the Civil War?”

“Forget it.”

“No, now I want to know.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Aemond said something interesting this morning while you were picking blackberries with our favorite Trump supporter,” Aegon tells you, salacious and sly, offering a tantalizing morsel he knows you’re powerless to refuse. He pauses and waits for you to admit it to yourself.

“Fine. Okay. What?”

“He said that when you and Cregan are standing next to each other, you look like you belong together.”

You groan, quite loudly. “I have zero interest in Cregan romantically. Literally zero. I don’t think he sees me that way either.”

Aegon shrugs. “The dating pool is awfully small nowadays, Banana Chip. Anyone who’s not a corpse or an immediate blood relative starts to look tasty.”

“So that’s why you like me.”

Aegon grins, teeth he shows often and easily, so unlike Aemond in every way. “No. I think I’d like you anywhere.” He tugs languidly on his fishing pole. “I want a new golf club.” He forgot his at the house in Broken Bow where Jace died.

“We’ll see.”

“I want new shoes too.” One of his Sperry Bahama sneakers was burned beyond repair and filled with shreds of his own singed flesh, scraps like soft bacon fused with the padding and insole. “And some polos.”

“I’m not a Big Lots.”

“Who the fuck shops at Big Lots?” Aegon’s fishing line jerks, and he yanks hard on the pole before reeling in his catch. Suspended at the end is a long green creature, yellowish spots and a villainous angular face. “That is one ugly bitch.”

“It’s a pike,” you say, and then when you grab it you observe that the misfortunate fish has the barb of the hook piercing not through its lip but one of its bulging, glassy eyes. “Oh my God!”

Aegon squeals, horrified. He offers no meaningful assistance. “That’s so gross, that’s so gross, what are we going to do?!”

“We have to, like, I don’t know, grab the back of the hook from inside its mouth and pull it out of the eyeball, I guess…?!”

“Yeah, awesome. Good luck with that.”

You reach tentatively into the pike’s gaping mouth. Its jaws snap shut, needlelike teeth stinging your wrist. “Ow!”

“Cregan!” Aegon bellows. “Cregan, help!”

Now the others are running to the boat launch to see what’s going on, Helaena and Rhaena from the shore, everyone else from the lake, Luke helping Baela wring the water from her sundress and Ice galloping alongside Cregan. He gets a look at the pike and guffaws, loud and rumbling.

“Poor little guy. That’s some bad luck he’s got.”

“Can you get the hook out?” you ask, eager to surrender the fish, which is still thrashing franticly and gnashing its teeth, mindless cold-blooded death throes.

“Of course I can.” Cregan plucks the pike from your grasp, shoves his massive hand into its mouth, and rips the hook out with one effortless maneuver. The pike is freed, but its eyeball remains speared on the hook. Then Cregan spies blood on your wrist. “You okay there, Miss Chips?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“Freaking disgusting, man,” Aegon mutters; he and Rio are ogling the disembodied eyeball, complete with a frayed optic nerve like a tail, with identical, stunned revulsion.

You turn to smile up at Aemond, but he doesn’t notice you. He is staring at Cregan, his sole blue eye narrow and fixed and flat like still water.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The closest town is Ogallala,” Aegon says as he lays his map across the wooden picnic table. The rest of you are seated around him and picking flaky white meat from between the thin, fragile bones of the pike, which Cregan has gutted and cooked on the large metal grill that careless camping families once roasted marshmallows and hotdogs over. Helaena is at the edge of the table and writing in her spider notebook, elegant loops of cursive. Ice is lying on her belly and gnawing on a rabbit she killed for herself, its doomed black eyes gazing up at you.

“That has to be what, ten miles south?” Rio says apprehensively.

Aegon licks grease from his fingers. “Yup. A little more, probably.”

“What about Lemoyne?” Daeron says, pointing. “Or Keystone, or even Belmar? They’re all closer.”

“See how small the names are written?” Aegon tells him. “That means they’re not actual communities. They’re like a few stop signs and maybe a Dollar General and that’s it.”

“I love Dollar General,” Cregan says, nostalgic. “Man, do y’all remember Chicken in a Biskit? I used to park myself in front of the tv and eat boxes and boxes—”

“It has to be Ogallala,” Aemond insists. “We need pharmacies and grocery stores and cars to siphon gas from, we need a real town.”

Rhaena chews her lower lip anxiously. “The Tahoe is empty. We have maybe half a gallon left and that’s it. Just enough to get down to Ogallala if we’re lucky, but not back.”

“So we’ll drive until it dies and then we’ll walk. Cregan has a gas can in the back, if we find fuel we can bring some back to the Tahoe and continue from there.”

“Walk, huh?” Aegon says, looking down at his bandaged left leg, which he can’t put any weight on. He gets around by hopping, leaning against other people (oftentimes against their will), and being carried by Rio.

“Well, you’re not going,” Aemond tells him. “And Baela isn’t either.”

Baela, gazing blankly down at the map, says nothing. A brown striped snake darts through the grass only a few feet from the picnic table, moving swiftly towards the lake, and there are alarmed gasps and yelps.

“Northern water snake,” Helaena says, glancing up from her notebook. “Not venomous.”

“Good,” Rhaena replies with a shudder.

Luke says fearfully as he reads the map: “Aemond, last time we went into a town that big was Broken Bow, and…Jace…the farmhouse…”

Aemond slams his fists down on the table. “We have to, okay? We need food and water. We need bullets. I need more pain meds and bandages for Aegon, I need antiseptic and Neosporin, and Vaseline for when he’s healing, and supplies for when Baela goes into labor too, since I’ve had to use everything I had saved.”

“We need pads and tampons too,” Helaena says as she examines the black-ink inventory in her notebook. “And Advil, lip balm, bars of soap, hair ties, and socks and underwear. And that green jelly aloe vera stuff for Aegon’s sunburn.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Aemond agrees. “We need a lot of things. And we have to refuel so we can keep moving west.”

“We could stay here,” Baela says, so softly that at first you aren’t sure if you heard her right.

“What, Baela?” Rhaena asks gently.

“I want to stay here.” Baela is more resolute now. “I want to have the baby here.”

Nobody knows how to respond. Rio gives you a troubled glance. You nod in agreement, so subtly you doubt anyone else notices. Not an option.

Aemond is calm but unwavering. “Baela, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

She pleads her case. “I like the Winnebago. I like the lake. I’m comfortable here, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I…I think we could make this our home for a while, now that we’ve found someplace like this. Someplace quiet and safe.”

“We’re not safe here, Baela,” Aemond says. “It feels like we’re safe, but we’re not. We aren’t a big enough group to reliably be able to defend ourselves. We don’t have adequate supplies. We have a lake to our backs, sure, but the rest of the shoreline is open for anybody to walk right into, and our visibility is blocked by trees. No one has stumbled across us yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. And if they do we’re extremely vulnerable. But when we get to the west coast, we’ll be home.”

“I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.”

“I understand. I am too.”

“It’s different,” Baela says, abruptly fierce. “You don’t know what this feels like. None of you do. I’ve never given up and I’ve never asked to be taken care of, I’ve always been the strong one, but I’m so goddamn tired, and I want to have my baby here, and I…I…” Her large dark eyes are glistening, haunted. “Every time we’re driving I feel like I see him sitting next to me, or standing out in the middle of the road, and then I have to remember what happened all over again, and…I just…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Rhaena takes Baela’s hands in her own, skims her thumbs across Baela’s knuckles; Luke rubs her back reassuringly. The rest of you can only offer silent, pitying looks. There are no easy answers, no fortuitous gold strikes, no shortcuts. The only way out is through.

“Whatever you guys decide, I’m leaving either way,” Rio says. “Sophie’s waiting for me in Oregon. I can’t just hang out in Nebraska forever. I’ll walk if I have to.”

“It’s over a thousand miles,” Aegon tells him.

“Doesn’t matter, man. I gotta do it.”

You add: “Obviously, I’d have to go with Rio.”

Both Aemond and Aegon appear startled. “We’ll be on the road again soon,” Aemond promises. “Tomorrow, if we can find gas in Ogallala.”

“I’m not going,” Baela whispers.

“We have to, Baela,” Rhaena implores. “It’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you, and the baby too when the time comes.”

Baela stands, strides to the Winnebago, disappears inside and slams the door behind her.

“She’ll be okay,” Rhaena tells the rest of you. “She’s…you know, she’s shaken up. She’s not thinking clearly. But she’ll realize this was the right decision. The only decision, really.”

“It’s best if we can get set up somewhere permanent before she goes into labor,” Aemond says, as if he’s defending himself. “Traveling with a baby…Baela recovering…it would be very dangerous for all of us.”

“Luke and I are thinking the same things, Aemond. We agree with you.”

He gives Rhaena an appreciative smile, very small but sincere. Then he turns to Daeron. “Baela and Aegon will have to wait here when I go south to Ogallala, since they can’t walk in the event the Tahoe runs out of gas. You’re going to stay behind to protect them.”

“Got it,” Daeron says soberly. All the bullets are gone; his compound bow, fed with arrows fashioned from sticks, is the best weapon you have left. Cregan has his axe, Rio still prefers to bash skulls with the butt of his Remington shotgun, everyone else must make do with hunting knives from that cellar back in Pennsylvania and kayak paddles found here at Lake McConaughy.

Aemond looks around the table. “I’ll need Rio, Cregan, and Luke.”

“And our beloved furball Blue Raspberry Icee,” Aegon says, smirking. “To sniff out any zombies.”

“Yes. Ice too.”

“What about me?” you say, staring incredulously at Aemond.

“Not you. You’re staying here in the RV.”

“If you and Rio are going, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not,” Aemond says. “You’re the best shot, and we all agree about that, but we’re fresh out of bullets. You therefore have no advantage tactically.”

“What’s Luke’s advantage?”

There are awkward chuckles. Aemond leaves the picnic table and gestures for you to follow him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why?”

Aemond doesn’t answer; he keeps walking until he’s hidden amongst a small grove of Kentucky coffeetrees, oval emerald leaves and umber seed pods that hang from branches, reminding you of skate egg cases—what some people call mermaid’s purses—you once found washed up on the beach outside Djibouti City. Rio teases you: “Ohhh, you’re in troubleee…”

You swat him on the back of the head; his hair is getting long too, dark curls that flutter in the breeze that comes in off the lake, hot and humid, the infinite wildness of July. “If I’m not going, you have to swear that you’ll—”

“I got it, I got it,” Rio says, blasé and jolly. “I’ll look underneath things, I’ll look on top of things, I’ll look everywhere. Okay?”

Aegon kicks him with his good foot. “Get me a golf club.”

“I’m not a Dick’s!”

“Dicks?! Who brought up dicks, you sicko…?!”

You go after Aemond and meet him in the shade, an island of twilight in the omnipotent golden morning. He pushes you against one of the Kentucky coffeetrees—rough bark to your back, prodding you through your t-shirt—and nuzzles your throat as he presses his hips to yours, blissful clandestine surrender as your knees weaken and you gaze dizzily up into the canopy of leaves.

You sigh: “This is not an explanation. This is a distraction. A very enjoyable one, but a distraction nonetheless.”

“Daeron is good with a bow, but he’s young,” Aemond murmurs. “I need you to help him protect the others.”

“You’ve managed to make this sound like a promotion.”

“And,” Aemond continues. “When things get risky and chaotic, and I’m trying to make sure everyone is safe…I find you being around to be…distracting.”

“Rio doesn’t think I’m a distraction.”

He chuckles, avoidant. “That’s not an equivalent situation.”

“I get that Luke has binoculars, but I am also perfectly capable of using binoculars, and I could borrow his and he could stay here. I really don’t think he’d mind being benched, he’d probably prefer it—”

“I always ask you to stay near Rio, and you never do, and then I have to worry about you getting lost or bitten or imperiled in any one of a million other ways.”

“Because it’s not that simple! Rio gets it, I have to be able to improvise—”

Suddenly, Aemond pulls away and asks: “Do you trust me?”

You are bewildered. “What?”

“Because I could understand if you don’t.”

You search his scarred face; he has that look like he’s trying not to reveal too much of himself, to show that he’s nervous or vulnerable or afraid. You touch your palm to his ravaged cheek, your voice soft. “I trust you, Aemond.”

He seems relived. “Good. Then please stay here.”

“You’ll watch out for Rio?” you say threateningly.

“Of course.”

“And yourself too.”

He grins, those small secretive teeth he loves to hide. “That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll check under things and on top of things, and you’ll remember what I said about the racks? When you go into stores and you’re rummaging through—?”

Aemond kisses you, warm and slow and kind, the curve of his lips pleased and mischievous. “It’s flattering that you’re so concerned.”

“And don’t forget the pads and tampons.”

His scarred eyebrow rises half an inch. “Oh?”

“I’m already having pre-period cramps. I’ll need supplies in a few days.”

“You’ll have them. Don’t fear.” Then he studies you, concerned, his brow furrowing and his palm testing your cheek and forehead. “You feeling okay? You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s very routine at this point, I’ve had a decade to get accustomed.”

“Alright. If there’s anything else you think of before we head out, I’ll add it to the list.” He takes your hand and examines the shallow scratches left on your wrist by the needlelike teeth of the pike. “Let me clean and wrap that up for you. I think I have just enough bandages left.”

“Your worst nightmare came true,” you joke. “I was bitten after all.”

Aemond doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s long after nightfall and you and Aegon are keeping watch just outside the Winnebago Spirit, slumped in folding camping chairs people once told their legends from: scary stories, workplace grievances, familial mythology. In the firepit, logs split and pop, and embers glow a bloody red. You’re waiting for the Tahoe to return and trying not to think about the possibility it might not.

“These suck,” Aegon says, garbled by a mouthful of Cheddar Whales, grimacing at the bright blue box. “Why do you and Rio eat these? They’re like…dodgy Goldfish.”

“Are you kidding?! They’re way better than Goldfish! Goldfish don’t taste like anything.”

“And Cheddar Whales taste like salty cardboard. The American Dream.” Aegon passes the box back to you. “They better come back with some SpaghettiOs or Rice-A-Roni or something. I can’t survive on Cregan’s overcooked fish.” He lights a Marlboro Gold cigarette by sticking it into the fire and takes a deep drag, looking up at the stars. Aemond gave him the last of the morphine before he left, and Aegon is floating on a feathery, narcotic cloud.

You say after at last working up the nerve: “So you’re a slut, right?”

He snickers, firelight dancing on his sunburned face. “Slut, loser, you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a slut. Why?”

“Have you ever had trouble…” Your hands flail around aimlessly; it’s so awkward to say out loud. “You know…getting it in?”

“No, not really. But I’m hung like a hamster.” He looks over at you, curious shimmering stoned blue eyes. “Technical difficulties, Chip And Dip? Not enough dipping going on?”

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re probably just nervous. Aemond’s a doctor, he’d be able to tell if you had something wonky down there, like those chicks who are born without a vagina. Or with two vaginas. Jesus Christ, can you imagine the possibilities? Why can’t I meet someone like that?”

You stare into the fire, discouraged. “I’m going to ruin everything.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Aemond will assume it’s his fault. He thinks everything is his fault.”

Through the darkness, you spot headlights bobbing as the Tahoe approaches on bumpy dirt roads. “Oh, thank God. They’re back.”

“About time. If Rio didn’t find me a new golf club, I’m going to drown him in the lake.”

“He could break you in half.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“No.”

“Because he likes me too much.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you like me too,” Aegon says as he exhales smoke, his glazed eyes listing to you, his grin crooked and drowsy. “Just a little bit.”

You smile reluctantly. “I might.”

“Cool.” He beams up at the stars, and then says again: “Cool.”

As the massive SUV rolls to a halt, the headlights cascading over you and so bright they’re nearly blinding, you notice the red letters on the grill: GMC. “That’s not the Tahoe,” you say, panicked.

“What? Then who is it?”

“I don’t know.” You stand up, instinctively reaching for one of your M9s; but they’re both empty. All the guns are. Your hand drops to your side.

Aegon, unable to rise on his own, remains in his chair and grips the armrests tightly. He whispers: “Should we go inside…?!”

“They’ve already seen us. But they don’t know who’s in the RV.” Rhaena, Baela, Helaena. With a shiver like a bolt of cold lightning, you recall what Aemond said at the bowling alley back in Shenandoah, Ohio: I don’t want them to know we have women with us.

The GMC Yukon is still running when two men step out, the headlights disorientingly bright. They are both armed, you see immediately, pistols that you’d guess are Colts. Aegon’s hand juts out and closes around your forearm as the strangers approach. They are both young, maybe twenty, and wearing jeans, camo jackets, and baseball hats like they’re going hunting. They stand in the yellow-white glow of the headlights as they watch you.

“Hi,” you say congenially, forcing a smile.

The men glance at each other, then one greets you with a nod. “Howdy.”

“We’re set up here,” you say. “But it’s a big campground. You’re welcome to any of the other spots.”

The man who spoke earlier chuckles and scratches at his short beard. You steal a glimpse back at Aegon: his eyes are huge and horrified.

“It’s real quiet on the lake,” you continue. “We haven’t had any problems, and we’ve been here a few days. It’s a good place. We’re happy to share it. We don’t…” You deliberate what words to use. “We aren’t interested in making trouble. We just want to be left alone.”

The man replies: “I camped here every single summer growing up, learned to fish here, swam in the water with my cousins, brought my girlfriends here to fuck. And now you’re inviting me to stay? You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent. This is my backyard. You’re the one who should be asking for permission.”

Aegon is making a low, whimpering sound; his fingernails are digging into the defenseless, downy underside of your forearm. “We don’t have anything of value,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Uh huh.” The stranger’s gaze flicks to the Winnebago.

“We found it. There’s no gas, no keys. Two of the tires are flat. It’s just shelter.”

“Who else is in the RV?”

“No one.”

The second man is squinting at Aegon. “Is he a cripple?”

“He was burned. That’s why we’re resting here for a while, so he can heal.”

The first man points to the bandage on your wrist. “Did you try to kill yourself? My neighbor did that when her kid got eaten. Slit her veins open out in the middle of the street. Bad scene.”

“I got mauled by a fish,” you reply numbly.

He laughs, a slow, rolling, mocking sort of sound, not taking his eyes off you. Then they drop to the Beretta M9s you have holstered at your waist. “Are those loaded?”

“Yes.”

He signals to the nearest Kentucky coffeetree. “Prove it. Shoot that tree.” You stare at its trunk, stark in the headlights of the strangers’ SUV. Long seconds tick by, the only sound the idling of the engine and the crackling of the firepit. “You can’t,” the man says, grinning. “Because you’re out of bullets. But I’m not.”

He raises his pistol and fires, a thunderclap, a mechanical roar. A small circular wound appears in the tree. Aegon shrieks and tries to stand; he tumbles to the earth when the raw, weeping flesh beneath his bandages betrays him. The RV door flies open and Daeron is the first one out, clutching his compound bow but still blinking his way out of the dreams he was jolted from. He won’t be able to nock one of his makeshift arrows before they shoot him.

“What the hell’s going on—?!”

“Drop it!” the stranger shouts, and both he and his companion aim their pistols at Daeron. He freezes. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena exit the RV and begin screaming, clinging to each other.

“Do what they ask,” you tell Daeron, trying to remain calm. With great hesitancy, he sets his bow on the earth and puts his empty palms in the air. There are hunting knives inside the RV, you think. Where did we store them? In a drawer, in a cabinet?

The men are now herding you all into the RV, jabbing the barrels of their pistols against your backs and bellies. “Let’s go, everybody in,” the first one says. The second man hooks an arm forcefully under one of Aegon’s and drags him through the threshold, Aegon yowling as his burned leg smacks against the doorframe. The second man forces Aegon and Daeron to kneel on the floor at the front of the RV near the driver’s seat; the other one arranges the women at gunpoint, instructing you to squeeze together to sit in a row on the floral couch. Helaena—farthest from you and closest to the kitchenette booth—is sobbing and covering her ears. Rhaena appears to be hyperventilating. Baela’s head is held high, her face furious and defiant.

Aemond, Rio, Cregan, please come back…

“Now this is interesting,” the first man is saying to his friend. He uses his pistol to indicate to each of you. “We’ve got G.I. Jane, this delicate little sweetheart, a pregnant lady, and Cinderella. Where should we begin…?”

You glance at Rhaena, catch her wide frenzied eyes, then look meaningfully at the drawers across the aisle near the kitchenette stove and sink. Knife? you mouth.

It takes her a moment to realize what you mean, then she inclines her head, an elusive nod. She remembers where they are, where they were stored once she cleaned them this afternoon in the lake water. That’s good; but in order for Rhaena to grab a large serrated hunting knife, the men will need to be distracted.

“There’s a bed in the back,” the second man is saying. “I can see it from here, down the hallway…”

Your gaze is darting around the Winnebago. Aegon is yelling something; the second man pistol-whips him, fortunately not hard enough to fracture his skull.

“Don’t worry,” the first man tells Aegon, background noise you try to ignore as you search for an opportunity. “You’ll get to watch…”

Helaena is trying to get your attention, staring at you with her wide, gleaming blue eyes. You furrow your brow at her, not understanding…and then you see the burlap strap she’s looped around her wrist. Her messenger bag must be in the kitchenette booth beside her. And as you watch, and only for a second, she arranges her fingers in the shape of a gun.

The Ruger, you realize, amazed, that tiny revolver she was always so repelled by. Helaena never used it, but she still has it. And it’s loaded.

Baela is arguing with the men, words you tune out. Helaena points to you, but you shake your head. There’s no way for her to get the Ruger to you without them seeing. You mouth to Helaena, your face severe: You have to do it. Then you look to the first man, presently waving his pistol in Baela’s face.

“I’d like to go first,” you say casually, and all the noise stops.

“No, no, no, I’ll do it,” Aegon tells the men. “You want a blowjob? You want to fuck me in the ass? I’m down. I’m not scared of no dick. I experimented in college.”

Both strangers burst into hysterical laughter. “That’s a mighty generous offer,” the second one says, swiping a tear from his eye. “But that’s not the team we’re on, is it, Wesley?”

The first man, Wesley, is smiling down at you. His gaze sweeps over your body, from your bare feet to your eyes, calm and level. “Why do you want to go first, darling?”

Shoot him, Helaena. Shoot him right now. “I’ve never done it before. I figure I should give it a try before it’s too late.”

Helaena whips the Ruger out of her burlap messenger bag and opens fire. She winces each time it goes off, and her aim is terrible; bullets pierce the ceiling and the walls, striking nowhere near Wesley or his accomplice, but their panicked ducking buys valuable seconds. Daeron and Aegon tackle the man closest to them and wrestle the pistol from his hands. Aegon presses the barrel to his skull, pulls the trigger, kills him instantly. Rhaena flies to one of the drawers and yanks out a hunting knife ten inches long. She buries it in Wesley’s throat, the blade disappearing until the hilt rests on his collarbone. When she rips it free, scarlet blood jets from his severed carotid artery, spraying you, soaking you. Blood is in your eyes and nostrils, hot coppery carnage; when you scream, you can taste it in your mouth.

People are reaching for you and telling you to calm down, that they’ll help you, but you can’t wait. You use your t-shirt to mop as much of the blood as you can from your face and bolt through the door of the RV, running towards the lake. You drop to your knees on the sand and splash yourself, cool moonlit rivulets that wash the blood away. You’re trembling, you’re crying, and when somebody grabs you by the arm you scream and strike out at them, clawing like an animal.

“It’s me,” Aemond says, and only then do you get a good look at him, blood and lake water beading on your eyelashes. He’s wiping blood off your face with his palms, he’s inspecting you for fresh wounds. “Don’t fight, it’s me, it’s me, whose blood is this, what happened—?!”

“You were right,” Baela says to Aemond from where she stands on the sand, a hand resting on her belly. Drifting from the RV are the voices of the others who have just returned: Rio, Cregan, Luke. “We’re not safe here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, rain falls as you lie entangled with Aemond in the attic bedroom of a ranch house in Red Desert, Wyoming, flashing lightning and flickering candles illuminating bare skin. You are kissing feverishly, your hands all over each other, and Aemond is pushing himself into you; or, rather, he is trying to. There is pain, and you can feel your body turning treasonous, rejecting him, shrinking away from him, fearing that you’ll never be able to satisfy him.

No, no no no…

His voice is hushed and gentle as his lips brush your ear. “Hey, you’re shaking, why are you shaking?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, keep going.” And then, when he stops: “No, Aemond, don’t—”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You have to. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Instead, he lies down beside you and turns your face to his, fingerprints on the slope of your jaw. He asks again, more firmly: “Why are you shaking?”

All the walls and arches of you collapse, stones tumbling to crack against the earth. You are suddenly fighting tears. Your words come out in a whisper. “I want this to be real.”

He studies your face, distressed. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to lose you. I never thought I’d have something like this and now I’m so afraid of fucking it up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what Jace thought.”

Aemond pulls you against his chest and holds you as you sink through him into dark, cold, watery dreams, and doesn’t make any more promises he can’t keep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What time is it on the East Coast right now?” you ask Rio. It’s May and almost a hundred degrees every day in Djibouti City—arid, rainless, sun glare and dust that sting your eyes—so the Navy has you building at night when they won’t have to deal with quite so many Seabees dropping over from heatstroke. Outside the day is turning to a soft lavender dusk and your shift will begin soon. You are dressed—sand-colored t-shirt, camo pants, work boots—and toweling off your hair, still wet from the shower.

Rio is sprawled across the floor of your room, taking up almost all of it; housing at Camp Lemonnier consists of converted shipping containers, each outfitted with its own perpetually whirring air conditioning unit. He is reading Fifty Shades Of Grey. “Like seven hours behind here, so early afternoon, I guess.” Then he looks up at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“I should probably call.”

“Should you really?”

“I want to. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

Rio shakes his head and returns his attention to his reading material. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“You love telling me what to do.”

“I wish you loved listening.” He flips a page, puzzled. “Why the fuck does Sophie like this book so much…?”

You open Facebook Messenger on your phone and make a call. The wifi isn’t good for videos, but old-fashioned audio calls usually work okay. There is an answer on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” she says, and you can hear the entire house when she turns on speakerphone: the squeaking of the recliner, the droning of a talk show, indistinct speech and chuckling from other people, glass—cups, bottles, baking dishes, ashtrays—clinking sharply.

“Hi, Mama! Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Aw, ain’t you sweet to call.” And you are testing her voice like water from a tap, icy cold, hot enough to scald. At the moment, Mama sounds perfectly lukewarm. “I didn’t count on hearing from you. I know how busy you are.”

That’s a landmine that you step gingerly around. “We definitely have a lot going on here, and there’s the time difference and everything…but I wanted to make sure to say hi, even if I can’t talk for long. What are you up to today?”

“Oh, nothing much.” You hear her smoking: breathe in, breathe out, a cunning sort of pause as she decides how to proceed. Of course there were no extravagant festivities planned. Nothing ever felt like a real holiday at home: Mama getting sloshed and burning the turkey on Thanksgiving, Christmas presents that had to be returned for grocery and gas money, fistfights and doors ripped off hinges on New Year’s Eve. You had decided years ago that Hallmark channel magic was pure fiction…but sometimes you get glimpses of it now. Thanksgiving dinner in some unceremonious chow hall with Rio and your other friends feels more like a holiday than anything else you’ve ever known. “You still in Africa?”

“It’s Djibouti, Mama, I told you. It’s on the Horn. Across the sea is Yemen and Saudi Arabia.”

“Why can’t they put y’all to work in your own goddamn country?”

“Well, we do that too sometimes.” You stall, listening to her smoking. Rio glances up at you from where he’s still reading on the floor. “They have some incredible beaches here. Yesterday morning we went down to the water and there were all these cute kids playing, and they only spoke French but Rio showed them how to play tic-tac-toe by drawing a board in the sand—”

“I like the beach,” she says, and you know you’ve made a mistake. “You remember that?”

Deflated now: “Yeah, Mama. I remember. Are the boys going to take you to Virginia Beach this summer?”

She scoffs. “We’ll see, but I doubt it. It’s expensive, girl.”

You sigh deeply. Rio was right. I shouldn’t have called. “We talked about this. I need to be saving up to get my own house one day, and my own car, and all those things I’ll need to have a life when I get out of the Navy—”

“And what about my house?!” Mama cries, damn near wails. “I’m gonna lose it! I can’t make the payments!”

You reply calmly: “Mama, that’s your house. That’s your business. And you’ve got more than one kid still living at home long after they’ve turned eighteen, so they need to be the people you’re asking to help, not me.”

“You’re gonna let your Mama be homeless? Is that what you called to tell me on Mother’s Day? What the hell kind of daughter are you?”

“I got out!” you shout into the phone, and Rio is scrambling off the floor to rush to you. “I’m learning things and I’m making money and I’m building schools and hospitals on the other side of the fucking planet, and you can’t be proud of me because you think it means you’ve failed, but the truth is that you could have gotten out too! All of you could have! But you didn’t, it was me, it was just me, and now you hate me for it!”

“You need to come home now,” Mama says. “You gotta take care of me, take care of your Mama. You only got one and she needs you, so you gotta heed me. That’s what’s right.”

“I am not going to spend the rest of my life watching you get wasted in that filthy house, and I’d work where, at the Dollar General? At Arby’s? And get knocked up by the first guy who shows any interest?”

“You’re giving me heart palpitations. I’m gonna have to go to the emergency room and it’s all your fault.”

Rio is whispering into your other ear, one of his massive palms resting on the back of your neck: “Just hang up. It’s not worth it. You can hang up, just hang up…”

“I want things to be normal,” you tell Mama, you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. “I’ve tried so hard to get along with everyone, and help you as much as I can, but no matter what I do it’s not enough, and you’re always mad at me, and you’re always fighting with me—”

“You’re damn right I’m fighting with you, because you’re a spiteful, selfish child.”

“Hang up,” Rio is murmuring. “Hang up, hang up, hang up…”

“Mama,” you say, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

“When I’m homeless, you know you got no one but yourself to blame—”

You hit the red button to end the call, throw your phone down onto the bed, stare at the wall and swallow noisily, choking back sobs. You won’t let yourself cry. You’ve cried enough for them already. You have to keep moving forward. The only way out is through. “You were right,” you say to Rio at last, quiet and raspy. Your hands are trembling. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hey.” He grabs your face roughly, forces you to look at him with your miserable shimmering eyes, grins hugely. “I’m your mom now, bitch.”

You laugh as tears spill down your cheeks, let him bury you in one of his smothering bear hugs, cling to him like a life raft in a storm.

[uhohnotthisagain]

I Will Always Save You

Summary: You get caught by a demon. Its up to Dean, Sam and Castiel to find you before its too late.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel.

Warnings: My first fic ever (pls be kind), angst???, kidnapping, blood, torture, swearing, anxious dean.

Word count: 0.8k

My masterlist

--- You feel your lungs burn as you try to take in breaths of air. Your eyes are wide as you stare into the demon’s black ones in front of you, hand wrapped tightly around your neck. Your legs are dangling freely as he has you pinned against the wall. 

He grins as you grip his wrist, trying to free yourself. “This is simple, Y/N. I just need answers and then you’re free to go.” 

“Fuck. You.” You spat back at him. 

His hand tightens around your throat. “Wrong answer.”

Your body is flung across the room, slamming into a cement wall before falling down. You gasp for air as he charges towards you. You’re on your hands and knees, trying to stand up without visibly wincing in pain. Just as you get to your feet, a punch lands right at your temple, knocking you out instantly. 

–

“Where is she? She was supposed to be back an hour ago.” Dean paced across the motel room. 

“I don’t know, Dean. I’m trying to ping her cell for her location but it’s taking a minute to load.” Sam is sat at the small table, rubbing his hands over his face, brows furrowed as he stares at the screen in front of him. 

“Got it, it says she’s near a gas station.” Dean’s out the door before Sam finishes his sentence, quickly following after him. 

–

“Fuck!”

Your car is found, parked at the gas station, door open and phone found on smashed on the ground. 

They had been searching the area for a while when Cas showed up to help them look for you. It had been at least 8 hours since you had left so who knows where you could be. 

“Guys! I found something.” Sam called out from around the back of the building. The necklace that Dean had given you was lying there, having been ripped from your neck. The gas station was located at the edge of a forest, meaning they would have to trek through miles of trees and bushes with no other evidence of where you could be. 

“The gas station guy says the cameras are there just to scare off crooks, they don’t work.” Cas sighs. “And he said he didn’t see anything happen.” 

Dean is wandering off, seeing if you had left any other clues nearby when he spots scratch marks in the trees. “Found something else, we need to go this way.” He yells, spotting more scratch marks on more trees, praying that these led to you. 

—

“You’re just making this more difficult for yourself.” 

You spat blood back at him that had been pooling in your mouth. You were currently tied up, hands bound together hanging from the ceiling. You were exhausted from the constant beatings and torture. You no longer had energy to fight back, instead just hanging in silence, the only sound coming from you was the grunts and moans in pain. 

You had been praying to Cas to come and find you, and praying that Dean and Sam were coming as well. But slowly you were losing hope.  

“Alright, if this doesn’t make you talk, I’m ending you. The Winchesters can’t save you if you’re dead.” The demon lifts a metal poker and holds it over the firepit that was the only source of light in the room. You had been moved into a different room, this one had no windows or any other escape apart from the one door. He lifts it to sear it into the skin of your chest. 

Suddenly, there were crashes heard from outside the room you were kept in. The demon whipped his head around towards the door. He drops the poker and walks towards the door but before he could open in, Dean had crashed through it, knocking the demon out of the way in the process. With the demon blade in hand, he stabbed the demon in the chest, the body falling to the ground immediately. 

With a sigh of relief from the both of you, Dean rushes to help you down. “She’s in here! I’ve got her!” He calls out. 

“Is she okay?” Sam rushes in to help, Cas following closely behind. “I think so, just really beat up.” 

Cas reaches foward as you are held in Deans arms, to exhausted and in pain to hold yourself up. He gently places two fingers on your forehead as a calm warmth comes over you, healing you. 

“That should heal all her injuries but evidently not her exhaustion. Lets get her back to the motel room so she can rest up and eat something.”

Dean picks you up bridal style to carry you to the car, tossing Sam the keys for him to drive so Dean could make sure you were alright. 

–

“Thank you for saving me.” You whispered later that night, in bed with Dean. You were laying with your head on his chest, looking up at him with a small smile. He looks down at you, whispering back, “I can’t live without you, of course I will always come and save you.” Even though that wasn’t a promise that was easy to keep, you knew Dean did everything he could to keep you safe, and you do the same in return. And that was all that mattered. 

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #30: Preparation

Masterlist

content: no warnings :)

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

It was a lot like planning for a vacation, but more stressful. For Heather, at least. Her packing had the frantic, frenzied pace of a burrowing shrew. She came up with a list of things to bring: clothes, food, money, a weapon—better safe than sorry, she told him—coats, water, more food? Toothbrushes, soap, sedatives—she wouldn’t offer an explanation for this one—buy gas, gloves, boots, and so on.

Jackie certainly wasn’t taking this any more seriously than a vacation. He hadn’t gone outside in a while, and besides that, he hadn’t left the vicinity of Heather's house for several months now. He found himself curious as to what it’d be like. Had the world changed at all while he was gone? No longer was he privy to the knowledge free men took for granted. News never reached his secluded life. He wouldn't know if there was high water coming or if the Swedes landed on the sun.

Like Heather, he also packed a few things. Nothing impressive. A new book from Heather’s shelf—something by Oscar Wilde about a portrait—alongside his clothes, a pencil and paper, the dollar bill he'd taken from Matthew, and one of Heather’s old backpacks to carry it all. 

On the second day, she also handed him a heavy, black wool coat. It went a few inches below his hips, and was studded by brass buttons all along the front. 

“I think it looks good,” she offered.

It did look very intimidating in the mirror. He pulled the coat off and shrugged. Petty things like vanity no longer appealed to him. There was no time for such luxuries. He could remember being invested in his appearance, long ago. He missed being able to care about stupid things. He missed buying his own clothes. Heather’s fashion sense was okay, but it wasn’t the same.

There was also the matter of the cop, with his warning of returning in two weeks or so. Evidence was key, and they needed it gone. With a gallon of gasoline and an old firepit in the yard, Heather burned the tapes, the cassette recorder, the polaroids of Jackie’s open chest and exposed organs, hell, even the ropes. It all went up in flames, went black and curled around the edges, until there was only a pile of ash and char. She cleaned the blood off her tools and gutted the house of stains from the inside-out. 

The third day arrived with a flurry of snow outside. The intensity of the sun was wholly unfamiliar to Jackie, and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. They shoved their luggage into the back of the car. Jackie was happy to learn that he could sit in the front.

“What?” she said when he let out a sigh of relief. “Did you think I’d keep you in the trunk?”

He laughed at this, but it was an uneasy smile he wore. It was hard to tell with her. What sorts of things she found ridiculous, and what lines she wasn’t opposed to crossing. 

Still, things were generally okay. He was safe. He was out of the silence, out of the isolation, and he felt okay. He felt happy. Before this, his happiness was brief and based on whatever small luxury could distract him. Maybe a painkiller, maybe a break from the tests. But his happiness now was more of a pervading contentment. It was a constant, heavy high in his heart, felt in the far edges of his soul.

Although he had found it redundant, Heather had an idea with strings of thread. Before they left, she taped up a string near the front door, and also to the hallway’s entrance. This, she informed him, would reveal if anybody had come in and searched the house. The thread would snap easily when someone walked through it. It wasn’t clear what the benefit of this knowledge was, if she would go to jail either way, but it seemed to calm Heather down a bit.

The wind scratched at Jackie’s face when he stuck his head out the window. The flecks of falling snow pierced his skin. The cold stung his eyes, making them water. He didn’t care. The feeling of movement and freedom was exhilarating. Heather started the car with a jerk of the gear shift. And off they went, out of the house, into whatever lay behind the highways and empty roads.

He rolled the window up after a while, then turned to her. “How long are we leaving for?”

“Three weeks.” Her grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to nearly bruise. “Longer, if we need to.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Stop asking me questions, I’m going to be sick.”

Indeed, her expression had not shifted from dull panic. There were dark circles under her eyes. Something played on the radio, but the melody was too quiet to recognize. She turned it off with a small, barely noticeable frown. 

Jackie left the subject alone and leaned his face against the window. This was the best day of his life, he thought. 

The sky was starting to turn black. They left the house late, to draw as little suspicion as possible. Streetlights shone like cat’s eyes on the sides of the road, streaky and long with motion. He thought he saw a few people, passing by, their faces blurry and indistinct. There were trees, pines with bristling needles, bare birches, old oaks. Snow stained the sidewalks in shades of dirty white. There were one or two other cars, but not many. Maybe it was a holiday. Maybe it was Christmas.

“What’s the date?” he asked.

“I told you, stop asking—” The tension eased from her shoulders, but only slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Well, he could wait. He was good at waiting. Jackie wondered how long he had been waiting, locked down there—it could have been weeks or years, and he would never know. But that was behind him, now. That was in the past. He could file it away with all his other bad memories. There was no point in dwelling on it. He had lived, and he would continue to live, and that was all. It was nothing to worry about.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl

@lthrboy

@whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation

@creppersfunpalooza

[purrgilpawkins]

Cold + Outside

Summary: A vacation in the middle of nowhere during Winter turns out to not be as great as the team thought it’d be and now they’re stuck outside trying to stay warm. (Also available on AO3)

Pairings: Wilt Bozer & Jack Dalton & Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver

Part of the Whump Advent Calender 2020 series Prompt: Locked Outside Overnight / Cuddling For Warmth

Warnings: n/a

Notable tags: fluff, huddling for warmth, platonic cuddling

It was one of those few times everyone was given some time off at the same time. Probably because they’d all nearly died during that last op and Matty was feeling guilty about it. So she suggested one of the few not-used-and-will-probably-never-get-used Phoenix safehouses to spend that time off and the team agreed to the change in scenery.

That specific safehouse was a cabin in the middle of an area of wilderness that seemed to be constantly plagued by snowstorms. Three bed, two bath, a kitchen that was connected to the den, a shed out back used mostly to store wood and a little fire pit off to the side. It sounded quite charming. The drive over was spent with the boys arguing about who’d be sharing a bed while Riley played on her phone, knowing that she’d get a room all to herself.

Though none of that mattered, seeing as the cabin was burnt to a crisp.

Of course, the plan then would’ve been to hop back in Mac’s Jeep and head back to civilization. But it was almost out of gas and would likely leave them stranded on the side of the road.

“We don’t need to stop for gas, hoss. Matty said there’d be extra canisters of gasoline at the cabin. We'll be fine,” Mac started in a mocking imitation of Jack’s drawl.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that it’d all be used to burn the damn place to the ground?”

“I’m not saying you knew this would happen. I’m saying you should’ve listened to me when I said we should stop for gas!”

“Hey, guys. How about we shut up and actually figure out what we’re gonna do, huh?” Riley interrupted.

Mac and Jack gave each other the stare down and Mac seemed to lose their staring contest as he sighed, “Sorry. I’m cold and I’m pissed but that’s no reason to take it out on you.”

Jack pulled Mac in for a side hug and ruffled the blond’s hair as best he could with the beanie on the Mac’s head, “S’alright, bud. I know you didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Why don’t you get a fire goin’ while I go and call Matty?”

Jack turned back to the Jeep and Mac walked toward the firepit, “Sounds like a plan.”

Riley turned to Bozer, “Do they ever, like, really fight?”

Bozer shrugged, “Once in a blue moon.”

They made their way over to Mac, helping out when he asked them to get some wood from the shed. Jack came over eventually too, just as Mac had started to get a spark.

“So, good news, bad news,” Jack started.

“What’s the good news?” Bozer asked, rubbing his arms in a poor attempt to get warm.

“Well, good news is Mac’s got a fire goin’ for us,” Jack gestured to the small fire, “Bad news is that we got a couple hours before Matty can send someone out here.”

Everyone groaned.

—

Mac had managed to turn their small campfire into a bonfire. Very easy to do when there’s no need to worry about the cabin catching fire (plus they were using part of the cabin itself to light it).

The team thought it best to dig out all their extra clothing and put it on as well as wrap themselves in the individual blankets that they brought. After settling around the fire, the young people of the group thought it best to crowd around Jack. He provided almost as much warmth as the fire in front of them. Though all of that wasn’t enough for Bozer since he’d made his way, uninvited, to sit between Jack’s legs, back to chest. Jack didn’t seem to mind and just wrapped his arms around him.

They spend their time having casual conversation through their chattering teeth and scarves that cover half their face. At some point Riley decided enough was enough, “Alright, Bozer, you’ve had your turn, I want mine.”

“But it’s so cozy,” Bozer said stubbornly.

“Hey, come on now, Boze. We gotta share,” Jack admonished, unwrapping his arms from the oldest kid.

“Fine,” Bozer removed himself from Jack’s bubble and Riley took his place almost immediately.

“I don’t know why you guys were arguing about sharing beds. If I were you I’d’ve been arguing to have my own personal heater like Jack with me,” Riley said as she snuggled into Jack’s embrace.

“He snores,” Mac and Bozer said simultaneously. Riley nodded in understanding.

“Hey!” Jack sputtered, “I’m not that bad!”

“You are,” everyone said in response.

The conversation continued with Jack complaining here and there at how disrespectful his kids were. At some point, Riley turned to Mac and asked if he wanted a turn. Mac, never one to ask or openly want any kind of physical touch, said no. At that, Jack nudged Riley out of his arms and grabbed Mac by the clothing on his shoulders and forced the youngest closer to him. Mac protested but didn’t put up much of a fight.

Once Mac had gotten comfortable and Jack had wrapped him in arms, Jack said something that caught the young man off guard.

“I’m really proud of you, Mac.”

Mac leaned his head back on Jack’s shoulder to look him in the eye, “You…are? Why? What’d I do?”

Jack looked into Mac’s eyes, a soft look in his own to match the smile on his face. He brought up a hand and gently rested it on the back of Mac’s head.

“For wearing a beanie like a normal person would.”

Riley snorted as Mac placed his open palm on Jack’s face and roughly pushed it away as he stood up to get away from his partner, Bozer cackling all the while. Mac made his way to the other side of the bonfire, back to the driveway of the safehouse, and crossed his arms in a way that could only be described as a pout.

The team continued their laughter before it came to a stop, everyone getting to their feet and Jack pulling his gun from where he tucked in the back of his pants. Mac, confused at the sudden change in atmosphere, turned around to see a car that had driven up behind his Jeep. Jack moved in front of him, gun at the ready for whoever had decided to intrude.

The man who came out of the car did so with his hands up, seemingly unfazed by the gun being pointed at him. “Director Webber sent me. I brought gas for your car,” he’d said and Jack looked to his kids before turning back to the man and lowering his gun (he wasn’t going to put it away, of course).

The man made his way to the back of his car, Jack following with Mac right behind him. The man opened the trunk of his car, Jack watching him the whole time and handed the gas cans to the two agents. “This should be enough to fill your tank. The Director said to head into the nearest town. She booked you all hotel rooms.”

The man got back into his car and left almost as quick as he arrived. The team watched him leave and, after filling the tank, hopped into the Jeep and left the sorry excuse for a cabin in the wind.

On the way to civilized society, Jack’s phone rang and he answered unsurprised to hear their boss. “Hey, Matty. Thanks for getting us outta that jam.” The rest of the team followed up that statement with thanks of their own.

“No problem, guys,” The smile was evident in Matty’s tone, “Just wanted to apologize for sending you off in the middle of nowhere without any kind of shelter. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s no sweat, Matty. We had fun! Kinda,” Bozer said from the back seat.

“Oh, so I should send you out for wilderness survival more often?” Matty laughed at the chorus of “no”’s that followed. “Well, you all get yourselves warmed up and well-rested. Oh and before I go, the hotel rooms I got for you only had two rooms, one with two queens and one with a king. Bye!” Matty hung up as the boys groaned. Riley smiled from her spot in the back.

[galvan5236]

customizable fireplaces

customizable fireplaces

Thousand Oaks Fireside, fireplace store specializes in high-quality, customizable fireplaces, firepits, BBQ grills, and fireside accessories for both indoor and outdoor spaces. They offer a wide range of products including gas, electric, and wood-burning fireplaces, as well as built-in BBQ grills and outdoor pizza ovens. Their services cater to homeowners in Ventura and Los Angeles counties, with showrooms in Thousand Oaks, Encino, and Pasadena. With a focus on top brands and excellent customer service, they provide professional consultation, installation, and maintenance to enhance the comfort and style of any home.

[klayaeus]

When Should You Invest in Outdoor Firepits for Sale?

Firepits for Sale

Firepits for sale proposal a charming addition to any outdoor space, as long as warmth and setting for gatherings. These versatile landscapes come in various styles, counting wood-burning, gas-powered, and portable selections. They serve as central points for socializing, roasting marshmallows, or just enjoying the flickering fires under the stars.

Outdoor Firepits for Sale

Outdoor fire pits for sale are exactly designed to withstand outdoor elements though enhancing your backyard aesthetics. They come in numerous sizes, shapes, and materials, counting steel, stone, and copper, catering to diverse preferences and budgets. These fire pits make a cozy atmosphere for outdoor pleasurable and relaxation, making them a prevalent choice for homeowners in search of to elevate their outdoor living seats.

Firewood Suppliers

Firewood for Sale

Firewood for sale is obtainable in different forms, counting logs, split wood, and kindling, suitable for numerous firepit and fireplace setups. It is vital to choose well-seasoned firewood to ensure clean burning and reliable heat output. Some dealers offer specialty firewood mixtures, such as fruitwoods or perfumed woods, adding unique flavors to outdoor culinary and ornamental the ambiance.

Wood Fired Ovens for Sale

Wood-fired ovens for sale are sought-after additions to outdoor kitchens, letting homeowners to bake pizza, bread, and other cooking delights with a distinct wood-fired taste. These ovens come in various sizes and designs, counting traditional brick ovens and modern stainless steel models, offering adaptability for outdoor cooking fans.

Corten Steel Fire Ring

A Corten steel fire ring helps as a durable and stylish repression solution for outdoor firepits. Complete from enduring steel, Corten fire rings develop a sole rusted patina over time, ornamental their aesthetic appeal although providing excellent corrosion confrontation. These fire rings come in dissimilar sizes and designs, offering a pretty element while safely comprising the fire within the designated zone.

In swift, fire pits, firewood suppliers, wood-fired ovens, and Corten steel fire rings donate to creating attractive outdoor spaces for relaxation and entertainment, adding warmth, atmosphere, and functionality to any courtyard or patio location.

[saturniiinae]

//15 pt. 2//

15 was the year that i lost everything & everyone that ever mattered to me. even the in bits & pieces, the urns full of ash, a letter i want to burn- they never return. no, not wholly.

sometimes, i lay awake at night, i can not sleep, & i try to remember, i try to think, think, think, but everything is always in this haze of the yellows&purples&browns&blues, the hue of the bruises in the shape of a pointer and a thumb left on my inner thigh. when i see something, i grasp it, i hold it, i speak it out loud into the winds slapping my face raw, into the river where i dreamt of floating down, down, down, into the bathroom sink drain full of hair&vomit&blood, into the chipped cup i refuse to let go of- full of cinnamon orange & lead paint.

i am dissociated from the girl i once was.

that girl who slept outside in the summer just to hear the coyotes howl & yip, the safety of cars passing by& the neighbors tv blaring college football games& the cattle train waking her.

she used to wake up early just to drink coffee every sunday with her papa, to watch the weather reports of canadian blizzards, to poke the fire & watch the snow fall. she would sing her father gospel& draw her mother laughing.

birthdays were halloween decorations, no-bake-cherry-cheesecake, & the girls who still liked me, who now hate me. they were family & cousins & firepits.

i had friends then, before, & after it was never, ever the same.

when i was 15, i found out what love really meant.

it was christmas vacation & pressed up against lockers, the blooming red blood flowing from the boys nostrils (did he not understand? how special a first kiss should be?) & falling down in the school yard. it was a boy in freezing grey minnesota & the drawings he made, the last words he said. it was the stairwells &my name on the loudspeaker. it was walking a mile in the winter just to see my father, thanksgiving spent in a gas station, we would share a coffee & dollar store coffee-flavored-hard-candy. it was sleeping on the pissed soaked carpet like a dog & getting kicked out after. it was a dirty room in a house i had never been to where he held me down, where i took my first drag just to compose myself after. it was a girl with blue hair & even bluer eyes. it was my father on the swing singing. it was my mother getting in her car & leaving. it was that house in that town i hated that smelled of meth & gun powder. it was losing faith & falling out.

when i was 15, my world fell apart.

i do not see how it was ever worth it- the things we do not ever speak about.

i can not grieve her.

the girl i once was.

i can not even remember what she looked like, or felt like, or tasted like.

i can not remember her thoughts swirling, the dread creeping, the crushing adoration she felt for girls & boys who would never notice her.

i can not remember how it felt to punch the dry wall,

only the floating through my childhood bedroom ceiling- the one covered in glow-in-the-dark-stars & a crack from an earth quake.

sometimes i wish i could.

she comes & whispers to me in my sleep, in my dreams.

sometimes, i wish she would shut the fuck up.

[wineisdivinepdx]

Finally Oak Firewood - Happy Winter Solstice!

Similar to folks protecting their foraging spots, people can be a little close-lipped about their firewood sources. Finding excellent firewood is challenging here. This is my fourth Winter Solstice in West Michigan. I can finally attest, I finally found an incomparable firewood source.

I’ve bought decent wood before, I’ve bought crummy wood, too. I’ve bought wood at a gas station, wood at a grocery store, wood in front of someone’s house with a cash box to drop the money in. But nothing is like this wood delivery last Saturday, seasoned oak.

In the past when I’ve gotten a pickup truck delivery, there might be a log of two of oak in the mix, the kind of nice surprise when you pick it up and it’s much heavier than the other logs. When it incinerates it’s much more fragrant. As it burns it’s so much hotter & lasts so much longer.

Now as we start winter, I’m set. I love being outside in all seasons. Love listening to the wind blowing, the crackling fire against a more desolate, harsher, yet quite beautiful environment. I love playing with my kids outside and going back to the firepit to warm myself. And I love the way it smells.

This load took 31 wheelbarrow loads to move over to the firepit. I think I may have enough here for two years.

[groundbuilders]

Tips to Get The Perfect Outdoor Fireplace in Omaha

If you want to enjoy the chilly winter in Omaha, you can install an outdoor fireplace. Getting the ideal fireplace is not as easy as speaking about it. You need to select the perfect place for it and decide about other factors related to it. Let us discuss the tips for getting a functional and stunning fireplace in Omaha.

What is an Ideal Location for your Outdoor Fireplace?

The first and most crucial factor to consider is locating a fireplace in a place free from wind. You can add hedges in your fireplace to block the air. 

Another point to remember while selecting the location of a fireplace is that there should be enough seating around it. 

Lastly, it should be placed at a place where it becomes the center of the attraction and increase the beauty of your outdoors. 

What Kind of Energy Option do you want for your Fireplace?

There are two energy options for your fireplace:

Gas burning: A gas-burning fireplace will be a better option if you don’t want to collect or buy wood. You just need to turn the switch on and off to enjoy warmer nights, but it will come at a ta price. You would have to pay for the gas charges.  

Wood burning: It is a smart option if you like the smell of burning wood. You will need to keep a wood supply, and there you go! You are ready to host a friends and family party near your fireplace.

Ultimately:  You can hire an outdoor fireplace builder and get your fireplace custom designed. If you are considering getting a cozy fireplace in Omaha, Ground Builders are the best landscape designers, offering services including firepit designing. To hire them, visit them now!

[stickybreadcrown]

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Buy natural gas firepits and fire pit accessories at Empyre Fire Pits is an online retailer providing competitive prices. We aim to provide a memorable experience when you shop on our online store.

[homedecorey]

Choosing the right fireplace for your outdoor space with HomeDecorey

Outdoor fireplaces are getting high in demand nowadays. Everyone wants to make their outdoor as presentable as their indoors. From roaring flames that add warmth and ambiance to chilly evenings, to creating a focal point that enhances the beauty of your backyard, these fireplaces from homedecorey are sure to become the heart of your outdoor living area. With our expert advice and recommendations, you’ll be able to find the perfect fireplace that meets your unique needs and complements your personal style. So, get ready to ignite your imagination and embark on a journey to transform your outdoor space into a captivating oasis that will be the envy of all with homedecorey. You will come across brands like

Amantii, Remii, Sierra Flame, HPC and a lot more popular brand at homedecorey.

Fireplaces By Homedecorey

A well-designed fireplace can enhance the overall aesthetic of your outdoor area, becoming a statement piece that complements your landscaping and architecture. Whether you have a spacious backyard or a small patio, a fireplace can transform any space into a cozy haven where you can unwind and entertain guests. With the wide range of options available at homedecorey, you can find the perfect fireplace that suits your style and meets your specific needs.

Choosing the right fireplace for your outdoor space with homedecorey

When it comes to choosing the right fireplace for your outdoor space, there are a few factors to consider. First, think about the size of your outdoor area. If you have a large backyard, a free-standing fireplace can be a great choice. These fireplaces provide a focal point and can accommodate larger seating areas. However, if you have a smaller patio or balcony, a gas fireplace or a smaller free-standing fireplace may be more suitable. These options provide warmth and ambiance without taking up too much space. Next, consider your lifestyle and preferences.

If you enjoy the aroma and crackling sound of a real wood fire, an electric fireplace might be the perfect fit. However, if convenience and ease of use are important to you, a gas fireplace may be a better option.

Finally, think about your budget. Free-standing fireplaces tend to require more upfront investment due to construction or installation costs, while gas fireplaces are generally more affordable. By considering these factors, you can find the perfect fireplace that meets your needs and enhances your outdoor space.

Safety considerations when using outdoor fireplaces

While outdoor fireplaces can bring warmth and beauty to your outdoor space, it’s important to prioritize safety. Here are some key safety considerations to keep in mind when using outdoor fireplaces:

Clear the area around the fireplace of any flammable materials, such as leaves or debris.

Keep a fire extinguisher nearby in case of emergencies.

Never leave the fire unattended and ensure that it is fully extinguished before leaving.

Keep children and pets away from the fireplace to prevent accidents.

If using a wood-burning fireplace, ensure that the chimney is clean and free of debris to prevent chimney fires.

Install a fireglass from cannedheat to prevent sparks from flying out and causing fires.

About Firepit Burners from Cannedheat:

The core of a gas fire pit is a fire pit burner, which produces the cosy glow of a natural flame without the trouble of wood. Fuel for gas fire pits can be either liquid propane or natural gas. The burner itself is unaffected by the gas selection. The difference is instead in the fuel distribution system that links the fuel source — a natural gas line or a propane tank — and the burner.

Natural gas fire pits require more fuel to the burner to create the same quantity of flames as a propane fire pit since natural gas burns cooler than propane.

Usefulness Of Patioheaters from Homedecorey:

If you want to use your outside area in the cooler months, patio heaters are a need. They improve the comfort and pleasure of spending time in the backyard with family and friends. The majority of patio heaters are made to warm the nearby area, and some even come with wheels for portability. While choosing patio heater at homedecorey have a clear idea about the amount kf area you want to keep heated and the type of fuel you want to use.

Conclusion: Elevate your outdoor space with the perfect fireplace

Transforming your outdoor space into a captivating area is made easy with the perfect fireplace by homedecorey. Whether you prefer the convenience of a gas fireplace, or the versatility of a free-standing fireplace, there is an option to suit every style and preference. By considering the features, benefits, and accessories available, you can find the ideal fireplace that enhances the beauty and functionality of your outdoor space at homedecorey.

Remember to prioritize safety and follow proper installation and maintenance guidelines to ensure the longevity and performance of your fireplace. With the right fireplace, you can create a cozy haven that brings warmth, ambiance, and connection to your outdoor oasis. So, ignite your imagination and embark on a journey to transform your outdoor space with the perfect fireplace. Your guests will be in awe of the captivating outdoor area you’ve created.

Homedecorey specializes in heating appliances so you can find other products too apart from those which are mentioned in the article. Visit the site and check them out.

[harmcityherald]

9:30am already bushed. just moving the firepit. in my young days That would have been nothing. would have is what I must remember to not over work myself. never have 2 sets of contractors coming the same time on same day lol. both are late now officially but im glad, I needed the time. The day is officially underway. and it is hot. I cannot imagine dear readers, those of you out there in Arizona, Nevada New Mexico. I'm in Baltimore and I think it's too hot to be outside LOL. You would probably think I'm a pansy. I got me a new sun hat though. I think the garden is right on the line of enjoying the Sun and having it burn it to a crisp at the same time. Although my County is now telling me to please conserve water and not to water your Gardens in the evening. Yeah you all know me better than that. Make it a law, send the National Guard or shut the fuck up. This is my bubble and my plants will get water because of people like Nestle, I completely ignore such recommendations. Besides one of these Crews I'm waiting for is to install the smart gas meter that so many of my fellow baltimoreans find a little orwellian. If I don't let them in they cut my service off basically. You know that was the letter that I received. So rather than face invasion we have a agreed to allow the smart meter. The Matrix comes home to your gas stove I guess.

[jpplantersjaya]

Firepit Suppliers in USA

JP Planters is a firepits suppliers in USA. They offer a wide range of firepits that are designed to complement any outdoor space. Their firepits are made from high-quality materials and are built to last. JP Planters offers both traditional and modern styles of firepits, including wood-burning and gas options. They also offer custom designs to fit the specific needs and preferences of their customers. With a commitment to customer satisfaction, JP Planters provides excellent service and quality products to their clients.

[holidaysnorfolkglamp]

Here Are the Reasons Why You Should Embrace Glamping Already

What's glamping? The idea of roughing it during a camping trip might sound appealing if it weren't for the insects and other creepy-crawlies, wild animals, sudden storms, leaking tents, smelly sleeping bags, and questionable food. For a number of people their first camping experience often becomes their last, but there is now a camping option growing in popularity: glamping. Glamping offers the same exposure to the great outdoors as traditional camping, but the amenities found at the campsite - and in the tents themselves - far exceed anything most campers have ever experienced.

Pick from glamping sites on the glorious North Norfolk coast, spots with easy access to Norfolk’s historic towns and cities, and tranquil meadows with wonderful Norfolk Broads views. Whether you’re looking for luxury bell tent glamping, a cute shepherd’s hut, woodland hideaways, or even a re-purposed goods wagon, I’ve got the very best of glamping for you, with A Norfolk glamping sites. If you prefer good old-fashioned camping, where you take your own tent or campervan, then check out my posts about the best campsites in Norfolk and the best Norfolk motorhome sites. Please go here to Norfolk Glamping and get more about Norfolk glamping.

Glamping vs Camping: Put simply, glamping is a way of getting closer to nature and enjoying the great outdoors while still experiencing a luxurious break. It sounds like the perfect combination, but what does it mean in practice? We’ve put together five major differences between camping and glamping which should help explain!

Accommodation_ When you go camping, it usually involves packing your own tent, setting it up in the middle of nowhere and hoping it doesn’t leak. Glamping, on the other hand, means arriving to find your accommodation ready and waiting; usually a framed shelter with amenities such as electricity and running water.

Sleeping_ Depending on how organised you are, bedtime while camping can involve anything from a sleeping bag to a camp bed, allowing you to snuggle down under the stars. Meanwhile, glampers can enjoy a comfortable bed with a real mattress and linen bedding.

Bathrooms_ What bathrooms? When camping, you might have to make do with a tree in the woods! Other sites have a communal toilet and shower block to share with your neighbours. Most glamping facilities come with real bathrooms and warm running water in the tent, meaning you can wash away the debris of the day in comfort.

Cooking_ Whether you’re camping or glamping, the food is amazing. Burgers, hot dogs, baked potatoes… the list goes on and on! And of course, who can resist warm, chocolatey s’mores? Glamping means that as well as the traditional fire or firepit, you also have the option of cooking on a butane hob and a wood burning stove.

Heating_ Keeping warm while camping is mostly down to layering! Jumpers and vests are certainly your friend. You can also control the temperature by opening and closing the tent flap or changing the thickness of your sleeping bag. Meanwhile, most glamping accommodation includes some kind of heating, such as wood burning stove, so you always have somewhere cosy to return to at the end of the day.

Denefits of glamping:

Ecological holidaying: Glamping has the luxuries of a hotel or home but is far more environmentally friendly. There's no carbon footprint from electricity of gas, water systems are ecologically friendly and all the food and provisions provided are sourced locally. By choosing a glamping holiday, you are choosing an environmentally friendly holiday without sacrificing the niceties of a more traditional hotel.

Closer to nature: Just like traditional camping, if you're interested in glamping you clearly want to experience life closer to nature, without actually becoming a part of it! Glamping allows you to do just that. You can have a holiday experience that takes you into the wild, sharing your close environment with the beautiful living things we share our world with every day but seldom witness or reflect upon.

Time well spent with family or friends: When you take yourself away from the normality of everyday life and share that experience with others without electricity, we naturally become closer. You laugh more than you would normally, you share thoughts and talk to each other more than normal. Being outside and being surrounded by the elements will provide the perfect catalyst to be closer with each other. Glamping at Lantern and Larks will be an unforgettable experience that will forge memories you and your fellow glampers will always remember and we suspect, have you visiting us time again.