*/ stone cold champion @grcnts - Tumblr Blog

&& ben

⸻ josh o’connor, 28, cismale, he/him/his ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of BENJAMIN “BEN” GRANT. they are TWENTY-EIGHT, and have been missing for ONE MONTH. when the sun rises, they work as a HUNTER. rumors in town say they can be SENSITIVE and BRILLIANT. they chose to live in A CABIN, and have an uncanny resemblance to GREGORY EDDIE (Abbott Elementary), KATNISS EVERDEEN (Hunger Games), ELSA (Frozen), ANDREW (Whiplash), ADRIAN MONK (Monk), and THEO CRAIN (Haunting of Hill House).

BIO - STATS - PINTEREST - MIRROR

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// about }#{ pinned post }#{ thread tracker }

hvneysuckled

Though the situation called for nothing but alarm from her, Dilara couldn’t help but offer a small smile back to him. A shared acknowledgement of where they had once been and where they now reside. The past and their horrifying present. They didn’t often see each other, and less so over the years, but still Dee could make up the lines of his face which hadn’t changed since youth. Her time around Benjamin had been cut short after his mother’s disappearance, and even more as the years went on. Regardless of the lack of reason for her proximity back home, she often attempted to get him out when she could. Put a bit of distance between everything that was home and the rest of the world.

“ I think we’re beyond Mrs. Kaplan now, no? ” she teased, doing her best to maintain a level of ease in her surprise, “ Dee is more than fine, Ben. ” At his words, she glanced around in an attempt to locate them before giving up entirely and returning her gaze to Ben. Each day that went by Dilara couldn’t help but wonder about their whereabouts more and more. At first she had been convinced she was in some sort of coma. That in their drive to the restaurant, Dee must have slid off the road and gotten into a vehicular accident that left her close to death and this was all playing in her mind. What’s the worst thing that could happen to her beyond being ripped from her family? Add on that extra layer of supernatural - the things hiding out in the woods until nightfall - and you had your own personal hell. “ Do-... ” she began, but paused, thoroughly unsure of how to even ask the question or whether it’d even matter at this point. So instead she focused on enjoying the night as if their being here was as normal as day. “ I’m doing alright - for the most part. A little unsure of all of this, but what can we really do - right? How about you? How long have you been here? ”

grcnts

Seeing his mother for the first time after so long had almost made a sort of spiritual connection to the outside world, in some way. Ben knew this place defied all sorts of logic and while he liked to assume he was, somewhat, a logical man, he was a dreamer and a creative at heart. Things beyond the scope of possibility were always… well, possible, maybe just in ways the regular folk couldn’t always perceive. Sometimes he imagined his father being stuck in a place like this, probably shouting at the sky and offering money to the creatures outside before being devoured like the other poor souls that came before him.

He liked to think he was something of a bridge, a rescuer to Shaw so that they could reunite outside of here, and things can go… not back to what they were, but maybe something close? And now, Mrs. Kaplan– Dee, as she insisted, only helped prove his insane theory.

Ben would have loved to ask how she ended up here, curious about everyone’s stories before they crash landed here for whatever reason, but he had learned quickly that was often a loaded question, and he was always hoping to keep peace, in some regard. He was a hunter and had enough stress on the daily as it was. “Sorry, Dee - old habits, and all that. I’m hanging in there. I guess I’m still processing, I’ve been here for a couple of months now.” His voice got a little quieter then, as if he was sharing a secret. “It’s nice to know what happened to my mom, now.”

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// dilara kaplan }#{ dilara kaplan *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// event }#{ event *// nyx }

tessaendures

On the plus side, normal people ate deer, right? Sure, it wasn't really on the same level has cow or chicken or what not, but it was still a pretty typical meat. "Venison, right? I feel like people go crazy for it in the real world." Or was she just trying to talk it up for the sake of it being one of the few foods she'd be eating for the rest of her fucking life here in this town?

She shrugs when he mentions the fact that she wouldn't be able to get much in return for it. "Eh, I don't think we'd be dealing in cash." There had been a time when she'd first arrived when she'd tried to pay for things - meals at the diner or what not. She'd been shocked no one had wanted anything to do with it, as if the bills in her pocket were little more than pieces of paper. Which, really, they sort of were at this point. There was a difference between the world out there and the world in this shit hole town, that was for sure.

"There has got to be something worth having around here, right? A trade, if someone were desperate enough for an 'old world' snack." Someone who missed something as simple as a treat from the damn corner store. Now that was a depressing thought.

grcnts

“Venison… yeah, that’s right.” That suddenly unlocked a strange memory in Ben, going on some sort of ski lodge, after his mother had vanished and after his father had found solace in another woman - but before his little brother - where they had sat down for a dinner in one of the more expensive restaurants, and asking what venison was when his father ordered it. Ben was younger then, and had been so upset at the idea of it being deer that his own dinner was completely spoiled. “It’s not a terrible cut, actually,” he said. Because of course he had grown up, and grown past such childish musings. Now, though, if it was something that directly impacted his survival, well - he wasn’t going to picky, now was he?

Ben frowned for a second, curious what she was getting at before she spoke again. “Like I said, you can try?” he said, knowing full well it wasn’t the greatest suggestion or help in any way. “Some people might, some might not want to bother or they get too nostalgic.” That was, at least, where Ben was coming from. There were many snacks, cooking or meals from particular restaurants he missed, things that could make his mouth water and keep him up in the hours of the night, but he was learning rapidly that things like that were best left forgotten. It kept the hope alive, that he could re-experience something once loved so much when they got out of here someday. Because they had to, someday.

“Maybe someone has a fresh pair of clothes, or shoes for you,” he said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with what you have, but it might be nice to just get some extra stuff. But there’s nothing wrong with keeping something like that for yourself. I’m sure many people would.”

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// tessa liddle }#{ tessa liddle *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }

bastiansurvives

Open ! | Bastian and your muse at the diner

The darkness that had settled upon the town was...unsettling, if one was to put it lightly. But time didn't stop. It just kept on moving, and Bastian had stopped trying to make sense of any of it long ago. They had to keep on keeping on - and one way they would do that is to make sure they all got at least a somewhat satisfying meal in their bellies.

Bastian had made it his own personal mission to try and keep the survivors of the town fed with healthy and tasty meals, even if what he was working with was limited. He was working on a stew on this particular evening when someone stepped into the diner and closed the door firmly behind them. Yeah, life still went on and people still needed to eat, even if there were creatures looking to kill you beyond those doors.

He shook away the thought and slapped a smile onto his face, grabbing a spoon and a bowl to fill with a serving, soon approaching the newcomer and extending the bowl in their direction. "Here - please. You've got to try this and let me know what you think."

grcnts

It was when the sun didn’t rise the next morning that really sent Ben over the edge. He’d been told for so long now that when the time came to be a hunter, when it really counted, that he’d be ready for it - or, that he’d have to be ready, because that of course was the default of all of this. But the time was here and he wasn’t expecting it to be this - he had known already that arrows and bullets couldn’t stop those creatures who ruled the night, but what was he supposed to do - shoot a rope to the sun and hope it would get reeled in, like a fish on a line?

His bow was in a constant state of use. An arrow was at the ready but the bow was only taut when necessary. If it couldn’t kill Them, maybe one could slow them down enough for Ben to get away. He was already at a disadvantage with his equipment weighing him down, in terms of speed. Not that They ran very fast. Or at all.

Ben figured the best thing he could do was make rounds to everywhere there was typically life, even if there was no power. Eyes had adjusted to the darkness - his own, and he would assume others - enough to where the lack of light was a nuisance, but it was beginning to get slightly easier navigating the place. The diner was the first stop on his list of places to go and his stomach rumbled the second he stepped foot through the door. Maybe the stress of the last… while was catching up to him. When was his last meal? “Oh– thank you.” Ben took the bowl with careful, grateful hands, and began to eat. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he didn’t find himself caring too much anyway. “It’s hitting the spot, whatever it is.”

#{ bastian herrera *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// bastian herrera }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// event }#{ event *// nyx }

wickedsurrender

Joel’s brows raised in response, for once finding no actual words to speak. He wasn’t too familiar with writing - other than his must do’s for school or his teachings - so when it came to storytelling he heavily relied on the stroke of his brush. It was an art he understood. A medium he felt comfortable relying on when the rest of him simply could not. Listening to Benjamin’s take on his art greatly differed from Joel’s. While he focused on letting the art speak for itself and giving in to whatever powers his paintbrush held, not a single thought of where it’d go passed through his mind. It wasn’t about the destination for him, but rather the euphoria that came from his performance. The unspoken lore behind the piece and what it all meant to him. How it defined - not just him, but - the world as he saw it.

“ Do you have a particular genre in mind? A target audience, perhaps? ” he went on to ask, finding that to be the gateway to understanding Benjamin further. If the plans were to make it big - to get there no matter the climb - then certainly there had to be a system set in stone. When Joel thought of classics, great minds like that of Dickens and Shakespeare stood out. The Bronte sisters with their need to challenge social norms with their blatant portrayal of desire and betrayal, sexual politics and revenge.

He reached to take back the wet canvas, placing it back before him for another look. This time he looked for meaning within the piece itself. Not just Ben’s aura, but what the strokes told him. “ It would be easy to misconstrued your emotion as you stare up at the crows. I don’t think it’s fear exactly, it feels more like acknowledgement of what is. Of the world as a whole, and - if you notice - you’re not cowering from them. Maybe that could be because you feel you’ve been through worse… or believe yourself to withstand any storm. ”

grcnts

Ben shook his head. Part of his issues were that his indecisiveness meant that he never stayed on one project too long. When he read something science fiction, he thought he could be the next Frank Herbert. If it were horror, Stephen King. Though his favorites to read were always realistic fiction, or historical fiction in particular, he did enjoy a fantastical touch to things. But it was a crippling imposter syndrome that always seemed to seep in right when he would get into the nitty gritty of it all that kept him from putting pen to paper.

But he didn’t relay all of that to Joel - they hadn’t known each other very long yet. And here, he had all the time in the world to get cracking on a story, at least until he ran out of paper. “Adult, definitely - not like that, obviously, but not kids or teenagers. I was reading stuff far older than I should have been when I was a kid, so I don’t even know if I’d be able to relate to them at all.” Even when he was a child he had a hard time relating to another child; one would think he learned with age, especially with a younger half brother, but that was not a relationship worth pursuing, he thought. They were too different.

Ben gently handed back the art in the hopes not to smudge anything, and the image still stayed with him anyway. He listened as Joel seemed to read him a little too well, but kept his expression neutral as he slowly nodded in kind. “Not bad,” he finally said, after a lengthy pause, one that had him thinking of his childhood - of his father, his mother’s disappearance, the high expectations placed on him. “I always thought crows were neat animals,” he said. “They’re good mimics. Something freaky about them– oh, like the creatures outside. Maybe not that unique, then. What made you want to be an artist?”

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// joel thompson }#{ joel thompson *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }

juliettexcouture

Juliette listened to Ben as the man spoke, something warm about a familiar experience even if it varied in its content. It could have been too simple to forget that before any of them had ended up in this town, they had been people with rituals and idiosyncrasies. She smiled at him, perhaps the first genuine smile since her world had been flipped on its head, and nodded her head. "Oh thanks for clarifying, that's most definitely what I was thinking," she said amused. "I was going to feel bad for kicking your ass later if you were actually an elderly man."

As they walked closer to the docks, Juliette felt the need to keep the conversation going. In truth, while she had never been a particularly conversational person, there was a part of her that did long for human connection, especially since (and she would never admit this out loud) she spent her nights feeling very afraid of going to sleep and never waking up.

"So... hate to sound like broken record with these questions, I'm sure you've heard them before but... how long have you been here? And like, how I guess? How did you get here?"

grcnts

It was always a treat to have someone laugh at something he said - Ben didn’t strike himself as the kind of guy who was funny by any means. He was fairly dry, and while observational, his method was a bit more fantastical than finding irony or whatever it was comedians did. But it was always his go-to - self deprecating humor. Holly’s mother had once described him as “the oldest twenty-one year old she’d ever met”, and that was years ago now, so he only aged even further. He always took it as a compliment, that it was one more feather in his cap to be taken seriously by the adults around him (namely his father), but upon reflection, he probably should have let loose a little more than he did.

Still, it made someone laugh. That was something to appreciate.

“Oh, just about two months now, I’d imagine,” Ben said. “I was out in the woods with my father - he’s sort of like a coach to me, and I was just doing some target practice. I’d never been here before, it was supposed to be a day trip, maybe two. There was an accident and I ran to get help, but instead of running for a doctor, or some kind of medic in the woods I ended up running right into town in here. How about yourself?”

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// juliette couture }#{ juliette couture *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }

grcnts

That wasn’t what he meant, but he wasn’t quite sure if she was being sincere or facetious in this moment. She seemed a bit scatterbrained in his opinion; then again, he’d been called that himself before, so he felt that he wasn’t the kind of person to be passing judgement on anyone. This was a weird place anyway, so maybe typical social cues were less accepted or cared about in a place like this. It made him wonder how long she’d been in Arcadia - he had a bit of an existential crisis when he discovered that there were children who were born here, people who had been here their entire lives.

“I don’t know if animals really know the difference,” Ben said, before he could help himself and think of something less blunt to say. It wasn’t even that hard-hitting, but Ben was working on his honesty. “But, uh, no - none of that. It’s probably just going to the diner, or to the ranch so they can do whatever it is they do with the animals for the rest of us.” Surely there was more to the hunting gig than just hunting deer or whatever other animals roamed the woods, but he’d rather deal with this over those creatures that roamed the night. “I’d take my chances with an animal just… being an animal. I can’t fault it for that. I don’t know what the hell those… Things are, so. Better the devil you know, right?”

fallacias

Her knees started to hurt in protest to the ice cold snow and frozen ground, but she pushed through the strain. ''Ah ... booooring.'' She turned her neck towards the deceased animal, observed how the light had left its eyes for quite a moment already. In her first hometown there'd been plenty of trophy heads hung gracing the walls of the huts in the woods. Some nights the imagery even haunted her in her sleep - but it also gave a sense of home, however fucked. ''Well,'' she flashed her knife out in the open in one hand and held the deer's ear with another, ''I'm sure you won't miss this.'' Without too much effort she cut its ear off. Her own trophy, even though she hadn't participated at all in killing the game. She wiped the little blood off her knife against her pants. A set she'd been given from the church girl in town. ''It's for a very special someone.''

With that, she'd gotten up and retreated her knife back into her pocket and held the ear in her hands as little blood still trickled down her pale skin. Without giving any more context nor clue where she was heading off now, she walked back towards where she'd come from, never losing eye contact with the other.

A big smile graced her features, reaching her big blue eyes that sparkled in the winter's sun. Without blinking or faltering, she disappeared back into the woods. Back to the grounds she'd gotten most familiar to. Her voice echoed through the snow covered trees, making it hard to pinpoint where it was coming from.

''See ya around, hunter boy.''

the end.

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// seraphine fallacia }#{ seraphine fallacia *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ end }

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// playlist }#Spotify

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// mirror }

married-to-amazement

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// musings }

hvneysuckled

✶ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 ; earlier in the day - arriving ✶ 𝐅𝐎𝐑 ; benjamin @grcnts

There wasn’t much Dilara wouldn’t do in order to stay occupied, and while being surrounded by the people from this rumored ‘cult’ perhaps was not the brightest idea, she figured during a party - and surrounded by people she has gotten to know over the last few months - things should be alright. Her eyes wandered about from the moment she entered the room, trying to find a singular familiar face amongst the ever moving crowd. “ Excuse me. ” she said, placing a hand on some stranger’s back as she muddled through the sea of people to get towards the drinks. If there was anywhere she’d be able to fully gauge the crowd, it should be from near there. “ Any clue what’s in there? ” she asked, offering a smile only to come face to face with a child she hadn’t seen in years now, but who’s face she’d never forget. “ Benjamin? How- when… Does Shaw know you're here? ”

grcnts

Ben had his own reasons for staying away from the settlement, but there was a morbid curiosity to him that made it hard to resist its allure. In the time since being here, he’s only passed it by - it was a farther walk than he was willing to make sometimes, and any of his hunting duties usually took him on the other side of the forest - less people, more likely to get lucky with game. He’s already heard ample stories, but the invitation was pinned to his door and he immediately asked Shaw about it - he received an answer a bit on the elusive side, and upon finding out they were going, he figured he’d tag along too.

Mother and son, their first outing together without his father… probably ever. And it was here.

The stress of the place meant that Ben hadn’t been eating too much, even when he knew he should have been keeping up his strength given his chosen profession here. Nevertheless, he found himself ravenous over the food, picking and picking and never settling with an actual plate, just moving along the spreads until he felt he was satisfied. Or until he felt a hand on his back and glanced up, frowning immediately in confused recognition. “Mrs. Kaplan?” he asked, swallowing down the crumbs of food still on his tongue. He gave her a smile and an awkward hug befitting their tertiary relationship. Seen through the years, surely, but during the games he was always clean cut and clean shaven - now his curls had some room to grow, his dark beard coming in nicely, given the circumstances. No more a boy. “Yeah, they know. I don’t know where– we came together, but I guess I got lost,” he attempted to joke, realizing too late that it was probably in poor taste - they were all lost, weren’t they? “How are you?”

#{ dilara kaplan *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// dilara kaplan }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// event }#{ event *// nyx }

solidgrovnd

Benny’s touch had come with such gentleness. All thoughts of regret disappeared. Fingers that Shaw could once envelop with ease now so easily clasped their own. Their thumb grazed his palm, found the callouses and ridges there. Of time pressing itself. Their marriage vows might have been broken and left unfulfilled but this connection would hold. How they wished their touch could provide comfort now That they should be the one to provide solace and not to take it. That they could will their body to lurch forward, begin reacquainting itself with the new body of their son, the only life they had ever brought into this world.

Time had claimed so much from them. It was the tragedy that laid there: Benny would always have to work to fill the gaps, and Shaw would always find another regret, and in the absence of an endpoint to a timeline the cycle would run infinitely until someone stopped counting.

But the regret would hold. The regret would be innumerable. For so many days and years and moments had gone in their absence, and—

Too much, they thought. Let’s not talk about it yet.

They willed themselves back into the present. A sorry plane of existence made brighter by his shape at once familiar and unfamiliar. They watched him, then, caught in the half-light. A sharpshooter at his prime, a fatal wound caught against an arrow struck by a practiced hand: was it simply a survivor’s instinct or a killer’s?

The joke ran flat against the air. Shaw attempted to catch it before it could drift away. It was a weight that needed to be confronted.

“I don’t want him to be okay.”

They declared. Had they revealed too much? Shaw had thought themselves so invisible then, in the way they had moved through the world. Concealed the way the hurt from Henry’s hands had roamed through their spirit, buried it deep, until all that remained was the urge to provide consolation towards patients who had fewer methods for recourse. Advice that Shaw could not follow all the same. Leave. Cut the connection off from the roots. Start life anew.

How much had Benny seen of it? A worse question lingered still: how long until Benny had gone from a passive witness to recipient of his torment?

“I hope he isn’t.” A rare kind of bile lodged in their throat. Perhaps it had been there all this time. Just waiting to resurface, for the only person who would understand. A hardened gaze, almost a question—“How about you?”

grcnts

His skin felt warm where his mother carefully traced over. He could have sat there forever, letting the person across from stare at him all night, placing memory with the physical person right in front of them. Ben wondered what it was like, if they were seeing his childhood’s face over his grown one in a blur, or side by side. God, he wished more than anything he was a mind reader in this moment. Even if it made him sad, even if it were thoughts like his, of how much he wished he got to share with them, he would have taken it all. This place likely claimed so many over the years, and Shaw was surely no stranger to that numbing type of loss, but still he wanted to know it all.

He felt so childish when an overwhelming urge to embrace overcame him, but he fought it with everything he had. Ben was a fairly affectionate child in a house that wasn’t often equipped to deal with that, and he didn’t want to overwhelm Shaw. Perhaps it was some sort of long dormant obligation he felt, a son’s duty to help protect the emotional needs of his mother, especially now.

The words surprised him a bit and Ben bit his tongue, having the urge to immediately defend his father. But for what? Given the source, given who he would have to be defending him against, why did he jump to that immediate conclusion? It was like before, being a teenager and hearing a comment over how tired he looked, or Holly’s parents asking him why he was so jittery when he first met her father. Defensive mechanisms that manifested in horrible ways; the most horrible thing of all being how acutely aware of it he was. And by now, he was far too old to be defending that man. Especially not from his mom.

Ben nodded slowly, looking away. Though they could agree on a sentiment like this, he still felt embarrassed to admit so, that he was saying something he shouldn’t be admitting to a parent. “I don’t think so,” he answered, slowly. “I don’t know what happened–” Not totally true. He was yelling at Ben, about keeping his head straight after the fuckups he had at the Olympics the year before. His jaw had clenched so hard right before that he was convinced it would shatter. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not completely there yet.”

#{ shoshana liebowitz *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// shoshana liebowitz }

tessaendures

Open ! | Tessa & your muse on the streets in town

There really wasn't much that Tessa needed to get by. Her car had served her well while on this self designated mission to track down her sister and she'd spent more than her fair share of nights curled up in the back seat. Just a blanket to keep warm, her headphones to block out any noise, and a notebook to pass some time. She could still remember nights propped up against the back door with a map spread across her thighs, chewing on the end of a marker as she considered her next step as her gaze followed her trail through towns crossed out with bold, black Xs.

Today, the headphones around her neck no longer played music since her phone died sometime shortly after the first night in Hell. Instead they were looped around her neck in a simple form of comfort, a familiarity, something normal in this unnatural place she'd found herself in. She was digging through the stuff collected in the back seat of her car, not entirely certain what she was even searching for. Any passerby would just see a pair of boots hanging out the back door of her sedan until she emerged once more, smacking her head against the roof as she did.

"Fuck," she scowled, pressing a hand against the crown her head in frustration, but her other hand still held the prize. She caught the gaze of someone standing nearby and held up the junk food she'd collected at the last road stop before entering Arcadia not so long before. "What do you think I could get for this around here? I bet it's a hot commodity considering we're eating fucking...deer or whatever it is they're cooking up in the diner these days..."

grcnts

Ben always got early starts to his day. He was still trying to find a bigger purpose here, something for him to do besides the hunting. There wasn’t much to be done there so far, really just getting game for the community. Of course, he was fully expecting there to be more use down the line, when he had gotten comfortable in his position, when he was trusted to do more around to help. The hunters were leaderless at present, and Ben wasn’t going to step it up. He still didn’t know enough.

He had just begun to get used to not seeing the “normal” things one would on a street - functioning cars, headphones, anything that had anything to do with the outside, but the owner of a pair of boots seemed none the wiser, or at least a little reminder that something else other than Arcadia did exist. Ben hadn’t forgotten that, he was still new enough to remember things that mattered to him. But he found himself lost in thought, watching, only pulled out of it when he saw her hit her head on her car, flinching with a pitiful gaze.

“Yeah, it’s a lot of deer,” he clarified. He should know; he was often one who collected it. The seemingly permanent soreness in his shoulders was a reminder of such a fact. “I’m sure it could be, but there isn’t much you’d be able to get in return. Nobody really has any use of money here.”

#{ tessa liddle *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// tessa liddle }

lcstghoul

📍 the cabins 🩹 ben/logan — ft. @grcnts

Although it took a commitment of several hours, Logan tried her best to allot one or two days a fortnight to scouring the woods. The natural patterns of the vast forest had a way of changing just subtly enough to be called into question — where a thick patch moss would thrive one day, by the next would be facing the wrong direction conducive to growth. Overnight, a sapling once rooted at true north could appear to have shifted several yards west. Perhaps it had never been there at all. The unreliability of local events and widespread subjective perceptions made the greenery feel simultaneously familiar and refreshing on each visit, appealing to Logan’s curiosity yet maddening any sense of consistent orientation.

The paramedic had made the trek between the centre of town to the woods and back plenty of times without crossing anyone else, likely a partial byproduct of her typical and adamant avoidance of interacting with the cluster of cabins implanted nearby. Hunters mostly called the grounds of this area home and she respected their privacy to an almost reverent degree, not desiring to pry and permit her curiosity’s appetite any substance. It was cultivated independence which warranted and deserved peace between bouts of exertion and skill. They followed a calling of precision and violence she could only admire from afar, especially amidst a stubborn season with far more barren pickings than usual. It was a role she had been tempted to lean into further, once upon a time, but wilfully abandoned for the option to close wounds instead. Besides, her aim had never excelled; dexterous hands and sharp eyes always most usefully stewarded toward processing and preservation methods.

Undeniably one of the higher risk occupations with a frequent turnover rate to match, Logan still tended to only approach any of the hunters when summoned. To wait for a request or sloppy bloodied clinic arrival than dare to appear, unannounced and dismissible, at their personal dwelling. Hunters harboured God complexes, grudges, and inflated egos around pain like no-one else. On rare occasions, such as this one, Logan's loyalty to her own rules waned and she would invite herself over in search of a particular dead animal or an adrenaline hit. For better or for worse, these moments also permitted her to covertly get a pulse on any resident’s welfare — two birds one stone.

Logan stepped up to knock against one of the wooden buildings, a choice randomly made, certain only of the query she had and the likelihood of a positive result.

grcnts

All Ben had wanted to do when he got home that evening was to read. The library had proven to have shelves and shelves full of classics, and it wasn’t like there was much reason to be picky about the things he chose to indulge in. The options were limited, and there were countless novels he’d always wanted to read through, that he hadn’t had the chance to in the midst of college papers, working, let alone all of that on top of the training that was required for him, to be the best of the best.

Instead, he found himself nursing an injury - there was a muddy embankment he had slipped on, falling into a stony ditch, something that looked as if it used to be a creek that had long since dried up. The bow was tossed upwards in the slide, over the hump of the hill to make sure he didn’t accidentally crush it along the way. It was too priceless, and fortunately ended up fine in the scuffle. His arm felt a bit bruised, but his arm and face each suffered their own gashes; a nick over his left brow, a slice of sharp rock that went from the bottom of his palm along the side of his forearm. Ben would have typically had no trouble seeking medical attention, but things were still a bit odd, a bit tense with Shaw. Of course, it was an incredible thing, to be reunited with one’s parent after a decade and a half, but so much time, so many stressful years had already passed, and things needed to be slow. Ben rushing in with injuries on their home turf still somehow felt like an intrusion.

But that was no matter - he had his own first aid kit, one that was left behind by the previous owner of the cabin he now resided in. He had patched himself up well enough, taking a little bit too long in the process (Ben had wanted it to be nice, neat, and nearly perfect in terms of how evenly spread the gauze could be) and was surprised that when he finally did settle in for the evening, there was a knock on his door. Alert immediately, he had stalked closer before realizing there was still time left before They came waltzing through Arcadia’s streets. He opened the door to an unfamiliar face and mustered a polite smile. “Hello - are you alright?”

#{ logan rose *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// logan rose }

juliettexcouture

Juliette had tried to be one of those people that read books as a hobby, to pass time or simply just to disconnect from reality for a bit. It had been an easier feat when she was younger, especially in the long stretches of time on the weekends she found herself without friends to do activities with. But then she had thrown herself into training —it's intensity so frequent and taxing that the little pockets of time where she wasn't at school or at training were spent recovering.

Noah read often. That had been the prime difference between them, opposites attracting that faithful day he'd attended a post fight press debrief. 'So how does it feel to be favoured for the title this year?' he'd asked her, one of his first questions (one of the many questions he would ask her in the entirety of their relationship). 'Who's saying that?' she'd replied.

-TSN, Sportsnet, Montreal Time, CNN, hell, even the Los Angeles Time is reporting that, and they've never favoured a Canadian champion before. The question you should really be asking is, who isn't saying that? - You read all those? - If they're writing about you, yeah.

"Never heard of that book, but I was never that well versed on the classics." She swallowed back the need to add, the Goldfinch is the state bird of Washington, a useless piece of information shared so casually back then, hiking with him three hours out of Seattle, that remembering it now just felt cruel. She smiled in Ben's direction. "Is that your first pick? If you could pick anything to lose itself here?" A pause, like she hadn't spent several nights thinking about it. "I could crush a bag of Lay's ketchup chips, or any Lay's chips. Potato chips never felt like euh... a big commodity, but there's always a comfort there. Growing up I used to go to Blockbuster with my dad on Friday night, didn't really care what movie we got to rent, but that family sized bag of chips for two... that was always my job to pick, you know? I hope a fully stocked Lay's truck just rolls into here."

grcnts

Though she was probably joking, or just making conversation, Ben could only imagine how good it would feel to have a truck that operated essentially as a library rolling through town. He’d line all the walls of his cabin with books, insulated sound barriers from the outside. Giving him things to get through, things to wonder. His mother had been trapped here for fifteen years, and he couldn’t fathom how they kept themselves sane for that long. Ben knew what would help him, and it might have been wishful thinking, but it was his favorite thing.

He wouldn’t say no to an Italian restaurant’s catering truck going headfirst into a tree. It was horrible to think about, but that’s the kind of wishful thinking that this place allowed - violence for the sake of another’s comfort.

“It was always chocolate chip cookies for me,” he said. They didn’t have movie nights or things like that, but he always liked sneaking sweets when he could help it. There weren’t many of them at home, but he had friends who had them packed in their lunchboxes in elementary school - he can remember one boy sharing a few with him. His father was more of a “nutrition only” kind of father, the closest thing Ben could ever come to for sweets was just fruit - and to a kid, that was an injustice of the highest variety. “Cookies and some books, by the fire - I’m not actually seventy years old, by the way. In case that’s what you were thinking.”

#{ juliette couture *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// juliette couture }

eclvpses

Despite her harsh tone towards him, Ben greeted Rosa with patience and kindness. It was surprising - simply because Rosa was always surprised when someone gifted her warmth without expecting anything in return. She knew it was her own twisted mindset that led her to that belief, but it wasn’t as if she’d come up with the concept overnight. Rosa learned early that most people didn’t think she was worth the effort without being granted moments of her virtue.

She wasn’t sure if he was trying to satiate her or if he was simply being polite. He had the cautious atmosphere of someone who never wanted to overstep his boundaries, didn’t go where he wasn’t wanted, and Rosa could appreciate that. She wasn’t sure how to reply to him - people laughing at her wasn’t something she should worry about, considering the severity of everything else in their lives. And yet, she still deep down craved approval. At this juncture, Rosa had come to terms with the fact that it would be a while before she went home - and though she was solitary by nature, everyone craved community. She just wasn’t sure yet who she wanted in hers. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” She said plainly - because she would always worry about what others thought, though she knew he meant no harm in his words.

“Not on your bow?” Did he have more? Did she offend in her demand? Or perhaps overly cautious - she could understand being unwilling to ruin your prized possession when stuck in a place like this. And from her years as a child doing violin lessons, she knew how easy it was to ruin string under unpracticed fingers - perhaps it was a different material, but a bow was still an instrument wasn’t it? “If I had the ability to perfect any talent I wanted overnight I’d be insufferable. I can be patient, y’know.” Not that Rosa had proved that thus far. All she’d really done is snap at him. He’d picked up in his pace since they started walking, and Rosa’s feet had already crumpled once due to the uneven terrain. She wanted to ask him to slow down but pride stopped her - pride, and the fact that she couldn’t imagine the deer he was carrying was particularly light. “You’re going too fast.” She finally huffed, wincing as she misplaced another step. “Can I help you?”

grcnts

“Not my bow,” he repeated, with a definitive nod of his head. They’d have to go searching for more, but he was fairly certain there would be some extras somewhere, perhaps at the police station. It seemed to be the place for the hunters to go for supplies and whatever else they needed; he thought he saw some spare, sharpened arrows last time he ventured in. “I’m an Olympian, my bow is calibrated a certain way, made for me. I can’t afford anything to happen to it.” Of course his first thinking wasn’t that she’d be breaking it on purpose, but accidents happened and he had to be as careful as possible. What was he without his weapon?

But he supposed it would be fine to tutor, so to speak. He was an academic tutor once, and he had coached the sport, so Ben couldn’t imagine it being much different than that. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying parents that often came from an expensive sport like archery. “I’m sorry, I just want to get a move on,” he said. Ben was relieved he’d kept walking, bending his knees a bit as he went - it seemed to help, unless it was all totally in his head. It was a momentum sort of thing, and he denied help with a shake of his head. It was heavy, sure, but he was getting there. “No, I just want to get this to the diner. Then after, maybe we can find a bow and some arrows.”

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// rosa samuels }#{ rosa samuels *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }

ezrainthestatic

location: the library status: open (0/4)

There was just something about the sunset that made Jack crave a cigarette. Maybe it was the dim light drifting through the wooden slats against the windows illuminating dust particles in the air, reminding him of the plumes of smoke that curled out of his lips after a long shift. Or, maybe it's simply because he's an addict who hasn't been able to indulge in a nicotine habit for roughly two and a half years. Sometimes, he regrets the decision to quit, throwing that final pack down his garbage disposal that caused his old landlord to cuss him out in his dingy apartment lobby. If he had known that would be the last chance to take a drag, maybe he would have savored it a little more. But, regrets are for people not trapped in a hellhole on patrol.

Instead, he simply watches the dust particles dance in the light for one final moment before he pushes himself up from his spot, brushing dusty hands against even dustier pants. Not too long before curfew drops, and it's looking like no one's got an itch to read whatever Vonnegut reject is sitting on the shelves. The joys of being a librarian. No one really gives too much of a shit to read nowadays.

He starts his way down the stacks, back away from the door as he hums to himself; a jingle that played a few too many times on his former local radio station, droning out a phone-number he would never call. Damn annoying, but catchier than he'd ever dare to admit. However, the sound of the bell attached to the door jingles, causing Jack's movements to hitch. Huh.

"Gotta make it fast, the sun's burning out," he starts in a sarcastic cadence, a hand on one of the nearly barren shelves as he turns to face the door. "And, if you're looking for a copy of Catcher and the Eye, I just checked it out. Sorry."

grcnts

Ben had spent lots of his spare time in the library. In the short two months since he’s been in Arcadia - maybe even longer than that at this point, who knows - it had been a reprieve. He felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, where the circumstances of his captivity were a bit different in that it was a whole town replacing a singular castle, he felt the walls closing in a lot. It was a stir crazy feeling. He’d explored so much already, given his position and status as a hunter, and he needed something that made him feel a little normal, that made him forget about what was lurking outside his door every night.

He was always a voracious reader. He was to be the next great American novelist if he had it his way. At least now, he had all the time in the world to read, to lose himself in the worlds of another. There were few protagonists in the canon he wouldn’t trade places with in this moment. “I was actually looking for Age of Innocence,” he remarked, going through the shelf closest to him. An old favorite - he’s read it dozens of times now, but loved it all the same. “But I’ll take Catcher when whoever that is returns it. If they ever do.”

#{ 𝐁𝐄𝐍 *// jack deere }#{ jack deere *// 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 }

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