#best 6 person tent

[julymusings]

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT next: love in withdrawal

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢

listen to the inspo song!!!

[growth2511]

There are many great 6-person tents available on the market today, and the best one for you will depend on your specific needs and preferences. Here are some top picks for Tents.

[jj-one]

HOW JUNGKOOK WOULD TREAT HIS BIMBO GF 🍥

pairing: established relationship, bf!Jungkook x bimbo!fem!reader genre/tags: smut, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, an*l, oral (m receiving), t*tty f*cking, drooling, use of the word daddy (only once)

**old repost from my deleted blog (05/24/23)

- Having a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend was a given for Jungkook, he loved the fact that y’all were both smoking hot and turn heads everywhere you go

- The stark contrast between your appearances drove him insane

- His aesthetic was more dark and mystique, is also heavily tattooed while you always wore pink and pastels, having bare skin

- Is so enamored with the idea of you being the total opposite of him, he always feels like he’s corrupting your sweet innocence

- Kinda treats you like you’re his eye candy anywhere he goes, has you wrapped up on his arm like it’s a leash

- He’s been debating getting an actual leash for you since you constantly trip and fall whenever you’re out with him

- You were just so ditzy and clumsy… it was your character flaw yet Jungkook saw it as an endearing quality

- Also loved that you were an airhead, clingy, and always wanting his attention ;( makes the joy of him coming home to you all the more thrilling <33

- Always buying you pink and girly thingsss

- Whenever he sees something hello kitty or barbie related he instantly thinks of you and buys it

- CONSTANTLY wants to spoil you, omg this man would spend every dime he could on you just to make you happy

- He looooves taking you out shopping because that’s your favorite activity !!

- He splurged on you the other day, buying you any color of that Dior lip oil that you were obsessed with, it was worth it since he’d be the one taking it off your lips afterwards

- Jungkook enjoys watching you try on skimpy outfits for him, the shorter the skirt the better— don’t get him started on the way your hardened nipples peek out the fabric of your shirts…

- Likes to play dress up with you like you’re his personal doll

- He’ll put you in a pink lace slip dress one night and the next he’ll have you wear white see-through lingerie for him; that is only when you two are in private of course

- Frequently teaches you new things so you keep up to date with current news and other events, he knows you aren’t the brightest but you have a heart of gold and do your best to comprehend everything he tells you !

- When watching movies you often pause to ask questions about the film because you don’t get it

- Jungkook made you watch ‘Inception’ with him one time and it absolutely rotted your brain

- He enjoys explaining the movie to you in a babying way, dumbing it down for you to understand it as your mind is blown away by all the knowledge he drops on you

- Laughs at your inability to comprehend the plot and pats your head while teasing you

- “Awww, you poor little thing…can’t even understand the simple concept of a movie.”

- It really really really turns him on when you wear high heels, the higher the heels the higher the tent in his pants grew

- You wore the sexiest 6-inch stripper heels for him and he fucked you out completely while you had them on, he thinks he might have a heel fetish or something

- Absolutely adores your bright & bubbly personality !! Will praise you any time he hears you say something smart

- “Did you know that Sloths can hold their breath longer than Dolphins???” You would ask him randomly.

- “No I didn’t, but thanks for the fun fact babe. You sound so cute when you talk about things you’ve discovered.”

- “It was on the back of my Snapple cap, how cool is that?! See look!!”

- He will never not be impressed by your lack of awareness, you lived in your own little bubble and he wanted to shield you from all harm and scary things

- Is sooo completely obsessed with your body

- Your bouncy tits, your curvaceous hips, and your cute plump butt was the perfect sight to send the blood rushing to his cock

- Loves. To. Fuck. You. So. Dumb.

- Uses your hole like it’s a fleshlight and loves cumming inside you repeatedly

- Dumping all his cum into your little bimbo cunt was the only thing he needed in his life

- Often catches you drooling at him, when you do this he scoops it up with his finger and puts it back in your mouth

- His favorite part of sex with you is seeing your fucked out face

- The stare you give him while you deepthroat his cock was enough to make him combust

- “Look so pretty with my cock stuffed in your mouth, such a pretty little slut for me..”

- The way he would degrade you but praise you in the same breath confused you in many ways yet you enjoyed every minute of it

- Your makeup would be all smeared, mascara would be runny, the Dior lip gloss he bought you fully transferred to his cock now

- Can never choose between if he likes doggystyle or cowgirl more since both positions he gets to look at your assets with a nice view

- Lots of titty fucking, loves having your big round tits around his cock, making a mess all over your chest once you milk him clean

- He owns all your holes, he likes to use your tight little ass from time to time

- After lubing it up nice and gently, he would go to town on your ass just pounding into your fuck hole viciously

- “What a fucking whore you are, gonna keep fucking your tiny hole until I pump every last bit of my seed in you.”

- Turns him on so fucking much when you start babbling and unable to speak proper sentences

- You’d whimper and hiccup with frustration from the way his cock made you feel

- His love language will always be making you feel so low. So small compared to him that you don’t even feel worthy of his presence at times

- “Can’t stop drooling all over yourself? Already too dumb and fucked out to continue, hmm?? Oh never mind, you’re already dumb…just shut up and take daddy’s cock like the good little slut you are, you were made for taking cock anyway.”

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

What Comes After

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018 3244

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I literally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them! Edited: 10/6/24 Fixed some spelling mistakes and grammar, added a lil more flavor and tried to make it all present tense lol also this has a title on ao3 now it does here too

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in his eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walked away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed to reach him that day, but your actions didn’t. You severed the connection of your tadpoles, kept Astarion from seeing his scars. You would not be the one to allow such evils to be birthed, would not allow him to kill 7000 souls. You did not allow Astarion to become the vampire ascendant.

Astarion, hurt, broken, and lost, then choose to walk away from you and everything the two of you had built together over this adventure.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, to be precise. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hells, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

It must be night now. Your candles are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment. You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. One who could save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. He seems to reconsider what he was going to say, sighing and shaking his head before speaking again. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding. What does he see, in this room that shows the layers of your sorrow?

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.” You look to where he keeps his eyes trained. All you see is a monument of your regrets.

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. To your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him. Its bracing, in an entirely disgusting way. After all-- he was the one that did this to you. “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with everything sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours before quickly looking away once again. You realize, with much sadness, that even now as he tries to burrow into your familiar warmth, he hesitates to reach out and touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized maybe this was for the better. The thought hadn’t even occurred to you that he might consider that. That he might actually miss you too.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands. It hurts just as much as when you watched him sob after killing Cazador.

Some how, you summon new tears to cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment, settling into one anothers missed company before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand before he can get too far.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. The last time he left you, he didn’t come back… He can forgive your sudden clingyness, then, but not how you’ve let yourself go in his absence.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, choosing to trust Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, attempting to take the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you in a way you’ve needed since his departure.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair, darling.” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let him work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely through your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion lets you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watches, helpless, as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. In the bright morning light that pours in with her, all he can do is look at her with wide eyes as her mouth begins to open. Acting fast, Astarion speaks before she does.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turns from Karlach, brushing some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkably polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[weird-is-life]

hi! could you do a reader x hotch. where they give him like a lolly or some candy bc they've noticed how stressed he's been lately? ty! ❤️

Hi lovely, ty for this request! I hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, grumpy Aaron,mentions of lunch/food, assistent!reader, reader wears heels, (0.9k)

Being Aaron's assistent for the last 6 month means you know his moods pretty well by now.

He's hired you because the paperwork was getting too much, and it meant he had to bring it home as well. Which wasn't good for him, and neither for the time he meant to spend with Jack.

So here you are sitting behind a desk, looking at frowny and grumpy Aaron. He looks like he's gonna throttle the first person that walks into his office.

Even the team is doing everything, anything to look productive. So you decide to be the brave one, and go ask Aaron if he wants lunch.

You knock on his door, "Hotch?" You tentatively peek inside his office. You called him Mr.Hotchner the first 2 months when he finally had enough of it, and asked you to call him Hotch.

Aaron looks up at you, question why you are bothering him in his eyes. He's definitely in ripping off heads mood today.

"Do you want something to eat? For lunch?" you ask softly with a bright smile. You are pretty sure that when you smile at Aaron like that his grumpy heart melts a bit.

"No." He says groggily, and his eyes go instantly back to the paperwork. He seems to be more grumpy than usual. You send him a little frown of your own, and closed his office door again.

Your heels click against the bau floors as you rush to get the lunch. Thirty minutes later you walk quickly to get back to the office.

You go straight back to your boss's office. You come in with a swift knock, and hurried greeting.

Aaron's head is still buried in the paperwork as you put the lunch in front of him. The smell of broccoli soup with the pasta makes Aaron pause.

"What's this?" he asks. Putting his pen down, and looking at you. Finally really looking at you.

He hasn't realised before, but you look very lovely today. More than lovely actually. He would almost feel bad for being so short with you earlier if he wasn't stressed with work already. He will save his guilt for later when he has the time for it.

"Your lunch," you smile at him, "take a break, and eat it, please Hotch." You want to make sure to avoid any heated words from him towards some incompetent people. But also you want to make sure he's okay.

"Too much work," he tells you, reaching back for his pen. Your hand is quicker, and you snatch the pen away, hiding it behind your back.

Aaron just rolls his eyes playfully, it's not like he doesn't have an entire package of pens stashed away in the desk drawer. But somehow he agrees, "fine."

"Great! I'll be at my desk if you need anything-" you turn around on your heel ready to leave.

"Stay," Hotch blurts out, and mentally curses himself at the same time. He doesn't know what made him say it, maybe it was your soft smile or the thoughtful lunch, but he asks you to stay.

"When I have to eat, at least eat with me. I'd feel bad about eating instead of working. But with you here we can say it's a business lunch." Really Hotchner? That's what you are going with? He almost slaps himself across his face.

"Oh. Okay, Hotch."

You sheepishly go sit down on his couch with the coffee table, and Aaron joins you a few moments later. You didn't expect to eat lunch with him.

You eat the first couple of bites in quiet, awkward quiet. It's not everyday that you eat lunch with your hot boss. In his office. With closed door. Alone. You just pray that you don't make a mess all over your white blouse in front of him. You wouldn't survive that.

"How did you know broccoli soup is my favourite?" Aaron finally breaks the silence, curiosity getting the best of him.

"I've seen you order it everytime you are in the restaurant with the team and me," you murmur. You notice things. It's like your thing, maybe especially with Aaron.

"Hmm, interesting," Aaron responds, and the conversation starts to go smoothly from there.

You ask him about Jack, he asks you about your puppy, and so on. You kinda wish you had more food just so you could talk longer with him. Aaron, unbeknownst to you, feels completely the same.

"I should probably let you get back to work, Hotch-"

"Aaron, you can call me Aaron over lunch," he interrupts you to tell you this.

You giggle,"only over lunch?"

"Yes, y/l/n. I'm still your boss," Aaron tells you, but you can see the amused sparks in his eyes, and the light twitch of his lips upwards.

"Gotcha, Hotch." Did you just say Hotch just to spite him? Maybe.

You are almost out of the door when you realise one more thing. "Och, I almost forgot!"

You pull out a small box, and put in in front of Aaron on the desk.

"What's this now?" He raises his brows in question.

"Candy. I thought you might need it," you simply state, and leave his office with a satisfied smile.

For the rest of the day you can see Aaron munching on the box full of candy, his face ten times less tense then before lunch. It makes the small smile being glued on your face for the rest of the day.

Aaron feels much better. But it isn't thanks to the lunch or the candies. It's because of a certain pretty assistent sitting a few meters outside of his office.......

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW) - PART 8 (NSFW)

Content Warning: Description of death, blood, pregnancy

Something was off.

The daily walk home from the shop felt like a marathon, everything just felt so exhausting lately. This earned many concerned glances from Khargaad as the two of you reached the end of the season’s harvest. You spent many a moment slumped on your knees, hands folded in your lap.

“You haven’t seemed yourself lately.” He tilted his canteen to your lips, letting you take a sip of his water. You wiped your brow, “I know, I’m just… so tired all the time.”

“Hmmm...” He stroked the back of your head, ignoring how sweaty and gross you were from working, “Let’s finish up for today, does that sound good?”

You nodded weakly, shouting no protest as he scooped you up in his arms. Before you knew it you were sitting in the grass outside of his tent. You almost fell asleep right there before you heard the lighting of a fire, and sloshing of water from the creek. You opened your eyes, seeing him filling a large washbasin.

Before long steam rose from the surface of the basin and you felt hands pulling at the strings of your tunic. “Let me take care of this.” Khargaad’s voice cooed in that special way that could melt you. He undressed you and led you by your hand to the basin, letting you step in to the deliciously hot water before undressing himself. He settled behind you in the water, pulling you onto his lap.

There was nothing sexual or suggestive about the way his touch landed on your skin. Just tender and caring. He lathered you in soap and massaged your muscles, eventually letting you sink your back into his chest. He rested one hand on your tummy, rubbing therapeutic circles into you.

“Maybe you should take it easier?” He leaned down to kiss your shoulder. You huffed, “I’ll be alright.”

“Okay…” His tone did not sound entirely confident in your statement, but he accepted it nonetheless. That night he walked you home, clothed in his shirt that fit you like a dress. Tucked into bed, you could hear him and your mother chatting outside but their words were undecipherable.

-

It wasn’t just you that was off now. Every day of the following week you found your mother waking up before you to making breakfast.

“Oh my darling, I don’t want to hear it. Sleep in and get some rest.”

Khargaad now consistently walked you to and from the town square, making sure to come and give you a kiss on the cheek in the mornings before leaving to hunt.

Today, you were clearing out a junk closet in the shop, too busy to hear the door open behind you.

“Now this really is low, y/n.”

You hadn’t heard that voice in ages. Not since Khargaad had scared Milo out of your shop all those weeks ago. You shot up, looking behind you to see Milo with a rather sickened look on his face.

“Surely you haven’t been fucking that orc?”

You clenched your fists, wrapping a tighter grip on the pocket knife you already had in your hand. “Get the fuck out of my shop.”

“Won’t be yours for long. You won’t make it through winter.”

“Guess you’re right because we’ll be long gone by then.” You retorted with a cocky confidence.

“Excuse me?” His eyes narrowed.

Perhaps you should shut your big mouth now. “Nothing.” Your voice wavered unconvincingly. He took a step towards you.

“No, not nothing. You have something planned. You and that mother of yours. Maybe even that big stupid orc, whore.”

You raised the knife threateningly, “Milo, you need to leave now.” You tried your best to put on an air of confidence, but you had quite possibly put all of the plans in jeopardy. Milo lacked the honor and dignity which would stop a regular person from doing a terrible thing in the name of vengeance.

He huffed, turning around to leave. On his way out, he slammed the door with such force that it shattered a pane of glass on the door. You turned your head just slightly, seeing Khargaad standing on the other end of the square. It seemed as if he had just returned from his hunt to catch Milo storming out, and based on his heaving shoulders he was fuming.

It was a tense walk home.

“Are you… angry with me?” You were bewildered by his demeanor. He stopped in his tracks, getting down on one knee to get on your level.

“No. No no no. How… could I be angry with you?” He was so sweet, so calm. You sighed, cupping his cheek, “You’re just so tense, so angry-“

“I’m scared, y/n.” He cut you off. You didn’t like seeing him like this. He was shaking a little bit, “I’m scared of him. Before I met you, we happened to frequent the same taverns every now and then. I’ve heard him say things that frighten me. I don’t think he would hesitate to hurt you or your mother.”

You knew this just as well as he did. Khargaad had brought his hand up to your waist, thumbing over your stomach. It seemed soothing to him.

“We need to develop a plan. Now.” You pulled on him to follow you. The sooner you were out of town the better, and didn’t like the idea of Milo possibly being clued in on that fact.

-

“Within the next two weeks, at the very least.” Your mother proclaimed at the dining table. Khargaad nodded, crossing his arms satisfiedly. You just sat there dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry. two weeks? Why does it seem like you two had this worked out before we even sat down!”

They were shooting nervous glances at each other.

“Well-“

“You've-“

They had both started at the same time, stumbling over each other’s words. There was something going on. You shot up, pointing two accusatory fingers at them, “Ma! You start first. Then Khargaad. Go.”

The woman stared down at her hands twiddling her thumbs, “Well… what I was going to say was… you sure you’ve been feeling alright lately sweetheart?” You stood there baffled, did they think you were about to be on your deathbed or something? Khargaad breathed out,

“You’ve missed a period.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but as you wracked your brain you realized, by the Gods, the orc was right. You disregarded the fact that he had seemingly been tracking your cycles in secret. A lot of things began making sense as the reality set in.

How daft did you have to be for these two to figure out you were pregnant before your own self. The bottom of your lip quivered as you tried to figure out a rational response to the situation. Maybe… maybe it was just a random fluke in your cycle. Maybe it was something else. This wasn’t a part of the plan. You hadn’t accounted for a baby at all.

A warm hand slipped around yours. Khargaad was staring at you with unbridled adoration, tears running down his face. You were so lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed your mother leave the room.

“Talk to me.” His voice was shaking, it almost sounded like a plea. As if waiting for you to break your silence on this was his own personal form of torture.

“I- I- What are we going to-“ The words tried to clumsily fall from your lips. You lifted the edge of your tunic, staring down at the bare stomach, and sure enough there was the slight bump that hadn’t eased on its own. It was so subtle that you had been writing it off as merely bloat. But now, you looked down and couldn’t see it any other way.

“Oh my Gods.” You began to cry a confusing mixture of happy and scared tears. Clearly the pull-out method was not entirely dependable. You looked back at your lover, still with tears streaming down his own face.

“When I realized you might be… oh merciful gods I was terrified too.” He laughed weakly, squeezing your hand, “I can’t speak on how you must be feeling right now. But…” He sniffled, “…You’re not alone.”

It started with a low chuckle, then you broke into a full laugh. Khargaad looked at you, bewildered, as if maybe this was the (giant) straw that broke the camels back.

“We need to leave. Not even in two weeks. In one week. In a couple days. I need to close up the shop, we need to pack-“ You were rambling frantically.

“So… so you want to keep it?”

You almost choked on your own words, looking down at Khargaad who was still sitting in his chair. He was afraid to admit how thrilled he was, his worst fear was making you feel pressured by his own feelings. After all, it was your decision in the end.

“Oh Khargaad,” you took his hand and placed it on your stomach, “all I’m thinking is what kinda person they’re gonna be. Will they be an artist? A hunter? An explorer?”

He giggled through his tears, pulling you close to nuzzle his head into your stomach. The dull ends of his tucks grazed over your skin. “Whoever they may be, they will know the overwhelming love of their mother and father.”

This was surreal. You had been so caught up dealing with life, the thought of a baby was completely foreign to you. Yet here you were, being confronted by the idea in the most literal way possible. Then a thought struck you.

“Khargaad, we’re going to your home, right?”

He nodded, still practically purring into your stomach like a cat. “They won’t be… angry that you’re with a human?” He shook his head, “‘Course not, my brother Vakgar’s been with his husband Thierry for six years now. We love that guy.” His voice was muffled into your skin.

You sighed, coming down from the emotional high of this entire situation. “We’ll need a wagon, a big one. Probably one? No, two strong draft horses. And then-“ your mind was already picking up from where it left off, you scrambled for a piece of paper and quill to write it all down.

“Hush my love. Me and your Ma have it handled. Just say the word and we can be packed and ready in three days.”

“Well consider this the word. Let’s go. I… don’t want to stay around and wait for it to start showing.” He knew you were talking about Milo. The last thing you all needed was him finding out about this.

“Yes we agree. Definitely.” Khargaad replied, making his way to the door. “Will you need to go back into town again?” It was clear he wanted the answer to be no, but he would be disappointed unfortunately. “Just one more day.” You responded with a sorry look in your eyes. The two of you came to a compromise, you would do what you needed to do for that day, only if you didn't leave his sight for even on second. And you could only go into town once the lot of you were good and ready to leave. In case you needed to make a run for it.

He marched over to you, pulling you into a long deep kiss.

He pulled away, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold chain. Hanging from it was an engraved gold ring.

“I’ve been holding on to this for… uhm. Hehe. I bought it a couple weeks ago. And I thought… I thought had gotten a good fit but then I slipped it on your finger in your sleep and it was like hilariously large and then all of this started and I didn’t want you to think I was only doing this because you’re pregnant. I was always going to-“

You cut him off with a giggle, letting the ring fall into the palm of your hand.

“Yes, I’ll marry you Khargaad.”

-

The next three days felt like a whirlwind. Khargaad FINALLY had a valid excuse to stop you from lifting heavy things and he was being entirely greedy about it.

“Don’t over-exert yourself love.”

You were carrying a basket of jars, probably not more than 15 pounds. You rolled your eyes playfully, “I can’t just sit around-“

He gently took the basket out of your hands, kissing you atop the head, “Now, this evening we’re gonna be in and out, as fast as possible right?”

You nodded, cradling your stomach. With a dress on it as impossible to notice.

As the sun began to set, Khargaad followed you into town. All you needed to do was put your remaining merchandise outside the door, writing a sign that said “free, please take.” It wasn’t much anyways, you could live without the small amount of coin you were gonna lose.

With the job done, the two of you hurried off. The path back to your cottage was a long dirt road, and eventually he just scooped you into his arms to pick up the pace. As a skilled hunter, Khargaad was very aware as to how vulnerable the two of you were right now.

And then he heard it. A clicking noise, frighteningly similar to the mechanical sound of someone loading a crossbow. Most would have never been able to distinguish the difference between this noise and any other normal forest sound.

He was reacting before you could register the sound of something whizzing through the air. You screamed, feeling yourself falling on your ass in the dirt. Khargaad clenched his shoulder, his dark thick blood beginning to bubble through his fingers. The two of you reeled around, seeing Milo standing in the middle of the path struggling to reload his crossbow.

The following moment which occurred felt like slow motion. Like one of those nightmares where no matter how hard you run, you can’t get your feet to move faster than a snail pace.

Khargaad hadn’t been directly hit, but the thick iron arrow from Milo’s weapon had grazed him leaving a nasty gash in his shoulder. The orc had a frenzied look in his eyes, like he was stuck in some sort of waking paralysis, unable to move his feet.

You looked back at Milo, still struggling and now yelling curses, and back to the serrated bowie knife Khargaad always kept on his waist.

As the classic saying goes: kill or be killed.

-

There were things you were always going to remember about this night, like the whites of Milo’s eyes as you hurled the knife into his thin sinewy neck, the heat of his blood spurting on your face, the taste of iron when it got into your mouth. His strangled final breaths, understanding leaving his eyes.

You were yanking Khargaad in a jog behind you, seeing the lights of the cottage ahead. The covered wagon was set to go, horses bridled. You thanked the Gods for his foresight to insist on having everything ready like this. Your mother was standing outside, lantern in hand. She nearly fainted when the two of you were close enough for her to register the scene.

“You’re bleeding!”

“He is.” You insisted, climbing into the back, “Ma, you need to take the reigns, we need to go. Now.”

She snapped her senses, clambering onto the front and balling her fists around the leather. If there were two things you could thank your father for, it was teaching your mother how to steer a horse-drawn wagon, and the years of practice you got out of dressing his wounds after bar fights. You pulled Khargaad into the back, drawing the folds closed and hanging the lantern above the two of you. The bottles and supplies in your first aid kit glinted menacingly

“This will be unpleasant, my love. I’m sorry.”

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786 @sadsilver @shellyyyyy0000 @thecreativeblueberry-blog @lovingbadguys

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |14|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Fighting, Violence, Death

Word Count: 6.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

You and Joey both shot out of your sleeping bags, you nearly tripping as you rushed out of the tent. Your eyes flashed yellow as you scanned the area. Night vision was beneficial but when the forest was dense like it was it was difficult to see as far as you could in an open field. Joey stood behind you, her jacket barely brushing against you as she scanned her side, shining her flashlight in all directions.

The screams stopped, as if they knew you two were out of the tent. There was a gust of wind and the light crinkle of leaves filling the air, in other circumstances it would probably be peaceful. “What do you hear?” Joey whispered.

You tilted your head. “Nothing,” you whispered. At that Joeys heartbeat picked up. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, her eyes flicked down to the ground then back up, but she didn’t say anything more.

“Help!” A female voice came from deep in the woods. “Help me!”

Your hand shot out, stopping Joey from going in the direction of the voice. “What are you doing?” She asked, trying to pull her arm away, but your grip remained firm. “Someone needs help.”

“No,” you said half distracted. You furrowed your brow as you stared in the direction the voice seemed to come from.

“What do you mean-”

“Please help me,” a different voice said, a younger voice, coming from a completely different direction.

Joey stepped closer to you, whether it was because she thought you could protect her or because it was just further from the voice you didn’t know. “Please, please help me,” the voice grew more desperate.

Joey shook her head. “It sounds so real,” she whispered. “What if someone’s out there?”

You tried to gather your thoughts, come up with some sort of plan that wouldn’t lead you and Joey to certain death. If you followed the voice, you were sure that it would lead you to your monster, maybe even to the victim it seemed to have. You didn’t know what it was though, for all you knew the victim was already dead, from the reports it sounded like this was exactly how the monster lured people in. Again, based on the reports, the only survivors seemed to come from those who didn’t leave their campsite.

You furrowed your brow, it didn’t seem to attack outright, it liked to lure its prey away. That was either a choice, a game it liked to play with its prey, or it was because it had to. If the monster wasn’t strong enough to take on multiple victims at once that gave you and Joey an advantage. The only way to know which one it was though was to follow the voices.

“Maybe we should just go back to the tent,” you suggested.

“You can’t be serious?” Joey asked, whipping around, unintentionally shining a flashlight in your face, or maybe it was intentional. You gave her your best puppy dog eyes and shrugged. “You’re a werewolf,” she deadpanned. “How can you be scared?”

“I’m not scared,” your voice went higher than you realized it could go. “I just…” you looked past Joey and into the forest that seemed to only get darker the deeper it went. “Think it’s unwise to go running off into an unknown situation.”

Joey gave you an unamused look and raised eyebrow, as if to ask if that was the best you could come up with. It just so happened that it was the best excuse you could come up with. You weren’t scared. You definitely weren’t scared. You just didn’t want to run off into the woods after voices, even if they sounded like cries for help. Maybe you were just a bad person. That had to be it, you weren’t scared, you were just an asshole.

The crunch of leaves brought you out of your head and your eyes widened when you saw Joey getting further away from you. You took off after her, even though you were definitely not scared and thought the smart play was to go back to the tent you couldn’t let Joey go off on her own. Joey didn’t say anything as you fell into step beside her, she just glanced at you out of the side of her eye.

“Help me!” The voice called out again. “Help!”

You slowed to a stop, forcing Joey to do so as well. “Why aren’t we getting close to it?” You asked. You scanned your surroundings, you couldn’t even see your camp anymore, but the voice sounded the same distanced as it did when you first heard it.

“It’s luring us somewhere?” Joey whispered, taking a step closer to you.

“We can’t continue,” you shook your head. “Not when so much is unknown. We can come back in the morning, investigate then.”

Joey opened her mouth to reply when her eyes widened, as she stared off into the darkness. “Help me!” A little boy’s voice called. It was like the wind was knocked out of her with the way she couldn’t catch her breath. “Mom!” The pure terror in the scream made even the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“No!” Your hand shot out, stopping Joey from going forward.

“Y/N,” a voice called out. “Please,” it sobbed. You slowly pulled Joey back in the direction of camp. “Help me! Please!” The voices mixed between the little boys and one you were all too familiar with, Grace’s

You yanked Joey back, not bothering to care how aggressive you might have been. You would drag her all the way back to camp if you had to. Luckily you didn’t and Joey found her feet moving in the same direction as you, though much more hesitant. The cries of the boy and Grace followed both of you back to the camp, not stopping even after you made it back in front of the fire. You scanned the campsite one last time before ducking in the tent text to Joey, who was already clutching her knees tight against her chest.

“Hey,” you whispered, taking a seat as best as you could so you could be at eye level with her but making sure not to touch her. “It’s not real.” You tried to get her to meet your eyes, but she refused. “Whatever this thing is, it’s trying to mess with us.”

There was still no reaction from Joey. You sighed and reached back to grab your phone. Your movement was halted when an arm shot out, if you weren’t what you were it probably would have bruised. You snapped your attention back to Joey; she still wasn’t looking at you but she certainly had a death hold on you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you assured her. “I’m just calling Grace.” That seemed to get her grip to loosen but she didn’t let go of your arm.

You slid over so you were sitting next to her. “What’s wrong?” Grace asked, answering on the second ring.

“Nothing,” you said instantly. “There’s something definitely out here,” your eyes darted around the tent, you were practically waiting to see the shadow of some monstrous creature come over your tent. “It can mimic voices though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it tried to lure us deeper into the woods by sounding exactly like you!” You heard Grace suck in a breath, so you closed your eyes and focused on your own breathing. “Sorry.”

“Wh-what do you mean it sounded like me?”

“Like, it sounded exactly like you. It kept calling for help. It kept using your voice to call for help,” you whispered.

“Okay,” Grace said softly. “I’ll do research on creatures that have that ability. That would explain why friends would wander off. If they-”

“If they heard their friend screaming, they’d coming running.”

“Delivering themselves right to the monster.” You nodded, even though Grace couldn’t see you. “I’ll contact you as soon as I know something, stay safe out there.”

“We will,” you glanced at Joey who was still curled up, making herself as small as possible.

“Are you okay,” you asked, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible. “It wasn’t real. It was just the monster trying to trick us.”

“It sounded just like him,” Joey whispered.

“It wasn’t.” You didn’t need her to tell you that the other voice was Caleb’s, it’s the only person who it could have been. “I swear to you, no one is going to hurt him.”

Joey finally met your eyes. You knew she knew your words were true, at least about that not really being Caleb out there, he was still back home, safe and sound. Even if you hadn’t met Caleb yet, even if you never met him, you would still make sure nothing you and Joey did ever came back to him.

“Let’s just try to sleep,” you suggested.

Joey nodded and curled up into a ball, pulling the sleeping bag to where it was resting just under her chin. You hadn’t heard about attacks happening during the day so when the two of you woke up you could follow the path the monster was trying to lead you down and investigate. You hoped you and Joey turning back wouldn’t lead to some innocent camper getting killed instead.

You settled down next to Joey, even though you had no intention of sleeping. Lack of sleep on a mission was never ideal, but you couldn’t risk that thing coming to the camp. You didn’t know what it was capable of and the last thing you wanted was to be surprised as it slashed open your tent.

“You’re really warm,” Joey mumbled.

You looked down at her, her breathing was steady, and her eyes were still closed, you honestly had thought she had already fallen asleep. “One of the few perks of being a werewolf,” you whispered.

Joey wiggled back so she was pressed against you. Your entire body froze at the contact. When Joey let out a content sigh you finally slowly relaxed, making sure not to move a muscle.  It was rather cold; your natural body heat was enough to warm up the entire tent, but it still didn’t seem like enough for Joey.

Throughout the night you remained alert, though you didn’t hear the monster again. Either the creature found a new victim to lure to their demise or it just gave up. You hoped by morning Grace might have some ideas, you didn’t want to spend another night not knowing what you were dealing with. You were only there till Sunday, so you’d have to go out hunting tomorrow night whether you had answers or not.

Before you knew it, morning had come, and Joey was shifting beside you. “Morning,” she mumbled. You tried to suppress your smile at hearing her sleepy voice. Joey rolled over and looked up at you. “Did you sleep?”

“We should get a head start,” was your answer. “Don’t want to lose daylight.”

As gently as you could you slipped out of the tent, stretching out your back and legs as soon as you could stand tall. You grabbed a log and tossed it onto the fire that had managed to continue burning through the night. You began digging through your pack to see what goodies Grace left you as Joey stepped out of the tent.

“You should really sleep,” Joey said. “You drove here and-”

“I’m fine,” you cut her off. You took a few deep breaths; you hadn’t snapped at her, but you didn’t want to get to that point. “We have too much to do.”

Joey seemed to accept that you wouldn’t change your mind, but she was clearly unhappy about it. You finally got to the bottom of the bag and found the food Grace packed, some sort of hamburger like meat. You grabbed one of the little foldable pans she packed and dropped the pack of meat into the pan, using one of the little spatulas to move it around over the fire.

“Here,” you offered Joey a granola bar while you waited for your food to finish cooking.

She took the granola bar. You noted how she broke the bar up into little pieces before popping them into her mouth one at a time. You found yourself tilting your head, looking up at the sky as the sound of birds and sizzling food filled the silence.

“It’s kind of nice when there’s no creepy monster,” Joey whispered as if she were afraid to disturb the peace.

You hummed in agreement. “How are we you doing, after last night?” You asked, grabbing a small collapsable bowl for Joey before scooping some of the meat into it.

“Thanks,” she took the bowl from you. “I know it wasn’t him but…” she shook her head.

“I know.” Your fingers twitched at your side. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and offer her some comfort, but you didn’t want to overstep so you grabbed one of the forks and began picking at the remaining meat, not bothering to grab a bowl for yourself.

Once the two of you finished up your meal you shrugged on your backpacks and set off in the direction the creature had been attempting to lure you the night before. You and Joey stayed close together, you keeping your eye on the left side while she watched out on the right. You could hear the wildlife throughout the forest, nothing seemed afraid, not like last night.

“I think this where we-” your head snapped to attention, your eyes scanning your surroundings carefully.

“What?” Joey whispered, taking a step closer to you.

Your entire body went rigid, you were sure if someone tried to move you, you wouldn’t budge, your feet were planted in place. You knew your eyes were ablaze with yellow as your animalistic defenses kicked in.

“So, you’re not completely useless,” a man said. He was talking at a normal volume, but you could tell he wasn’t anywhere near you yet. “I told you, you shouldn’t have come here,” he said again, stepping out of the tree line.

Your head twitched to the side slightly, it was the man from the gas station, the one working the register. You flicked a glance to the right where the younger guy from the gas station stepped out into the open as well. To the left a woman with long hair also stepped out. Slowly several more people came out of the woods, not fully surrounding you and Joey but you were clearly outnumbered.

“What’s going on?” Joey whispered.

“They’re werewolves,” you said lowly, staring down the man who had spoken. From the way the others were flanking him and just the general presence he gave off it was clear he was the alpha.

“Great,” Joey mumbled under her breath. You felt her tense up as she probably realized everyone besides her had enhanced hearing.

The alpha tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at her. You let out a deep growl in warning. It wasn’t a full moon, none of you were at full strength, you were out manned, and you were in their territory. Literally everything was against you, but you’d beat those odds before, you’d actually beaten worse odds.

“Easy,” the man said, his volume still the same level but it held a commanding tone. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” You asked, your head twitched when you picked up a branch cracking as one of the pack members inched closer.

“There’s something else out here, something dangerous.”

“That’s why we’re here.”

The alpha chuckled as if you had said something amusing. “No pack, no control, inexperienced,” he began listing off. “You’re practically a child. You don’t stand a chance. It will rip you to shreds before you even know it’s there.”

Your lips twitched up wanting to smirk. You had been called arrogant before, you saw it as confidence, either one was dangerous to show in front of an alpha. For some reason they tended to be overly sensitive, and the slightest bit of attitude was seen as a challenge.

“I think we’ll be fine. I kind of have a way of making it out of these things.”

“You think just because you killed the New York pack you’re invincible?” Your blood ran cold, you tried to keep your face neutral, but you were sure you had already failed at that. “Yeah,” the alpha chuckled. “We know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. When a pack of that size and status is taken down people talk.”

“And yet you still came out here.” Now that was arrogant of you. The only reason you survived the first pack was because of Cody, of taking each of the pack members out one by one. You were stronger now but there was no way you could take this pack, as well as protect Joey, knowing they probably had other pack members waiting in the trees.

The alpha scoffed, clearly not seeing you as a threat. You knew you probably weren’t, but you thought the rumor of what you did to the New York pack would be enough to strike a little fear.

“You couldn’t even sense what we were back at the gas station,” he said. “Probably don’t even know our kind is able to mask our scent.”

You clenched your jaw, trying not to react. You had felt something off in the gas station but the two guys definitely didn’t smell like a wolf. You didn’t know masking your scent was something you could do; you had never seen it before. Maybe you would have come across it when you ran into other wolves but when you did it was always when they were doing something bad, not stumbling upon them while they were at work.

“This is your last warning, leave,” the alpha said. “It’s for your own protection; we won’t save you when you get into trouble.”

You let out a long-exaggerated sigh as you pretended to give the alphas suggestion some consideration. “I think we’ll take our chances,” you finally said.

The alpha let out a huff that sounded more like something between a scoff and a chuckle. “So be it.”

The alpha jerked his head to the side, signaling for the pack to move out. He had just begun to turn away when you decided to take a chance. “Do you know what it is?”

The alpha froze and glanced back, just enough for you to see the side of his face. “Not sure,” he admitted. “There’s been rumors about it for centuries, long before even us.”

You furrowed your brow, packs tended to not leave their territory, unless something forced them out. It was also rare for a pack to settle in a spot already taken over, even if it wasn’t by another pack.

“Lot of stories,” he alpha continued. “All I can say for sure is, it’s some sort of cannibal.”

You looked down, your eyebrows scrunched up as you were deep in thought. Cannibal didn’t mean anything, it could mean a lot of things, but the fact that it ate the people, not just killed them was telling. You looked up to ask one more question, but the alpha was already gone. The question was if it ate people, did it only eat people or did it hunt for other things. There were a lot of creatures in the forest, but this thing sought out people specifically, so much so that it literally lured them out.

“Are you okay?” You asked, glancing at Joey. She nodded. “Let’s keep moving.”

The two of you continued making your way deeper into the forest in silence. You could feel Joey’s eyes on you. You weren’t going to ask what she wanted, if Joey had a question, she’d have no problem coming out with it.

When you got to a small clearing you grabbed your satellite phone and dialed Grace. You brought it to your ear, making sure to keep your eyes on your surroundings as it rang.

“Are you okay?” Grace asked as a greeting.

“Yeah,” you said.

There was a pause on the other end, and you furrowed your brow, you had started to pull the phone away, wondering if you somehow lost the connection. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Grace asked softly.

You sighed. “We ran into a pack.” Grace sucked in a breath but waited for you to continue. “We’re fine. They’re not going to try killing us,” you glanced back at Joey. “But they said we’re going to die if we go after this thing,” you let out a humorless chuckle.

“Did they at least know what it is?”

You shook your head even though you knew Grace couldn’t see you. “All they could give us was it’s a cannibal.”

“I’ll add it to my research.” You nodded at that; the more info Grace had the better off you’d be. “Be careful.”

“Will do. Will make contact again soon.” With that you hung up and shoved the phone back in your pocket.

“So,” Joey said, finally breaking her silence. “That was an interesting interaction back there.” You let out a hum, not really sure where she was going with this yet. “You didn’t know they were werewolves?”

“No,” you admitted, your eyes falling in shame. You kept promising to protect Joey, how could she believe you when you literally talked to the alpha of a pack and had no idea.

“Did you know they could mask their scent like that?” You shook your head. You really were a failure at being a werewolf. “He called you inexperienced.”

You let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, he was right about that.” Your fingers twitched at your side, you were trying not to pop out your claws and dig them into your palm.

“I’ve never had anyone train me,” you whispered. “Most packs are already hesitant about lone wolves, it’s rare for someone to be turned and then not join their maker’s pack. No one wants someone who killed their entire pack either.”

“But they weren’t your pack.”

Your mouth twitched, wanting to smile. “To most other wolves, they’d consider whoever turned you as your pack.” Joey scoffed at that, making you finally crack a small smile.

The two of you continued following the direction the voices sounded like they were coming from. You slowed down as you came to a clearing. You felt Joey tense beside you and slowly move behind you, so you were between her and whatever was on the other side.

When you broke through the trees you furrowed your brow. Your senses were going crazy but there was nothing there. You felt a tap on your shoulder and then followed Joey’s line of sight as she pointed at a small cave on the side of a small mountain side.

You took it one step at a time as you inched closer to the cave. When you got to the entrance you flashed your wolf eyes, trying to see deeper but coming up with nothing. You took a big whiff, hoping to catch a scent only to cover your mouth and stumble back from the power of the stench.

“What?” Joey whispered, running to your side. “What is it?”

“Death,” you whispered, still covering your nose. “The entire cave reeks of it.”

Joey gripped you by the arm and led you away from the cave. You weren’t sure there was a distance you could travel without smelling that stench now. Where Joey decided to stop though made the stench tolerable but still allowed you full view of the cave.

“Think our monsters in there?” Joey asked.

“Possibly,” you answered. “I couldn’t see anything, but something is definitely killing things in there.”

“Stake it out tonight?”

You sucked in a breath, if this was the creatures cave then going straight into its territory wasn’t the best decision. A cave gave you an advantage though, there was only one way in or out, if the creature was in there now it wouldn’t sneak up on you come nighttime.

“Let’s scout the area,” you said. “If it’s in there, we can’t be completely blind.”

Joey nodded and the two of you began scouting the perimeter around the cave. There were no tracks or obvious signs something was entering and exiting the cave regularly. A shift of the wind sent you walking off in the opposite direction you had been headed, forcing Joey to run to catch up to you.

You weren’t sure what led you astray until you broke through the trees and into a campsite. Your mouth fell open at the sight. There was still evidence from where a fire had been burning the previous night, but it had clearly long died.

“Search for anything useful,” you said.

You were confident no one was coming back; the tent had a giant gash in the side of it and the campers’ packs were scattered throughout the sight. You didn’t see any bodies, didn’t even see so much as a drop of blood. Whoever was there had either left in such a hurry they abandoned all their gear, or they were taken.

Joey began riffling through the tent while you decided to check the backpacks. It seemed that there had only been two people based on the number of backpacks and the singular tent.

“Hey,” Joey called out. You glanced over your shoulder to see her holding open a plastic case that contained a flare gun and three flares. You nodded, one never knew when a flare gun would come in handy after all.

You pulled out your phone, glancing at the screen to see it was Grace before answering. “Yeah?” you answered as you continued to dig through one the backpacks.

“I might have found something,” Grace said.

“Wh-”

“Wendigos.”

“Wendigos?” you looked at Joey who furrowed your brow.

“Apparently there’s a long history of them in Canada and northern America.” You furrowed your brow; you hadn’t heard of them before. “Some say it’s a spirit; some say they were human until they became something else.”

“And you think this is what we’re dealing with?”

“Seems the most likely. They’re tall, pale, cannibalistic creatures.” You nodded, that definitely seemed to fit so far, at least the cannibalistic part. “They can mimic voices.” That’s when your ears perked up. “They pretend to be someone you care for to try and get you to stray from the path and directly to them.”

“Any weaknesses?” You didn’t need to hear anymore, them being able to mimic voices was enough to sell you on the idea that that’s what you were dealing with.

“Fire.”

“We can work with that.” You smiled to yourself as you pulled out a cannister of camping fuel from one of the bags. “We think we found its hideout; we’re staking it out tonight. If we’re right, we’ll jump it as it exits the cave.”

“Be careful.”

“Call you when we’re done.”

You made your way over to Joey and waved the cannister in front of her face. Joey looked up and narrowed her eyes as you gave her a mischievous smile.

“It’s a wendigo,” you said before she could even ask. “Cannibalistic creature,” you waved it off as if that was the least important thing to know. “Can mimic voices of loved ones.” Joey’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Weakness is fire.” You broke out into a grin as you nodded and continued to wave the cannister in front of her.

“Do I even want to know?” Joey asked.

“Molotov cocktails!”

Joey opened her mouth but closed it with a sigh. She shrugged, seeming to not be able to come up with an argument against the idea. You silently cheered, applauding yourself for having such a brilliant idea.

The two of you spent the remainer of the day scrounging up glass bottles and cloth you could use as a wick. You made sure to get back down at the cave before nightfall. The two of you worked in silence as you gather logs to make a decent size fire while Joey prepared the Molotov cocktails. If the creature was as dangerous as everyone was making it seem then you needed to be ready as soon as it came out of the cave.

When the sun had fully set the fire was alive in full force. You jogged off into the woods next to where Joey was already lying in wait. You took a seat across from her and the two of you began your wait. You knew the creature hunted at night, but you didn’t know how late it started its hunt. It had been late the previous night but there was no telling how long it had been out searching for a victim before it stumbled on the two of you.

Your ears perked up when you heard something you couldn’t quite place. You peeked through the bushes you were hidden behind, flashing your yellow eyes as you focused on the cave. Your breath caught in your throat as you saw a tall pale creature slowly walk out of the cave. It had long arms with the claws to match. It was humanoid, you could believe that it had been human at some point in its lifetime if that version of the story were true. It had a round face; you could see its shark like teeth from where you were.

You gave Joey a reassuring nod, then silently took off. You made sure to circle around the creature without being seen while Joey got into position. It seemed the fire had distracted the creature for a moment, giving it pause it tilted its head at the fire. You noticed it flinching away from the flames; it seemed Grace was right; fire was most likely the weakness. Your eyes shifted from the monster to where you knew Joey was, once you saw her flick on the lighter and light the rag you slowly crept out of the woods. You were only going to get one shot at this, and you couldn’t let the monster get to Joey.

Joey threw one of the Molotov cocktails. It was a direct hit, setting the creatures’ arm ablaze. The monster shrieked as it held out its right arm, not completely engulfed in flames.

You made your move, charging at the creature before jumping, delivering a hard kick to the creature’s chest. It weakly reached out with its left arm, its claws not even grazing you as it lost its balance, stumbling back into the fire.

The flames quickly overtook the creature. It lashed around and shrieked until it finally collapsed. You held up your hand to keep Joey back as you approached the charred corpse. You took a whiff and could only smell the burning flesh of the creature. You leaned over, making sure that there were no signs of movement. For your final confirmation you gave a hard kick to the corpse, wrinkling your nose when your shoe went through the creature a little bit.

You opened your mouth to call back to Joey, but nothing came out when you saw her staring past you with wide eyes. You whipped around, nearly stumbling back as you stared up at another wendigo. It was even taller than the first one, but it had the same pale skin and hollow eyes.

It slashed its razor-sharp claws across your chest, sending you flying across the clearing. You let you a hiss as you pushed yourself off the ground, bringing a hand to your chest, only to take it away and see blood coating your fingers.

You pulled yourself up, pulling the collar of your shirt back to get a look at the damage. You let out a groan that turned into more of a growl. The thing cut deep, you were sure it would take more than a day for these wounds to heal, you wouldn’t even be surprised if they scarred.

Joey pulled out the flare gun. She took small steps back as the creature stalked towards her. She raised the flare when it got close enough, she pulled the trigger, and the flare shot out, nailing the wendigo right in the face.

The wendigo stumbled back, clawing at its face as it shrieked in pain. You gritted your teeth, powering through the pain as you rushed forward and tackled the wendigo, slamming its back into the stone right beside the cave entrance. You barely registered the crack of stone echo through the air.

You stepped back, barely having time to duck as a red flash whizzed past your head. Another flare hit the wendigo dead center in the chest. You stepped back as the wendigo lashed out, just as the other one had done, before finally collapsing as well.

“There’s more!” Joey called out.

You looked up, your eyes widening as three more wendigos could be seen in the cave. “Fuck,” you whispered.

“Watch out!” You looked back just in time to jump out of the way as Joey came rushing forward, a lighter in one hand and a Molotov cocktail in the other.

She lit the rag then launched the Molotov into the cave, the glass shattering at the feet of the wendigos. You raised a hand, trying to block the heat from the flames. The shrieks of the wendigos quickly filled the cave.

Joey didn’t waste time lighting up another Molotov and chucking it into the cave, nailing the middle wendigo in the chest. The middle wendigo flailed around, spreading the flames to the other two wendigo in its panic. All three wendigo began flailing around, lashing out at each other and the cave walls.

A low rumble could be felt beneath your feet, making you grab Joey’s arm and quickly pull her away from the cave. Just as you got clear the entrance of the cave collapsed, blocking any chance of anyone entering the cave or anything getting out of it.

You walked over to the fire you originally created and picked up one of the burning logs. You made sure to keep the flames away from you as you quickly walked over to the body of the wendigo that wasn’t completely burnt up and dropped it on top, watching as the creature was slowly engulfed.

“Can never be to safe,” you mumbled, as you turned back to Joey, wincing with the small movement.

“Hey,” Joey said. She was at your side in a second, wrapping an arm around your waste to brace you.

“It’s just a scratch,” you tried waving her off.

“I literally watched that thing almost gut you,” she deadpanned.

You opened your mouth, ready to come up with another defense when your ears picked up the snap of a branch. Your head snapped up; your eyes glowing yellow just as the alpha from earlier stepped out of the shadows.

“You continue to surprise me,” he said. “You should go,” he nodded. “We’ll clean this up.” A couple other members of his pack exited the trees, heading for the bodies of the two wendigos that weren’t buried in the cave.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

You allowed Joey to continue supporting you, the exhaustion finally hitting you. “Someone’s been asking about you,” the alphas whispered as the two of you passed him.

“Who?” you barely tilted your head towards him.

“Not sure, but they’re trying to gather a pack.”

You gave him a thankful nod and continued your way back to the camp. Part of you didn’t want to pack up the camp and just wanted to crash in the tent for one more night but the sooner you left the better.

Joey helped by breaking down majority of the camp. Despite telling her numerous times you healed quickly she insisted you stick to packing up the backpacks. You did as she asked, trying to hide each wince at every move you made, Joey didn’t need to know she was right.

The two of you made good time getting back to the car, quickly tossing all the gear in the trunk. You didn’t even know what time it was, you just moved to the driver’s side. Just as your hand rested on the door handle another hand came into view, resting on the door, preventing you from opening it. You followed the arm the hand was attached to to Joey looking at you expectantly.

Joey rolled her eyes as your obvious confused expression. “I’m driving,” she stated, leaving no room for discussion.

You opened your mouth to protest but she nudged you out of the way, opened the door and hopped in the driver’s seat. You stood there; your mouth agape as you just stared at her. She held out her hand and gestured for you to hand over the keys. You grumbled but did as requested, then moved to get in on the passenger side.

You let out an irritated huff when you caught the ghost of a smirk on Joey’s face. “Rest,” she ordered.

You grumbled the entire time but got comfortable in the seat, leaning it back a bit. You tucked one of your arms under your head and closed your eyes. You were pretty sure you hadn’t even made it out of the park before sleep took you.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrryxcx

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121

[useless-englandfacts]

We have had an influx of messages from people in Gaza, and so I'm putting them all in one post.

Please have a read of all of them - I've only included a summary of their stories here (you can read their full stories on their respective blogs and gofund.me pages), and the amount raised is at the time of posting. If you can't afford to give, then at the very least reblog and share this post.

@ahmednimer: raised €40,521 out of €49,000

I'm Ahmed Alanqar, 34 years old, married to Dina Alanqar, and we have three children Zeina (7 years old), Eileen (6 years old), and Yamen (4 years old), have faced all the challenges brought by the war in Gaza, but now we need your help to escape this tragedy.

His gofund.me is here

@alaakh9: raised €3,748 out of €20,000

My name is Alaa, I'm a Palestinian mother of two children: Maria and Hamza, and expecting another child, as well as a wife and a daughter. Until last October, I was living a regular and stable life with my husband, children, immediate family, and my in-laws. We lost everything: our home, our jobs, our dreams. My biggest worry is for Hamza and Maria, their future is uncertain. Where will they live, study, and grow up? Gaza offers little hope now, as the essentials of life are being destroyed. My children's future seems bleak, overshadowed by uncertainty.

Her gofund.me is here

@hmzamahamed3: raised €25,994 out of €37,000

Your support is a lifeline of hope. A few days ago, the area where my family's tents were was bombed, and the situation was very dangerous now. There is no water for thirst everywhere, and there is no food. Food is very expensive. If they want to eat, for example, a simple meal, they need a hundred euros, consisting of vegetables and simple things. If they want fruit, which is not available, the fruits they have not seen for months, and if they find their prices are exorbitant, they live now. I hope you support them and help them get out

His gofund.me is here

@shahednhall: raised $43,719 out of $80,000

I am Shahd from the southern Gaza Strip. All my life, I have been building a life for me and my family. It persisted in a good future, when the war in Gaza began on October 7, 2023. We were in extreme fear during the displacement, and found ourselves in an insufficient small tent. Despite the lack of safety, food, clean water and the spread of diseases, we had to live this difficult life under bombardment, knowing that at any moment, my family and I could lose our lives My whole life has been scattered, and I am extremely frustrated and sad by the ongoing genocide I witness every day.

Her gofund.me is here

@safaabed8: raised €13,194 out of €50,000

I'm Safaa, 25 years old, the wife of the best man in the world and the mother of the two most beautiful children, but the war deprived them of their childhood and its beauty. As you know, the Egyptian government imposes entry fees to its territory ranging from 5,000 to 8,000 dollars per person. Therefore, we need you to stand by us to leave Gaza and stay in Egypt, including rent expenses for my family and children. I hope everyone can help us do this as soon as possible. We do not want to lose anyone else from our family, just as we have lost many of our friends, loved ones, and relatives. Your support can be the light that guides us to safety, to a place where Ibtisam and Ibrahim can grow.

Her gofund.me is here

@tamer200333: raised $2337 out of $60,000

My name is Marcus, from North Carolina in the US, and I am managing this fundraiser on behalf of Mahmoud and Maysaa Baalousha. I recently found Mahmoud on social media in need of someone to make a fundraiser to evacuate his sister, Maysaa, who is displaced in Al-Shati, Gaza with her husband, Muhammed, and four children, Tamer, Mohamed, Dana, and Dima. Mahmoud is presently displaced, but safe, in Egypt, but is unable to make a fundraiser for his sister. I am currently in contact with him on WhatsApp where he has provided me information on his sister and her family. Maysaa suffers from pulmonary fibrosis. Due to the continued siege on Gaza and the specific targeting of hospitals, she is unable to access the care she desperately needs. This campaign will provide the funds she and her family needs to evacuate and access medical care once the border re-opens.

His gofund.me is here

@hadeelmekki: raised €9,338 out of €35,000

I am Hadeel Mikki from Gaza, Palestine and this is my husband Waseem Mikki, my daughters Mira and Nadia, My mother Tahani Mikki, and my two brothers. The objective of this fundraising drive is to secure the passage of my family, comprising my husband, two daughters, mother, two brothers, and myself, through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt. Presently, this journey necessitates £5000 per person. This campaign stands as our sole opportunity for survival, and I earnestly implore your aid during this pivotal juncture. Rest assured, I will furnish you with a detailed breakdown of the expenses, vowing transparency, and lucidity throughout.

her gofund.me is here

@ashraf-family2: raised €13,029 out of €20,000

My name is Ashraf Alanqar, and I am 30 years old. My wife, Widad Issa, and I have a one-and-a-half-year-old son named Bakr. We used to live peacefully in the Al-Shuja’iya neighborhood, in a house we built just a week before the war began. I worked as a farmer and owned a large chicken farm that provided for my family. We urgently need your help. I am asking for your support to fund this campaign to move my family to a safe place, provide us with a proper home, and ensure we have enough food, water, and medical care.

His gofund.me is here

@88mohammed: raised €1,338 out of €100,000

My name is Mohammed Shurrab , a qualified medical doctor, palestinian living in Gaza, facing significant challenges with my family due to continuous attacks and shortages of food, water, and medicine. We need your help to escape this dire situation and find safety in Egypt. Please help us to preserve the lives of my child and my family. My family consists of my child and my wife in addition to my parents, grandfather and 4 sisters with her families and 3 brothers, since the start of war our house has been damaged and we have been displaced to a safer place, but there is still danger to our lives. The cost of crossing into Egypt is high reaching 5000$ for adults and 2500$ for children, and there is no job and no income in the war, we have been lost every things in this war, our house and our jobs and now don’t have anything.

His gofund.me is here

@amira-world: raised €16,865 out of €20,000

After my father's passing, I found myself taking care of my family, consisting of my mother, sister Noor, and brother Abdulrahman. My mother, suffering from high blood pressure and diabetes, faces health problems that further complicate their situation. But courage and determination drive Amira forward. I worked as a teaching assistant at the university while pursuing a master's degree in data science, and also worked as a programmer in a company. My life was going smoothly until war came and destroyed everything.

Her gofund.me is here

@mohammadayyad: raised €12,698 out of €35,000

I am writing to you in a time of dire need, seeking your compassionate assistance for my uncle Mohammed and his five children, who are enduring the severe hardships of the conflict in Gaza. For over 200 days, they have faced unimaginable fear and suffering. The ongoing crisis has left them without a home, employment, or access to education. Moreover, the healthcare challenges in the region have tragically claimed the life of my grandmother, who passed away not directly from the conflict, but from a critical shortage of medical supplies.

His gofund.me is here

[klarolinexluv]

Something has really stuck with me that some Anti Regulus Black person said and I want to share my thoughts on it.

Basically, they said that we, or people that like Regulus have been giving Regulus Lilys characteristics and traits and relationships instead of giving them to Lily and are using this to replace Lily.

From my pov, I can understand how that comes across. Moonwater, in canonical type universes, usually come together over their love for literature, something, that as far as I understand was how Lily and Remus used to become friends in fics.

When I think of this situation, I don’t see it as Lily being replaced, I see it as Remus having more friends then just the Marauders and Lily. I see it as Remus making friends.

In all the fics I’ve read, majority of them, Lily and Remus are always already friends! 9 times out of 10, if Remus has a POV and he is interacted with Lily or thinking about Lily, he refers to her has his best friend.

Idk who needs to hear this but Remus can have more friends than just Lily and the Marauders! In fact, EVERY. SINGLE. CHARACTER. Can have more friends then just the friend groups that they have been assigned to from the fandom.

I personally love the idea that Regulus and Remus get close because of their shared interest in books and knowledge. In fact, I love it so much when this happens. I also love when Remus is the one to introduce (formally) Lily and Regulus. Because they have shared interests! They all have shared interests and that’s what they bond over.

If we just forget about ships for a moment - Jily/Jegulus - Regulus and Lily would and could actually be really close friends. At their cores they are very similar and have similar morals and codes.

Like my girl Lily defeated Voldemort the first time. You cannot tell me that she did not have some deep interest and understanding of Dark Magic that is really not talked about enough. I mean, she was friends with Snape for a LONG time! Even against all her Gryffindor friends and dorm mates advice and opinions. She was friends with Snape for a long time and they definitely studied dark magic together. The only reason they stopped being friends was because Snape called her a slur and began siding with people that would have gladly seen Lily and people like Lily 6 feet under.

And then Regulus! He may not have made the best choices but when it mattered the most, he chose to do the right thing and go against Voldemort. He is the first to have done so! My guy was smart. He definitely knew so much magic that he has likely forgotten more than anyone would ever even know.

Regulus and Lily are both so smart and they would have bonded over their shared intelligence, their love for knowledge and books. Remus was probably terrified the day he realised he was the reason these two evil geniuses even started talking.

Maybe instead of saying that Regulus is being given Lily’s characteristics and traits, maybe think about how this would affect the two characters when put in the same room.

I personally think that they would argue for a long time and then Lily would probably say something that gives Regulus pause and then Lily would gently press on that and then Regulus would go have a long hard think and then come back and hesitantly ask Lily questions that Lily would happily answer and then they would be tentative friends!

Regulily have so much in common but they also have a lot of differences and I don’t think enough people see that because they are too focused on ships rather than the characters themselves and their motives and actions.

I’m not shy in admitting that I fuck with romantic regulily. They are my guilty pleasure ship and I am not shy about saying that.

Regulily, platonically, romantically, it doesn’t matter. They have the biggest grounds for friendship and growth.

Regulus and Lily can teach each other so much and I honestly think it’s the biggest missed opportunity when they are pinned against each other rather than working together.

I fear I’ve gone WAY off topic.

In the context of relationships, the jily vs jegulus idea. I feel like I need to hold people hands when I say this because the two ships are very different.

WARNING! OPINIONS!

To me, Jily is a rivals to lovers relationship. I don’t think they are grumpy/sunshine purely because I don’t see Lily as the grumpy trope. I very much think that Jily are academic rivals. Where James just naturally understands everything and gets good marks whether he studied or not and Lily has to study heavily before she understands a topic enough to pass, like Lily to me has to study throughly before everything sticks and she understands the topic so much more than is really required for her coarse work.

I also don’t think Jily was James falls in love at first sight and Lily hates him for years until she gives in and goes on a date with him. Sure it’s a bit cute but i definitely prefer James developing a crush and not telling anyone other than his friends. I very much fuck with James being uncharacteristically shy about his crushes on people. I fuck with James losing his ability to talk or function around the person he fancies and it comes off as arrogance and a bit of a joke when he is actually being genuine.

I love the idea that Lily falls for him slowly, like initially, she thinks she hates him, she loathes the fact that he doesn’t need to study and he can just goof off and do whatever and still get perfect grades, I think Lily gets jealous of James and thinks she despises him because she thinks he is trying to make fun of her when all he is trying to do is talk to her and get her attention.

I love the idea that Remus is constantly trying to talk James up to Lily, “he’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” And “He’s harmless, Lils.” And things like that but Lily has NONE of it!

I think Lily starts to fall for James when they are paired together for a project that is a big mark on their finals. I think Lily goes into this thinking that she is going to hate it when actuality, James is kind and thoughtful and helps her when she struggles. He doesn’t make fun of her, he sits down quietly and gives her tips and tricks that he discovered when he studies privately, (this would be when she finds out that maybe it doesn’t all come as naturally to James as she thought) and then they end up getting the best grade in their year on the assignment but they don’t stop hanging out, they don’t stop studying together. Lily slowly falls for James because of his mind and they form a friendship and then James would ask her out one day and Lily would find herself stunned because if he had asked her a few months ago, she would have harshly declined but in the moment, she finds herself blushing and agreeing without a hint of hesitation.

And that’s how I imagine Jily.

Now, Jegulus.

Jegulus is enemies to lovers, they are grumpy/sunshine. I very much think that they did hate eachother. They did not like eachother for many reasons and they would argue and fight in the halls.

I’m very much into jegulus but I don’t think I’ve seen a fic that has written them as actually enemies to lovers in a canonical setting.

Jegulus to me is very push and pull. One step forward, two steps backwards.

I honestly think that sure, when they met at 11 and 12 when Sirius had his little brother trailing after him and introduced them to each other, they both had the moment of instant connection that they both immediately denied and dismissed and buried under hatred.

James and Regulus see each other as competition. Regulus sees James as the one that stole his brother. James sees Regulus as the brother that doesn’t deserve Sirius.

Because Sirius told James all about his little brother all through first year and James was exited to meet him for a long time until they met and instantly realised that Regulus is a two faced snake and doesn’t deserve Sirius.

Because Sirius told Regulus all about his best friend in every letter, in every stolen moment during the holidays. Regulus was exited to meet James for a long time until they met and instantly realised that James isn’t the golden ray of sunshine that Sirius claims him to be but a brother stealing asshole.

I honestly think that Jegulus is THE enemies to lovers.

I don’t think Jegulus even had a civil conversation until after Sirius ran away. And even this conversation started as an argument. I think that they only reason the argument stopped and they started genuinely talking to eachother is because Regulus’ mask broke and James saw the hidden emotions underneath that Regulus was trying to hide.

I think that James held onto prejudice for a long time. He saw all Slytherins as evil and then didn’t think about that for years until he sees Regulus crack and then James has to rethink everything he has ever thought.

That’s how I think Jegulus starts and I don’t think they ever really talk about what they are or what they are doing for a very long time, to the point (if we are talking in a canonical sense) that they break and fall apart. To the point where they end up on different sides of a war.

ANYWAY! (this is really long and if you've read this far, just know that you are my favourite person in the entire world and I adore you to the ends of the universe).

Regulus and Lily, though they share many characteristics and traits and fundamentally different people. Even in the context of the people they are shipped with, even in the context of their friendships.

I love them both so much and I think saying that Lily is being replaced by Regulus is incredibly wrong and also perhaps a little misogynistic.

They are both incredible characters, who should not be defined by their relationships.

Like I said before. In the context of war, both Lily and Regulus were the first. Regulus may have failed to complete his mission and Lily may have succeeded in killing Voldemort… but at the end of the day both of them did not do anything in the long run. Voldemort was still able to return, the horcruxes still need to be destroyed and Harry still had to finish what the people before him started, Harry still had to fight a war he had no part in starting.

[superprofesh]

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 6 (Final)

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The one time Colt Seavers kisses you — or, rather, the first time.

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.6k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word (sending directly to the rest because Tumblr isn't cooperating)

Author’s Note: Well, folks, we've come to the end of this fic, and I hope it's everything you've all been waiting for. I can't express how much your kind words and amazing feedback has meant to me, and it has truly shaped this fic in more ways than you know. I'm really going to miss writing this fic, soooo........ if y'all are interested in a little epilogue, I'm up for that ;) Thank you all, and I hope you enjoy!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Colt can’t get out of the camera crew’s station fast enough. He’s been searching for you all morning, but Holly finally pressed a note in his hand, telling him that you asked her to pass it on to him. He instantly searches for a quiet place where he can read your note, dreading what it might say.

Yesterday shook him up, in more ways than one. Staring down the headlights of a train while Elijah Gordon pushed him to stay a few more seconds was terrifying even for him. Seeing you engage in a showdown with Gordon himself in front of the entire crew was so completely unexpected and selfless that he hasn’t been able to get it out of his mind. No one has ever stood up for him like that.

The more he’s thought it over, the more he’s realized that he’s been blind. Blind to your feelings, blind to your sincerity, blind to the fact that he’s been on the verge of his sweetest dream come true. He’s been pushing you away because he thought he wasn’t good enough for you, but after what happened yesterday, he’s starting to realize that doesn’t matter.

He keeps remembering the look in your eyes when you were in the tent together. The gentle way your fingertips stroked his hair, the soft skin of your neck against his lips, the way you held him as if he were designed to fit in your arms. If your fierceness in defending him didn’t convince him that he needed to wake up and confess his love for you, the heated look in your eyes did. His plan upon finding you has been to simply pour out his heart and see if you’re still willing to accept him after everything that’s happened.

Colt finally finds an empty bench a few stations down from the camera crew, and he unfolds your note carefully. A gentle smile crosses his lips when he sees you’ve scribbled it by hand, your artistic handwriting scrawled in green ink across a piece of office paper. The smile slowly fades, though, as he scans the contents of your letter.

Dear Colt,

I’m sorry to leave without saying goodbye, but I figured we’ve already said a lot of things that are more important than goodbyes. I want you to know that I’m not leaving because you hurt me or because I’m angry with you. I just think it’s best this way, for both of us.

I quit my job last night as Gordon’s set director. After everything that’s happened, I just can’t work for him. I’ve already had a few offers back in L.A., so I’ll be fine. I wish you the best as you finish the movie. You really are the best stuntman in the business, and I hope you stay safe.

I’ve already told you most of what I feel, so I won’t beat a dead horse any more. Still, in case I haven’t told you enough, I want you to know that the time I’ve spent with you has been the happiest I’ve had in a long time. I don’t know why you’re so dead-set on believing you’re not good enough for me. That thought has never entered my mind and never will. You’re the best person I know. When I look back on my memories of love, I will always think of you. Whatever you think you’d be holding me back from, it doesn’t matter to me half as much as you do. Please believe that.

I wish you all the best, and I hope one day our paths might cross again. Until then, thumbs up and happy landings.

Colt squeezes his eyes shut once he’s finished reading the letter, fighting the urge to crumple the piece of paper into a ball. How could you have been so stupid? his inner monologue chides him. How could you not have recognized unconditional love when it was staring you in the face?

The memory of your touch hits him like a knockout punch. Suddenly, every moment the two of you have shared comes back to him in excruciating detail. Smudging paint on each other’s faces. Walking you back to your hotel room. Flirting with you at the club. The look in your eyes when you ran to him after the train stunt. Your hands on his face, in his hair.

Setting his jaw, Colt glances at his watch. 7:42 AM. If he can figure out where you’re leaving from, he can catch you in time. There are a lot of things he needs to say before it’s too late, and now, for the first time, he’s ready to say them.

He folds the paper, tucks it into his pocket, and starts running.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You grip your steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. The sun has already risen over the mountains in the distance, but the beauty of the landscape is the furthest thing from your mind.

You can’t believe you actually left. You’ve never quit a job before, especially one as high-profile as this one. But you just couldn’t take it. You couldn’t work for someone who would so carelessly risk the life of one of their employees. Especially when you happen to be in love with that employee.

You haven’t told anyone but Holly (and Gordon, of course), and she understood. She also promised to pass along your note to Colt.

Writing that note is the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. You wrote eight versions of it before settling on the one you passed to Holly. The most painful part was knowing that that note may be the last time you ever communicate with Colt. Saying exactly the right thing was vital, and you finally felt satisfied with the ninth version, which included a lot less poetic verse and a lot more explanations of why you were really leaving.

The airport is looming on the horizon, and a wave of emotion sweeps over you, biting at the backs of your eyes. What was the point of knowing him if this is how it has to end?

You can’t stop replaying your memories with him as you pull closer to the airport parking lot. Things started out so simple and easy between the two of you — making each other laugh, sitting together at lunch, cheering on each other’s projects — but once the tension between you started heating up, maintaining a friendship has seemed almost impossible. You thought you could handle it, but it turns out you’re not strong enough to face Colt every day if you can’t express your love for him openly.

You pull into a parking space, facing the vast grassy field that leads to the plane runway. A passenger jet soars into the air, leaving a trail of jet stream behind. You’ll be aboard one of those planes within the hour, and maybe when you get to L.A., you can leave all your sorrows behind you.

You’re still trying to muster the strength to climb out of the car and drag your suitcase to the airport, when something… odd catches your eye. On the busy street leading up to the airport entrance, a vehicle is moving too fast to be driven by a normal person. The truck rounds the corner to fly up the airport drive at top speed, and your heart constricts.

That’s Colt’s truck.

All your attention is suddenly laser-focused on that familiar GMC pickup, and before you know what you’re doing, you’ve leaped out of your car and started running as fast as you can towards the driveway. A few seconds later, Colt’s truck pulls to a stop on the side of the drive, and he jumps out without even bothering to turn the truck off.

The fifteen seconds it takes you to get halfway across the grassy field feels like an eternity, and by the time you’re halfway, Colt has already cleared the distance. He sweeps you into his arms, holding you off the ground as you try to catch your breath, completely overwhelmed by this grand gesture.

He came for me. He couldn’t let me leave without saying goodbye. It’s not over yet.

You’re content to stay like that, suspended off the ground and feeling his heartbeat pound against your chest, but Colt carefully sets you back on your feet and holds you at arm’s length. His face is a jumble of a thousand emotions, more than you’ve ever seen from him in all the time you’ve known him. He’s breathing hard from his enthusiastic sprint across the greenway, but his eyes are illuminated by his excitement at catching you in time.

“Colt—” you start, gripping his forearms as if he’s going to disappear.

He shakes his head, cutting off whatever you were about to ask. “I’ve been wrong. I’ve been so wrong.”

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, trying to make sense of his words. “Colt, how did you find me here?” you ask.

“I got your note,” he tells you. “Holly told me how to find you.”

“Don’t you have to be on set?”

“Actually, I’m not filming anymore.”

You can’t hide your confusion. Colt isn’t working on the movie anymore? What kind of insane coincidence could this be? “What?” you squeak, gripping his arms even harder. “Please tell me you didn’t quit because I did!”

Colt shakes his head, which relieves you. “Tom quit the movie last night,” Colt explains, his eyes never leaving yours. “Called Gordon and told him he was sick of taking orders and wasn’t working for him anymore. I’d say it had something to do with you taking Gordon to task yesterday,” he adds with something that sounds a little like humor. “Tom doesn’t want something like that reflecting badly on him.”

You laugh in pure disbelief, amazed at the turn of events you could never have expected. “Well, I never thought I’d be grateful to Tom Ryder for anything,” you say honestly, and Colt laughs with you, genuine joy behind his eyes. You search his face for answers about why he has rushed to the airport to see you. You begin, “Listen, you didn’t have to come all this way just to tell me—”

“I did,” Colt says definitively. “Believe me, I did. Because what I have to say isn’t something that can be done long-distance.”

Your heart drops. This is it. After all this time, you’re about to hear the words that you know are true, the ones you’ve been waiting for, from his own lips.

“Colt…”

Colt takes a step backwards, his hands falling from your arms to hold your hands between the two of you. The look in his eyes can only be described as utter sincerity.

“I have been so wrong about selling you short,” he says softly, emotion threatening to break through his voice. “I keep putting you on this impossibly high pedestal and believing that you’re way too good for me. I thought you could never feel what I feel because I don’t see myself the way I see you. To me, you’re every wonderful thing that ever existed.”

Tears spring into your eyes at his words, so totally without guile. “Are you serious?” you whisper.

“Absolutely serious.” His eyes blaze with an intensity you haven’t seen before, and his grip on your hands grows tighter as he says, “Listen, I’ve never said this to anyone in my life, but… I love you.” Colt stops, his voice catching in his throat when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you on set painting that triple-sized stop sign.” You both laugh at the memory, relieving some of the overwhelming emotion.

He keeps going. “I’m so in love with you it actually scares me,” he finishes, “because nothing has ever meant so much to me as getting this right. I can’t keep holding it back, and you deserve to know. It’s killing me.”

“Colt…” It’s as if you’ve forgotten every word but his name.

Still, Colt presses on, trying to get three months’ worth of communication out in three minutes. “I’m not asking anything in return,” he tells you insistently. “If you still want to go, I won’t stop you. You don’t need to say or do anything, but I just had to get this out. After yesterday, with the train stunt almost going wrong, and you telling Gordon off, and then when you told me you love me and want to be with me no matter what, I don’t know… it just sort of woke me up.”

Your eyes brim with tears again, and you squeeze his hands, giving him an encouraging smile to keep going. You can feel his pulse in his hands, flying as fast as the jet planes soaring over the nearby mountains.

“I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want you to be stuck with a guy like me.” Colt can’t seem to stop the avalanche of words spilling out of his mouth, every one as sweet as honey to your ears. “I keep imagining this amazing future for you and thinking that I’m only going to hold you back and get in the way. I’m still not sure it wouldn’t be that way, but… I’m not the only one who gets to make that decision.” His voice thickens with emotion again. “No one has ever cheered me on the way you do. No one has ever supported me with everything I do, and made me feel like I actually have a chance at real love. But you’re different. You make me feel like I can do anything, and if you still want me after all we’ve been through, I’m yours.”

The look in Colt’s eyes is enough to make your knees feel weak, and you throw yourself forward to steady yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. Colt’s instant embrace is more welcome than you could have imagined.

“Of course I want you,” you whisper in his ear. “Just you, no strings attached.”

Colt holds you against him for a few moments, long enough that a plane takes off from the landing strip and zooms far enough away that it doesn’t drown out his words. Finally, carefully, he pries himself out of your arms and holds you at arm’s length, his hands on your waist. “Look, I can’t promise that it’ll be easy,” he continues in a rush. “I’m a stuntman. Life is scary and dangerous and all that.”

“I don’t care about that,” you answer honestly, beaming through your tears. “If it’s what you love doing, there’s nothing I want more than for you to do it. I can handle it.”

“It’s not just that. I’ve never… I’ve never had a serious relationship before. Everything will be new for me, and I’m going to make a ton of mistakes.”

Colt’s eyes are misty, too, and your heart is so full of joy that it feels like it will burst. You know it must be radiating from your face, because Colt starts grinning back at you, seeming to sense how much you’ve been aching to hear these words from him.

“So am I,” you insist, your hands fluttering back and forth from his face to his shoulders over and over. “Mistakes are just part of a relationship. As long as we communicate and stay committed, we’re not going to fall apart just because of a few mistakes.”

Colt nods, flexing his fingers against your waist as his smile overtakes his entire face. Still, he doesn’t lose control: he seems to be holding back until he’s finished saying everything that’s been building up over the months. You’re more than happy to let your gaze wander over his wonderful face, to bask in the fact that Colt Seavers loves you back and isn’t going to let you go.

“There’s one more thing,” he says gingerly. “I… I don’t really have a lot of grand aspirations for the future. I’m a stuntman because that’s what I love doing, but there aren’t a lot of ways to move up the ladder. I’ll be doing stunts until I’m dead or until I can’t anymore, so basically, my future is just to be a working-class guy. I’ll just be an unknown stuntman.” He hesitates at the end of his speech, as if he honestly believes this could be a problem for you.

You want to laugh in sheer glee, but you hold back so Colt won’t think you’re taking his seriousness lightly. “If that bothered me,” you inform him, moving your thumbs lightly against the sides of his neck, “I would never have fallen in love with you in the first place. Colt, I’m not exactly shooting for the stars myself as a set decorator. Sure, I may have a chance to work on even bigger films, and it can always open up some new opportunities, but I’m not doing this to climb the ladder either. If we’re both working-class professionals for the rest of our lives, that’s fine with me. As long as I have you in my life, I don’t care what kind of life it is.”

Colt’s eyes finally brim over with the tears he has valiantly been holding back. His hands are trembling against your waist, and he ducks his head so you won’t see how much this confession has affected him. You pull him close to you again, resting your head just below his chin while he squeezes you tightly enough to take your breath away. This is what heaven must be like.

He’s whispering something against the top of your hair, so low you can barely hear it. “I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do,” Colt replies, the regret in his voice obvious. “I haven’t been able to make up my mind about what to do because all this has been in the back of my head. I should have just come clean with you the first time you ever let me know how you feel.” He lifts your head with his fingers under your chin, meeting your tear-stained gaze with one of his own. “It would have saved you all this heartbreak,” he whispers.

You smile up at him, resting your hand on his cheek. “What’s love without a little heartbreak?” you tease him. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

Colt finally returns your smile, his shoulders relaxing as if he suddenly believes that this is real. “I promise I won’t break your heart again,” he says solemnly.

“I believe that.” And you do.

Colt is looking into your eyes with all the passion of the ocean in a storm, and you can feel the blush in your cheeks building just from the way he’s looking at you. You’re suddenly hyper-conscious of his hand that’s still resting under your chin, tilting your head back to look deep in your eyes. The hand that is slowly, ever so slowly, bringing your face closer to his.

Colt hesitates for a moment when your lips are just inches apart. You’ve been here so many times, so close to a kiss, and have parted every time. This time, however, you know his heart is beating for you alone, and you feel like you have all the time in the world to savor this moment.

His gaze flickers down to your lips, and his breath seems to double its pace as he considers what he’s about to do. He lifts an eyebrow at you, as if asking, Are you ready? Your smile tells him all he needs to know, and finally, finally, Colt closes the endless distance between you.

The moment your lips meet his, your heart whispers, This is what you were made to do. Colt’s kiss is everything gentle and passionate, his lips moving slowly against yours in a rhythm that is so incredibly natural. His hands find landing spots on your back when you tighten your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him as he deepens the kiss.

Every last circuit in your brain is exploding in the sweetest way possible. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? you wonder, and Colt pulls away from your mouth at that exact moment, fixing his eyes on yours with an expression that tells you he’s wondering the same thing.

The separation only lasts a moment, though, because now that Colt has had a taste of your lips, he can’t get enough. He kisses you again, and again, and again, and again, until you’re both so out of breath you wonder if you’ll ever recover. His hands move up and down your back, clutching your body so tightly against his that you’ve started breathing in rhythm with each other. You can taste salt on his lips, and you have no idea if it’s from your tears or his.

Just when you think you’re about to drown in the sweetest possible way, Colt presses one more soft kiss against your lips, then pulls back so you can breathe. You find yourself gasping for air and aren’t surprised to see him doing the same. Your hands stay on his shoulders as they heave up and down, and he doesn’t loosen his hold on you for a second.

“Colt…” you sigh, your lips feeling like they’ve actually changed shape, “I’ve dreamed about this so many times. You have no idea.”

He inclines his head toward you, resting his cheek against yours. His beard scratches your skin in a way that sends a delightful shiver down your spine. “Me, too,” he whispers against your cheek.

“Promise me this is real.”

“It’s real,” Colt assures you, dipping his head so he can press a kiss against the skin right below your ear. “Realer than anything I’ve done in my life.”

You feel like your body is about to sail into orbit at the contact, and you grip Colt’s broad shoulders even harder as his lips move down your neck, across your throat, down to your collarbone. You know you’re making breathless sounds that betray how much he’s exciting you, but you are far past the point of caring.

With every kiss, it’s as if Colt is repeating the words he said just a few moments ago: I love you. I love you. I love you. One of his hands moves from your lower back to cradle your chin, tilting your head to the side to give him better access to your neck.

“I’ve been aching for you,” he murmurs close to your ear. “Burning for you.”

His words inspire an entirely new shiver down your spine, one that makes you stand on your toes and arch even further into his arms. All you can manage to choke out is, “I love you so much… so much…”

You slide one hand into his hair, remembering how he reacted the last time you did that. Right on cue, Colt lets out a soft sound that makes every inch of your skin erupt into goosebumps. He goes still in your arms, his mouth still on the curve where your shoulder meets your neck. You run your fingers through his hair with firm but gentle strokes, reveling in the way he seems to melt in your arms.

After a few moments of it, Colt finally straightens again, his intense gaze locked on your face. You leave one hand in his thick hair and let your other wander to his face. Using just your fingertips, you trace his forehead, his cheekbone, his nose, his lips, his jaw, everything you’ve been dying to touch. Colt’s eyes flutter closed at your touch, as if he’s about to come undone right before your eyes. Your heart leaps when he leans his head to the side, leaning in to your touch.

You choose to copy his actions, rising up to press your lips to his pulse point, right below his neck. The way Colt’s hands on your waist flex in response tells you you’ve found something he likes. You trail your way up until you’re peppering kisses behind his ear, then on his cheek, on his nose, on both his closed eyelids.

At the sensation of your kisses on his face, Colt opens his eyes and smiles at you. It’s a new smile this time, one that speaks of a new emotion he’s feeling for the first time. Peacefulness. Assurance.

Colt raises his hands to frame your face, tucking the strands of hair that he’s pulled loose back behind your ears. His voice breaks when he says softly, “I may never find the right words to tell you how I really feel about you, but I promise I’m going to take every opportunity to try.”

You rest your hands on his chest, grinning as you reply, “We’ve got the rest of our lives for you to think of the right words. I’ve heard all the ones I need to know what you mean.”

Colt’s eyes are brimming over with the love he’s been demonstrating, the adoration, the gratitude, the sheer bliss of sharing this moment with the one person he’s been waiting all his life for. “You’re everything to me…” he murmurs, lowering his lips to touch yours again. “I’ve never…” he restarts, only to interrupt himself with another kiss. “No one has ever…”

He doesn’t even try to finish the last sentence, and your lips are meeting in a gentler kiss, one that calms the fire you’ve been building for the last little eternity. His lips are so soft against yours, coaxing things from you but never demanding. Colt’s hands stroke through your hair and down your spine, holding you close against his chest protectively. You can feel every breath he takes, every movement that reveals how wrapped up he is in feeling you with him.

Another deafening jet plane roars over your heads, but neither of you take the slightest bit of notice.

Colt finally slows your kiss down, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth and leaving one of his hands to tangle in your hair. He doesn’t pull away, just lets his lips linger on your jaw, as he asks casually, “So, Sofonisba, are you still flying out?”

“Sofonisba?” you repeat, words slowly drifting back into your brain.

“I was running out of artist nicknames,” Colt explains, a husky edge still noticeable in his voice. “Had to look that one up.”

You grin at him, though he feels it rather than sees it. “I don’t have to fly out. I don’t exactly have somewhere to be.” You snuggle closer to him, not quite ready to leave his comforting embrace. “Haven’t even gotten my ticket yet.”

Colt hums in approval at that, the sound lingering on your skin. “In that case,” he suggests softly, “what do you say to some coffee?”

“Can’t think of anything I’d like better,” you say honestly.

Colt returns your smile, pulling you forward for one last, reverent kiss to your lips. Then he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and the two of you gaze off into the distance, where another plane soars into the sky over the mountains.

You don’t know what lies ahead for you, and you know Colt doesn’t either. But you are assured of one thing now, and that is that you’ve found the man you were made to be with. All it takes is one glance up into his eyes to know that he’s confident of the same thing.

That’s more than enough for you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Epilogue

[starcleere]

Randumb headcanons

1. Nebarra teaches Secunda how to fight when camping. He says it's because her melee style is so pathetic it makes an old elf cry, but it's really because he cares, and the last time Secunda ran out of magicka mid-battle...

2. Lucien likes to read every book they pick up on their adventures. Eris doesn't read due to her lack of vision, but she stands by Lucien's tent to overhear him read the books out loud (as he does by habit). Lucien, realizing this, begins to leave his tent open and 'not notice' Eris standing right outside.

3. When Lucien moved into Dumzbthar for a bit, Remiel insisted on coming along. The only reason why she wasn't able to is because everyone else can imagine what horrors would come from leaving Remiel and Lucien in a dwemer ruin unsupervised.

4. Remiel and the Knight of the Void are both insomniacs, and chances are, they're sharing nightwatch duty. The Knight finds the clicking and clacking of Remiel's machines to be relaxing, while Remiel walks her through her invention of the evening. Turns out, the Knight is a good sounding board for upgrade ideas.

5. Auri often listens to the trees, a rare silent moment when she closes her eyes and feels the breeze pass through the leaves. Caryalind once asked Auri about this, and now, they listen to the trees together, hanging at the back of the group and feeling the sunlight on their skin

6. Taliesin sees Remiel as a little sister. A troublesome, constantly distracted, little sister. While he won't let her try her hand at enchanting Berwhale, he is more than happy to show her how to do powerful enchantments for Scrap.

7. Inigo is a very honest person, in an innocent kind of way. He is often the therapist of the gang, and his earnest and patient nature has made him Gore's best buddy, especially when Gore feels heavy from his past.

8. Kaidan regularly drills the gang for the next fight, flanked by Inigo and Auri. He's surprisingly protective of everyone and makes absolutely share they're all at their best and brightest, even if it means sore muscles and liquid bones by morning.

9. Xelzaz cooks, but there's a rotation on who gathers ingredients and hunts. Everyone fights for the spot because the assigned gatherer gets to have extra helpings.

10. All the archers have shooting contests. It always escalates. They never settle on a winner.

[kitnjon]

Do you have any modern au fic recommendations where Jon and Sansa meet again after breaking up? Preferably nothing that includes infertility (those were the only ones I could find)

Yes!!! Some fics set after their breakup/divorce:

halcyon by @wandering-scavenger

“Is that a lightsaber?” Margaery asked Robb, attention fully on him as she reached out to touch the hilt strapped to his waist. If Theon’s hopes of hooking up with her hadn’t already flown out the window, it certainly did now. Robb cleared his throat, careful to maintain eye contact instead of staring at her breasts like the rest of the guys that walked past them to stop and stare. “Erm. Yeah. I borrowed it from my brother, Bran.” he managed to say, removing it from his belt to let Sansa’s friend hold it herself. The heiress weighed it in her hand and twisted it around like a baton before finally switching it on; the saber made its distinctive hum as it extended, glowing bright blue under the club’s red lights. “It’s bigger than I expected.” she remarked, tilting her head innocently. Jon choked on his drink then, his laughing eyes meeting Sansa’s own in a moment of shared understanding. She couldn’t count how many times they had shared that look with one another before she ruined things. Before he stopped being hers.

2. red lights mean you're leaving by @cellsshapedlikestars

"Did you need something?” he asks when she doesn't speak, and it feels like a slap in the face, though she knows it shouldn't. She showed up at his door with no warning, after five years of silence. He has every reason to be skeptical. “Your help, actually,”

3. You tend the ash, and I’ll tend the pine by @eruherdiriel

“Are we really never gonna talk about it?” Arya snaps. “We’re all gonna pretend everything is normal and happy when Sansa just got divorced?” “Statistically, it is normal,” Bran says. “The divorce rate is something like—” “It’s not normal! Not for this family, and not for Sansa. True love, forever and always, that’s Sansa.” “Jon isn’t the person she married,” Catelyn chides. “Not anymore.” — Sansa and Jon get divorced, but fully untangling their lives is impossible.

4. snow angels by @kingsansa

He finds, as the hairs on the back of his neck rise, as his heart completely fucking nosedives, that her voice is lower than he remembers, but unmistakable all of the same. Sansa Stark stands in the hallway of his shitty, hole-in-the-wall, egregiously outdated bar; unmistakable.

5. in good faith by @kingsansa

Her hand is a dancer on his back: light, graceful, and bold. “Mr. Targaryen.” She’s always been soft spoken, just a tiny hairbreadth away from shy, words inflected with a polite sort of girlish tentativeness. It isn’t, anymore. Jon doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t want to see what else has changed about her. “Miss Stark.” It feels wrong for them to refer to each other so formally. He doesn’t know why. They’re little more than strangers now if they had ever been anything else.

6. frozen pines by @cellsshapedlikestars

It hits Jon, then - the sharp smell of ozone. A scent that years ago, he’d become all too familiar with. The aftermath of a lightning strike, the burning of wires. Electricity heavy in the air. The hair on his arms still stands on end. The scar on his hand feels tight. His heart is still pounding. It’s just a storm coming, he tells himself. He’s in White Harbor, not Eastwatch. It’s just a storm. or, the Exclusion Zone spreads for the first time in almost fifty years, with Sansa trapped inside. Jon will do whatever it takes to get her out.

7. Beans series by @justadram

Jon and Sansa never seem to be on the same page about their relationship.

8. Hammerfall by @kittykatknits

Jon and Sansa are busy with their lives in Winterfell and White Harbor, unaware of the danger that would soon be upon them. Then, one day, Jon's friend Sam issues a terrible warning, leading him and his best friend, Robb to begin quietly making plans. As the day of Hammerfall grows closer, they are left with one problem, Sansa refuses to come home. With time running out, Jon goes to rescue Sansa before it is too late. In the horror that follows, Jon and Sansa realize that surviving Hammerfall was the easy part. It's the day after when the real work begins.

9. and now i see daylight by @theshipshipper

Sansa Stark is among the most notable celebrities in Westerosi mainstream cinema. When an ex-boyfriend smears her reputation with lies and deceit, she finds herself back in Winterfell and in the arms of her former lover, Jon Snow.

10. baby, it's you by @kit-kat21

“Sansa, please,” Jon had pled with her, grasping her hands. “I’ll tell Robb. I promise you.”

Sansa had shaken her head, pulling her hands from his and cursing the tears that had insisted on building up in her eyes despite her best efforts. “You won’t.” She said it in a whisper, but her words were strong. “I know that now.”

***

Sansa has only been in love one time during her life, but that's in the past and now, she's trying to start over - getting over a relationship that left her broken on the inside and out while trying to give her young son the best life possible. She doesn't have time to dwell on Jon Snow and pine after him. She's been over him for years now. Completely over him.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello , love your content! Helps me so much with writing!! I saw your cat post yesterday and I was wondering if you had notes for horses too? If not it’s okay. You are doing gods work thank you!!!<3

Writing Notes: Horses & their Personalities

According to J. Warren Evans in the popular animal science textbook Horses: A Guide to Selection, Care and Employment, horses have 6 basic temperament types. Here’s a rundown on the temperament types and how each is best handled:

Quiet. This horse is commonly referred to as bomb-proof by owners and a packer by riding instructors for his unreactive nature. He will tolerate almost anything, from a fluttering flag to an uncoordinated rider with inexperienced hands. This type can generally be trusted to behave safely and to build the confidence of beginner riders, while a more advanced rider might consider him too dull.

Interested. These horses are great for riders with a little training and experience. In well-trained hands, these horses pay attention to the rider’s aids but aren’t upset by them. While they are aware of their environment and respond to things going on around them, it’s unusual for them to react with fight-or-flight behavior. As long as this horse is handled with consideration and sensitivity, riders will seldom go wrong with this sort. Many of the horses you see collecting ribbons at local horse shows fit into this category, as they are both animated and dependable.

Nervous. Nervous is the personality type truest to equine nature, and consequently many horses fit into this category. The flight response in nervous horses is well-developed. They spook easily, perhaps even bolting to escape from perceived dangers all around. They tend to carry their heads high, looking for trouble and ready to react. For a quiet and experienced rider, this horse can eventually make a very nice mount. For a tentative rider, he can be a wreck waiting to happen. Most can eventually develop some trust and a sense of security from confident yet sympathetic riders who allow them to progress in training. They require extreme patience and confident handling from the rider. You cannot rush the trust they require before they can progress. If you can learn to work with the challenge, these horses can be worth it and wonderful to show as they tend to possess an extra brilliance in spirit and movement.

Extremely Nervous. These horses are so reactive that virtually anything can set them off, and even changes in footing or shadows on the ground could cause fearful explosions at any time. Calm, consistent handling while slowly expanding their comfort zones will ultimately benefit them, but the road will be long and often dangerous. You must stay especially alert at all times. These horses are best left to professionals or to individuals with loads of experience and a solid foundation in equine behavior principles.

Stubborn. These horses tend to resent work and try to find a way out of it. When pushed, they often become irritable and balky, sometimes even exploding in temper. Trainers often encounter behavior that sets back training, requiring repetitions of lessons already learned. These horses also require riders with a lot of patience, but while the nervous horse requires a quiet hand, stubborn horses need a tactful yet firm approach.

Treacherous. These horses, with the notable exception of a few naturally aggressive stallions, are nearly always either a product of bad handling or benign neglect. They either haven’t learned to respect humans or have learned to actively resent them. Such horses may unexpectedly attack humans by kicking, biting or stomping on them. Horses who simply lack an understanding of their place below humans on the dominance hierarchy may sometimes be reformed by the most experienced of handlers. Sadly, euthanasia is sometimes the only safe solution for savage horses. Fortunately, such horses are rare.

Many horses seem to fluctuate daily between types. But this is what makes each ride unique and each day a lesson.

In addition to the above mentioned temperaments, the following personalities are reported to be observed in horses:

Friendly. Friendly types enjoy human companionship and frequently form strong bonds with their riders. They are the kind of horses that will nickel when they see you coming and enjoy being groomed and fussed over. They are often very willing partners and can excel in any discipline, although they may lack the competitiveness of some of the other types. These horses make excellent first mounts for beginners because they are so forgiving and willing to please. They are also frequently used in therapeutic riding programs because of their gentle nature.

Cuddler. Cuddlers are horses that love physical affection. They enjoy being close to their humans and often seek out physical contact. They frequently nuzzle, rest their heads on you, and even fall asleep while being groomed. This type of horse is often very affectionate and bonds strongly with its riders. They make excellent mounts for beginners and children because they are so patient and gentle. Cuddlers are often used in therapeutic riding programs because of their calming presence.

Go-Getter. Go-getters are horses that are always up for a challenge. They love to work and are very motivated by food, praise, and attention. These types of horses often excel in competition because they are so eager to please their riders. They can be a bit challenging to train because they can be easily bored. However, once they trust their rider, they will give their all in any situation. These horses make excellent mounts for experienced riders who are looking for a willing partner.

Laid-Back. Laid-back types are the chillaxed of the horse world. They are not particularly motivated by food, praise, or attention. They often enjoy a good scratch and will stand quietly while being groomed, but they are not usually fond of being fussed over. These horses frequently lack motivation and can be challenging to train. However, once they trust their rider, they can be very reliable partners. These horses make excellent mounts for experienced riders who are looking for a laid-back mount.

Of course, not every horse fits perfectly into one of these categories. Many horses have traits from multiple types or their own unique combination of qualities. The best way to get to know your horse's personality is to spend time with them and observe their behaviour.

Temperament - can be defined as innate properties of the nervous system, whereas personality includes the complex behavioral traits acquired through life.

Association between personality and behavior is important for breeding, selection, and training of horses. Sackman & Houpt (2018) evaluated if equine personality components previously identified in Japan and Europe were consistent when applied to American horses.

They examined the association of personality with breed, age, sex, management, training, stereotypies, and misbehaviors.

The owner directed personality survey consisted of 25 questions.

An online version of the survey was created.

The principal component analysis method was used to associate behavioral traits with personality components.

Factor analysis with orthogonal transformation was performed on scores for personality-related questions.

A total of 847 survey responses were used.

Quarter Horses, “other” breed, and Thoroughbred were the most common breeds.

Three principal personality components were extracted as each behavioral trait belonged to one of these three components.

Arabians, Thoroughbreds, Saddlebreds, and Walking horses were the most nervous and Quarter Horses, and Paints, Appaloosas, and Drafts were the least nervous.

Using the key personality components, they were able to establish and refute links between personality type such as nervousness, curiosity, and threatening and trained discipline.

They found that horses who kicked doors, bit, and had more than one stereotypy had a more threatening personality than those horses with no stereotypy.

Genetics, as demonstrated by an association between personality components and breed, play the largest role in equine personality with environmental factors, such as association and experience with humans, social contact, and housing applying a significant influence on the expression of specific behaviors/traits.

All horses are individuals with their own unique personality traits, just like people. However, there are some generalisations that can be made about different types of horses based on their breed, history, and physical characteristics.

Some popular horse types include:

American Quarter Horse: These horses are known for their athleticism and speed and are often used in rodeos and racing.

Arabian: Arabians are one of the oldest horse breeds in the world and are known for their intelligence and stamina.

Icelandic: These hardy horses are used for a variety of purposes including riding, pulling carts, and herding sheep.

When it comes to personalities, some horses are more outgoing and social while others are more independent and aloof.

Some horses are very curious and playful, while others are calmer and more serious.

There is no right or wrong when it comes to horse personalities, but it is important to match the right horse with the right owner based on their individual needs and personality traits.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

You are too lovely, thanks so much! Hope this helps with your writing <3

[faerievampling]

Masterlist

All stories are 18+

Link to my Ao3

Requests are CLOSED (I am working on my backlog but I will be open again soon! :)

I accept prompts, requests, anything Astarion related. No limitations. I always do my best to answer and if I haven’t responded, I am probably working on it <3 (check out my ask tag below if interested in what I’ve answered)

All chapters of my longfic Killing Time below :)

Astarion:

One Shots & Headcanons

A Long Night - After Astarion and Tav have their first fight, Astarion is desperate to make up but can't fight his frustration. Set during Act 3, before the end of Astarion's personal quest.

A Night to Remember - Tav, Astarion, and Halsin have a threesome at the Elfsong Tavern during the events of the game.

A Sweet Heart - Astarion follows the sweet scent of Tav's arousal to her tent, unable to help himself.

A Vampire's Courage - The Dark Urge and Spawn!Astarion, after having decided to remain friends, have been traveling together after the defeat of the Netherbrain. One night, an opportunity strikes, and Astarion makes his move.

Letting Go - Tav and Astarion work through some trauma together.

The Life of Astarion's Dark Consort - Headcanons for what eternity would be like with Lord Astarion. Part 1. Part 2.

Threads - Astarion pulls you aside after getting distracted by Tav’s new outfit. Focused on Astarion's POV and pleasure.

Tender - After the tadpole is gone, Spawn!Astarion's newfound vampiric strength must be tempered when making love to Tav.

Homecoming - Part 2 of A Vampire's Courage, but can be read as standalone. After finally sleeping together, Durge and Astarion have unfinished business. Smut and feelings ensue.

Miracle - Years after the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion and Tav discover they are pregnant. Part 2.

His Pleasure - Ever since the defeat of the Netherbrain, Astarion and Tav work to help Astarion find his own pleasure in the bedroom.

Killing Time

After thousands of years together, the Vampire Ascendant and his Dark Consort receive an unexpected guest.

Regular updates. Ongoing. Current total word count: 87k

Ao3

Chapter 1 - An Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 2 - Decisions, Darling

Chapter 3 - The Arrival

Chapter 4 - The Hunt

Chapter 5 - Pink

Chapter 6 - Blind

Chapter 7 - Eternity's Promise

Chapter 8 - Draconic Bindings

Chapter 9 - Power

Chapter 10 - A Radiant Reunion

Chapter 11 - Stargirl

Chapter 12 - Beholden

Chapter 13 - Goosebumps

Chapter 14 - Sky

Chapter 15- Orchestra Discordia

Chapter 16- Bad Religion

Chapter 17- Rogue

Chapter 18 - A Fresh Start

Chapter 19 - Karma

Chapter 20 -

[fallingrealms16]

CAITVI FIC REC LIST PART 2 (???) <3333

MUAHAHAHAHA I’m baaaaaack ;)

Gonna keep this personal note quick:

Here is the wonderful part 2 out of Violyn fanfics, only the best of the best that I have read! Lots of stories + another note at the end, make sure you read that to not miss any upcoming content <3

Reminder‼️ pretty please read all the tags on each fic before reading as I am not responsible for any emotional trauma you may experience ^3^ (more notes at the bottom ty, ily <3)

NOW let’s get cracka lackin🤚🏼

While you’re down there, being a doll by Greed

4.8K Words // 1 Chapter // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

“But I don’t need to be there to know that your panties are soaked right now," Vi said, her voice sending a thrill down Caitlyn's spine. "Go ahead, tell me I'm right."

You’re Mine Now by YourSinfulScribe

10K Words // 4 Chapters // COMPLETED?

//EXPLICIT//

Vi is an astute and expert smuggler, and although she has not had the best of luck lately, she has always known how to make good decisions that have helped her survive.

However, ignoring rumors and advice, she enters a mansion that, although it seems ordinary at first glance, hides something that Vi could never have imagined.

Vampire Cait x Human Vi

Coming home to you by mkhhhx

20K Words // 1 Chapter // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

“You are not taking good enough care of yourself,” Caitlyn starts, looking towards the fountain. She’s lost weight and her cheeks are hollowed, the knuckles of her hand too pronounced into Vi’s grasp. “I need you now, more than ever, Violet.”

“You have me,” Vi says, as a matter of fact. As if she has anyone else to live for, to give her loyalty to. “In any way you’d want me.”

this one is so broken and tentative it actually ruined me btw. Literally as I type this shite I’ve also got it open on my computer STILL reading because it’s that good—I didn’t have to finish it to recommend it

When It Rains, It Pours by SarcastCity

22K Words // 4 Chapters // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT// SarcastCity on X

Caitlyn's shower breaks, and Vi's the sexy plumber who comes out to fix the problem.

Place Your Bets by ChemistryGod

25K Words // 6 Chapter // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Vi's an up-and-coming pro-boxer. Her first match is against former heavyweight world-champion Sevika. Vi needs the money to move up the social ladder, and with her pro-status comes better training. Caitlyn is new in town and they hit it off at a lesbian bar. Vi, however, never could have guessed that their jobs would put their newfound relationship in a tight spot.

Nothing Personal, It’s Just Business by second_hand_feels

28K Words // 5 Chapters // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

“Not gonna lie,” the smooth voice announces down the alleyway, “whatever you’re doing, it looks hot as hell.”

Caitlyn just freezes, taking a moment to assess the situation. Gaze flicking up to the voice, it’s the woman, one of Demarco’s enforcers, standing at the mouth of the alleyway and fuck.

Fuck for so many reasons. Notably, she can’t be fucking this up this quick, but also, fuck, she’s just so hot.

Catvi Undercover Cop/Mafia AU

P.S. extra bonus one shot fix it fic recommendation <3

Sweet, like a cupcake by aniyahsheree

2.7K Words // 1 Chapter // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Vi pulled back slightly, her lips quirked into a playful grin. "Told you," she murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from Caitlyn's face, "you're sweet—like a cupcake"

Next one will be slightly longer fics…like 28K words+ ✅ but jumps to more than 55K words+ very quickly!

Pretty plsssss send in recs too! I’m always looking for stuff to read and also recommend for others so if you know of a good fic send it in <33

MUAHAHA OKAY NOW IM DONE ‼️

[v3suvia]

On Diomedes of Argos.

Typically, when people think about their favorite heroes of the Trojan siege, they think of the likes of Achilles, or Odysseus, or even Agamemnon (or if you’re based, Hector.) And while these are all valid to whatever extent— because let’s be real, no one is choosing favorites based on who has the purest moral standpoint— they’re not exactly remembered for the noblest of reasons.

Achilles spends half of the Iliad inside his tent as a sulky burrito, and the other half slaughtering Trojans and crying over the consequences of his own actions. Odysseus is a chronic liar, and Agamemnon is Agamemnon. But at the end of the day, they’re still remembered (for better or for worse, really.)

Though, on the topic of Homeric heroes, I feel there is one who is often overlooked despite achieving great feats over the course of the epic; Diomedes of Argos. (Note: arguably the most metal of the Achaean heroes at Troy.) So, let’s rant talk about him!

Diomedes was one of the key players in Homer’s Iliad— a recount of the last year of the Trojan siege. Being summoned to fight under oath, Diomedes headed his fleet of 80 ships to Ilium. As well as having a whole chapter dedicated to how kickass he was [read more about that whole thing here], the king of Argos was also a master strategist, and extremely noble— not just in his war efforts.

For example, there are multiple points in the Iliad where he checks the leader of the Trojan expedition, Agamemnon, calling him out on his cowardice or for otherwise being an inadequate leader, [Book 9; ‘Agamemnon, I will begin by taking issue with you over your proposal… do you really believe the Greeks are the cowards and weaklings you say they are? If you for one, have set your heart on getting away, then go.’] [‘Zeus has granted you many things… He gave you the sceptre of power and the honour that comes with it, but he did not give you courage— and courage is the secret of authority.]

And one instance where he truces with the Trojan hero, Glaucus— both of them exchanging armors (on an active battlefield, btw) to honor the fact that their grandfathers had been allies, [Book 6; ‘So let us avoid each other’s spears... And let us exchange our armor so that everyone will know our grandfather’s friendship has made friends of us.’]

He is also one of the only soldiers in the war who avoids committing hubris in the entire epic, which is probably the most telling of all his virtuous traits.

Diomedes also has a proverb named after him! ‘Diomedean Necessity/Diomedean Compulsion', which basically means when someone does something for the greater good (despite the reluctance of the person in question.)

This is taken from the myth of Odysseus and Diomedes taking the wooden statue of Athena— dubbed the Palladium— from Ilium. During this heist, Odysseus tries to stab Diomedes in the back to steal the acclaim of taking the Palladium for himself.

Rather than punishing Odysseus on account of betraying his ally for personal gain, Diomedes ties him up and drags him back to camp instead, because he knew the Greeks couldn’t win the war without Odysseus’ wisdom.

Anyway, why the rant? Sure, I could sit here and convince you that he’s the coolest Greek hero, but what would I be trying to accomplish in doing so? Well, it’s simply because while every other Homeric hero is recognized and represented in modern media, Diomedes isn’t.

He wasn’t even mentioned once in Troy (2004), the film adaptation of the Iliad! Despite him being the focus of multiple chapters in the book, as well as playing a big role in the Achaean army’s over-all victory.

I’m sick of everyone (and by that, I mean most modern media) depicting him as though he was just some dude™ in the Iliad when he was actually (from a mildly biased standpoint) one of the best of the Achaeans at Troy.

TLDR; Diomedes of Argos = Based. He solos ur favs (probably. He almost killed Ajax the greater at Patroclus’ funeral games 💀)Put him in more movies/shows/games so me and the other two Diomedes fans can be happy.