#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ interactives .

[intoloopin-archive]

ִ࣪𖤐 ─ ⋆ : WAIT! BUT THAT'S ACTUALLY... - AN INTERACTIVE FIC GAME!

Ever been so used to checking into the fic tag that you began to associate a face with a name, a group, an character's era? Because I have, and here are some of these examples!

To play to game, just share 10 face claims or less that you just can't help but associate with that one character, be them canon or not. Anyone's invited to join in, really! The goal's just to have some fun!

The little template I made for this can be found here, but any sort of graphic can work. The psd coloring I used is this one.

THE OCS I CAN'T HELP BUT SEE: Yejun / Andrew from @fcble; Cléo from @hausofanya; Cheska from @stcpidcupid; Junyeong from @plasticflwrs; Dayna from @alwaysvivid; Reiko from @hshtag; Noah from @bluwavez; Chloe from @chloekwon; Hiro from @lvcky0ne; Bambi from @bttrflyeffekt.

[flowerandblood]

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Chronicle

Lady Royce's life before abduction by Prince Aemond

Archmaester Gyldayn’s chronicle combines information gathered by Septon Eustace and Mushroom concerning what happened before Prince Aemond ordered the abduction of Daemon Targaryen’s eldest daughter with his first wife, Rhea Royce. As is common in history, lies and truth become one.

Next part ➽

Both Mushroom and Septon Eustace agree in their opinion that the marriage between Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce was, to put it mildly, a failure — the spouses despised each other, and rumours spread by servants on duty in Runestone claimed that the Prince and his wife only lay in bed with each other once, on their wedding night. This is how Septon Eustace described it:

The servant who was supposed to have overheard under the chamber what was taking place in the marital alcove heard silence, then loud arguing and groans, which, however, did not sound like the result of pleasure.

In the morning, the young wife was said to mock her husband's inability to fulfil his duty for a long time, recognising that the reason for this was that she was not related to him. She complained that her husband exhausted her, causing her discomfort and pain, and expressed the hope that his seed would not take root inside her.

The reasons for Prince Daemon's problems in fulfilling his duty as a husband, Mushroom sought to find in his wife's spiteful, harsh, stern temper.

Lady Rhea Royce resembled a man more than a woman — she combed like a man, dressed like a man, spoke like a man and smelled like a man. She lacked feminine charm, tact and patience. She was only interested in hunting and archery, apart from that she had no interests or dreams. Conversations about philosophy and history bored her, as did the warmth of the home.

Contrary to her hopes, two moons had not passed when it became known that Lady Rhea would give Prince Daemon an heir. Although the Rough Prince dreamt of a male offspring, the word that their child would be born pleased neither of them.

It is known that Prince Daemon did not accompany his wife neither while she was with child nor during the delivery, appearing in Runestone only after the child was born. Both Mushroom and Septon Eustace agree that the birth of their daughter was a great disappointment to the Prince.

“You can't even beget a son,” Rhea Royce was to tell him according to Mushroom's accounts, humiliating him in front of all those gathered, holding the infant in her arms, “thank the gods my daughter did not inherit your hair.”

Prince Daemon left Runestone the same day and did not appear there for many months. According to Septon Eustace's informers, Lady Rhea was no better a mother to her daughter than her husband was a father.

Lady Rhea was unable or unwilling to find herself in the role of mother — just a few weeks after giving birth, she handed her daughter over to a wet nurse, devoting herself to horse riding, returning to her daily routines. She entrusted the girl's upbringing to Septa, herself keeping her interactions with her to a complete minimum. She did not visit her or dine with her, forgetting her existence.

Mushroom was even more strict in his assessment.

Rhea Royce preferred her hounds to her daughter, showing them more interest and affection than her. She failed to manifest any maternal instincts towards her and did not surround her with care, leaving her in the hands of her old nanny and stern Septa.

Little is known about their daughter's childhood itself — both Mushroom and Septon Eustace described her life superficially, apparently having no reliable sources for what happened to her during this period.

“The girl was quiet and meek, withdrawn and close-mouthed,” wrote Septon Eustace, “probably because she could not cope with rejection from both her father and mother. Septa Catlyn was a strict and pious woman, lacking maternal warmth and understanding — she taught her to write and read, and to some extent to play the lute and draw. She often punished her by making her kneel on the stone floor for long hours when she did not approve of something in her gaze or facial expression.”

Prince Daemon visited his daughter and wife rarely, and when he did, there were arguments between the spouses — one of which probably resulted in Lady Royce's death, and her body was found at the foot of the mountain. Both Septon Eustace and Mushroom have their own explanations for this mystery.

Prince Daemon came on Caraxes to Runestone to settle the matter concerning their marriage and divorce her once and for all — by then the whole Kingdom was already gossiping that the Rough Prince had taken his niece to his bed and deeply desired her.

Lady Rhea was said to have laughed at his words, saying “you will not free yourself from me, you pathetic man” which was supposed to have enraged her husband and resulted in him pushing her and her falling off a cliff.

Mushroom portrays this incident completely differently, finding more fault with the person of Lady Royce.

When Prince Daemon appeared in Runestone to take his daughter with him to Dragonstone, her mother refused: “I will not allow you to destroy her life,” she was to say, “her place is by my side.” “You have made her your hostage,” her husband replied, “you are a worse mother than I am a father.”

We do not know what happened next, however, the result was that Prince Daemon fled to Dragonstone and Lady Rhea's dead body was found at the foot of the mountain.

Their daughter became heiress of Runestone after her mother's death — the young girl, horrified at what her parents' miserable marriage had led to, feared that the Lords of the Vale, seeing her as a good match, would want to marry her off against her will. With the persuasion of her cousin, who saw her weakness as an opportunity, she relinquished her rights to the fortress in exchange for a lifetime of guardianship from her family.

Indeed, while this move politically destroyed her chances of marrying a high-born lord, it also threw off the burden of responsibility and unhappiness from her shoulders — her cousin fulfilled his promise, taking her with him on hunting expeditions, teaching her archery and horsemanship.

Sources are silent about her for many years to come, however, it can be concluded that her life was prosperous and peaceful until Prince Aemond saw her as an opportunity to gain an advantage over her father.

Next part ➽

[shirefantasies]

Hello! 👋 Your work is amazing! I was wondering, how do you think the LOTR characters would interact with their companion/crush who has a loyal dog/wolf companion? How would the dog react to the characters? I just like the dynamics between people and animals. Take care!

SUPER OLD REQUEST I’M SORRY!!! Hmmmm interesting 🤔 I'm a huge animal girlie, though it's cats for me hehe! Love imagining my faves with animals omg 🥺

LoTR Characters + Your Loyal Canine Companion

Aragorn

✧ As someone who bonds with animals, he understands immediately and feels a sort of trust toward you because you respect other living things.

✧ He approaches the beast with great caution, near-reverence, offering a tentative hand. It is your turn to smile as your companion warily accepts, butting its head into his palm as he whispers gentle encouragement in Elvish.

✧ With your permission, takes it out tracking, curious to compare skills and see how the beasts of the world are truly made for their roles in a way even the greatest ranger cannot be.

✧ He sees firsthand the way you trust each other, move in battle as if carefully choreographed, and remarks how truly lucky you are.

✧ It moves your heart to see Aragorn’s grin one night when your companion practically knocks him off his seat by the fire.

Legolas

✧ You can see the surprise coloring his eyes before he actually speaks, the way they trace your motions and the furrow of his brows.

✧ Fearing it is judgment, you cross your arms and bite out a “Don’t tell me- an elf who’s not one for beasts?” Calm as anything, he replies in a tone dripping with wonder that he has never seen one so in tune with the world of nature, and at that, in the face of his satisfied smile, your jaw and tone drop.

✧ Naturally, your guardian is completely calm in Legolas’s presence, regarding him with a politely cocked head and an inquiring gaze sated by the elf’s hand upon its head.

✧ Legolas sees the way it curls up in the dirt at your feet, shakes his head and takes one of his blankets, wrapping the fabric into a nest for it.

✧ You catch him having a race with it one day, claiming with great merriment that the dwarf bet him he was slower than the animal.

Boromir

✧ Chuckles deeply at the sight of who trails you, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you two make quite a pair?”

✧ Asks right away if he can take the beast hunting, saying he envies you such a great hound.

✧ This leads to Boromir sitting at your side and recounting grand tales of Gondor’s best hunts, idly stroking the beast at your feet as he reminisces.

✧ He loves tossing sticks for the dog/wolf, amusement and peace clear upon his face as he opens his arms to the returning canine. “I could get used to this.”

✧ Your companion serves as an avenue for him to admit his feelings, starting with telling you your home must truly be a happy place with such a beast in it.

Gimli

✧ You probably meet because your companion goes bounding up to the dwarf at once, all but knocking him over. “Control your dog or I shall have to!” We all know, of course, that he is all talk.

✧ It surprises you how friendly your guardian is with a stranger, but his merry chuckles are quite infectious, bringing a smile to your lips.

✧ When you begin your travels together Gimli builds up a teasing friendship with the canine, playfully arguing with it as it noses against him for the meat he is eating and he shoos it, only to sneak a bit down anyway.

✧ Can be a bit rough with play sometimes, but you know your beloved beast can handle it, especially if it’s quite large, then they are evenly matched! Sometimes they all but wrestle in the dirt, tug-of-war somehow having turned much more silly and personal.

✧ Knows your companion’s name, but still always calls it Laddie/Lassie.

Frodo

✧ “How did you come by this creature?” Frodo is the only fellowship member to ask questions rather than whisper to themselves, and you appreciate that, telling him the story one night.

✧ Since then, the young hobbit offers plenty of secret little smiles your way and you ask for stories of his people in return.

✧ When the weight of the ring gets heavier Frodo finds himself curling his fingers through the fur at the top of the beast’s head idly, bringing him that much closer to reality’s solid ground.

✧ He even finds a special form of companionship in the moments anxiety overtakes him, your canine friend sensing his unease and draping itself upon him like a warm, heavy blanket.

✧ Grateful is an understatement. Frodo tells you in a soft voice that he doesn’t know what he would do without you two by his side.

Sam

✧ Before he even has a chance to get defensive your companion melts for him, warming up to the hobbit like none you’ve ever seen.

✧ The way they take to each other surprises you, Sam keeping aside bones from the broth to give it and your guardian taking circling Sam just as seriously as with you.

✧ Maybe it has something to do with the way Sam looks at you, the awe glistening in his eyes and the way he says your name like he isn’t worthy of it, though of course he’s the most worthy of the whole lot.

✧ Uses your companion as a sort of proxy to say things to you he’s too shy to say to your face, telling it how amazing its owner is and the like.

✧ Refers to the wolf/dog as Miss or Mister partially because he thinks it’s funny and usually says it in a jolly voice but also so you know how much respect he has for it.

Merry

✧ “Well, I haven’t seen a dog this big since outside that bar in Bree! What’s his name?”

✧ Sees your companion as a pet, which though not entirely wrong creates a more playful dynamic between them once they both understand neither is a threat.

✧ Merry can’t help bursting into laughter the day he knocks you over in a sparring match, only to get peeled off you by a massive wall of canine. Keeps laughing once they both unfreeze and he gets licked, trying to roll back up and away from the new attack. “I was going to ask if he knew any tricks, but no need now it seems!”

✧ Retaliates by finding the ‘sweet spot’, scratching until your canine friend kicks his legs like they do!

✧ Opens up to you one day, remarking how he wishes to be half of such an in-tune duo in battles and in life. Not that he doesn’t love his cousin, but he craves a different kind of companionship, one you assure him he could have with a fond smile on your lips.

Pippin

✧ Peers at you with the round eyes of complete shock, having seen nothing like you in his Shire days.

✧ Keeps the beast plenty occupied letting it run after him, tearing giddily around the camp once he sees you keep friendly company.

✧ He makes the mistake one night of extending his spoon for your guardian to sniff, only for his morsel to be stolen. Pippin cannot help a laugh, though, and a glittering look your way. “He likes to eat as much as I do, I see!”

✧ You cannot help softening at the fire one night upon looking over and seeing that the hobbit has fallen asleep, his head resting gently against the soft side of your wolf/dog.

✧ Definitely sees your companion as a way to get to know you better, asking plenty of questions and getting close to the canine in hopes to earn a place by your side, too.

Faramir

✧ Lives by a sort of silent oath to question but accept. Thus he asks why you travel with a beast, but listens to your reasons with firm nods and the beginning flicker of an understanding smile.

✧ Offers his hand very tentatively, having had his touch rejected or struck against many a time, but when the dog/wolf nuzzles against him he looks at you with joyous pride that melts you.

✧ That little interaction has you wanting to bring the two of them together, some inexplicable invisible string tugging you closer to Faramir by the heart.

✧ You let him feed your companion, indulge in a game of fetch, and in between it all make some conversation yourself. Amazing, really, all the knowledge Faramir has and he is equally impressed with your prowess in nature.

✧ Faramir always tells you how you remind him of great heroes from the stories he grew up reading with his brother.

Eomer

✧ “Who is this,” he teases you with a smirk, “your mount?” “No,” you shoot back, “though he is sure leagues more loyal than yours.”

✧ Challenges you to a competition, a challenge of hunting between him and his horse and you and your beloved canine. You win, and he accepts, offering pats to its head.

✧ Ever the tease, Eomer dubs you the Lord/Lady of Dogs, but you know by his smile and the glint in his eyes that he means it with affection.

✧ Invites you on patrols of his land’s borders, saying he trusts you both to get the job done.

✧ Suddenly he keeps talking about taking in a dog of his own so yours has a sibling, more and more thoughts along that vein invading his mind…

Haldir

✧ Fears your companion will slow the party’s orc tracking down, especially as many members utilize the cover of the trees.

✧ Allows you to do as you please, though, his soft spot evident in the way he shuts down any and all whispers about the group’s most unique member.

✧ You can see it, too, hear it in the way they speak warily of your fellow hunter, but you will not be parted. Instead you prove them wrong as your fierce defender takes down several of your quarry on its own.

✧ Haldir himself commends you both, offering a tentative hand to your newly shared ally and smiling up at you as it is accepted. Something different flashes in his eyes alongside the almost shy look.

✧ “Truly, how much less exciting my life would be without you in it…”

Eowyn

✧ Astounded by the way you two communicate, it is as if you truly do understand each other. She questions it, asks how this can be.

✧ Takes you by the horses, curious if your harmony spreads. She smiles at the way you interact with them, but it is clear just from that that the bond with your companion has been forged over years.

✧ Absolutely ready to fight to get a suit of armor made for your canine friend complete with a helmet and all of Rohan’s motifs of course!

✧ “After all, we much protect such beauty, no?”

✧ Playfully dangles things in the air, giggling whenever your canine guardian leaps for them and smiling widely at you.

Arwen

✧ Kneels down and whispers something in Elvish to it the moment she sees trepidation in its eyes, calming your companion immediately.

✧ It fosters a sense of trust between you and the woman, whose side you kneel to, tangling a hand in your canine's fur next to her.

✧ She is reminded, of course, of Huan, Oromë’s most famous hound and wonders if your beast could even be his descendant.

✧ Fair and just, Arwen quickly falls into the circle of people your furry comrade protects, chuckling deeply when it growls at the next set of people joining you as visitors to Rivendell. She speaks gently to it, asking it with a teasing tone how it still feels such unease in such a place.

✧ She knows you feel like an outsider sometimes and works to correct that, constantly telling you you have such strength and a place in the world- even Rivendell with her if you so desire.

Elrond

✧ Looks taken aback by the large form that follows you, brows raising at the creature entering his home. He hesitates, makes to hold it back, but when you insist you both go or neither the elf somewhat grudgingly nods.

✧ Used to odd patrons as he is, Elrond reminds himself that he welcomes all and asks politely for the beast’s name.

✧ Studies up on its origin if he is not already aware, trying to determine if this is an ordinary wolf/dog or one with any ties to the land’s magic.

✧ He sees your companion charge into battle at your defense, risking its own life, and with a nod of pride rushes in to save it from its own sacrifice.

✧ From then on Elrond regards your guardian as an equal of sorts, stroking its head in passing and speaking to it as if it could understand him.

Lindir

✧ Goes to comical lengths to step away from and avoid the massive canine at your heels when first he meets it.

✧ Possibly even asks if it’s safe, has fleas, etc. but immediately retracts and offers pats when you glare at him for it. Finds himself smiling despite himself at the feeling of the soft fur beneath his hand.

✧ You’ve seen dogs that howl as their owners play instruments? Then you know exactly what it is I am saying. The kick Lindir gets out of this is astounding; he can’t even be annoyed.

✧ Jokes that you’re hiding a composer under the guise of a hunter.

✧ Takes to the idea of further training, seeing how such an intelligent creature could learn to open doors and fetch items, considering such a use for helping Rivendell’s infirmary patients and those struggling with loss of motion or senses.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Let me know if you’d like to join ☺️

[readychilledwine]

Pet Play

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

If you like total power play exchanges, welcome to the world of Pets.

Pet Play is a type of power exchange, typically a total power exchange, between a dom and sub. Your dom in these situations typically falls into 1 of 4 categories: owner, master, trainer, or alpha-pet. There are a variety of different roles the subs can take, but the most common are puppy play, kitten play, bunny play, or horse play, and each type of pet play tends to lead to different forms kink mix ins, how play is handled, and what role the dom falls into.

In pet play, a variety of kinks can be mixed in, such as bondage, degradation/humiliation, punishment, praise, and reward. It also isn't uncommon to see food play, breath play, and collar and leashing (a kink we will dive deeper into with Hunt) as well. Pets will have a variety of outfits based on their moods, from full latex hound masks to something as simple as a pair of bunny ears, subs get to decide how deep into play they are before handing over their submission.

One consistent with pet play from everyone I've asked in the community is tails and ears, especially in bunny play, which won the poll post. Bunny play is known to be a gentle form of pet play typically done with a submissive who enjoys praise, cuddles, and more of a gentle interaction but enjoys being "fucked stupid like a dumb little bunny." And let me tell ya, hearing that come out of the doms mouth has me sweating.

I hope any of you who partake in pet play enjoy this fic, and those of you who don't still enjoy Eris and reader banging it out. This is a type of play I've always found interesting but never tried, so I did a lot of digging and talking to my friends and people in the BDSM community who do partake

💕Peep the Valentines Day List Here💕

As always, NSFW below the cut

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Warnings - degradation and de.... defaeitazation of reader, reader sleeps in a cage, bondage, tailplug, smut

The growl that left Eris was primal and dark as he made eye contact with you. You sat in your little cage on your calves, wiggling with anticipation. "Did you get out and get dressed all pretty for me, baby?" You only smiled waiting for him to open the gate and let you out despite the fact that you could, and clearly had.

During his meeting with his father, you changed out of the pink lace babydoll you had been wearing and into a tight white corset with white lace panties and stockings. You had put in your bunny ears after curling and putting your hair in low pigtails. Eris knew there was a fluffy little tail waiting for him in those crotchless panties.

This was his favorite bunny outfit you owned. You wore it on nights when you knew Eris needed two things:

1) a submissive sweet little bunny to love and cuddle.

2) a sweet little bunny who loved nothing more than himself cock pounding into her until she couldn't think.

He picked up the collar and leash, bending his knees to be eye level with you, and opened the gate. He secured the collar around you, kissing you gently before standing and walking. You stayed on all fours, following him while looking up to him and waiting for commands. Eris settling into the sofa, coiling the leash around his hand a few times before yanking you between his legs.

His cock was already straining and leaking in his pants. Your submission alone was enough for Eris, but the outfit, the trust in him, that really got the heir.

He felt you kissing and mouthing at his pants, already aching for him. "Gods, you are a desperate little thing, aren't you? My sweet little bunny with not a single thought in her head but my cock, isn't that right?"

He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to nod while he smirked. "The big question is, do I pamper my little bunny tonight, or fuck her?" You didn't let the whine escape, continuing to look at him with wide desperate eyes. He chuckled darkly. "You should have thought about it harder when you agreed to no noises or speaking until I gave permission, huh?"

You didn't nod, blinking twice at him and wiggling again. You were shamelessly and completely soaked, mind falling into that pretty petspace as you waited for play to begin.

He began unlacing his pants, pulling them down enough for his waiting cock to spring free. He yanked the leash again, forcing your face against his length. "Well? Go head, bunny. Master doesn't have all night."

You wasted no time. You ran your tongue up his length before taking it into your mouth. Eris used the leash to guide your speed as you bobbed up and down, sucking and licking as you went. You smiled when he released a loud groan, head falling back to the couch and relaxed. You began using a hand to work what wasn't in your mouth, pumping and twisting in time.

You could taste his precum, causing a soft whine to leave your throat and your thighs to press together for friction. Eris looked down at you through his lashes before putting his leg between your thighs. "That's all you get until I say so, bunny. If you want to get off, there's your treat for being good."

It would have been more humiliating as you rolled your hips along his boot and shin, relishing in that much needed stimulation, but you couldn't find it in you to feel shame. Eris was moaning above you again, sighing in bliss as you picked up pace, needing more of his taste in your mouth.

You had soaked through his pants, moaning softly as you brought both of you closer and closer to the edge. He pulled your mouth down onto him all the way unexpectedly and came, releasing into your mouth for a few moments before pushing you back and working his cock to shoot the rest of his cum onto your tits and face.

He leaned back again, looking between you and his leg slightly annoyed. "Did I say stop, sweet little bunny? Get yourself off on my leg, and I will consider fucking you." You leaned back slightly, using your hands to brace yourself a little more and feeling that leash pulling taunt.

The angle you were at gave Eris a better view of your puffy glistening folds as you continued riding on his boot and lower leg. He switched the angle of his boot, forcing your clit to be in constant contact with him as he watched you move faster and faster. Moans and whimpers were constantly leaving your mouth, making his length hard all over again. "Cum," the command was gentle. "Been such a good girl. Need you to cum."

A desperate cry left your throat, head tilted back as you came. You continued to ride him through the high, soothing yourself as could. Eris stood, lifting you once you were finished before walking up to the bed. "Y/n," you broke character at the name, looking up at him. "I won't last long tonight. I've been pent up thinking about this all day."

You smiled at your mate, kissing him before bending over the mattress and allowing him to secure your ankles to the spreader bar that was built into the frame. "Me too, Eris. Missed you all day."

"I know. I felt it." Flames came tying around your wrists and pulling to ensure you could not move away. Eris ran his cock through your folds once, twice, and then pushed home, a needy noise escaping you as he did.

Eris began slamming into you. Hands holding your ass so he could admire your little tail. The plug had your walls feeling tighter than normal. Doubling the pleasure of each drag for both of you.

He opened the bond completely, the constant flow of pleasure sending shockwave after shockwave through you until you were no more than a drooling mess. "Fucked my sweet bunny dumb already I see." His voice was airy, strained with soft moans mixing in. He was so close, and you were too.

He reangled you, arching your back more to ensure he was brushing your gspot with each movement. At the same time, a hand went to your swollen bundle of nerves, making you scream in surprise and pleasure. "I know you have another one in there," he grumbled more to himself than you. "Cum little bunny. Cum on master's cock."

One more harsh thrust has you seeing star light and flames dancing in your vision as you came. Eris's name was a mantra on your lips, tumbling through them over and over. The squeezing of your walls on his length had him following behind you, sloppy deep movements ensuring not a drop of his cum was wasted.

The fire and spreader bar disappeared, allowing you and Eris to fall forward and completely into the plush mattress. You both laid there, deep breaths panting in and out as you did.

No words passed as he began to care for you, unlacing the corset, removing the ears and plug, getting you comfortable and naked before moving you both to the bathroom.

"Such a good bunny," he praised as you fell asleep in his arms. "And all mine," he whispered to himself. "My beautiful sweet little bunny."

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy @avajustreads

@littlestw01f @azriels-shadowsinger @acourtofladydeath

[tripleglitchwriting]

if you're taking requests, maybe something about g1 beachcomber attempting to communicate and make friends with a human?

I don’t know too much about G1 Beachcomber, but I think I know enough to write about him. Here goes!

Also, I am so, so sorry it took this long 😭😭 I’ve been having a bit of a hard time writing recently.

In That Moment

First contact G1 Beachcomber and human

No warnings!! Other than a few mentions of war, it’s pretty fluffy. Enjoy!

The planet they ended up on was beautiful. It was filled with so much life, most creatures too small for him to hold or see properly, but that didn’t make them any less amazing! The sheer variety in each and every species was astounding. To think they had been here all this time, just waiting for someone to find them.

The Ark had landed near one of the planets many oceans. Water covered most of planet actually, which made for quite a wide array of biodiversity both on land and in sea. The area he’d found himself in had tall trees with only a bush like flourish of leaves on its top, plenty of grasses and flowers, as well as a lot of sand. A lot of sand. Not his favorite, but things like that were common in places unlike Cybertron.

In the water nearby he spotted splashing, something other than the crashing waves hounding the shore. Out of curiosity he trotted over to investigate. A slick, gray marine lifeform was making arcs leaping from the water into the air. It was too far out for him to truly get a good look at it, but it was a fascinating being even from where he was standing. Just as he stepped into part of the shallows in a vain attempt to get closer, there was a scuttling at his pedes.

A very small crustacean was darting away from him. Unfortunately Beachcomber was a little too big to properly handle the thing without accidentally hurting it. It seemed to have an array of legs with two large pincers on its front. For protection maybe? Hunting for prey? It crawled out of sight before he could figure it out. Beachcomber ex-vented. There had to be something here he could get closer look at….

Oh well. He still had some time before he had to get back to the arc. Optimus had specifically told everyone not to get involved with the local dominant species, but how was he supposed to pass up an opportunity like that? The war had robbed him of peaceful interaction with countless other races. Now that they were hiding here, maybe he’d have the time to communicate with a brand new people!

The time passed slowly. Most of the organisms were either too far in the water or too small to handle. They were all terrified of him too, which made sense, but it was still a bummer. He’d really hoped to make a grand discovery here, it seemed like a great habitat for plenty of species. Turning away for the water, Beachcomber decided it may be time to give up for the cycle. Maybe he’d try a different place next time, or a- OH!

When he came to turn around, something new was standing in front of him. Bipedal, strikingly similar to a Cybertronain, just… smaller, and with… fabrics, and… carrying something. He hadn’t seen anything on this planet wear fabrics before… or approach him willingly, this had to be the sentient species of the planet! How lucky was he to meet one just as he was about to leave!

It- or, they, he supposed, began warbling something at him. This was a fantastic opportunity to communicate! Quickly Beachcomber fell to his knees in order to get closer to the new person, inadvertently causing the ground to shake around them, the person stumbled. They took more steps back in hesitation, obviously weary.

“No, no, sorry, I’m not tryin’ to scare ya.” Narrowed eyes met his own optics. In an effort to connect, Beachcomber held out a digit. “See? I’m not hurtin’ nobody.”

Their little eyes sparkled with curiosity, and though he detected a healthy amount of hesitation, they put both their hands on his one digit after flinging the object they were carrying over their shoulder. The tiny servos were warmer than he thought, it was very pleasant feeling actually. Their lips curled up into a shy smile.

Beachcomber could hardly contain himself. This was the discovery of a lifetime! Well, maybe not a lifetime, but it was still fascinating to witness! They weren’t as afraid of him as the rest of the creatures, they were intelligent, sentient! He’s been over that fact in his head before, yet it still astounded him. Prime might be upset with him if he knew… but no self respecting bot would pass up an scientific opportunity like this. Maybe Wheeljack would want to see… no, actually, on second thought that’s probably a horrible idea. Bumblebee maybe? Or Percy. He wasn’t even supposed to be here though, what is he was found out? What if- a sound coming from below dragged Beachcomber out of his thoughts. The person was doing something with the object they had, seemingly opening it. It’s a carrying device then!

They bent down and set it on the ground, still wearily gazing up at him. From inside the device, they pulled out some small rectangular object with a glass lens in the middle and some other bits and bobs around its front. Of course he didn’t have any idea what it was. Alien technology isn’t something easily understood at first glance.

In his frenzied daze, Beachcomber completely forgot one key component about actually communicating with this new species: language. That didn’t stop him from trying to talk to them anyway.

“Hey, what’s your designation little guy?” The creature raised the object to its optic and pressed a button, causing the thing to make a bright flash at Beachcomber. He immediately went on the defensive and positioned his helm much farther from the thing, ready to use his servos is need be- a product of fighting for so long. However, the flash didn’t seem to have any effect on him or the creature, though his little friend was visibly caught off guard with his sudden movement. Primus, he really needed to stop doing that if he was going to talk to this thing!

Not long after a small white slip of something began to come out of the bottom of the device. The creature grabbed it and began waving it around in the air… was it another attempt to communicate? Or maybe a threat display or some kind? Against his better judgement, Beachcomber brought himself closer once again. This time, he resigned to observation. Studying other species always intrigued him. Organic species especially, he could never get over how soft some of them were! Like this one, their little cheeks were so pinch-able! Oh how he would love to talk to them about it… but at the moment the language barrier was too large.

Or so he thought.

The white slip began to change color the longer it was waved in the air. He hardly noticed it at first, and he couldn’t get a good look at what was appearing before it was turned away from him. To Beachcomber’s surprise, they began warbling at him again, and to his even greater surprise, they showed him what was on the slip.

It was him. It was a picture of Beachcomber.

Needless to say, he nearly shouted at the poor thing in pure excitement. Luckily he was able to contain himself through the power of focusing all his energy into thinking about the implications of this rather than actually moving or saying anything. What is this technology? How did they do that? Did they make it themselves? Oh, the questions he had were making it hard to think!!

“What an interesting lil’ one you are…” He slowly raised one of his digits to them. They backed up, hesitant, but he didn’t chase them. He just kept his digit patiently in place. As it seemed, that patience was about to pay off.

The creature stared at him for a second. Then, after carefully setting down their device, they raised their own tiny servo to his digit. Their squishy little palm radiated warmth. Beachcomber radiated utter joy. Their itty bitty face shifted from what he assumed was fear to an astounded wonder. He could even feel something that reminded him of a sparkbeat behind their digits. He couldn’t hide his smile.

Unfortunately, the bearing of dente seemed to scare them a little. The wonder on their face was replaced with nervous concern as they retracted their servo and took a step back. Beachcomber immediately covered his intake and shifted his weight away from the creature. They were so skiddish! But that was probably how any rational being would react in this situation…

Now what was he supposed to do? He could try again, they responded well to the slow movement before, maybe they would understand he was trying to make a positive connection. Maybe he could find them fuel, they’d like fuel, right? His mind traveled elsewhere as he became lost in thought. Just when he decided on what to do, (try slow moments again) he felt something on the tip of one of his digits- one that was splayed on the ground after he moved back.

It was the creature. They’d made their way towards him while he was preoccupied in his thoughts. The expression of contemplation he held previously dropped like a weight off his chassis. At that, they smiled. It was awkward and unconfident, but it was a symbol of mutual understanding. He didn’t know exactly why… but it felt like an apology.

Beachcomber pulled his lips into a much neater grin. The creature brightened up at that, chirping at him and bouncing in place. He took the opportunity to move his other servo slowly towards them. They acknowledged the change but didn’t shy away. Carefully, as they stood there with wide and curious optics, he rubbed a digit on their helm. He was both ecstatic and astonished to see they didn’t try and push it away or take it as a threat. They just waited until he was done.

When he did finish, he figured it was time to take the next step. Beachcomber slowly brought his servo down palm-up right next to the creature. They were a bit confused as to what he was trying to do, but when he took his other servo and tapped his palm with a gentle metal clink, they seemed to understand. With weary but brave movements, they put one pede on the living platform. Then another. Cautiously, they made their way to the dip of his palm.

Beachcomber gave them a second to find a comfortable position. When they did, he began to move. He began slow enough that they would be able to jump off if they felt uncomfortable. To his delight, they stayed put.

As the planet’s star began to dip down under the horizon line, Beachcomber held the creature close to his chassis. His spark was filled with complete warmth for the first time in a long time. It was a comfort he’d been missing since the war started.

The two simply sat there in a serene moment of peace and appreciation. This planet wasn’t his home, but it was the home of the friend he made today. No matter what, he vowed to protect this harmony at all costs. But for now, he resigned to watching the sunset and feeling the lightweight creature on his servo tap a soft and gentle beat on the metal.

In that moment, it seemed like everything was going to be okay.

[we-were-beautiful]

The Fox and The Hounds pt.5

A/N: At long last we finally have part 5 for The Fox and The Hounds. I do apologize for those who have waited so long for this part but here it is and I got to give a huge thanks to @loving-and-dreaming for Beta reading this for me. That being said we are all still human and there may be some errors and I apologize in advance. Hope y’all enjoy  

Up next on my writing schedule is Unraveled ends and I already have about 2000 words already written for that so stay tuned.

Summary: Its autumn court tradition to give your mate a fox kit before your ceremony. after years of knowing the Vanserra’s a mating bond snaps between the Autumn Heir and a well known smoke hound breeder

Warning: none that I know of but if you see something please reach out and let me know.

 WC: 4k

As the door shut, I placed my back to it and gently slid down to the floor. I truly had no idea how to interact with this male. The last two months had been a whirlwind and all of Eris' current behaviors contradicts the information that my cousins in the night court have given me.  Gods I can only imagine the fuss that Rhys and Mor are going to kick up when they hear that my parents allowed this little unchaperoned weekend getaway, but in all reality there is not much they could do without inducing the High Lord of Nights anger. We had been invited to a formal dinner at the night court once word of the engagement and mating bond reached my uncles; the High Lord of Night and Keir, the Steward of the Court of Nightmares(who happens to be Mors father), had been overjoyed that The Night Court would now have ties with the Autumn Court. What the two of them had attempted with Mor they would have with me.

While the High Lord of Night doted on his older sister and her husband for the excellent match between Eris and myself; across the table Rhysand and Mor looked horrified. Rhys had pulled me aside after his father bid the residents of the Hewn city to go play. My dearest cousin begged me to call off the whole thing. Told me what had happened to Mor, and he was so worried that I would become the Vanserras next victim. The heartbreak on his face when I told him it was inevitable, this marriage was happening whether we wanted it to or not. There would have been no place for me to run. Uncle would not have sheltered me in the Night Court, and Beron would have me hunted down. The marriage was far too advantageous for him. He hugged me tight afterwards and seemed reluctant to hand me over to Eris when my mate wanted to steal me away to dance. 

That seemed like so long ago but in reality it was three weeks ago. I move over to the bed and take a seat. This weekend was going to be awkward between the two of us. Eris for the most part is trying; he’s gentle with me in a way that I have only seen him be with his mother. Every morning if we don’t have an event together, he sends me a small sweet note and flowers. He sends them often enough that the ones I have in vases barely have had time to wilt. He’s a good male; it's just awkward since we barely know each other. I had always thought that he was attractive, but with him as Beron’s heir I didn’t stand a chance when there were more political matches to be made. I had figured If I were to end up with any of the Vanserra boys it would have been with Ashton, the second brother. Ashton was a carbon copy of his father always aiming to please the male even if it pushed him to act monstrously. But I guess I have to thank Mor for fucking the Illyrian Bastard, it had saved me from potentially being married off to an abusive male and instead with my mate, even if we did not know it at the time.    

I don’t know how long I sat on the bed going over the events of the last two months absentmindedly stroking Paprikas soft fur but a swift knock pulls me out of my thoughts. 

“Excuse me, Lady Y/N.” A melodic voice flows through the door. “I’m here to help you get ready for dinner.” 

Ah so Eris had already secured a ladies maid for me. I let out a soft groan as I moved to stand. That at least saves me the trouble of having to find one myself. I open the door to see a high Fae standing there. She is pretty if not a bit plain. Her brown hair is swept up into a neat bun at the nape of her neck hiding her pointed ears; the simple oxblood dress is a touch big for her frame. The uniforms I have seen on the servants and slaves at the forest house have been expertly tailored to the Fae that wear them, so she must be new.

“Oh” she squeaks before dropping into a curtsy. “Lady Y/N, I am Melonie, Lord Vanserra has hired me to be your ladies maid.” 

“It's a pleasure Melonie, and please it’s just Y/N. If you are to be my ladies maid then we shall be spending quite a significant amount of time together; so we may as well be on a first name basis.” I move aside to let her in.

“Only while we are in private though at the Forest House we need to remain as formal as we can be.” I tack on. There is a rigid hierarchy in the Autumn Court and while we are in a private residence, such as here, we can act as we please; the moment we step into Beron’s halls everything has to be as formal as possible.

“Understood Ma’am.” She nods her head and steps into the room. “Now we must get you ready for dinner.” 

“Of course. Did my mate say what dress is needed.” I’m certain my family's servants packed everything from casual wear to a ball gown for this trip. I honestly don’t know why, as this is an informal trip for me to get to know my mate better. I’m sure he told my father that there wouldn’t be any major formal events that the two of us would need to attend.

“Yes Ma’am, Lord Vanserra said that it was to be a casual dinner.” She tilts her head a bit “I do believe his words to his attendance were that it is just a simple dinner between my mate and I there is no reason for us to don finery.” I let out a small laugh, that does sound like Eris. There had been a few times when we had been in the forest house after dinner that we had gone on an evening stroll and he had expressed his distaste for the show that we had to put on. Having to put on our finest to awkwardly sit at a table under the scrutiny of our families. 

“So a simple dress it is.” I let out a soft sigh. Thank the Mother, I’m so glad he doesn’t want to stand on formalities. I move through the room to the wooden armoire and shift through the dresses my family's servants had picked, settling in on a simple green dress trimmed with a delicate cream lace.

“That will look lovely Y/N” I smile at her statement and take a step back and allow her to help me get ready.

It takes us about 45 minutes to get me ready for dinner. The dress had been easy enough, I Honestly could have gotten myself into it but help is always appreciated. My hair had taken a bit more time, but soon enough I was headed down the stairs to the dining room. We had passed the room briefly on our tour but now I had the time to take it in. It was large enough that we could easily entertain a party of 18 people, but I had a feeling that would be an extremely rare occasion. The table was a smooth walnut wood polished to a near mirror finish. It was large with many elegantly carved chairs pushed under; it is nearly too large for just the two of us. While I haven’t gotten to explore the house I can only hope that there is a smaller informal dining room for us to use. Eris is there when I arrive, dressed in a simple cream colored tunic and brown breeches tucked into dark brown boots. Upon hearing my arrival he jumps to his feet giving me a short bow. 

“My mate you look lovely this evening.” He moves and pulls out a chair next to the head of the table for me. “I apologize for this. The staff had already set this table before I could tell them that it wouldn’t be necessary.” 

“Thank you.” I say as I gently take a seat in the chair that he had pulled out. “There is no need to apologize. There is an informal dining room?” the question hangs in the air.

“Yes, there is a smaller dining room that I use when It’s just me here; I figured that we would use it while we reside here unless we are forced to entertain.” He responds, giving a nod to one of his staff standing beside a door that I think leads to the kitchen. 

“Oh good. This is a lovely dining room but it feels like it might be a bit much if it’s just the two of us.” A plate is soon placed in front of me, I mutter a thanks, and begin to pick up my silverware. 

“It really is.” Eris laughs as he picks up his own silverware and digs in. 

Conversation flows freely between the two of us as we talk about everything and nothing. I take this time to figure out more about the male that I am bound to for the rest of our immortal lives. I find that he adores his mothers baking. He insisted that I should get her apple strudel recipe from her and that I would love it. He likes the spicy foods that are common in the Summer Court, but he cannot stand the Summer Court's tendency for sour things. I also learn that his father has him acting as an emissary for a few courts including Spring, Winter, and Dawn. It is an eye opening conversation as the two of us go back and forth. We sit at the table telling each other our likes and dislikes long past when we finish our meals. At one point after the table had long since been cleared, save for a few bottles of wine and our glasses, Eris dismissed the staff while we continued talking. It takes one of the hounds whining for attention for us to actually leave the table taking our glasses to the living room. Eventually we have to let the hounds and Paprika out one last time before bed. Sadly the rain hadn’t stopped. It seemed to have gotten worse over the last few hours and what once was a nice steady rain is now a downpour. Ever the gentleman, Eris offers to take them out and wait for them to be done. 

I knew that there would be some paw wiping that needed to be done, but what I didn’t expect was for all of the hounds to come back into the house covered in mud.

“Oh no.” I exclaim as Eris carries in a mud covered Paprika, setting her on the floor only after the door is shut and locked.

“I think we are going to have to give them emergency baths.” Eris sighed, running a hand through his damp red hair.

“What happened?” I swear my eyebrows have probably reached my hairline as the hounds continue to play with each other getting mud all over the living room floor. 

“Well I thought that they would do their business, be done, and come back into the house. Apparently I was wrong and they decided that they wanted to play.” I can see the steam rising off of Eris as he uses his powers to dry off. “Paprika on the other hand accidentally landed in a mud puddle. And I already dismissed the staff for the night.” 

“Shit.” It's always nice to have an extra hand on deck when bathing the hounds “Well looks like we are on bath duty then.” 

We had relocated from the living room up to the bedrooms; the click of nails on the floor followed behind us as the dogs followed along behind us. I let him lead me through the halls my arm laced through his taking in the warmth that radiated through his shirt. The Vanserra’s were known for their fire wielding abilities, but it was like fire ran through his blood heating him from the inside out. I didn’t quite want the evening to end. 

“We probably should have kept some of the staff here when we saw that it was going to rain.” Eris laughs. 

“Probably, I’m sure your housekeeper will skin both of us tomorrow when she sees the mess.” I chuckle glancing behind me to see the whisper of smoke hounds trailing along behind us leaving muddy tracks along the wooden floor.

“Our housekeeper.” Eris’ gently corrects “I hate to say that she is almost used to it. She’s not a fan of bathing the hounds though.” 

“I don’t blame her, it’s a task and a half, and with the lot that we have it’s going to take us at least a few hours.” I try not to pay too much attention to the way Eris uses joint ownership. I should be grateful that he has already gotten used to us being a pair although it is a bit harder for me. 

Since the engagement Eris has always referred to us as a unit. It was “our plans for the mating ceremony” and “Of course we will be attending tonight.” It seemed to come easy to him; however, I am still trying to wrap my head around things. For me this is still just Eris’s home and his belongings and employees, not mine. Although in two weeks, I guess it will partially be mine. I need to get used to the fact that we are now a unit and respond as such. This will be our home that we fill with our hounds and if we are lucky enough down the road maybe a few messy haired faelings that we created. 

We make our way to Eris’s room. The room is not what I had thought it would be and vastly different from his rooms in the forest house. His living quarters in the high lords ancestral halls were cold. Deep emerald fabrics were selected and paired with polished dark wood furniture. We had had tea in his sitting room a few days after the bond had snapped and the whole room just felt impersonal. This room however felt warm. The large bed that dominated the middle of the room facing the window, looked like it was crafted with smooth unfinished red wood and decorated with large antlers. The crimson duvet looks soft and inviting and for a male there is a surprising amount of pillows strewn across the top of the bed  A smaller bookshelf resided along the one wall and much like the massive wall of books in the living room this one is packed with books, but these seemed to be much more loved, with signs of wear along the spines. Next to the window there is a small table that appears to just be a log that someone placed a glass top on and called it good and an arm chair that honestly looked like it had seen better days, if the patches on the arms of the chair were anything to go off of. More dog beds were spread along the floor but I had a feeling quite a few of them slept in the actual bed. Smoke hounds while they don’t shed a ton of fur, still shed, and if the short white hairs clinging to the crimson duvet say anything it is that the dogs are on the bed. Which is fine with me since I typically have one or two with me in my bed on any given night and since Paprika came into the picture she’s always cuddling in bed with me. 

“Come on, the bathroom is through here.” He opens the door on the furthest wall to reveal the massive bathing chambers with a large tub.  

“We might want to shut the bedroom door so that they can’t run off.” I quietly mention once I noticed that all of them were in the room. 

“Good idea.“ Eris sidesteps me quickly making his way to the door. Nineteen sets of ears pop up at the sound of the door clicking close. I move to quickly scoop up Paprika before she has the chance to dart under Eris’s Bed. 

“We need to do Paprika first; she’s still getting used to bath time.” Hearing the word ‘bath’ the fox kit starts to squirm. I quickly manure her in my arms and hold her under her front legs; her bottom and tail dangling limply in the air.

 “You are covered in mud, no amount of wiggling will get you out of it.” I speak to the little kit as if she were a naughty child. Her ears flop as if resigning herself to her fate. 

Bath time is eventful to say the least, Paprika gave us hell once we set her in the warm water. She just about screamed the entire time and only calmed down once she was wrapped in one of Eris fluffy towels. Having Eris around for bath time had its perks. Using his fire magic he was able to dry the hounds and Paprika rather faster than having to let them air dry. The hounds were bathed without complaint; but there were some trouble makers. Once we had shut the bathroom door to bathe Paprika, one of Eris’s hounds jumped up onto his bed and proceeded to cover not only the duvet in mud but Eris’s pillows and sheets. Then one of my hounds decided that I needed a bath as well and grabbed my dress and tugged just hard enough to send me sprawling into the tub. By the time the all nineteen of the canines are bathed Eris and I are drenched; the bathroom is soaked and quite frankly there is pathways of muddy paw prints throughout the house. 

“I know I said we don’t need a kennel, but I would like to retract my statement. We need one if only to prevent things like this from happening again.” I slump alongside Eris resting against the side of the tub. 

“Agreed.” Eris runs his hands through his hair. “We still have to get cleaned up ourselves.” 

“And remake your bed; one of the hounds got on it.” Eris lets out a groan at that statement. 

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can deal with that later. Worse comes to worse; I can sleep in one of our spare rooms or the couch.” 

“Please don’t sleep on the couch.” I laugh “Especially when there are perfectly good beds in the spare rooms. 

“I will have you know Dear Mate that the couch is one of the best places to sleep in this house. I have spent many nights on it.” 

“Now that's just sad Eris.” We both end up laughing. 

“Come now let's get cleaned up and off to bed. Eris moves to stand offering me one of his hands to help me off the floor. I end up stumbling into Eris’s chest as I am pulled up; he steadies me, one hand on my hip the other not letting go of my hand. I had noticed in the time we have been courting how much bigger his hands are then mine, they almost completely engulf mine whenever we dance, and they are so very warm. My heart races in my chest, being so close to this male without anyone else around. There is an awkward silence that fills the space between the two of us.

“Well I will leave you to it.” He moves to open the door to the room. Immediately dogs start tripping over one another in their attempt to escape the bedroom. Eris meets my gaze and we burst out laughing at the scene. We laugh for a solid few minutes; we would slow down and when we would look at each other we would start laughing again. An endless loop of pulling ourselves together only to fall apart again and again.

“I don’t know why that was so funny.” I hold my side as a wait out the stitch that I had gotten from laughing so hard.    

“Neither do I” Eris places a hand on my lower back as he leads me towards my room “Here is where I leave you.” 

“Thank you Eris.” I laugh as he takes my hand and places a kiss on the back of it. 

“You are quite welcome.” He releases my hand and steps back.

 “Please let me know if you need anything.” With one last look he walks down the hall presumably towards one of the spare rooms to clean up. 

I turn into my room and see several of my hounds lounging around as if they didn’t just turn bath time into a whole event. I give them a glare before heading into the bathroom to take a bath of my own before getting ready for bed. The Lady of Autumn truly tried to make this suite as comfortable as she could. Various soaps and oils lined the counter and a few small candles decorated the edge of the bathtub. It was a place that one could easily find solace. Maybe tomorrow I will take full advantage and soak in the large tub, but tonight I feel drained. While it wasn’t a super physically taxing day, mentally it was draining. This trip is giving me a golden opportunity to learn just who my mate is. Already had got to see a completely different side of him. 

When we are out on an official engagement or in the forest house Eris has always seemed so cold despite the fire that flows through his veins. He has always seemed closed off to everybody except for his mother and me. I got to hear him laugh for the first time in the 60 or some odd years that I had known him. I move through the motions of bathing and getting ready for bed. By the time I am turning down the bed I am ready to simply relax. Paprika paws at the bed, her way of asking to be picked up and placed on the bed. I grab her and set her down on the sheets. Ramiel and Rosie hop up on the bed unprompted ready to make themselves comfortable on the large bed. My ears twitch as I hear scratching at the door. I quickly glance around the room taking a head count of Hounds that are lazing around the room. All seven of mine are accounted for plus Ichabod who also decided that he wanted to sleep on the bed as well. So one of Eris’s lot wants to stay in here tonight. I move to open the door to let the pup in; my eyes widen once I open the door because not only is there a smoke hound begging to be let in but Eris is standing there with two steaming mugs. The hound darts past me, with the speed that they are famed for, as I continue to stare at Eris. 

“I figured we could have a cup of tea before bed.” I smile widely at him. He had listened when I was rambling shortly after our engagement. I had offhandedly mentioned that I liked to have a nice cup of Herbal tea before bed. And here he stands holding two cups of tea. 

“I would love that,” I step aside and let him walk into the room. He walks towards the bed and takes a seat holding out one of the cups for me to take; I sit down beside him taking the cup from his hand. 

We sit and talk for a long time. Eventually we have drunk our tea, cups sit forgotten on the nightstand, but Eris stayed. We eventually moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to sitting propped up with pillows against the headboard. The last thing I recall before I go to sleep is looking over at Eris who had fallen asleep not ten minutes ago. I don’t have the heart to wake him since he looks so peaceful. I roll over and wrap my arms around Ramiel before letting sleep take over me.  

Tag List @b0xerdancer @imma-too-many-fandoms @judig92 @fall-myriad @j-brielmalfoy @highlady-ofillyria @percyjacksonspeen @nyctophiliiiiaaa @marigold-morelli @azzydaddy @isa1b2h3

[yuurei20]

So…what’s the deal with Jamil Viper’s parents, if you haven’t already talked about that

Hello hello!! Thank you for this question!

Jamil's parents are, I think, maybe still something of an enigma!

They appear in silhouette during Jamil's overblot monologue, where we see them strike Jamil in front of Kalim for refusing to play a game, calling him foolish to his face.

Jamil says that his very first memory as a child was seeing them bow to Kalim's parents, and "(he) couldn't stand the sight of it" even at that age.

In the flashback Jamil's parents then plead with child-Jamil to be understanding of their situation (after hitting him), and Jamil explains that this taught him, "Kalim's parents were far more important than mine. Therefore, Kalim was more important than me."

The situation seems very complex!

Jamil's parents are servants working under Kalim's family, and we get a little more information about what it is that they actually do in Jamil's third birthday vignette: Jamil explains that their duties include entertaining visitors (business contacts of Kalim's father? It is not specified).

When Silver comments on Jamil's admiration for his parents Jamil responds that it's not exactly admiration: he just wants to adopt useful skills, like their knowledge of foreign countries.

Jamil says he has not confided in them the reason why he overblotted in Book 4.

And Jamil's parents' responsibility of providing hospitality has been hinted at before! Jamil says in a ceremonial robes voice line that his parents "immersed (him) in this world since (he) was a child" and he can "breeze through any social occasion," while Jamil's father sends Najma out to find him during Firelit Sky with information about visitors' seating arrangements.

(Najma is forced to hunt down Jamil during the festival even after confirming the information with Jamil over text because their father "doesn't really get smartphones...or computers even," and despite how doing so ruined his daughter's own plans for the day.)

We learn a little more about Jamil's childhood interactions with his parents during the event, such as how he would have to pick up after Najma ("usually with Mom and Dad hounding me to do it") when she'd run away from messes, and a time when he tried to escape his "mom getting on him about something" by hiding inside a vase.

When he tells Najma to to stay out of trouble she reponds, "Ugh, you sound just like Dad!" Jamil responds, "...you've got a point."

And I believe that is all that we have seen/heard of Jamil's parents thus far! It will be interesting to see if they come up again the story, as they seem to have had a not-insignificant role in Jamil's overblot!

(Also, small trivia: Jamil's father in Book 4 is voiced by the same voice actor who did Floyd's deep Book-4 voice, after he trades his unique magic to Azul ^^)

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: It's time to collect a debt

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 4 - The Frost Gleams Where The Flowers Have Been

Time whisked by faster than a hound chasing a rabbit through tall grass. A week had already slipped through Kate's fingers since she first became a part of the camp. Initially planning just a brief stay, she found herself relishing the comforting routine it offered. There was always a warm fire to gather around, a hearty meal to share, and the camaraderie of her newfound friends. But amidst the stability, a yearning for adventure tugged at her heartstrings, urging her to break free from the confines of camp, even if only for a day.

Arthur's comings and goings became a familiar rhythm in the camp's bustling routine. Rarely catching more than a glimpse of him before he vanished on another errand for Dutch, Kate couldn't help but miss his presence. She admired his unwavering dedication to the gang's needs, even if it meant sacrificing his own rest and relaxation. The man seemed to be perpetually on the move, always ready to answer the call of duty, no matter the hour.

Determined to bridge the gap, Kate promised herself to lend a hand the next time Arthur returned to camp, as long as it didn't involve any unsavory activities like killing folk. Meanwhile, she found solace in the company of her fellow campmates. Abigail, Tilly, and Mary-Beth had become her trusted confidantes, bonding over laundry duties and exchanging juicy tidbits of camp gossip. Kate couldn't help but chuckle at the wealth of information she'd amassed about John, courtesy of Abigail's candid revelations. She could probably write a book with how much dirt she had on him. 

Kate also found companionship in the likes of Sadie and Lenny, often engaging in games of poker or dominos to while away the hours. Karen and Molly remained enigmatic figures, preferring to keep to themselves, though Kate respected their need for privacy, understanding the complexities of the situation, and Molly’s relationship with Dutch. 

Despite their infrequent interactions, Kate held out hope for a chance to connect with Charles, intrigued by the silent strength he exuded. Perhaps a shared hunt would provide the opportunity for meaningful conversation. 

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The girls were gathered around the makeshift wooden table, indulging in a lunch of meat and cheese when Micah swaggered over, looking for trouble as usual. Kate had endured the displeasure of conversing with Micah only twice in the past week, and neither encounter had been pleasant. She noticed his penchant for making inappropriate comments, particularly targeting the other girls. When he wasn't being lewd, he took pleasure in needling the other gang members, especially Lenny, Javier, and sometimes even Arthur. Kate knew Arthur would have put him in his place if Dutch hadn't always conveniently intervened. She fought the urge to punch his greasy face when he made a jab about Arthur's weight, as if he were one to talk. After all, Arthur deserved to eat his fill for all the hard work he put in. Micah was always stirring the pot, and today seemed to be no different.

“Which one of you ladies wants to feed me my lunch?” He said smugly, resting both hands on his gun belt and standing uncomfortably close. The girls chose to ignore him. 

“Is this how you treat the men who provide for you?” He exclaimed with annoyance. 

Kate kept her head down and continued to eat as she spoke, as if Micah were less than an ant, “What exactly have you provided for us Micah? I’ve never seen you bring in food, or money for the matter. You leave and come back with nothing.” 

Micah scoffed and sauntered to stand behind Kate, trying to intimidate her, “I provide information sweetheart, I risk my life out there getting leads for jobs.”

She laughed quietly and shook her head, “you poor thing ,” she mused, “I’ll keep you in my prayers.” The other girls giggled at her comment. 

Micah stepped closer to her back, she could almost feel the gut of his belly against her hair, “watch your mouth woman.” He threatened. 

Kate sighed and leaned her chin against her palm, bored with the conversation, “or what Micah?” She said with an eye-roll. 

She heard him take a deep breath, or rather felt it, as he threw personal space at the wind at this point. He bent down to her ear and said lowly, “maybe I should take you to my cot, and fuck that attitude out of you whore .” He growled.  

Kate dropped her fork and whipped her elbow around, turning her whole body with force. Micah yelped as her elbow met his nose with a soft wet crunch, bright red blood dripping through his fingers as he looked up between his brows in anger. She had wanted to do that since the day she met him, fed up with how he talks to the women of the camp. This act was for the girls. 

“You dont have a dick to fuck me with Micah. You’re a lousy fucken’ excuse for a man,” she declared standing tall, “talk to me like that again and I’ll make sure I’m holding my knife when I swing next time.” 

The other members watched in stunned silence as Dutch emerged from his tent, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough of that!" he shouted, his gravelly tone signaling an end to the confrontation.

Micah spat at Kate’s feet and walked away, still trying to stem the blood pouring from his nose. She couldn't help but smirk at the sight – it was definitely broken. Sometime during the commotion, Arthur returned to camp, entering from the tree line as Micah left. She nodded in greeting as he approached.

Before she could walk over to him, Dutch intercepted her, clearly annoyed that their squabble had disturbed him. “Kate, my dear friend,” he said in a brusque tone, “why don't you find some work outside of camp today? Hm? Go make yourself useful.” He patted her shoulder.

Kate furrowed her brows at his insinuation. How was this her fault? Micah had clearly started it; he was always stirring up trouble and never finishing it.

“Arthur!” Dutch called out to the approaching cowboy. “Take Kate with you today. On, whatever it is you’re doing.” He waved them off, sounding like a parent trying to pass on their troublesome child to someone else.

Arthur approached with a shrug, “uh, sure. But I just got back-”

“Herr Morgan!” interrupted a voice, causing Arthur to visibly sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. The list of chores never seemed to end, and Arthur was always the one sent to handle them.

“Strauss,” Arthur acknowledged with a tired voice, turning around to greet the wiry old German.

“How is the debt collecting coming along? Have you collected from that fella Downes?” Strauss inquired.

“No…I have not,” Arthur answered flatly. 

“Well, as you know, Mister Morgan, we lent him quite a sum, and it seems he has little intention of paying it back,” Strauss explained as he followed Arthur, who was trying to grab a meal for himself after working all day. “You have not seen him yet, I take it?” 

Kate stood back, observing the conversation unfold, patiently waiting to talk to Arthur. He was clearly irritated by Strauss’ interruption but tried to maintain politeness as he continued the conversation. “I-I’m sorry, Strauss. I’ve had a lot on my mind. I’ll go give him a gentle reminder.” 

“Not so gentle,” the German corrected. “I don't like his kind. They think they are superior. Please take care of this right away.” With that, Strauss made his exit. Kate knew he wasn't trying to be rude or demanding; it was just another task that, for some reason, Arthur was deemed best suited to handle.

As Arthur finished speaking with Strauss, he turned back to Kate with a tired yet apologetic expression. "Sorry ‘bout that. Looks like Dutch has volunteered us for another errand," he said with a weary smile. 

Kate grinned in response, unfazed by the prospect of more work, though she had sympathy for the man, he was clearly exhausted. "No worries, Arthur. I'm always up for the adventure," she replied casually, “wanna saddle up after you finish eating?” 

"Sounds perfect," Arthur nodded appreciatively, carrying his plate back to the table. The other girls had already cleaned up and returned to their tasks.

“That was a nice swing you pulled on Micah,” Arthur remarked between spoonfuls of stew, “ ‘bout time someone made that asshole bleed. Just wish I could’a done it sooner.”  

“I certainly enjoyed it,” Kate admitted with a smirk, “I hate the way he talks to everyone.” 

"Yeah, me too," Arthur agreed, his tone filled with frustration,  pushing the contents of the leftover stew around with his spoon. "I don't know why Dutch insists on keepin’ him around," he added, glancing around as if afraid of being overheard.

Kate leaned against the table, her gaze following Micah's path. "He ain't good for nothing aside from causing trouble," she remarked, her voice firm.

Arthur brought the bowl to his lips and drained the last of his stew and stood up, determination in his eyes. "I'd give anything to watch that shit-stain hang," he declared as they headed towards their horses.

Kate nodded in agreement. "Amen to that."

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The Downes ranch was a short ride west, Arthur taking the lead as Kate rode beside him. Lorena whinnied with excitement at the chance to stretch her legs and run again. 

“How did things go with Mary?” Kate inquired, breaking the comfortable silence. She had been wanting to discuss it with him but hadn't found the opportunity amidst their busy lives.

“It went alright, I guess,” Arthur began, maintaining a steady trot as he settled into the saddle. “Saved her little brother from some crazy cult,” he added with a huff.

“A cult? Good Lord, I hope it wasn't those bastards with the pointy white hoods,” she exclaimed, a hint of concern in her voice. 

Arthur chuckled. “Nah, nothing that serious. They called themselves Chelonians, followers of the turtle or something,” he explained, shaking his head with amusement. “Hell if I know, they seemed like they were ready to jump off the cliff when I found them.” 

“Yikes, poor kid probably just looking for some kind of purpose in his life,” she remarked with sympathy. 

“Yup, ain't we all,” Arthur agreed, scanning the horizon before turning to Kate, “you a religious woman?” he asked curiously. 

Kate pondered the question for a moment before responding, “Sorta,” she shrugged, “I used to be, I was raised catholic. My mother was pretty involved in the Vatican before she came here, so she carried a lot of those beliefs with her.” 

“Pardon my ignorance, but um, what's a vatican?” 

Kate smiled at his question, “it’s a city, in Rome,” she answered, “s’posed to be the Center of Christianity.” 

Arthur’s eyes lit up with interest, “Rome? I thought you said you was from Boston?”

She couldn't help but laugh, “I am, my mother was from Rome,” she clarified, “anyways, after she died the whole religion thing didn't really stick. Although sometimes I still find myself prayin’, just don’t know to who.” 

Arthur nodded at her answer, taking in the new information. Kate spoke up again and reciprocated his question, “are you a religious man?” 

He shook his head firmly, “nah, I don't believe in nothin’.” 

“Oh c’mon, you gotta believe in something. What do you make of this mess we call life?” Kate teased, trying to prompt a more serious answer from him. 

He sighed, “I believe everything must happen for a reason, otherwise, what's the point of it all?” 

“Well that’s much better than nothing” she said with a smile, “but I bet that belief will drive ya crazy too,” she thought about her next question for a moment before finally asking it, “what do you make of death?” 

Arthur kept his gaze forward as they trotted, seemingly avoiding the question. After a moment, he spoke up again, his voice sounding small. “I don’t know anything ‘bout that either.”

Kate exhaled softly. “If I remember correctly, that agent, Milton, said you were wanted for murder,” she paused, “who’d ya kill?” She knew she was probably pushing her luck, but if he didn’t want to answer she wouldn’t pry. 

Arthur shot her a look from under the brim of his hat. “Damn, woman, you sure are forward, ain’t you?” His lips twitched in a small smile.

Kate shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m just asking!” she said defensively. “You’re an interesting man, Arthur. The first time we met, you were robbing a stagecoach, telling me you're a railway worker. Next thing I know, I see you again, and suddenly you got a $5000 bounty on your head. Forgive a woman for asking.” She laughed.

He laughed and shook his head, “I’m afraid that's a story for another time friend,” he said, nudging his mare's side and picking up the pace, “c’mon it ain't far now, I’ll race ya.” He added, changing the subject. 

Arthur wasn’t afraid to admit he had killed people; he knew she would have left the gang a while ago had she felt she was in danger. But he worried about what she would think of him when he told her the whole truth. He felt like a fool; he wasn't pretending to be innocent, but he liked what he had with her. It was easy, it was natural, and he feared when she knew the truth, she would think differently of him, think less of him.

Kate yipped, and Lorena sprang into action, beginning their race along the final stretch to the ranch. As they rode, Arthur pulled on his reins ever so slightly, letting Kate take the lead. He watched as she whooped and hollered, riding past with a grin plastered on her face.

A heavy cloud settled over him; this wasn't just some silly horse race with a pretty lady. They were riding to collect a debt, a debt that needed to be repaid because his gang needed money. And money was what got them into this mess in the first place. If things had gone differently in Blackwater, they wouldn't even be here. Arthur shook his head at the memory, suddenly reminded of his situation. He’s a wanted man, an outlaw; he’s here on a job, and he would make damn sure it got done.

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Kate admired the small ranch as they hitched their horses to a fence post out front. It was a cozy house with a neat garden, and sprawling plains for grazing animals. "Not a bad spot to make a living," she thought.

A woman sat on the porch swing, sewing something in her lap, while a young boy tended to the chickens nearby. In the garden, a man was busy with his vegetables. Arthur marched toward the man, presumably Mr. Downes, prompting Kate to quicken her pace to catch up.

"Thomas Downes!" Arthur's voice boomed, startling Kate. His tone was starkly different from how he usually spoke. She realized he was putting on a show of strength. Annoyed that he hadn't planned their approach together, she followed behind him.

“Thomas Downes!” He repeated, “you owe me money!” As Arthur swung open the garden gate with force, dirt kicked up into the air. 

Mr. Downes stood up, hands raised defensively, clutching a rake to his chest as if it were his shield against the impending confrontation, “oh, no-no I-I’m.” His voice trembled. 

Arthur approached him with heavy steps, each one more intimidating than the last, “c'mere you maggot,” he spat. With a swift motion, he ripped the rake from Mr. Downes' grasp, leaving Kate stunned into silence.  

"Please, sir, I-I have family, please," Mr. Downes pleaded, backing up against the opposite fence post. Kate followed them into the garden, her heart racing with unease as she witnessed Arthur's actions.  

As Arthur swung his fist into the man’s face, Kate gasped in horror. At the same moment, Mrs. Downes came running from the porch, her voice filled with desperation. "He’s not well! Please, mister, he’s not well!" she pleaded, her eyes wide with fear. She was about to join them in the garden when her son held her back, silently signaling that it was better for his father to bear the brunt of the punishment. Kate’s mouth tasted like vinegar, this was wrong. 

“You think I give a shit about your family?” Arthur spat, his voice dripping with contempt.  

“Why does it have to come to this?” Mr. Downes cried, shielding himself from Arthur's blows. “Please! Be reasonable!”  

“We ain't a charity, Mr. Downes,” Arthur lowered himself to the man's level, his tone softening slightly. “Believe me, I didn’t want this either,” he added quietly, his regret palpable.

With a forceful grip, he grabbed Mr. Downes by his collar and shoved him against the post, the impact enough to break one of his ribs.  

“That's enough, Arthur!” Kate roared, stepping closer, her eyes blazing with anger.

“I-I don't have the money,” Mr. Downes panted, struggling to catch his breath.  

Arthur looked around at the scene, his frustration evident. “Then sell your wife,” he spat out, his voice laced with malice, “sell your house, I don't care!” He raised a fist and stopped when he heard the familiar click of a revolver. 

He turned around to see Kate, pointing her gun at him, the expression on her face made his heart sink. There was no need for him to tell her the truth now, she saw everything she needed to see already. 

“I said, that’s enough,” she repeated, her voice firm. “Put him down.” Arthur released Mr. Downes, who collapsed to his knees, coughing up blood. His wife rushed to his side, her face etched with concern.

“You gonna shoot me?” Arthur's voice was filled with bitterness. “Shoot me and take the $5000? Huh? That's your plan,” he continued, growing more agitated with each passing moment. “Well, get on with it!” he shouted.

“How much does he owe you?” Kate's voice cut through the tension, devoid of emotion.

Arthur lowered his hands, “what?”

“How much does he owe you?” she repeated, her tone impatient.

“$20,” Arthur answered reluctantly.  

Kate holstered her weapon and pulled a wad of cash from her satchel, she counted out twenty bills and grabbed Arthur’s hand, shoving the money into his palm. 

“Here, no sense in killin’ a man over $20,” she turned to the family, “Mrs. Downes, I suggest you take that man to a doctor. I heard you say he was unwell, and he probably has a broken rib or two now.” 

Arthur stared at the money in his hand, his thoughts swirling like a storm. He wanted to hurl it to the ground and watch it burn.

The family lifted Mr. Downes and made their way to the wagon, “th-thank you,” she said, fear still evident in her voice. 

Kate watched them depart, her gaze lingering until the sounds of the wagon faded into the distance. Turning to Arthur, who stood before her like a statue carved from stone.

“What the fuck was that?” she scolded, her tone sharp like a whip.

Arthur opened his mouth, then shut it, grappling for words like a fish out of water.

“You don't even have a reason do you? Beatin’ on a sick man like that? For $20?” Kate’s voice rose with each question.

As the seconds passed by Arthur felt embarrassment creep up his spine, his shame quickly manifesting into anger. “We ain’t a charity,” he finally muttered, repeating what he had said to Mr. Downes. His voice barely above a whisper, struggling to maintain his composure.

“So you resort to killing him,” she remarked, her voice tinged with disappointment as she observed his expression.

“I’m an outlaw Kate, I shoot first, ask questions later,” he spat. 

“Yeah well that's a dumb fucken philosophy,” she retorted sharply , “you’re sure as shit an outlaw. But you ain’t a fucking monster Arthur. That man was sick , he had no way of defending himself. Strauss could’ve waited for his money.” She finished, striding towards her mare. The sense of disillusionment weighed heavy in her heart. She had glimpsed Arthur's tough exterior when they first met at Emerald Ranch, but she never imagined it would lead to this. It made her stomach churn.

“If you don't like the way we do things then you can leave,” Arthur's voice came from behind her, cutting through the tension like a knife.

Kate stopped in her tracks, why does this hurt so much? She’d known them for only a week, but the thought of leaving filled her with dread. It wasn't just the familiar and simple daily tasks of cooking and cleaning that anchored her to the camp; it was the friendships she had forged. They were the closest thing she had to a family in a decade.

She drew in a shaky breath and regained her composure, not turning to face him yet, “do you ever stop and think about what all this senseless killing will turn you into?” Before he could answer she finished for him, turning to meet his gaze, “When you kill an innocent, you become a little less of a man and little more of an animal.”

Without missing a beat Arthur had his answer, “then what you’re looking at ain’t human.” He sauntered over to Kate with slow purposeful steps. His anger was still present, but as he drew closer she saw the look in his eyes. They looked dead, and devoid of color. The sun was setting behind the mountains to the north, and a frigid wind brought in dark heavy clouds. As if the sky was a reflection of the turmoil in his heart. Darkness covered him like a blanket of shame. A heavy, suffocating blanket just waiting to bury the truth. 

“My hands are so stained with blood,” he began, his voice wavering, “that I can’t even remember the face of the first innocent I killed,” he drew in a breath and looked at his boots, “that ain’t something you can change.” 

The wind picked up, carrying tiny bullets of rainwater that tickled against her face. She watched him, and her heart panged. She wasn’t ready to tell him, and perhaps she’ll never get the chance to. But she related to the outlaw, more than she ever anticipated. Her mind raced, bringing back memories of faceless bodies and blood stained skin. Kate pushed the memory down, swallowing it like a spoon of molasses. 

“I don’t intend to change that,” her voice, sounding like a whisper against the heavy wind. 

“Then what do you intend Kate,” his voice sounded coarse, like his throat was thick, “why does a woman like you hang around a bunch of outlaws?” 

Now it was Kate's turn to gape like a fish, she still didn't understand herself why she chose to stay. She wanted to think of them as family but she knew it was absurd, and most of the gang probably wouldn't feel the same way. 

Arthur waited for her answer. “It’s better than being alone,” she finally said, thunder rumbled in around them like a giant beating a drum. “And I like them, they're good people.” She added feeling like an idiot for having no real reason for her to stay. 

Arthur sighed and shook his head, turning to leave. 

And suddenly, she realized the answer was walking away ,“and, I like you.” 

When his eyes met hers, they were pleading, like it pained him to speak to her. “Then you’re a fool Kate. There ain’t nothing to like about me. I’m a bad man, and I ain’t gonna change.” He spoke as if he were reciting a poem he had memorized, the words flowing with such ease one would think he was trained, no , he was raised to believe it was true. 

“I can’t escape this life. I don’t know how to live any other way,” he sounded like a small child. 

“I don’t believe that Arthur,” Kate knew there was good in him, she’d seen it. And she considered herself to be a living testament that it’s not too late to change. She wanted to shout at him, to embrace him, to beat his chest and tell him to pick himself up and break the cycle . 

Instead, she stood silently as Arthur shook his head once more, walked over to his horse, and left her at the ranch. Without a word. 

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The journey back felt like a whirlwind, the cold rain pelting down relentlessly, soaking Kate to the bone.  She looked up to the familiar sound of a rowdy piano and drunken laughter, and was surprised to see herself outside the Valentine saloon. Having not paid much attention to her ride, her mind racing with thoughts, almost all of them about Arthur.

“Guess I should take the hint huh?” Kate chuckled wearily to Lorena, patting the mare's neck as she dismounted. She tied her under a small awning, sheltering from the downpour while she went in for a drink. 

As she knocked the mud off her boots, a familiar voice called her name. She turned to see Charles waving from the nearby gun shop. In the dim light, his silhouette was unmistakable as he jogged over to meet her.

“I thought I recognized you riding in,” he greeted. “This storm’s a real beast. What brings you out here?” concern evident in his voice.

Kate contemplated her response. It's a long story, is what she wanted to say. “I could ask you the same,” she replied with a faint smile.

“I was just getting some supplies for hunting,” Charles explained, gesturing to the rain. “Planned on leaving tonight, but it seems I'm stuck here for now.” 

“Bummer,” Kate remarked, her exhaustion seeping through her words. She craved a neat glass of whiskey to warm her aching bones. 

Charles narrowed his eyes, sensing her distress. “Are you alright?” he asked gently. 

She looked down at her boots and sighed, no sense in lying to him. It was clear she was upset. And she had been looking to talk to Charles more anyway. 

“Honestly,” she huffed, “no, I’m not. Arthur and I collected a debt today and Arthur was just-” she trailed, unsure what to say. Charles was his friend, and she didn’t want to bad mouth him. 

Understanding washed over Charles's face as he nodded sympathetically. “Arthur was being Arthur,” he murmured.

Kate bit her lip, “yeah.” Her disappointment deepened as she realized she had Arthur all wrong. 

“Let me buy you a drink,” Charles suggested, holding the saloon doors open with a warm smile.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

In a secluded corner upstairs, Kate slouched in a rickety chair, whiskey warming her insides. Charles, equally deep in his cups, listened attentively as she recounted the events at the Downes ranch.

“And then he told me I shoot first, ask questions later ,” she mimicked in Arthurs familiar southern drawl, “it's barbaric!” 

He chucked taking a swig of his drink, “that’s a dumb fucken philosophy,” he agreed.

Kate laughed as she slammed her glass on the table, “that's exactly what I said!”

They both laughed together over the coincidence, Kate’s heart felt lighter. It felt good to vent to someone, someone other than the girls. Not that she didn’t love them, but Charles was refreshing, he was new, and he was close to Arthur. She felt safe knowing that Charles saw a different side of him too. 

His laughter quieted and went back to his usual deep comforting tone, “I’m sorry Kate, Arthur is,” he hesitated, searching for the right answer, “a complicated man.” 

“I can see that,” she said quietly, her face still hot from a mix of whiskey and laughter. 

“The man has a heart of gold,” he added, “but it's buried deep beneath his outlaw code.” 

Kate didn’t understand, Charles was part of the same gang, but even he disapproved of his code, “I don’t get it,” she began, the words seemingly harder to pronounce, “you’s an outlaw too.”

Charles shook his head, his gaze steady, “I am, and I’ve had my moments, I’ll admit,” he lifted a hand as if he were swearing on a Bible, “but I don’t hurt innocent people.” Kate said nothing, choosing to stare at the water stains on the wooden table, her drunken vision making them twist shape. 

He leaned in closer, “there’s a good man within him Kate. But he is wrestling with a giant, and the giant wins. Time, and time again.” 

She thought she mumbled something along the lines of I know what that is like but the words barely came out. A heavy tiredness taking over, the alcohol bringing her down like a vessel struck in water. Kate heard a chuckle from Charles, in the next moment he was under her arm and leading her to a room. 

“Stay here tonight, get some sleep on an actual bed,” he urged softly. Kate made no protest as her head sank into the feathered pillow. Her body melted into the sheets. 

“I’ll be leaving in the morning,” he murmured from the doorway, “you should come hunting with me.” Kate tried to say yes, but all that came out was a hum, like a cicada quieting its song as darkness descended.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for laughing at my conservative uncle?

This is an incident that made half of my family go no/low contact with each other, and some still think I was an asshole for it (I think I wasn't), but I wanna get tumblr's perspective. I was 24(F) when this happened, my uncle was 58.

Thanksgiving 2021 my family wanted a big weekend long get together after not being able to do Thanksgiving in 2020 due to lockdowns. Family members took time off work and drove in from out of state so we could all hang out from Thursday to Sunday.

We all have that one uncle who spends every family event saying the most out there racist/sexist/homophobic/transphobic/whatever shit, and mine I feel is worse than most. He has some truly shitty takes like "It should be legal to hunt the homeless for sport", and "If a woman doesn't wanna get raped she should get married at like 16 and never go anywhere without her husband," and "If I ever saw a man pretending to be a woman I would kill him with my bare hands, and most of this nation would agree with me". Truly a piece of shit. Meanwhile my family knows I am extremely progressive, so they do their best to keep me and my uncle separate during family events or else it could (and has in the past) lead to shouting matches.

But here's the thing: I would happily avoid him and not talk to him during get togethers, but he loves arguing. He seeks me out. He'll follow me to the bathroom and bring up transphobic things happening in the news. He'll get up from the dinner table to walk over to me and shove an news article about Trump in my face. If he sees me enter the room he'll start talking LOUDLY about his political opinions. He WANTS to argue with me, and the family considers it my duty to ignore him and calls me an asshole when I engage, because that's just giving him what he wants. But he somehow never gets called out for hounding me, because "that's just how he is".

So it's Thanksgiving 2021. And maybe it's because of the therapy, or maybe it's just because I'm getting tired of avoiding him, or maybe it's the lockdowns that eroded my social graces, but I see him spot me from across the room and get that "ohhh I'm gonna make her sooooo mad" little glint in his eye and start to make his way over, and I don't find it infuriating anymore. I find it deeply funny that this divorced, no job, no bitches, deadbeat dad, that everyone secretly hates, has decided the only way he can get a drop of serotonin in his sad miserable life that HE ruined all by himself, is to turn to reactionary politics in a desperate attempt to get a rise out of his niece.

He starts in on the regular vile transphobic shit (I don't need to repeat it we've heard it all before, imagine the worst anti-trans rhetoric you've ever heard and yup. That's what he was saying) and I don't try to counter his points like I usually do. I just laugh. He keeps going, looking more and more puzzled, and I keep laughing.

He thinks I didn't hear him right. No no, I heard it all, and it was funny. He decides I must be too triggered to speak. No I promise, I'm having the time of my life. He guesses I'm not as smart as I think I am then, if I can't come up with a good counterpoint. Oh I'm plenty smart, and you're plenty hilarious.

Long story short he gets madder and madder that I won't engage until he's red faced and yelling. Family members are trying to calm him down and telling me to stop. I don't. I'm not mad that they're again blaming me for the interaction when I was just standing there and HE came up to ME, it's just really funny at that point. Really funny that the entire family walks on eggshells to protect his precious feelings when they could just laugh in his face like I am. My uncle punches a hole in my grandmother's wall and storms off cussing. The mood of the entire Thanksgiving weekend is ruined, and even my most left leaning family members think I'm an asshole because I KNOW how he is and I should have just walked away.

Should I have just walked away to save everyone's Thanksgiving weekend?

What are these acronyms?

[intoloopin-archive]

SOMEWHERE FAR, FAR BEYOND LOOPiN (AND SOMETIMES, NOT THAT FAR!)

SEND IN A RANDOM NUMBER AND I'LL MAKE A PROFILE FOR (ONE OF THE MANY) NPC ACTS OF THE GIOVERSE, including: the history, the drama, the music, the lore (so much lore)!

YOU HAVE UNLOCKED: 00 - Midnestra | 01 - Sweet-X | 05 - Time Of Bloom, TOB | 08 - Air Castle.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

The Doe That Chases the Hound

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Baratheon!Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 5123

Summary: Normally in a hunt it was a hound’s duty to chase down deer. You went against the natural order of things. This time it was the doe who sought after the hound.

Consider this a continuation of A Good, Mean, Dog

Tommen rushed behind you, clinging to your back shaking like a leaf. It was no wonder he was hiding behind you, he was terrified of the Hound. Smiling gently at the sight of the enormous man your hand goes behind you to smooth Tommen’s golden hair soothingly. The Hound was completely unfazed by the youngest Baratheon’s cowering form and continues on his way only to stop and give you a nod.

“My lady.” His gruff voice rumbles as he addresses you. After the day he had saved you, the two of you shared simple words between one another but nothing more. It was like Sandor was somewhat afraid of getting close to you. It was like Sandor was somewhat afraid of getting close to you. You didn’t force any interactions knowing a man like Sandor needed to be eased in. From the way he always acted around you you guessed he wasn’t much used to a young maid like yourself willingly spending time with him.

Either way you always had a smile for him. He had yet to use the offer you had proposed and you found yourself actually longing for his kiss, even his touch. “Sandor. Where is that darling brother of mine? Surely you wouldn’t leave his side.” Tommen fidgets behind you wanting to leave. You continue to pet his hair lovingly with hopes pacify him.

“Lessons with the maester.” Sandor grunts, his eyes casually noticing Tommen behind you. He sees the fear in his green eyes. Bowing shortly he promptly leaves. You hear Tommen release a shuddering breath.

“Sweet lion.” you murmur and brush your fingers against his cheek. “The Hound isn’t as scary as he seems. Just be lucky that he’s on our side.”

“H-He never smiles though. . . . A-A-And his face. . .”

As elegantly as you could you kneel in front of him. “Ssh my sweet lion. No more of that. Does a lion fear a hound?” Even though he was Baratheon, him and your other siblings looked more so Lannister unlike you. You may have had Lannister eyes and your mother’s beauty, but you had your father’s dark mane of hair. The lion of Lannister better suited your younger siblings. They were golden all the way just like the Lannister sigil amongst red.

He shakes his head, mop of golden hair bouncing as he did so. You kiss the corner of his mouth and stand up, going back to holding his hand. “Let’s go. You have your lessons to attend to.”

“You speak out of line.”

You and Tommen pause outside of your father’s room. The both of you had been looking for your mother and was informed she had been heading toward the king’s chambers. His doors were closed with your Uncle Jaime standing guard. Normally when Jaime was outside you would hear moans and other obscene noises from the other side. Instead you heard your parents arguing yet again. You’re about to steer Tommen away until your mother speaks up.

“I will not have my eldest daughter going to the north. Period. Whether it be Starks or Boltons, I will not have it. Nor will she be marrying that dirty old man from the Twins.”

“Seven hells woman! Then who is she to marry?!” Robert Baratheon exclaims. It was clear that they had been talking about it for quite a while from the frustration biting in his voice.

“You can do better.” Cersei hisses. “She deserves better. She’s your first born.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you stare at the massive doors that blocked you from seeing the interaction. You catch your Uncle Jaime looking at you before he puts a finger to his lips; the same gesture he always did when you passed by your father’s room and heard something you weren’t supposed to. All you can manage to do is gawk and continue to not breathe.

“The Tyrells of High Garden have two unmarried sons. Their wealth would be beneficial to us. There are also some Lannister cousins of Casterly Rock and Lannisport that would also prove a good fit for (y/n). Any good house in the west.”

Huffing you hear a loud clinking noise, possibly caused by a flagon of wine bumping into the rim of your father’s goblet. “The Tyrells have one cripple son and the other is to be a knight. She will marry whoever I say. Maybe giving her to Oberyn Martell will get him off my ass about his sister.”

Your father really didn’t care what became of you. Jaw ticking you walk away hurriedly with Tommen in front of you. You didn’t want to hear anymore. There was only one man you dared to fantasize about being with. The only other male besides your Uncle Tyrion and your sweet Tommen who even showed you the slightest bit of warmth. A man everyone feared, a man who could protect you from any harm. Yet he was sworn to protect your rotten brother. You would only ever be a silly little princess to him. You had come to terms with your infatuation with the Hound after you offered him a kiss. It grew worse every day when you saw his towering frame following close behind the smaller one of your bratty brother. Something about the hardness of his face made you shiver in a good way. You remember how close you were to him when he saved you from your rampaging horse. How he picked you up so easily. You wanted his arms around you again. You wanted him to claim you as his and demand your father to allow a marriage. But those were just dreams. Silly, childish, dreams. You knew how this world worked. There was no way you could fool yourself. Sandor Clegane was a rough man and wouldn’t be into such romantic notions nor would he ever ask your king father for your hand in marriage. Robert would marry you off to the highest bidder. He required money to squander on whores and alcohol. Your happiness meant nothing to him, you had always known that. At least your mother cared about you. She would fight for your happiness. Cersei was still a woman though. In the end your father had the final say on all matters.

“(y/n), what were they talking about?” your brother asks innocently. You held onto his tiny hand, it was all you could do to prevent yourself from crying.

Forcing a smile you explain to him that they were choosing your future husband.

At that Tommen beams up at you. “You’re getting married?!”

You laugh at his excitement. “Some day.”

“You’ll be the most prettiest bride!”

Utterly endearing you bend over slightly and kiss his golden crown. “Will you be the one to give me away, sweet lion?”

Lush green eyes sparkle like the jewels your mother loved to wear. You wished a man could look at you with such adoration the same way your baby brother did. Instead you were met with lust filled gazes rather than adoration. Many wanted to fuck you but not love you. Men just wanted you for your body and title.

“Hopefully my husband will be as sweet as you.” You sadly muse knowing that it was very unlikely.

“And I want my wife to be just like you!”

You prayed that at least Tommen and Myrcella were set up with people who would treat them right. They were pure and good hearted, they deserved to be happy.

You saw him off to his lessons with his maester and planned to go see if your Uncle Tyrion was available. Just as you turn around though you come face to face with Ser Jaime Lannister. Apparent that he had followed you and Tommen you couldn’t think of why. He had always shown disdain for you despite you having done nothing to receive his irk.

You chew on your bottom lip before taking another step closer. “Ser Jaime, what can I do for you?”

Heavy gaze narrows toward you that has you clamming up under his scrutiny. Then he smiles. “I remember when Cersei was told she was to marry Robert Baratheon. The same age as you too. She had wanted to marry the Targaryen prince when she was younger but. . . well, we all know how that story ended.”

He had never spoken this much to you, not in all the years you had been alive. It made you nervous. “And? What did my mother do?”

“Not much she could do consider that Robert had just won the Iron Throne and declared king of all of Westeros. She would be his queen. Not really something to protest against.”

“I don’t have any hope of my father finding me a match like that.” Mumbling you knew hesitantly dart your eyes over to your uncle. What was that expression on his face? Remorse? Pity? You couldn’t tell.

Jaime shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe so.”

Sighing you nod. “That’s the way things are I suppose. . .”

“You’re a lot like your mother.” He suddenly says. “Both of you are stubborn, but strong as hell. Whatever happens, I believe you’ll get through it just as she has. You are her daughter.”

His words make you smile. “Thank you. I believe this is the first time we’ve had a heart to heart.”

The man known as the Kingslayer chuckled and playfully shook his head. “This is the first time we’ve really spoken.” Slowly he reaches out toward your dark hair and gingerly pats your head. “You’ll be fine. You’re every bit of your mother. Strong, stubborn, even scary as hell. But you’re also sweet with a kind heart. Any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. They’ll fall in love with you, I’m sure.”

Your chest clenched. “What if they don’t? What if it’s like my mother and father?”

Eyes hardening he holds onto your shoulders. “Then give him hell or your mother most likely will. You know how much she loves her children. And I’d be willing to break a few limbs if he proves to be ungallant.”

Grinning you actually feel a little better. “Thanks Uncle Jaime. Or. . . Ser Jaime I suppose.”

Gently smiling he chucks you underneath your chin and continues on his way, his cloak trailing behind him as he walks down the hall and out of view. Despite his kind and even comforting words though you couldn’t let go of the image of the man you really wanted. Jaime had claimed that any man would fall in love with you, could that possibly imply Sandor as well? Not that it mattered. It would just complicate things more if Sandor did happen to reciprocate your feelings. Which he most likely didn’t.

Chewing on your bottom lip you curl your fingers into your gown. You were your mother’s daughter. You were strong and clever just like Cersei Lannister. You would do what needed to be done despite your feelings. You were a Baratheon, princess of Westeros.

*

It wasn’t exactly what he had thought of doing when he was younger, but Sandor Clegane hadn’t been given many opportunities to do anything else with his life except serve the Lannister family. It was what the Cleganes had always done ever since his grandfather’s hounds saved Lord Tywin’s own father from a lion. Following around Joffrey Baratheon had it’s perks though; one being the pay was exceptional and he had a roof over his head. He did his job well too, everyone was terrified of him because of his face and his skill with a sword. He supposed he should thank Gregor for that at least if nothing else. He’d thank him someday by plunging his sword into Gregor’s throat.

Trailing behind the young prince like a looming shadow something caught his attention; or rather someone. Sandor peers over the stone balustrade into the courtyard that was lush with shrubbery and trees. It was a laugh that had drawn his attention. A musical laugh he had heard plenty times before, one that he held onto so that he could remember it before he slept.

The eldest Baratheon twirled around with her younger, blonde haired sister. Many times (y/n) Baratheon was all smiles, full of politeness that was taught to her at a very young age. There was a maturity in her emerald eyes though that was beyond her years. She genuinely smiled at Sandor which would always catch the large man off guard. He remembered how she looked at him when she offered him a kiss. She had suggested it so easily. For a minute there he swore that his heart had stopped functioning. She couldn’t have been serious. Someone as beautiful as (y/n) Baratheon wouldn’t want to kiss someone as hideous as Sandor Clegane. (y/n) could have any man she wanted; she was a bloody princess after all! Why would she bother with an old, mean, dog, like Sandor? He had done nothing good in his life to warrant any affection from any woman let alone a princess. Yet there she had stood, bathed in the gentle candle light of the corridor, as she asked him if he would like a kiss as a reward. She had looked almost surreal in that torch glow, a fleeting image with eyes as bright as wildfire. A part of him had urged him forward, to take her face in his large, rough, hands and kiss her like no other man ever has. Kiss her and never let her go. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Couldn’t bring himself to taint her. Hands that were covered in blood did not deserve to touch something as pure as her, no matter how much he wanted to. Much to his shame he had day dreamed about fucking her, as he supposed many men did. Undressing her and letting his hands roam her soft body and try to memorize every detail. Kiss those lips that she had so readily offered up to him. It wouldn’t be all about his pleasure though. He wanted to feel her squeeze around him, whether it be his cock or finger and hear her moan for him and him alone. Sandor wanted to bring her pleasure that she had never known.

That of course would never happen. King Robert would marry her off to some wealthy lord and Sandor would never see her again. So every time he managed to catch himself daydreaming he would stop immediately. Daydreaming would get him nowhere. A man like him didn’t daydream. Perhaps young maidens, but not a big, hard, man like Sandor. Daydreaming had stopped for him when his brother thrusted his head into the fire and permanently scarred him for life.

“Stupid things women are.” Joffrey muses. “Even those you’re related to. My mother and Myrcella, even (y/n). She thinks she has the authority of a man. She’ll see her wrong doings once I claim the throne. But she might not be my problem by that time. She should be married off by now. Don’t know what’s taking father so long to get rid of her.”

Like always he kept his mouth shut when Joffrey spoke about his sister like that despite it grating on his nerves. When he caused (y/n)’s horse to go out of control and nearly throw the young princess off, Sandor had half a mind to strangle him. He had always known that his charge was a cruel boy but to purposefully put one’s own sibling in danger was something else. Cruel and mean, just like Gregor. The king and queen did nothing to try and rid Joffrey of these detestable traits. They always turned a blind eye, the queen spoiling him even more. They would end up ruining him further.

Sandor was just a sworn sword though. There was nothing he could do except follow Joffrey around. He hated that more than anything else.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I convinced father to marry her off to you?” Joffrey chuckled at the thought. “Imagine her face! No prince charming but a dog!”

He stopped paying attention to what was coming out of his wormy mouth and remembered (y/n)’s alluring, striking eyes, that fluttered prettily. The more he recalled her face, the more he was certain that she had been serious about the kiss.

“Not even a kiss from a maiden fair?”

Maybe he had been a fool not to accept it. Who knew if he would ever get the chance again. A moment after that he had thought himself gallant, chivalrous even. He had to remind himself that he was no knight. Just a dog. (y/n) had said a dog was better than a knight though. He couldn’t see how that was possible.

Before continuing on their way Sandor looked over the balustrade one last time and by chance (y/n) had looked up at the same exact moment. Coal black meeting the brilliant flames of wildfire. She smiled up at him and waved. Not for the first time, Sandor felt like she had stolen the breath right out of him. He couldn’t bare to look at her any longer lest he get burned.

*

Their heads had grown heavy against your shoulders after a while, indicating that they had fallen asleep. Gently you close the book you had been reading and bask in the love you felt for you two younger siblings. Why had Joffrey not turned out like them? Sweet and gentle. Sweet and gentle they may be, yet Myrcella was beginning to show signs of being smart and resilient as well. She would make a man very happy, you were sure.

You sighed and leaned against your bed frame. They didn’t offer you much room to move, keeping you trapped between them. Delicately you brush a stray strand of gold away from Myrcella’s face. What was she dreaming about? Maybe about the dragons you had been ready to them before they fell asleep. Tommen sometimes thought they were scary, but not Myrcella. She was fascinated with them just like you. Maybe you would bring her back a small skull from the cellar room that your uncle had shown you. A bit of Targaryen blood did run in the Baratheons after all.

You hadn’t realized that your mother had been present in your room for a while now. She was smiling at the sight of the three of you. You knew nothing made her happier than seeing her children together.

“Shall I get someone to bring them to their beds?” She whispers.

“No. Let them sleep. They’ll wake soon.”

Cersei quietly makes her way to the edge of your bed and carefully perches herself on the edge. No matter what she did, Cersei was the perfect lady and did everything elegantly. Even sitting seemed like an artform when Cersei did it. “When I look at you with them I start to imagine how wonderful a mother you’ll be.”

Your throat closes and you suddenly find your siblings closeness to be suffocating. “A bit too soon to be thinking about my children.”

“Not at all.” Her voice is sad, her eyes even more so. “(y/n)-”

“I know.” You close your eyes and focus on your breathing. “I know mother. I. . . overheard you and father today. I didn’t mean to, but when I heard that you were talking about my betrothal. . . can you blame me?”

“Of course not.” she sighs and reaches out to hold your hand. “I know this kind of thing isn’t easy. I myself struggled with being married off.”

“You ended up marrying a king though.”

Cersei laughs bitterly. “Yes and you see how our marriage is. You’re smart (y/n), you should know already that things don’t always turn out the way you want them to. No matter who you end up with though I want you to be strong. I know you’ll be strong.”

“Uncle Jaime told me the same thing. And here I thought he never liked me.”

“Why would you think that?”

You shrug. “He’s always been very cold toward me before. I don’t know. Maybe because I don’t look like a Lannister.”

Cersei squeezes your hand in a comforting manner. “My love, your uncle loves you as he does your brothers and sister. You are his blood. Blood means everything to us.”

“Mother. . . did you love anyone before you were to be married to Rob- I mean, father?”

Her eyes try to pry into your true meaning of your question. “Yes.”

You squirm a bit between your siblings. “What did you do when you found out you couldn’t be with them?”

She lets go of your hand and looks away. You had never asked your mother so much about her personal life. By the way she was acting you could only guess it was a sensitive topic. Maybe she still loved that person even now. “I did what I had to do for our family.” That was all she was going to tell you.

You let the subject go.

Something you wished you could do with your affections for the Hound. You tried be logical and list the reasons why you liked him so much. The list went on and on, even beyond the fact that he had saved you. You started thinking back before that had happened. Yes, there was always something there. Perhaps your budding womanhood and hormones played into it. He was the closest man to you that you weren’t related to. There were much younger guards and more attractive as well, but you felt nothing for them. They couldn’t compare to Sandor. Not to you at least. Even the most handsome knight couldn’t get your heart to flutter. They couldn’t arouse you the way Sandor did with just one look at you.

“What are you doing all by yourself?”

You tell your heart to shut up as it pounds frantically in response to Sandor’s voice. Briefly looking over your shoulder you find him standing a few feet away from you in the corridor. Turning your face back to the window you whisper “My father and mother have been discussing who I am to marry.” You don’t know why you’re telling him, he probably didn’t care one lick. “I mean I expected as much, it’s always been my fate, but hearing them barter over me like I’m some animal is a little disheartening.” You shrug. “Oh well.” You don’t know if he’s still there until you hear his feet thump against the ground as he advances. You scold yourself for spewing all that on him. “Sorry. Probably boring, huh?”

“And who would you marry? Some handsome knight or lord. Is that what you’re worried about? Them sending you off to marry someone hideous?”

Shocked to hear the slight annoyance in his voice you clam up slightly. You couldn’t admit to him that that was slightly what you were worried about. He probably already thought you were vain and spoiled like your mother.

“Someone could be beautiful and still be cruel.” You murmur and turn to look up at him. Many thought your brother Joffrey to be handsome but not all handsome men are kind. He had proved to be mean and vicious. “That’s not my main concern. It’s the thought of being sent to a complete stranger. He could be fat for all I care. Just as long as he’s nice. . . I don’t want to be in a marriage like my mother’s. I. . .”

Biting your lip you shake your head and start to walk away.

“You what?”

You turn with sullen eyes and a hint of redness to your cheeks that you didn’t want to admit. “I want love. I want to be loved. It’s ridiculous, I know, but I found myself wanting it. There’s a man here who I have found has total claim to my heart and I’ll never get to tell him nor will I ever get to kiss him despite me having offered my lips to him. I’ve come to terms with the fact that he doesn’t return my affections.” Carefully you steal a look of Sandor, not knowing if he had put two and two together. Your heart raced at the fact you had confessed about your feelings for him.

Wanting to hold your ground as he stared at you you couldn’t help but fidget a bit. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

*

She couldn’t have meant him. But he couldn’t deny it any longer unless she went around offering kisses to other guards which Sandor didn’t think she did. She wasn’t that kind of lady. (y/n) did have feelings for him. He was reeling at the sudden realization. His brain couldn’t even process it.

Sandor noticed the slight fear that washed over her face as he didn’t say anything. What could he say? He’d never been in such a situation before.

He turned on his heel and walked away.

*

You didn’t know what you had been expecting. He had probably grown tired of your complaining. No matter what you tried to tell yourself you couldn’t help the devastation that ripped you apart from the inside. It was hard to breathe as you turned away as well and took small steps, your hand clinging to your chest as you bite down on your lip and try not to cry. A foolish little girl you were.

You heard Sandor growl loudly from the other side of the hall “Fuck it.”

A strong hand twirled you around to face him and you could only stare wide eyed at him. Considering you were much smaller than him he had to lean down considerably to kiss you roughly. Exactly as you had imagined a kiss from him would be like you tilt your face ever so slowly to deepen it. Urgent and needing for all of you, something you had never felt from anyone. You had never felt so wanted by anyone. Sure you had seen the glances men gave you, but you never wanted them. You wanted Sandor though. And it so happened he wanted you too. Whether it was purely lust or he truly loved you, you didn’t care at the moment. You wanted more of him. Warmth licked at the walls of your belly as your hands roam up his chest and to his large shoulders. Once the two of you pulled away you were light headed and swimming with desire. Sandor looked at you with half lidded eyes. You had never seen such a gentle look on his face. Even when he had saved you his face had still been stern.

“Why do you want an old dog like me?” He suddenly asks with a rasping voice. “I’m nothing pretty to look at and I’ve killed people.”

Admitting, your hands gingerly move from his shoulders to cup his scruffy, burned, face. You gave him plenty of time to pull your hands away if he didn’t want to be touched. But he let you caress his face. “I’ve asked myself that question for quite a while.” You notice him shudder under your feather light touch. Had he ever experienced a gentle touch before? Surely his mother must’ve held and kissed him when he was younger. You realized you knew so little about him besides the fact that his brother had shoved his face into a fire at such a young age. Sandor’s gaze is unrelenting but you find it so comforting. “Even before you saved me from Blue Moon. I had always assumed it was a stupid little crush because you were the only kind man around me other than my Uncle Tyrion or Tommen.”

That makes him scoff. “Kind?”

You nod. “Yes, kind. All other men feign at being kind in hopes of me letting them under my skirt. My father doesn’t care for me and I know for certain Joffrey would rather have me dead. But you. . . You were different. True, you’re rough and a brute. Terrifying to everyone. That’s what your brother made you though. That’s what you have to do to survive in this world. I found myself admiring you too. Among other things. . .” Blushing you retrieve your hands from his face.

“You’re a weird one.” Sandor grumbles, averting his dark gaze from you. You note the hint of shyness that made his movement more coy.

Everything about him was endearing to you and the more you fell in love with him, the more you discovered about the towering man. He was insecure, self-conscious, and unknowingly craving a gentle human touch. Sandor was completely perplexed by your affections and you realized he might be even more so confused of his own feelings. The fact he had walked away at first revealed to you that he had been trying to restrain himself. Whatever he felt for you though was too much for him to maintain control over. You still feel pressure on your lips and you knew that you wanted more. Ever the greedy princess, you wanted all of Sandor Clegane. You didn’t know how to go about enticing him for more though. Getting him to kiss you had been like pulling teeth. You tried to think what any other woman would do. You tried thinking what your mother would do and the answer was simple: she would demand it. Could you be brazen enough to demand that Sandor join you in your bed? You were still so young and didn’t know much about that area of life. He would possibly think you still a child if you mucked things up.

You didn’t want him to think you loose though. Instead you balanced on your tippy toes to kiss him again. Sandor growled as he wrapped an arm around your waist. The only sound was the echoing of your kisses and the soft gasp that you let out when he pressed you against the wall. His coarse beard was rough against your face, but you took pleasure from it and in all the rough affection he delivered to you. Arousal made your legs weak as his large hands deftly roam over your body and slightly hikes up your leg to wrap around his waist. Sandor was fully supporting your body now as you were completely lifted off of the ground. Nose brushing against your’s, his lips ghost over your swollen ones as you pant slightly.

“You’re a troublesome girl.” He roughly tells you but the look in his eyes tells you something differently.

Normally in a hunt it was a hound’s duty to chase down deer. You went against the natural order of things. This time it was the doe who sought after the hound.

[zooophagous]

I'm curious if you'd be willing to elaborate about what kind of behaviours/ attitude in labs and lab mixes your not a fan of, I've only really interacted with labs and lab mixes second hand so I'm honestly not all that familiar with their quirks (and while my family used to sometimes get gun dog super mutts we actually haven't had one since I was born so I'm not particularly familiar with their quirks I'm more familiar with herding breed and sight hound quirks)

I will preface this by saying different bloodlines of lab are better than others. A labrador bred for service dog work will be a different beast than a field bred hunting labrador. A well bred stable labrador is a joy.

Most labs I've met, and that exist around here, are not stable lol. They're largely field bred and expected to work, and as long as they can return a duck to hand and not savage livestock or other dogs, they're considered good enough to keep breeding.

These high energy dogs are then often kenneled when not working and go sort of insane. They're a friendly breed with no stranger danger but that backfires because they become TOO happy to see you.

So what that means is you can walk into any given home that has one and be immediately assaulted by 80 to 100 lbs of labrador that will merrily pummel the shit out of you with its big stupid paws because it loves you so much that it simply has to beat you to death and lick the inside of your mouth.

It never learned anything useful beyond get the duck so its owners attempts to get it off of you are fruitless because they can't control it verbally or physically (dog is stronger than them) and to top it off labs usually smell bad so even if you aren't phsyically bruised from them you're covered in footprints and bad dog smell.

They bark and they're loud about it. They're incapable of knowing their own strengths, and many of them have PICA and will consume inappropriate items like socks, wood chips or rocks and break their teeth or worse require surgery.

The people raising them seem to have very little interest in making a nice normal dog with a good off switch and instead have created a dog that's friendly and good at fetch but is the most obnoxious brain dead idiot on the planet who doesn't even know he's being an asshole when he runs over you.

I've just been annoyed to death by too many untrained labradors that the entire breed has been poisoned to me. I've met exactly one labrador I thought was a nice calm normal family dog. So far I haven't found her equal. I'd almost prefer a dog that doesn't want to be touched to a dog like that.

[reigningmax]

thank you for your updates this weekend at COTA! did you meet lots of drivers? what were they like if you don't mind telling us?

Max - like I said, he was patient with me both times I had 1:1 time with him, and indulged me while being super babie about it. First time was when he was coming down the stairs, I stood in my spot and asked if he can sign my hat, which he did then as he went to give the sharpie back, I said this one too (for Emma), and he did that one! Second time was on Sunday, and it was as he was walking in. He is my big broad smiley BABIE his smile is so cute.

Charles - I only had one moment where we met, talked, and gave him the bracelet. He was in good spirits this morning! Was super busy the other days.

Carlos - again, I only met him this morning and it was super quick but he's as hot as ever. He looks a little lost sometimes but that's ok :'')

Lewis and George - lol so my brother is a huge Lewis fan and asked if I can get him something signed. I was very skeptical, but I bought a bucket hat in the hopes I'd find them. George was so easy. He's fucking TALL and lanky. Lewis was tough, obviously, and I did not want to be a freak and ran after him and hunted him down. So I asked the girlie at the Merc garage what she thought was best, and she said to just stay standing and ask as he approached - which is what I did. I was standing near Merc, and as he was walking closer, I asked out loud if it was ok with him to sign this hat for my brother. He didn't say anything but took the pen and hat, signed and gave it back. He has AT LEAST 3 ~undercover security guards with him so if they feel like you're gonna be insane, they're always ready to step in - which is good!! It was a nice, quick fan interaction.

Daniel - DARLING!! It was all on Friday, he was walking with Blake (whose professional job title must be 'to walk around') and he wasn't being hounded, so I approached and asked for a signature. As he was signing and we were walking with them, I told him it's good to have him back, that it hasn't been the same without him, and he said "Thanks, I appreciate that" then as he handed the hat back to me, I said "my best friend (@blamemma) is gonna freak the fuck out" and he honk laughed :')

Pierre - Alpine and Ferrari's hospitality were in the same like..block so we easily saw them. As Pierre walked in, we asked if we can get pics, and he waited for us both, was so cute. Then on Sunday, we were hanging upstairs at Ferrari when he went up and I said "Hi Pierre" and he gave a cute lil smile!! Then at one point, he was coming out, and I asked him if he'd record a quick video for a friend who's a huge fan (@accio-ricciardo), he asked for her name and I just recorded it. He genuinely was one of the highlights of the weekend. SOOOOO cute and sweet lmao.

Bonus: Pato - he was sooooo cute and came out of Mclaren hospitality and took pics with us. He's so good looking.

[merakiui]

mermay but plot twist, you're the mermaid and it's your first time up on dry land! all these boys are so nice to you and give you so much attention! you are a little confused though, you know you're supposed to wear clothes but your new friends seem so eager to take yours off so they can show you how humans play together, how weird.

You ask Floyd if that’s normal because he’s been on land much longer than you and so surely he’d know a little more about how humans play. But then Floyd’s mismatched eyes are darkening and his happy expression sours, and it isn’t long before he’s slinking off to go play with your new human friends himself. He’ll return with bloody knuckles and an exhilarated smile. Playing with your friends really is fun. Shrimpy better tell him all about any other friends just so he can have his chance to play. Although whenever Floyd plays with your friends, it’s a guarantee they’ll never talk to you again.

Azul just about loses it when he learns you practiced (in your words) “breathing techniques” with other students. He tells you you’re not meant to do that with just anyone! It’s important and special and shouldn’t be taken so lightly. When you ask who you’re supposed to practice with, he offers himself as a worthy candidate right away. Azul knows you’re not this gullible, but then he’s too busy enjoying a dozen kisses to worry about whether or not you’re playing him for a fool or if it’s the opposite hehe. <3

Jade takes you on his mountain hikes because he wants you to see more of what the surface has to offer. Even if it ends with you pressed against the tree, with Jade claiming this is how humans have fun on land, you’ll trust it because Jade knows best. Jade also introduces you to other humans, but he’s always sticking nearby. You’re more than welcome to socialize; just do it after he’s cum inside you so that those with a keen sense of smell will know not to get too friendly with Jade’s possession. :)

Good luck to the human students who want to be your friend. Riddle’s always hounded by the twins whenever he interacts with you. All he did was borrow you a pencil and yet the twins are hunting him down because you mistook it for a courting gesture. Or Deuce genuinely trying to get to know you on a personal level because he likes you, but Azul is always getting in the way because no one will know his angelfish better than him! >:( or Rook making you his next curiosity because he just loves how adorable you are when you’re exploring the campus. So many possibilities!

[calla-celtigar]

creatures of the sea

a dialogue within @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood, a closed starter with @daltongreyjoy-asoiaf-rp

The crab and the kraken. Lady Calla Celtigar did not miss the irony of her meeting in the beauty of the Red Keep’s lush gardens, the season leading to the bloom of intricate red and yellow flowers. Calla had been fond of the gardens since the day she arrived in King’s Landing many years ago. There were few flowers on Claw Isle, more stone and moss than flower and wood. However, King’s Landing tamed beasts in these gardens, both man and animal. Calla Celtigar was curious to see if it would do the same to Lord Greyjoy, the infamous Red Kraken. 

Her small fleet of trading ships had sent word-filled trepidation over the arrival of some of the Greyjoy fleet. Dalton Greyjoy had made an impression across Westeros, even to her Celtigar men who solely traveled the Narrow Sea. She heard the omens of ships with black and gold squids. But Calla did not fear Dalton Greyjoy due to his purpose of travel. The lords of Westeros had come to swear loyalty before to the dragon. Perhaps the kraken could not be tamed, but he could be made to bow.

Calla pondered these thoughts as she winded through the rows of shrubbery and curated flowers, politely nodding to the other ladies of the court who walked past. It had been some time since she had the moment to enjoy the space due to her duties to Princess Rhaenyra, and it was clear that her absence had been noted. However, the ladies kept their distance in the path due to the hunting hound that padded beside her. Her maids had tended to Moddey as best they could, but her old hound preferred her company in such places as this. His grey fur had been soft under her fingertips as she walked, and the dog instinctively leaned on the folds of her velvet dress as she turned a corner. Moddey had always been quiet as a shadow, but he made his presence known by physical touch. She had wondered how Moddey had ever been a trained wolf hound until she looked at the scars that marred his muzzle. Many of the pelts Lord Bartimos displayed in his court Moddey had a part in her grandsire's travels to Crackclaw Point and beyond.

The hound was a predator in the garden and not the only one as Calla set her eyes upon the Lord of the Iron Islands. He looked all the parts of the Greyjoys she had both heard and read about. He was hewn out of dark sea stone, unyielding and weathered. She looked over him, memorizing the details she could only imagine before this encounter.

“Lord Greyjoy.” Calla stepped forward to him with a deep incline of her head, her ringed hands wrung behind her back. There was no smile on her face but neutral respect for one of the realm's most powerful lords. Rarely had a Celtigar interacted with a Greyjoy in history.

“I appreciate the time you have taken to meet with me today.” She waved a hand forward, beckoning him forward as she began to walk down an alternate path, Moddey trailing behind her now with dark eyes. She turned her head to Dalton, pearls swaying in her hair as she did so. Two creatures of the sea, walking on land because of duty.

“I hope the city and the Red Keep are treating you and your family well.” Calla had done her research before preparing this meeting with him, learning the number of his wives and his children. The Red Keep would be crawling with krakens in the coming days. She had already heard the whispers in the halls of the castle. The children were uncouth and illborn, and their father a vicious heathen. Calla was curious about what Lord Greyjoy would do when the words came to his ear. But those were words of the future and in no way the purpose of her arranged meeting.

“Do you enjoy history, Lord Greyjoy?” Calla let the question hang in the air as they walked, the stone clicking under their feet as they slowly moved forward. Perhaps he would appreciate a blunt offer, but she sensed otherwise when treating with the man who paid the Iron Price.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Now it's a request (a bad one I guess?)

Charles Smith x gn!reader (or whatever gender you'd like)

Reader being someone very shy who spends a lot of time with Charles (learning to make arrows, hunting or just being around each other) but is embarrassed to ask him out until he decides it's time to try

(Sorry, this is a really bad request, creativity isn't my strong suit)

Flint and Cedar

(Charles Smith x GN!Reader)

No request is a bad request

Warnings: none

In the summertime, when the sun was high in the sky, various members of the gang would occupy themselves with jobs. Not that it ever stopped in the colder months, it was just much more bearable now. Train and bank robberies, sniffing for leads like Dutch’s hounds, bounty hunting, homestead robbing, anything that would bring the gang money. Yet you took a much more domestic approach. You preferred staying at camp, yet seldom integrated yourself with the camp girls. You did not seek the company of Kieran, Uncle, Reverend, or any of the other homebodies (Not to say that they didn’t try to occasionally speak to you). You would on occasion engage in conversation with the others, but it was evasive and short-lived.

Instead, you found your company in knapping away at stones, striking rocks at one another and using the compression to angle and shape the points of arrows. You would sew day after day, endlessly, ripping apart old shirts, skirts, dresses, and trousers to remake them into new clothes. You’d learned to can every fruit you could scourge. You'd raise and feed chickens, carry around sacks of food, and of course, hunt. This was your company.

And of course, Charles Smith, who taught you most everything you know.

Charles did not force you to talk, he did not demand a conversation, nor did he immediately expect you to have a heart-to-heart with him about why you were so withdrawn, if at all (As others usually badgered you about.). Charles himself was a reserved and quiet man, he kept to his own devices, he did not put up a facade, and he was good company all the same. And in your friendship, he was usually the first one to say anything.

Your first actual interaction consisted of you staring off from where you sat by your tent, looking curiously at what Charles was doing. You watched him repeat the same pattern of percussion and striking in order to form the flint in his hand. His strong hands held the stones, and you watched as the muscles and tendons in his arms and hands tensed as he struck the stones. You hadn’t been aware of how far forward you were leaning until the jagged edge of the box you were sitting on began to poke into your thigh. He noticed your engrossment in what he was doing, but did not think it was silly.

“I’m making arrows, why don’t you come on over. I’ll teach you.” He set what he was doing down and motioned for you to come over, patting the crate next to him. Your back straightened in surprise of being noticed, and you became hyper aware of your every moment as self consciousness invaded your mind. You looked around then back at him before pointing at yourself.

Charles couldn’t help but laugh, which made you visibly blush out of embarrassment.

“Yes, you, don’t be shy.”

Charles did not know that asking that of you was like asking Sean to actually do a job around camp. You softly set down your fabrics and needles, giving them a pat before walking on over to Charles. There was hesitation in the way you sat down, still second guessing whether or not he was actually talking to you. He handed you a flintstone tenderly, a gentleness in his hands that you found oddly comforting. You studied the stone in your hand, noticing one end of it was already jagged and sharp. Before long, he handed you another stone, a different type of stone.

“Here, you’re supposed to hold the flint while striking it with the other stone. But you gotta make sure you angle it right so it gets a nice pointed end.” He explained. He reached for one of the arrow heads and held it up for you to see. “See? It’ll take a bit but you’ve just got to have patience.”

You nodded in understanding, leaning over your own lap as you attempted to chip away at the flint. As chips of it began flying all over your trousers, frustration was evident in your face. You struck it particularly hard, subsequently splitting the stone in half. You sighed, your entire face burning in embarrassment and you wished the earth would open up beneath you and swallow you.

“Sorry..” You muttered. Charles shook his head, but it was not out of disapproval. He cupped his hands beneath yours, allowing you to deposit the stones into his. His hands dwarfed yours, and you could not help but blush from it, deepening the red on your face. The entire time he taught you, not once did you feel patronized by him.

“No worries, we can try again.”

Since then, you began to spend more and more time with Charles. Being around him, you had never felt more understood. It was as if your innermost thoughts and feelings that you believed no one else could commiserate or understand were part of some shared quota between you and Charles. At first, a part of you felt intimately invaded and you shied away, another part of you welcomed the intrusion into your personal life. Yet it never felt like an intrusion.

You soon began sharing the same smoothness in your hands as Charles from handling the stones. And the fondness in your heart for him began to grow as well, yet you could not ever imagine telling him how you feel. The conversations you two shared would increase in intimacy, as you two began to share more and more details of your lives with one another. You learned about his past, and through that, he was able to share many more of the things he learned with you. He taught you to make all kinds of arrows, how to poison knives, how to make bait. And your favorite, he took you on hunting trips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Charles watched you draw the string of the bow back, your arm trembling from the prolonged force as you attempted to steady yourself and aim at your target's head.

“Steady now.” He whispered behind you. But you swore you could feel his breath on your ear, his hands ghosting around your waist as he attempted to get a good look at the animal for you. You choked on air as you lost concentration, his proximity sending riveting shivers up your spine. You released the arrow involuntarily, partially from surprise and the other from exhaustion, and sent your arrow head spearing into a cedar tree instead of the head of the rabbit you intended to kill.

“Gosh! Charles!” You turned your head away, blushing.

“I’m sorry, perhaps I was being overbearing.” He apologized. You shook your head in response, attempting to hide your blush.

“You were a little close is all..” You mumbled. You set your bow down against the tree and slumped against it. “It’s been I don’t know how long and I haven’t been able to catch anything..” You sighed shamefully. You were usually decent at hunting. Probably not as good as Charles, but decent. You never felt a sense of inferiority before, yet lately you did feel an urge to impress him. There was never an underlying tone of competition between you, but there was this thought you had in your head that it had to be enough for him. No matter what you did.

He kneeled down to your level and shook his head.

“(Name), it’s okay. If you don’t catch anything today we can always try again tomorrow.” He gave you a reassuring smile and a nod, one you were barely able to return. He patted your shoulder and gave it a squeeze, letting his hand linger and drift down your arm slightly as he retracted it. A small, easy to miss gesture, but one you promptly picked up on.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, you fancied Charles. It’s not like you ever spoke to anyone around camp about things beyond surface level. You definitely didn’t tell Charles these feelings, and you didn’t have family to write to. So for the first time in a long time, you felt alone with your feelings. And you hated that. Ever since Charles lended you his company you never felt alone. You shared everything with him after all, and to be unable to do so made you feel frustrated and boxed in.

Charles chuckled to himself. “You have that look on your face.”

“What face?” You asked in confusion, perhaps sounding a little harsh. Yet he took no offense.

“When you’re frustrated, you make a face. You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows.” He sat down next to you as you spoke. Your face softened when you realized he was right, the tension in your face evaporating. You looked at each other with a shared warmheartedness as a moment of silence befell you both. That look said all the things you two did not say to each other, and despite that shared yet subtle understanding of tenderness in your feelings for one another, you two remained oblivious to it.

“You’ve been real worked up lately.” He began. He reached into his satchel and undid a cloth containing jerky. He offered the jerky out to you and waited for you to pick a piece. You took a piece, timidly chewing on a corner of the tough meat, not quite biting anything off. You struggled to even look Charles in the eyes anymore.

“A little… I don't know why.” You said briefly. It was fleeting, hasty, and all the things that signified to Charles that you didn’t want to talk about something. Normally he would wait for you to actually warm up to him and tell him on your own terms, but this felt different. Like he had to do something.

Another moment of silence befell you both, the serene yet lively noises of the wood providing you two company. It felt more awkward this time though, the air taut and heavy. The both of you shifted around a little, and in the moments you glanced at Charles you noticed him looking around in thought, opening his mouth slightly to try and start some sort of sentence. You became even more aware of the space you took up, and your heart rate picked up when you realized your leg was touching his. Yet neither of you moved away. Neither of you wanted to move away.

“Say, (Name),” He began, fiddling with the piece of jerky in his lap now. “Do you want to uh, go into Saint Denis with me sometime?”

You looked up in confusion. To your knowledge, Saint Denis was heavily industrialized and far east. And both you and Charles spent your time working outside. So what usefulness could you possibly find there.

“For what?” You asked bluntly in your obliviousness. “Do you need something? Why can’t we go into Valentine? It’s super close to camp, y'know.”

Charles swore he could facepalm, but he made an effort not to, he didn’t want to make you feel stupid for not understanding his proposition.

“I meant, we could do something special.” His voice faltered a little at the end and he cleared his throat. You swore you could see a hint of blush on his cheeks. It took you a moment to realize what he actually meant, but when you did, a timid smile made its way onto your face.

“Oh.” You giggled, looking off again. You suddenly felt jittery as you hugged your knees up to your chest. You dared to look back at him, the two of you looking absolutely smitten, pure adoration written all over your faces.

You knew Charles. And he knew you. And that wasn’t something you could say about anyone else.

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I feel like I really amped up the subtlety in romance in this one and I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted ToT I thought it'd be more fitting since both reader and Charles are more reserved and scared to be too direct.