Tumgik
#great western wood
souplover-69 · 12 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“This house was completed in 1903 taking 5 years to build. The boards are of yellow poplar; they were sawn and dried on site. The doors, windows, etc. were bought in Waynesville.
A halltree with attached chair sat on the left of this hall. Hiram and Elizabeth Caldwell had 5 children; 1 girl and 4 boys [1 boy died young].”
268 notes · View notes
forestofsprites · 2 months
Text
i think potentially the funniest thing i'll be doing with this degree is going and living in the woods about it
10 notes · View notes
cricketchirp · 1 month
Text
Happy 9th Birthday, wondermyway!
Thank you to all who read and comment and share wondermyway.com. Some of you have followed my blog posts since the beginning, February 21, 2015. A few have joined the journey as recently as yesterday. I’m grateful for the presence of all of you in my life. To mark this occasion, I thought I’d reflect upon those moments when my wonder gave me a glimpse of the “Thin Places” that I’ve experienced…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
east-coast-stars · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
Rustic Dining Room (Minneapolis)
0 notes
ltwilliammowett · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Scrimshawed nautilus shell, depicts the Great Britain and the Great Western aswell as a coat of arms, by C. A. Wood, mid 19th century
2K notes · View notes
psychedelic-ink · 5 months
Text
ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐅𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒
ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x jack daniels
Tumblr media
genre: smut, minors dni, dude ranch au, modern au
word count: 7.7k
summary: joel challenges jack to make you into the finest there possibly is in two days.
warnings: threesome (mfm), mlm dynamics, some jealousy, outdoor sex, piv, oral sex, dirty talking
a/n: happy birthday @fuckyeahdindjarin 🎉 I hope you enjoy you slutty cowboys--both of them nearly gave me a heart-attack while writing ❤️‍🔥 this gif was made my the lovely @pedrorascal who I am so grateful for helping me out preparing your this bday surprise!
**dividers by @saradika
Tumblr media
You take a breath and sneak out of the cozy room. It had been hard parting away from your cozy bed. The warmth provided by the hand-knitted blanket and the scent of delicious wood made you want to never leave. They’ve really done a great job decorating the rooms of the dude ranch. It still holds the Western theme you love, but it's also adorned with rustic charm, from the weathered leather furniture to the handcrafted wooden accents, creating a welcoming atmosphere.
It had been a couple of days since your arrival. You were tired of... well, everything and desperately needed an out. You wish you could say that it happened like in the movies— a divine sign that made you come here, but no. There was no divine intervention, no mysterious flyer sticking to your face. You had to do an endless amount of research to find the perfect place, and when you were done, you picked the ranch that had the least foot traffic. You were running away from people. Choosing the most touristy one would defeat the purpose—you wanted to be alone.
And you were glad that you did. The place was amazing. Surrounded by large mountains and wide fields. This place wasn’t so people would come and see what was what. It was an actual ranch with actual people working all the time. Accepting guests was the side hustle and not the other way around. 
There were two cowboys that you constantly saw: Joel Miller and Jack Daniels. Both charming, both handsome enough to make you want to scream. Jack had been personally assigned to you, but Joel was always around, watching, observing, and, of course, running his mouth. You’ve grown accustomed to their odd friendship... rivalry? It was actually kind of cute to see Jack turn all red whenever Joel said something to undermine him. And the other seemed to know that well.
Two talented cowboys. And you, who had no idea what the hell you were doing. 
Which is why you were escaping your room like some kind of criminal at the brink of dawn. Joel’s teasing wasn’t only reserved for Jack, you got your fair share as well and it was even worse when Jack chimed in—the two seasoned horse riders letting you know just how out of your element you were. You needed to train without those two constantly spitting quips your way.
You silently make your way to the stables and blindly reach out towards Honeydust, the palomino Jack had gotten you accustomed to. You gently guide her away from the other horses. The rose-pink light of dawn has begun to trickle through the open windows, painting Honeydust’s coat in a gorgeous hue. You regret not bringing your phone; you would’ve loved to show Jack and Joel later on.
“Alright girl,” you mutter as you pat the side of her face. She whinnies slightly and digs her hoof into the ground. “It’s you and me. Let’s show them how it’s done.” 
As you reach for the saddle, you smile to yourself. You might not be that good at horse riding yet but you did learn some things—like the value of a good saddle. You take a moment to inhale the scent of it— a mix of leather, hay, and a hint of earthiness.
Honeydust stands patiently, seemingly aware of your fumbling attempts to secure the saddle. You take a deep breath, remembering the lessons Jack patiently gave you about saddling up. Slowly but surely, you manage to get everything in place. As you tighten the cinch, you feel a sense of accomplishment. A week ago, you hadn’t been able to do this. Maybe you're not a full-on cowboy, but you're determined to learn the ropes.
With the saddle secured, you grab the reins and lead Honeydust out of the stable, into the cool morning air. The sky is a canvas of pastel colors—blues, pinks, and golds blending together as the sun inches higher. It's a breathtaking sight. You pat Honeydust on the muzzle and press your cheek against her, watching the sky.
“Isn’t it beautiful,” you whisper to her. “Honestly I’m gonna hate going back. It’s been a couple of days and I’m already attached to this place.” 
Honeydust snorts and shakes her head. You smile wide as you pat her again, “You’re right. No room for sentimentality.” 
Mounting Honeydust, you settle into the saddle, adjusting to the feel of it beneath you. The quiet creak of leather is drowned out by the sounds of the waking ranch. Birds chirp in the distance, and you take a deep breath, your lungs filling with the fresh scent of the outdoors—
But then you’re slipping. 
And then falling. 
With a loud, sharp gasp, you find yourself unexpectedly upside down beneath Honeydust's belly. Panic sets in as you register the proximity of her powerful legs, your eyes widen, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. Honeydust remains still, your body still miraculously hanging to the saddle. 
Your heartbeat starts to slow, you take a deep breath. You’re fine. You’re okay. You just forgot to fasten one of the belts. 
“Need any help there, sweetheart?” 
Fuck. Busted. 
“I’m fine,” you answer, emphasizing the latter. Jean-clad legs come into view. “Just. . . trying a new riding style.” 
“Is that so?” Joel drawls, amusement dripping with every word. “And what would you call this one? The hangin’ fool?” 
“Rude.” 
His hips cock to the side and you see him placing both hands on his narrow hips, “Would it be better if I called it the hangin’ beauty?” 
“Yes actually, it would.” 
Your cheeks warm as he steps closer. You try not to stare, or perhaps that’s just you lying to yourself, but whatever your true intention was your eyes linger right over his crotch. Even with the thick jeans and the belt buckle, you know he’s packing underneath there. You can especially tell now since this is the closest you’ve ever been to it. Your mouth waters. Your brain delving further into sinful imagination when his low chuckle echoes in your ear. 
“A’right then beautiful, let’s get you out here.” he stops for a beat, his knuckles brushing down the outer part of your leg. You shudder, your legs tighten around Honeydust. “Unless you wanna show me this new ridin’ style of yours?” 
“You know what, I think I’ll take a rain check on that.” your voice is shrill and pitchy. Your eyes start to throb. “Especially since all the blood in my body is currently in my head.” 
“Oh shit—Okay, just gimme a sec.” he slides his hands under your armpits. “A’right now let go.” 
“What?” 
“Just let go, sweetheart. I got you. You’ll be okay, promise.” 
With a sharp breath, you close your eyes and loosen your legs. Joel's arms wrap further beneath yours, drawing you closer. You feel the tightening of his biceps, feel the huff of his breath against your cheek. He takes a step back and suddenly unbalanced, he falls backward, pulling you along.
With a huff, Joel lands on his ass, and you find yourself comfortably nestled against his chest. It takes you only a second for your gaze to find his. You hold your breath and so does he. His hand pleasantly curls around your waist, keeping you from moving away. His chest is firm under your own, your nipples tightening when you shift a bit, the graze of fabric makes you shudder. 
His other hand comes to brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You swallow not once but twice. The warmth of Joel’s palm cradles your cheek and a slow breath exits your lungs. 
“You a’right?” 
“Y—Yeah. . . thanks for helping me out.” 
“My pleasure.” His voice is deep, hoarse even, and it scratches your ears just right. You find yourself drawn to him. Your eyes dropping to his lips and back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His lips part. The divot in the middle of his bottom lip more prominent than ever. You lean in without a thought, he mimics you, coming in closer and closer. Your chest heaves. Your heart beating madly against your chest. 
“What the hell are you two doin’ canoodling here?” 
You jerk away, your eyes lingering on Joel long enough to see the disappointment in his gaze. His eyes close slowly and he takes a ragged breath. Shifting slightly you see Jack holding a hay bale. His eyes are narrowed, his brows knitted together as his gaze flits between you and Joel. You chew the inside of your cheek, embarrassment heating you from the inside out. 
“We ain’t canoodlin’,” Joel answers, agitated. “I found her hanging upside down under Honeydust’s belly. Who’s fault do you think is that?” 
Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his cheeks suddenly flushed. His gloved hands tighten around the hay as he pushes it up his arms. Then finally, with a softened gaze, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” 
“I’m fine,” you reply, your heart currently beating in your throat. “I just forgot to fasten the other side of the saddle.” 
Joel squeezes your waist and you’re suddenly hyper-aware that you’re basically on his lap still. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. You have a shit teacher.” 
“Excuse me?” Jack’s tone is enough to have you scrambling off of Joel’s lap. If looks could kill, Joel would be dead right now. On your feet, you move towards Honeydust, and with great comfort, she nuzzles your chest. Joel smiles lazily when Jack drops the bale of hay and walks up to him. “You better take that back, old man.” 
“Yeah?” his eyes glow with mirth. “Make me.” 
Involuntarily you cover your mouth with a hand. Is it bad that you’re secretly enjoying this? The amount of testosterone in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. 
Joel slowly gets up, as if he has all the time in the world, and faces Jack. He’s slightly taller than the latter, smile still tugging at his lips as he tilts his head ever so slightly down. Jack’s nostrils flare. 
“You want me to knock you out in front of our guest?” 
“I’d love to see you try.” 
Joel takes another step closer, his chest nearly flushed against the other, he jerks his head to the side and places his hands on his hips. You swear you see Jack’s skin darkening with a deep shade of red from his chest to his neck. His jaw is wired tight, the muscle there twitching. 
“How about this,” Joel grins. “You manage to make our sweet girl here a full-on cowgirl in two days and I’ll eat my words right outta your hand, Whiskey.” 
Jack huffs and clicks his tongue, “Don’t call me that.” 
“It’s your name isn’t it?” 
“It ain’t and you know it.” 
“Your parents shouldn’t have named you Jack Daniels,” Joel rolls his eyes, “Do we have a deal or not?” 
You hold your breath when Joel extends a hand. Jack’s eyes briefly find yours, his fingers twitching. The morning chill is still in the air and despite it, beads of sweat appear on your skin. Two days. Two days and you still don’t know how to put on a saddle right. With a small shake, you attempt to warn Jack but that only makes him smile. 
He turns to Joel, “Deal,” he answers, taking his hand. “Two days. Be ready to eat your words, old man.” 
They shake on it and as they do Joel gives you a not so subtle wink. It reminds you of just how close the two of you were a mere couple of minutes ago. You avert your gaze, suddenly shy to face him, and think about what might’ve happened if Jack hadn’t interrupted. 
When Joel leaves, Jack lets out a long sigh and turns to you. 
“You slipped, darlin’, really?” 
“In my defense, it was early.” 
“Fuckin’ hell.” He shakes his head but you see the way his lips curl upwards ever so slightly. “Anyway, wait for me here and I’ll be right back. We gotta get you into tip-top shape because I ain’t gonna lose to Joel.” 
“I warned you, you know,” you softly kick the dirt with the tip of your boot. 
Jack’s tongue moves over his bottom lip, a shudder crawls up your spine and heat pools between your legs. He grips the bale of hay and throws it over his shoulder. 
“That’s why I accepted the challenge, sugar. No guest of mine is gonna leave here without feelin’ like they can conquer the world.” 
Tumblr media
“Jack this is impossible I’m never going to get the hang of this.” 
“With that attitude you sure ain’t gonna.” 
With a crooked smile, Jack watches as you draw your shoulders together and stomp your boot against the soil. The lasso is tight between your fingers, the tips of which are chafed from turning the lasso again and again in an attempt to loop the rope around one of the wooden posts. He tilts his head to the side when you turn to him, a pleading expression etched onto your beautiful face.
"This is never going to happen," you huff. However, instead of keeping his eyes locked on yours, his gaze drops to where your flannel hugs your breasts, the poor buttons struggling to keep it all together. His cock swells at the thought of licking them, sucking on your hard nipples while the sweetest noises flee from your lips. "Jack?"
He doesn’t hide the fact that he’s been staring at your gorgeous tits, he drags his gaze back slowly, his smile only growing upon seeing your parted lips and glazed eyes. “Yeah, sugar?” 
“We’re never going to win this thing with Joel,” you say and he doesn���t fail to notice how breathless you suddenly are. “How am I supposed to learn to do everything a cowboy can in two days? Seems a bit unfair.” 
“Not everythin’,” he struts towards you and peels the lasso from your fingers. “We just need to cover the basics. No one is expectin’ you to catch a knife in mid-air with a lasso.” 
Your brows furrow, “What? You’re saying you can actually do that?” 
“‘Course I can,” he chirps back. “Unlike you, I’m a top-notch cowboy.” 
His heart breaks a little when he sees how defeated you look, with a small nudge to your shoulder, he draws your gaze back to him. “Want me to show you again darlin’?” 
“Sure but I’m not sure it’ll do me any good. I’m horrible at this.” 
With a reassuring grin, Jack steps back, unwinding the lasso he took from you. He takes a moment to adjust the coils and then demonstrates the art of lassoing, the rope flying through the air in a graceful arc before landing perfectly around a wooden post.
“You see, it's all in the wrist,” he explains as he smoothly tightens the loop, making it look deceptively easy. He repeats the motion a couple of times, each throw precise and controlled.
“You know who’s really good at this?” he asks, returning his attention to you. “Joel.”
You snort, “I feel like that man is good at everything. But I’m not sure why you’re telling me that.”
“Well, you know who used to suck at it—me.”
“You?” you raise a sole eyebrow, and a teasing smile touches your lips. “You who can catch a knife in the air, supposedly, that is.”
“It takes a lot of practice, sugar. That's what I’m tryin’ to tell ya. I sucked at it. Couldn’t even do one loop. Then the old timer helped me out.”
“Joel?”
Yup," he says, noticing your shock. He had been shocked too when the man had shown him how to properly do it. It was both amazing and terrifying. Jack had never had someone care about him enough to actually show him how it's done instead of letting him struggle on his own. "And eventually, I got the hang of it. So will you.”
You smile wholeheartedly and take the lasso from him, “Thanks, Jack. I. . . I appreciate it. You actually really respect him, don’t you? Despite all the banter and arguing.” 
“That’s just how I show love, darlin’.” 
“You never argue with me.” 
His eyebrows tilt up, along with the corner of his lips. You avert your eyes as you loosely hold the rope in your hand, the exercise quickly forgotten. Jack closes the distance until there's only a breath of space between you two. He entertains the idea of lifting your head by the chin, forcing your gaze upon him, but he refrains. He wants you to listen to him and oblige.
“Look at me, darlin’,” His eyes shine with delight when you do, he leans closer. “You want me to fight you?” 
Your brows furrow, your lips forming the most adorable pout, “No. Of course not.” 
“You sure?” This time he does cup your cheek to keep your gaze fixed on him. His pinkies move towards your neck, drawing soft patterns up and down your skin. You visibly shudder, a soft breath escaping your lips. “I see how you watch when Joel and I start to bitch and moan at each other, sugar. You sure you’re not into it even a little?” 
He knows your answer. But he allows you to giggle and escape his hold anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” you say and as a response Jack wants to touch on the fact that you can’t look at him anymore, however, he’ll allow you to escape him for now. 
“Come on then, now that you got your giggles on, let’s see you at least pull in one of those cones.” 
While you attempt to just do that, Jack ends up regretting teasing you because he ends up thinking about Joel instead. It’s hard to admit that the constant bickering is the obvious telltale sign of something more. And he knows there’s something. Joel only weaponizes his tongue when you’re around. Or someone else for that matter. But when it’s just the two of them it’s different. It’s lingering touches and heavy scotch-filled conversations. Sometimes Joel would even whisper so he wouldn’t wake the others. Jack shivers as he remembers how Joel’s lips felt against the shell of his ear. Downright sinful. 
It always remained at that, however. Touches and looks and talks. Nothing more and nothing less. 
“Jack,” you say, your voice drawing him away from thoughts he’s happy to be drawn away from. “How did you end up here? Like with Joel and the rest.” 
“It’s not much of a story. I was lookin’ for a job and came here lookin’ for one.” He lifts his hat and combs his hair back with his fingers. “I actually met Tommy first. Joel doesn’t like the hiring process and says his younger brother is a better judge of character. I met him after I was hired. Then I met the little munchkins.” 
“You mean Sarah and Ellie?” 
“Yes ma’am I do,” he reaches forward, letting his fingers nearly brush yours. He chuckles, "I also know what you're doing, so stop stalling and throw the damn lasso already."
You take your bottom lip between your teeth and all Jack wants to do is pry it away from the sharp edges, "Oh, are we arguing? Should I add this moment to my journal?” you manage to lock your gaze with his, a grin spreading across your face. “Does this mean you love me?" 
He takes a step closer, leaning ever so slightly into your personal space. A hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, he breathes, "How 'bout this? You throw that rope, and I'll kiss you, sweetheart. Then you’ll really know what I feel."
Your eyes widen, "You’ll... excuse me?"
A wicked glint in his eyes, he quips, "I'll kiss you, full-blown on the lips. And believe me, it'll be my pleasure to lay one on you."
"Just throw the rope? Aren't you selling a bit short?"
Jack takes another step towards you and you can feel the heat radiating from him. His voice low and husky, he counters, "Fine then, manage to actually lasso something, and then I'll kiss you."
"You're mean. You said you'd only do it if I threw it." You challenge him by taking a step closer and he’s delighted to see it. 
Cupping her face in his hands, he grins, "Changed my mind. And you have yourself to blame for it."
With all his heart Jack wishes for you to make the throw. Something primal and ugly in him finds extreme joy in being the one to kiss you first. He hated to admit it, but his heart broke a little when he found you and Joel together, lips almost about to touch. He hated feeling like an outsider. Especially when it came from Joel.
With a determined glint in your eyes, you take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Gripping the lasso in your hands, you start to swing it in a circular motion above your head. It’s sloppy and uneven but he can see how much care you’ve put into your stance. Jack watches intently, noting the way you shift your weight from one food to another, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
As the lasso gains momentum, you release it at just the right moment. It sails through the air, forming a perfect loop. Jack's eyes follow its trajectory, silently urging it to find its mark. The loop descends gracefully, and, with a satisfying thud, it settles around a nearby plastic cone and you pull it towards yourself, the plastic moving with ease. 
A triumphant grin breaks across your face as you complete the throw. “I did it,” you gasp in a low tone, panting. Your head suddenly snaps towards him, a shit-eating grin plastered over your perfect lips. “I DID IT!”  
Jack only smiles as he leans in and cradles your face in a rush. He crashes into you, lips meeting yours in an eager, lingering kiss. He teases the seam of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Just a brief preview of how badly he wants this to happen. His hands slip to your ass, kneading the plump flesh, his cock stiffens at how you moan into his mouth. You press against him and Jack can’t help but roll his hips to feel more of you. It’s been so long. Too long since he felt something warm and tight around his cock. 
He parts away by dragging his lips down to your chin and from there to your neck. He nips at your pulse, feeling it beating against his mouth. 
“Jack,” you breathe. “I—Wow—” 
“Kissin’ is one thing I’m better at,” he chuckles deeply into your ear. “Among other things.” 
He holds you by the neck and gently pulls away. He can’t get enough of the expression you’re giving him; pupils blown and lips slightly parted. Your chest heaves heavily, your pulse beating wildly under his palm. Jack brushes your lips together, smiling upon hearing you whimper. 
“Now, throw that lasso again and I’ll give you another kiss.” 
Tumblr media
And it all comes down to horse riding. You should be surprised but you’re not. 
The sun was finally setting over the ranch. A subtle chill settling at the base of your snake as the sun went down. It had been a tiring day full of lasso throwing, ax throwing, and knotting. Your back ached and when the final challenge finally befell you all you wanted to do was go back to your room and sleep. The only thing that gave you an ounce of energy was Jack’s proud smile after every challenge that was won. Joel seemed genuinely impressed. And you were genuinely surprised to find yourself acing every task. Seeing how smug Jack got made your heart flutter and stomach draw tight. 
The two of you had done a lot of kissing that day. It hadn’t gone any further but deep down you really wanted it to. 
You feel a deep sense of Deja Vu when you find yourself staring at Honeydust with a saddle in hand. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around the leather. The open air gives you a sense of calm, the cloudy sky a pleasure to gaze upon.
Jack touches the small of your back, goosebumps rising across your skin at the gentle touch, “You got this darlin’ don’t worry so much.” 
You briefly glance at the track Joel and Jack had set up for you. Wooden fences stand tall at various intervals, creating a series of jumps that make you sweat just by thinking about them. Your eyes linger on the strategically placed cones that form a zigzag pattern. 
“Honestly no matter what happens I’m impressed,” Joel cuts in, cupping Honeydust’s cheek. Your gaze moves deftly from the track to the man standing before you. As always, he looks amazing in his red and yellow flannel. “You’ve done well sweetheart.” 
“Maybe you should just forfeit and accept we won then,” you answer, smiling. Joel shakes his head. 
“Someone is sure of herself.” 
“Hell yeah, I am.” 
“Look at that,” Jack pipes. “Soundin’ like a true cowboy already.” 
You expertly secure the saddle onto Honeydust's back. The leather feels cool beneath your fingertips as you tighten the straps, ensuring a snug fit. Adjusting the stirrups, you make sure they're the perfect length for your legs. As you stand beside the horse, you can feel the intensity of Joel and Jack's gazes on you. Their eyes trace the curves of your movements, a subtle tension lingering in the air.
With everything in place, you take a deliberate breath and swing yourself onto the saddle. The leather creaks slightly under your weight as you settle into position. Honeydust shifts beneath you. You catch Joel's gaze, and a sly smirk plays on his lips. His eyes linger a moment longer than necessary, you let out a puff of air, your legs tighten around Honeydust..
"Remember, just go with the flow. You and Honeydust are a team," Jack advises and with that, you head off. 
Gently nudging your heels against the horse's side, you urge Honeydust into a graceful gallop around the track. The steadying thud of her hooves pounding against the dirt creates a harmony that molds with the song of the wind, transporting you to a place of serenity. Each hurdle makes your heart jump with excitement. The jumps seem impossible at times. As you zigzag through the cones, you can feel Honeydust's muscles tense and relax under your hands, transitioning from one step to the next with the gracefulness of a dance—
A sudden jolt disrupts the rhythm, and you find yourself tumbling to the ground. You let out a deep groan as your back hits the earth and with the corner of your eye, you see Joel taking hold of Honeydust’s reins, calming the poor palomino. Jack’s face comes into vision a second later. 
"You okay, darlin'?" When you nod and begin to get up, his worry turns to frustration as he glances at Joel. "This was supposed to be about teaching, not pushing her to the damn limit."
"I didn't mean for her to fall, Jack. So don’t act like that was my intention."
“No, your intention was to make me look like I don’t know what I’m doin’.” 
Jack, eyes still glued on Joel, helps you up. Your head is still spinning a little from the adrenaline rush but other than that you feel fine. Your eyes flitting between both men, your stomach twists and turns at how they’re both glaring at each other. This time is different from the arguments. This time they both genuinely look like they’re about to explode. Joel has his jaw tight while Jack has both hands in tight fists. “Guys. . .” 
"Why you gotta make everythin’ personal?" Joel snaps, ignoring you all together. “It was just meant to be a harmless bet.” 
Jack's eyes narrow, he tears his hand away from yours and your heart drops, "You're the one who makes it damn personal by goadin’ me all the damn time."
“That’s. . .” Joel’s eyes grow soft, his demeanor changing entirely. You watch the furrow between his brows relax, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly. “I’m—” 
“Can it,” Jack hisses through gritted teeth and raises a hand. “I don’t want your apology, I just wanna go. Unless you think I’m gonna be bad at that too.” 
You reach out, head still spinning, your fingers graze the back of his jacket and he slips from between your grasp. You part your lips to call out to him. To tell him to come back. But Joel takes a hold of your hand and lowers it with the shake of his head. 
“I know where he’s goin’. Let’s go.” 
“Are you telling me he has a brooding spot?” 
“He does.”
Tumblr media
The sun had set. The crickets now singing under the starry night, but Joel can't focus on any of it. He can’t because he might’ve actually screwed everything up for good this time— which would be typical of him.  
After months of contemplating whether he should take the next step or not, he’d finally made Jack snap. That had never been Joel’s intention, obviously. But he wasn’t the best at flirting. Never had been. And when Jack came into his life, all fresh faced and a lashing tongue, he couldn’t help but fall for him a little. 
You’re walking just a little bit behind him, trying to keep up. He can feel you staring at him. Your eyes curious like a newborn gazelle’s. 
“If you stare any harder I’m gonna start blushin’ sweetheart.” 
“I’m. . . I wasn’t. . .” 
“Sure you were,” he sighs. “It wasn’t my intention to be hard on him you know. It just. . . sorta happens. I care a lot about him and I just want him to. . . “ He clamps his mouth shut. What was he supposed to say? How he was hoping that all the teasing would finally push Jack into his arms? How he wanted to do more than touch Jack when he knew no one else could see. 
“You want him to. . .  what exactly?” 
“I don’t know,” he says through gritted teeth. “It’s complicated between us.” 
“You both have a crush on each other and don’t know what to do about it. It’s not that complicated.”
Joel’s mouth opens and closes— then opens again. “And how the hell do you know that?” 
“Because he talks about you a lot,” you answer with a soft smile. “He said he cares about you. And about your opinion.” Joel’s eyes narrow as you rub the back of your head, your eyes dropping to where you would be taking your next step. “I just don't know where I fit in all of this.” 
“What do you mean?” 
“You and I almost kissed,” you say finger moving between you two. “Jack and I actually kissed. And well. . . I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. It might be a bit sudden but I like you guys, I care about you, and want you guys to be together if that’s what you want.” 
“It’s not your job to worry about us.” Joel huffs, his guilt gnawing at him. “But I get what you mean. We. . . we didn’t intend to put you in that position. I can assure you this wasn’t some twisted game we were tryin' to play. I can't talk for Jack but I care about you. And I care about him if that makes sense. But I fear that me being emotionally constipated might’ve ruined it with him. He gets mad every time I open my mouth.” 
“That’s because you tease him all the time and honestly he’s not doing any better than you.” Joel’s eyes go wide when you suddenly cradle his cheeks and bring his face towards your own. “And you haven't ruined anything Mr. Miller. You just need to tell him exactly what you’ve been telling me.” 
“You think so?” 
“I know so.” 
Before he can reach he feels the soft touch of your lips. You kiss him slowly—tenderly. Joel follows your lead, parting his lips, he allows you to slip your tongue inside. He sucks on your tongue, enjoying the way your body presses against his. 
When you pull back, you’re completely dazed.
“Now what was that for?” he asks.
“To keep everything even” you answer, smiling. “Now let's go get our brooding cowboy.” 
It doesn’t take long for that to happen. They find Jack sitting on the ground, his back pressed snugly against the wooden fence. He’s staring at the stars. The gentle light streaming down his face and down his neck, Joel’s heart skips a beat at the sight and he feels as though he can’t breathe. 
Only when they walk closer does he notice the bottle of whiskey. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a swig, Joel’s eyes follow the way drops of amber trickle down his sun-kissed skin. 
All Joel wants to do is lick the bitter drop off of him. 
The two stop before him. Neither of you knowing what to do or what to say. Joel attempts to apologize by parting his lips and that is the exact moment where Jack finally meets his gaze. 
“I know,” he says curtly. “Sit.” Jack extends the bottle of whiskey. Joel, without a word, sits down and takes the bottle. Just as he’s taking a swig, he notices you’re about to leave.  Thankfully Jack stops that from coming to fruition. “And where do you think you’re goin’? Sit your ass over here.” 
Joel almost cackles at how shocked you look. With the tiniest yelp escaping your lips you sit down right next to Jack. Taking a mouthful of whiskey, Joel extends you the bottle. You take it and chug it down immediately—Jack snorts and finally Joel feels comfortable enough to laugh alongside him. 
“Calm down darlin’, it ain’t runnin’ away.” 
“Sorry,” you hiccup, shoving the bottle into Jack’s chest. “I’m nervous.” 
“Well, don’t be,” Jack sighs and his head falls back against the fence. “I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I—” 
“We know,” Joel says with a fond smile. He throws his arm over Jack’s shoulder and cups the back of his head, his hat tumbling to the ground—it was now or never. 
For the first time, Joel brings their faces together without the tease of what he might or might not do. He kisses Jack tenderly, softly. Just like how he wanted to treat him during all those nights they were alone together. Jack digs his fingers into Joel’s shirt, nails nearly biting into the skin. Much to Joel’s surprise, the other man tastes sweet. Their tongues move together, still unsure but eager to explore. 
When Joel opens his eyes ever so slightly, he sees you staring in awe. 
He nearly breaks away laughing. But also, he can’t really blame you for your expression. 
It really does feel magical. 
Tumblr media
You hold your breath. Every nerve ending you have is buzzing with want and arousal. The space between your legs pulsing as you watch Joel tilting his head, slipping his tongue through Jack’s eager lips. Deep down you feel like you’re intruding. That this is a tender moment that should just be between the two men but you can’t help but stay there, like a deer in headlights, watching.  
You shudder at the sound of Jack moaning, his hands grip Joel’s shoulder and host himself up the older man’s lap. He grinds down, swallowing Joel’s gasps, he parts away, a trail of saliva connecting the two. You’re still holding your breath. The tips of your fingers numb, your brain a whirlwind as it registers the sight before you. 
“Stupid old man,” Jack rasps, tilting his head to the side. “Gettin’ all sappy.” Then his heavy gaze finds your struck ones. He reaches out and in a dream-like state you take his hand, his fingers hastily close around your wrist and tugs you towards him. Your gasp is caught in your throat when he kisses you. The taste of Joel and whiskey still heavy on his tongue. 
A hand that doesn’t belong to Jack trails up the curve of your ass and squeezes. A choked-out moan drops from your lips only for Jack to shove his tongue between them. He sucks on your tongue and nips at your bottom lip all the while rolling his hips over Joel’s lap. 
“God, look at you two,” Joel groans, giving your ass another firm squeeze before moving his attention to Jack’s spread thighs. “I want to watch you eat that pretty pussy up, Jack. Bet you want that too. . .” 
Joel palms Jack’s cock through the denim, stroking him with a smug smile. Jack parts away from your lips with a whimper. His chest heaves. “Yeah,” he gasps, staring into your eyes, and his hips jerk, chasing the heat of the other’s palm. “Want you to make a mess of me, sugar.”
“Please,” you answer albeit not really needed. Your body falls back to sit on your heels, Joel crashes his lips against the younger cowboy’s, drinking the noises in like a starved man. He rips his flannel open while straightening himself, the momentum of the movement forcing Jack to grip Joel’s shoulders. He slides off of Joel’s lap, the kiss breaking when he directs his full lust-addled attention to you. 
His gaze is enough for you to start struggling with the buttons of your jeans. You kick them off in a rush and before you can take off your shirt Jack is already laying you down upon the soil, the stars above blinking down at you with mischief. Joel sitting close, pulls your head so you’re nestled comfortably above his lap. His hands cradle your face, thumbs stroking your skin gently. It’s a complete contrast compared to how Jack is. He slides your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb resting right above your clit, he stares at your from between your spread-out thighs. 
“Fuckin’ delicious,” he mutters right before delving in. He drags his tongue slowly up your folds while tenderly stroking your clit. Your back arches off of the earth, your eyes fluttering closed as he goes back down, only to kiss you tenderly. He takes his time with you. His jaw moving and tongue teasing your fluttering entrance. Your breath catches in your throat, your chest rattling, Joel shushes you while praising Jack at the same time. 
When your eyes finally open, you find Joel looking down at you. His thumb traces the underline of your bottom lip and moves down until he reaches the hem of your flannel. Flattening his thumb over your stomach, he pushes the fabric up until he exposes you to the sky completely. He cups both your breasts and smooths his fingers over your tingling nipples. 
“So hard already. . . you must really like what he’s doin’ down there huh?” 
Tears stinging the corner of your eyes, you nod. Your silent reply is answered with a sharp bite to the inside of your thigh. Your body jolts, a gasp of pain rattling your throat. Joel smiles. “I think he wants to hear you, sweetheart.”
“I love it,” you moan and as a reward, he pinches your nipples. 
“Good girl.” 
Jack presses his tongue deeper, your body clenching at both the words and the movement. He groans into your cunt, the bridge of his nose brushing your aching clit deliciously as he swirls his tongue. Your stomach coils tight and you push more of yourself into Joel’s palms, your mouth drops wide. You want more. You need more. You want them both to take and take and take—take until you forget your own damn name. 
“Joel. . .” you breathe. He looks down at you curiously. “I want to suck your cock.” 
Jack stops only for a moment before his eyes flutter closed and loses himself in you. Vaguely you can see the way he grinds down, a groan reverberating between your legs. Joel sucks in a breath and exhales from his nose. “You sure?” 
Your answer is ready on your tongue, and as soon as you give it to him, he expertly unbuttons himself. The tip of his cock pushes against your lips and your breath hitches. Precome smears over the soft flesh, your tongue darting out for a taste, you end up tasting from the source instead. Joel’s hips stutter. 
“Holy fuckin’ hell,” his hips jerk a second time, this time thrusting himself deeper into your mouth. You feel him leaning over, a second later you understand he’s reaching for the other man who is working you toward your orgasm. “Jack com’ere—Let me taste her.” 
Jack doesn’t make Joel repeat himself and unwillingly pulls himself away from between your legs. Your tongue swirls around Joel’s cock as Jack kisses him deeply. He licks himself deep into the older man’s mouth, stealing a moan deep within Joel’s chest. While Jack steals the breath from Joel’s lungs, he pushes two fingers into you with ease. Your eyes rolling, you take more of Joel into your mouth, prompting the other to instinctively thrust deep enough to make you choke around him. 
He parts from Jack with a gasp, “Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart, choke on it.” he says through gritted teeth. Both men look down at you with dark eyes, the shadows caused by the moonlight caress their backs, deepening every crease of their faces. You shudder. 
You’re surprised to see Jack dipping down, lower from where you’re sucking Joel’s cock, he sucks the tender skin of the base, and the sound that Joel makes almost feels inhumane. 
But Jack doesn’t linger. He pulls away from both of you, his torso tall between your legs, he strokes himself at the sight of your mouth full of the man he admires. 
“You like having your mouth full, darlin’? Such a dirty girl allowing two men to have you like this out in the open.” 
You whimper and nod, eyes flooding with tears as Joel shoves himself deeper. Spit and precome trickle down from where his cock stretches your lips. 
“Fuckin’ filthy,” Jack says giving himself a firm squeeze before swiping his palm over the head of his cock. With his other hand, he follows the contour of your leg, reaches all the way to your hip. “You’re ‘bout to feel much fuller.” 
He shoves himself inside you with a single thrust; your channel tightens around him, a moan escaping your throat. Your mouth is pulled away from Joel briefly, gasping for air, before he pulls you back. He adjusts his hips and slides back into your mouth, kneading the back of your neck.
“You feel that? How hot and wet you are? Both of us stretching you?” Jack's voice is gruff as he thrusts into you; your eyes close as pleasure radiates through your body, your skin left tingling. You can hear Joel moan and pant in the background, his cock throbs above your tongue and you hollow out your cheeks.
Your eyes flutter as Jack's cock glides in and out of you; his plunges getting deeper with every thrust. You feel overwhelmed by both of them. You’re left breathless and spinning. You feel only them and nothing else. 
You grip onto Joel to keep yourself teetered to the moment as Jack's movements become more desperate, Joel matching him thrust for thrust. With each gasp, Joel's cock slides further down your throat. 
The tightness inside your body grows; waves of pleasure cascade through you. The pressure builds and builds and builds—You’re so close you can taste it. Jack presses a palm over your mound, adding pressure as he draws quick and tight circles around your clit. Your throat convulses around Joel’s cock and he pulls out, his length resting comfortably above your lips. You breathe heavily against him, his cock slick and warm on your skin. 
“Atta girl,” he coos. “Just a bit more. . . Show us how pretty you look when you come.” 
You feel the pressure between your legs mounting with each hard thrust from Jack, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. Joel encourages Jack to go faster, and with each plunge you feel the tension in your core build higher and higher. 
And finally the coil snaps. 
Your whole body trembles and shakes. Your orgasm still rolling over your body like a violent wave. Jack pumps his hips into yours as he digs his hands into your hips. He keeps thrusting relentlessly, pushing himself as far in as he can before he pulls out. His jaw goes slack, cock gliding over your mound, he spills over your skin. You shudder at the trickle of his seed. 
Joel’s cock slides across your lips, teasing you. Your tongue darts out and quickly wraps around him, you tilt your head to take in all of his length. You push your mouth onto him, bobbing your head up and down until he groans. His hips buck erratically and at the same time you feel the touch of Jack’s mouth against the side of your neck. 
You swallow everything that he offers you, savoring every moment of the taste of him. You stay close to him until his breathing returns to normal, his thighs shaking underneath you as he pulls out. 
“Holy shit,” Jack chokes out as he collapses on top of you, head right above your chest. Joel wipes the sole tear that had escaped you eye and smiles. You bring his palm to your lips and kiss the rough skin. 
“It’s going to be hard walking away from all of this,” you whisper, shuddering when Jack’s mouth moves against the side of your breasts. 
“Who says you have to walk away?” 
You don’t have it in you to go into the details of your life and how you have to go. Or entertain the idea that maybe the things that you thought were important aren’t as essential that you thought after all. It’s pure chaos and right now all you want is to feel their warmth against your bare skin under the stars. 
For now, you are content and feeling grateful for the two amazing men who coincidentally made themselves an inseparable part of your life.  
668 notes · View notes
moths-daily · 5 months
Text
Moth Of The Day #215
Glover's Silkmoth
Hyalophora gloveri
From the saturniidae family. They have a wingspan of 80-100 mm. They inhabit woodland, suburban gardens and a variety of other wooded habitats. They can be found in the Rocky Mountain states, the western parts of the northern Great Plains, and the Canadian prairie provinces, north-west to at least central Alberta, and northern Mexico.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Image sources: [1] [2]
545 notes · View notes
quecksilvereyes · 7 months
Text
something something to the great western woods i give you king edmund the just. the woods are deep and dark and the trees are so old that the size of them blots out the sun. the forest floor is dark and cool even in the height of summer under the worst of the sun's heat. something dies. something eats. something is born.
in the west lie narnia's lungs.
something something the telmarines gut the woods for lumber. until the forest floor dries up and the sun reaches burrows and nests and birthing sites. until the earth is spotless and the animals call to each other no longer. until venturing into narnian woods is no more than strolling into the carefully curated strip of trees by the castle.
until she breathes no longer.
263 notes · View notes
sukimas · 9 months
Text
this is incidentally what most Touhou but Fucked Up!! works get wrong. touhou IS fucked up, naturally, but not in the way you think. living in gensokyo isn't a constant battle, your neighbors aren't having to always ward their houses in fear of being violently dragged away in the night. the old gensokyo was like that, for certain, but it is not now. you might hear about one person disappearing a month. you're very, very rarely going to find a body.
you know that the youkai don't come to the human village. you have no idea why not- the shrine maiden isn't very good at getting rid of them (nor is her friend, nor is the other one on the mountain). you can't just ask them, that would be inconceivable. but there are whispers that the village's safety was created by the youkai even youkai know nothing about. what could she possibly want with it? what are her plans for the humans?
there's a reporter girl handing out newspapers. the newspapers are written in an odd script. you can understand it, but it's unfamiliar nonetheless. the newsgirl's got a normal haircut and wears usual, if fashionable, clothing, but she's got bright red eyes. it could just be the magic in the air- there's that kid from the motoori family with the bright orange ones, for example- but it makes you worry. the articles all have a suspiciously pro-youkai bent, except for the ones about tanuki.
you and your neighbors go down to the pub. you've heard it's a good one, but you can't remember going there, even though your wife tells you you went by a week ago. there's a loudmouthed little girl with a big hat back in the kitchen drinking. that can't be healthy for her, can it? if she's human. if not, does the bartender know?
your neighbors start chatting. one of them talks about leaving gensokyo, waves a newspaper about the outside world around. you nod hesitantly. you've considered doing that yourself, but your wife doesn't want to go; the books she's been borrowing have been talking about great fire and poisonous dust in a land whose name you can't pronounce. it sounds western. she says that it might be nearby, past the barrier. you can't really know, since weather is the only thing that crosses it naturally. you've dismissed her concerns, but she keeps talking about earthquakes and tidal waves. you'd like to at least take a peek, though, yourself.
your other neighbor loudly shoots down the idea. he's been to the barrier himself, he says. or so he thinks. he walked past the hakurei shrine one day, during a festival, and beyond the pond in the back with that big old turtle. there was a path leading into the woods, and he started walking down it. he walked for a long time, but he noticed eventually that the scenery wasn't changing, that the trees all looked the same. he turned around and he was back at the pond again.
a third neighbor pipes up, quietly. he says that he's actually met an outsider before. not the teenager who flies, but a normal one. he's a metalworker, you see, so he's often on the lookout for new sources of scrap. he takes his guard dog with him along the river sometimes, past the miasma-filled forest and to the hill that's covered with spider lilies in the spring. he finds metal there, and glass. there's a third material that a lot of the things he finds are made of, moldable like metal, but when he tries to put it in a crucible it burns away, so he's stopped collecting it. he always feels like he's being watched, but he never sees any youkai.
the outsider he met had told him he didn't have any "reception", so the map he had didn't work. the outsider had shown your neighbor a small rectangle of glass and metal, illuminated in the center, with a blank grid shown on it. there were some words at the top and bottom of the grid, but they didn't seem to be helping him. the outsider had asked your neighbor for a map, but your neighbor had said- truthfully- that no one knows their way around gensokyo, and had offered to guide him back to the village. the outsider had hemmed and hawed for a bit, and asked what the village was like; when he heard, he refused, and said he'd find his own way back. your neighbor had entreated him and warned him about youkai in the area, but he'd laughed it off, and the neighbor had gone on, collecting metal, after they went their separate ways.
when the neighbor was on his way back to the village, he saw some torn-up grass and the small rectangle lying on the ground, but no blood or any other signs of a struggle. his dog had growled at the rectangle, but he had picked it up and brought it home. he pulls it out of his haori. the glass is cracked, and it won't light up, he says. you stare at it for a bit, then ask how the outsider got there, anyway. the first neighbor chimes in again, telling you that the area over there is full of outside objects- the barrier must be thin there. that's where he plans to make his way out.
the second neighbor snorts incredulously. the bartender pours you another drink. she has an adorable smile, but she seems so nervous, and you feel a little bad for her. it would be lovely if girls like her didn't have to live in fear of what lives outside the village walls.
you wake up the next day with no memory of the night before. you wrap an ofuda your wife got from the moriya shrine to your fishing rod and head out to work. that night, your wife tells you that one of your neighbors didn't come back from work. you hope someone finds him soon.
THAT is how Touhou is Touhou but Fucked Up.
318 notes · View notes
justsomedutchgirl · 1 year
Text
‘‘It’s such a shame they died so young, my condolences miss Pevensie.’’ Susan couldn’t remember how many people had said they were sorry for her loss even if she tried. Too many people pretending to know her and her siblings well enough to have an opinion about them. Too many people just saying what is expected of them to say. Because what to those words mean to her? Absolutely nothing.
It doesn’t matter what people say directly to her, she can hear them whisper; about how she’s all alone, about how she had to bury the rest of her family, about how it is such a shame for a young woman to navigate the world without her siblings. As if she hadn’t navigated a new world before, as if she didn’t rule a world before, as if she wasn’t crowned to the radiant southern sun before. Because what do they know? Absolutely nothing.
The sun, although it was not her sun, brought her some comfort by warming her cheeks, even if it was a only a little bit. She couldn’t help but compare herself to the sun, so, so, so far away and o so alone. But still the sun had a purpose, she had lost hers. How could she when the sky had fallen down, the woods all turned to dust and the sea had went dry?  What purpose does the sun still have when there is nothing to give light to, nothing to give warmth to, nothing to shine for. Absolutely nothing.
The southern sun is not enough anymore, true north is gone, western woods make way for buildings to hide from the sun and sailors make there way across the eastern sea using the stars but more often than not a compass. What can the gentle do, when the valiant can’t encourage her, when the just can’t help her and the magnificent can’t protect her. Absolutely nothing.
But she still passes statues of lions, and something about them angers her but comforts her all the same. But there are still people that need to be protected; a lone boy walking past four older boys who look like they found their next target. But there are still people to help; an old man cleaning the graves of loved ones and strangers alike. But there are still people to encourage; the little girl determined to climb the tree just like her brothers did. The sky is still clear, the woods are still great, the sea is still glistening, therefore perhaps the sun can still be radiant. So that there is something left of kings and queens of old.
523 notes · View notes
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"The Kings and Queens came to us so young, so brave. We raised them, we taught them, we loved them and they served so well. After they were gone all of Narnia grieved them, and we will miss them till the end of time. "
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
souplover-69 · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media
beech grove school built around 1901
45 notes · View notes
driaswrld · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
mirages of you. *.
*. byakuya x fem!reader x aizen.
no warnings. prologue to smth bigger. *. you'll leave with a lottt of questions lol.
Tumblr media
00 — the beginning.
You stand on the engawa corridor of the Kuchiki estate, overlooking the courtyard grounds.
From here, you can see the soft shimmer of moonlight reflecting off the surface of the pond. Your plain shihakusho feels air tight on your limbs, the winter air of no help.
“Lady Kuchiki—” one of the manor guards startles at your presence this time of night. Almost ashamed for appearing so solemn, you turn to greet her immediately, “Ah, it’s no good sneaking up on me like that, you know.”
“My deepest apologies, Lady Kuchiki.”
She eyes you for a moment, and notices the hilt of a kotagana peeking out from the knot of lavender fabric holding your yukata to your waist.
Piece of the blade shimmers.
Her eyes widen for a second.
An air of silence envelops the both of you, and she nods, apologetically. You wave a hand in dismissal at the gesture, grateful. “You’re welcome to join me here, no worries–” You say, turning back to the wooden railing, a soft sigh leaving your lips. “The pond is beautiful from here anyway.”
You discreetly slide the kotagana further into the fabric, concealing it.
It’s been a little over eleven months since your marriage to Byakuya Kuchiki, Head of the noble Kuchiki clan. To be a wife, to be Lady Kuchiki, is something you still haven’t fully grasped despite yourself.
A door from the western wing slides shut abruptly, the sound of wood colliding echoes softly. The softest twitch of a smile reaches the corner of your lips.
“Is Master Byakuya…” the female guard begins, hushedly, akin to a child gossiping to her mother.
You chuckle just a bit. “Seems he’s escaped the confines of his study.” The guard swallows down a laugh, her cheeks puffing up, she permits herself to grin just a little bit. Only in your presence.
“Restrain him, milady.”
“Oh, with great pleasure.”
Tumblr media
Behind the door of your shared bedchamber, you can hear your husband’s feet shifting, you assume he's undressing.
“Byakuya,” you give a soft knock with the knuckle of your index, sliding the door open and stepping inside. “I thought you’d be in bed.” He says, voice quiet, words melting off his tongue like honey.
Byakuya is seated at the vanity, soft bristle brush combing through his dark hair. He hasn't looked at you yet.
“The bed is empty.” You reason, albeit comically, and he shakes his head. “It’s late.” He reasons.
You approach him and retrieve the brush from his hands, placing it on the dresser. He’s stalling, you think. “What has troubled you?” You ask, and he thinks about it for a millisecond, gray eyes narrowing.
“Matters of little importance.”
“Byakuya.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, a hum, protesting against your scolding.
“So unimportant you attended to it before our bed?”
Byakuya refuses to cave, his resolve strong, even in the wake of your stubbornness. He hands you a hair tie, muscle memory moves your hands, you tie his hair up for him.
“Byakuya.” You call out to him again, this time as he’s rising from his seat, more stern. “Wife?” He answers, he's mocking you, completely deterring from the point. Playing dumb.
“Tell me,” you follow him, climbing into bed, the candles perched on both bedside tables illuminating the room. “Please.”
The marriage you share with Byakuya is simple, no means for conflict from either party. Simply put, an agreement to satisfy both parties — the elders advised him to take another wife, he refused. He would never disrespect the memory of Hisana in such a way.
But then you came along.
You needed a way out — a safety net from sins of the past. He had been your friend in youth, a great one, and to your request of sanctuary he wouldn't say no. Never to you.
“Swear to me—” Byakuya breathed, nose upturned and gaze pointed at the ceiling. You're sure for a moment in the darkness you see a change in his gaze. “that you’ll stay true to our vow.”
“I’ve taken no other lover—” You sit up slightly, resting against the headboard. You have some semblance of pride.
“We're both aware I do not speak of faith.”
Your entire body stills.
Oh, that vow.
“I swear it.”
“Okay.” Byakuya blows out his candle, turns his back to back to you, and your head sinks into the pillow beneath you.
As you stand here, swear this to me— I need you to swear it—
You blow out your candle.
Tumblr media
The night before your first wedding anniversary, he visits you in a dream.
Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu.
You're gasping for air, arms outstretched at your side, reaching for your bed sheets. You don’t feel Kuchiki custom thread count bedding, a patch of grass comes off in your palms, and your blood runs cold.
“Get out.” You murmur beneath your breath, teeth clenched and jaw tight. Below you are the private grounds of the area behind the Gotei Thirteen’s combined barracks, a gift, from him to you.
Lime colored grass and fruit trees span for acres, the land empty, devoid of life. In the distant darkness, you can see where the blurry bell tower meets the clouds.
On wobbly feet you stand, the scarf you accidentally wore to bed is whisked away by a gust of wind. Byakuya's scarf.
This place is not your memory.
“Get out of my head.” You say to the darkness, voice more stable than you imagined — you feel a little dizzy, has he improved this much in such a short time?
“That’s impolite.” A voice echoes in the back of your mind, your ears start ringing.
“I said–!” Your balance falters, and you fall knee first back into the cold grass. You want to scream, but your voice feels like it won’t come out, no matter how hard you try.
“Ah, you’re stronger than that.”
“Shut up.” You spit, rage bubbling in your veins. Eyes wide and on your knees, mentally paralyzed, you groan, fistfuls of grass clutched in your palms. “Get out of my head, Aizen.”
In a split second, cold air rushes past your face, and you squeeze your eyes shut immediately. When you open them, he’s standing there, towering above you.
“They don’t know what you are–” He whispers, as if a revelation to himself. An index finger hooks beneath your chin, and he lifts your head to meet his gaze “–what you truly are. But I do.”
You thrash your head, and his arm falls limp at his side. The moment you believe you’ve gained relief, that you’ve fought enough, his palm presses flat against your chest, it’s soft — it’s him, the way it always felt with him.
“God killer,” he whispers, large palm curling around your throat, gentle — an illusion. He curves his palm and lifts your head. For the first time since that day, this is the closest you’ve been, the first time you’ve looked straight into his eyes.
Your eyes never leave his, gazes between the air saying more than a million words. You know what he wants to say, you won’t give him the chance. You glare.
He pulls away like he’s been burned, a knot of tension forming where his brows meet. He massages his temple, then chuckles. “You’ve gotten weak.”
You awake in Byakuya’s arms, cold as a corpse.
Tumblr media
notes ; phewww ion know what to sayy yet 😭 @byakuyawifey IM CRYING OVER HERE OKAY ITS ALOT
154 notes · View notes
blackbackedjackal · 1 year
Note
Saw this on Reddit, could this be a coydog? https://www.reddit.com/r/animalid/comments/105o3g4/local_residents_page_in_mi_cant_decide_if_this_is/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf
I don’t know much about them as I don’t have coyotes in my country but I love learning form your account and seeing the massage variation in them, thank you for posting
So here's the picture of the coyote in question:
Tumblr media
And images of the subspecies in that area, Canis latrans thamnos:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Great Lakes/Northeastern coyotes are one of my favorite subspecies. They have a very unique skull shape and build since they're in this transitional space between the western subspecies and the Eastern Coyote (Canis latrans "var.").
Red coyotes are a very common morph among Eastern coyote subspecies. You see them in almost every Eastern state, and especially within the Northeastern subspecies. Though the theory is that this coloration was introduced into coyote population from dogs, many Northeasterns seem to be this color because it's just beneficial to the environment they live in. I'd need to find the image but there's a trial cam photo of a Northeastern coyote in the woods up there and it blends almost perfectly into the landscape. Coyotes are known for being incredibly adaptable and, as we've seen in Eastern Coyotes, if it's an adaptation they benefit from in a particular area, it spreads realtivly quickly through the populations. I've also wondered if because they look very dog-like from a distance is why you see a lot of them in urban environments (little bit of urban camouflage because the average person would see that color and think they're dogs, so they're left alone and can spread those genes). Here's a group of red Northeastern ones living in downtown Chicago:
Tumblr media
There's nothing about the image of that coyote to make me think it's a high content coydog. Read through a lot of the comments on reddit and all these "dog traits" people are looking at are just traits common within that subspecies. I haven't seen a ton of studies done on the Northeastern subspecies but the Eastern Coyotes which are more know for hybridization are still predominantly coyote with admixtures of dog, gray wolf, and eastern wolf within thier lineage. Basically, unless the animal is captured and tested, it's a safer bet to consider it a coyote until proven otherwise.
There was a black coyote that caused a big scene several years ago who was seen actively playing with and befriending dogs. The public was convinced he was a coydog because of his coloration and behavior. He was eventually captured and taken to a conservation center and samples from him were sent to UC Davis. No recent dog lineage was found. He was just a black coyote. His name's Carmine and he's adorable btw
Tumblr media
There's also this little lad who was tested and is confirmed to be an F1 coydog. From a distance he would look like a typical coyote, but he's half border collie.
Tumblr media
Morphology alone is not the best indicatator for whether or not coyotes have high content of dog or wolf in them, especially if you aren't aware of the differences between the subspecies. Genetic testing is the only way to 100% confirm whether they do or not. Just from that one pic and knowing what area the coyote is from, I definitely think it's a just Northeastern coyote.
537 notes · View notes
eternal-echoes · 1 month
Text
“The ideas of Saint John of Damascus and his supporters later permitted us the luxury of the beautiful Madonnas of Raphael, the Pietà of Michelangelo, and countless other works of passion and genius, not to mention the great cathedral façades (which often depicted Christ, the apostles, and the saints) of the High Middle Ages. This favorable view of representational religious art cannot simply be taken for granted as something natural and inevitable; Islam, after all, has never abandoned its insistence on aniconic (non-image) art. Rehabilitating the iconoclast heresy in the sixteenth century, Protestants went on a rampage of smashing statues, altarpieces, stained-glass windows, and other great treasures of Western art. John Calvin, arguably the most significant Protestant thinker of all, favored visually barren settings for his worship services, and even prohibited the use of musical instruments. Nothing could have been further removed from the Catholic Church's respect for the natural world, inspired by the Incarnation, and its belief that human beings, composed of body (matter) and soul, can be aided in their ascent to God with the aid of material things.”
- Thomas E. Woods Jr., Ph.D., “Art, Architecture, and the Church,” How the Catholic Church Built Western Civilization
63 notes · View notes
ass-deep-in-demons · 3 months
Note
Can I please get a headcanon of Boromir having a crush on Gandalfs apprentice who looks after the hobbits like their mum? Boromir is kinda their dad/cool uncle so they both grow close together.
Also Boromir, apprentice and hobbits falling to sleep in a big cuddle puddle 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻
Girl (gn) thank you so much for this awesome ask! I get the feeling that you had something slightly different in mind, but I suffer from a plotter's disease and I created an entire plotline in these headcanons and also two mini-fics. There's some angst, but there is CUDDLES, as requested :D Hope you will like it :)
Tumblr media
Boromir x Gandalf's Apprentice
headcanons and two ficlets
Found Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, rated G, 4250 words, she/her pronouns for OC, TW: canon Moria events & aftermath
I ✦ The Pupil ✦
Gandalf has been around for thousands of years. The peoples of Middle Earth tell different stories about him, but in every corner of the known (and unknown) World one of his many names has been heard.
During his travels, nobody knows exactly when or where, Gandalf finds a young one with magical talent. He does not know what strange anomaly might have caused a child to be born with arcane affinity, normally reserved for the Ainur such as himself, but… stranger things have happened on Arda. Perhaps the Illuvatar himself willed it. If so, it would be unwise to leave the child to its own fate.
At first he visits her home from time to time and shows her his fireworks and his pipe smoke magics. Her caretakers find him strange, but he pays them no heed, comes and goes as he pleases.
His suspicions are confirmed - the child can be taught to replicate some of his simple tricks, proving she is able to tune in to the Song of the Ainur. Her power is not great, barely a wisp of magic compared to Gandalf’s own, but still, it is worth cultivating. Gandalf deems it his duty to take the fledgeling under his wing and make her his pupil.
Gandalf tells his Pupil about his travels and about the secrets of Middle Earth. In time, as she grows, she starts yearning to leave her home and go exploring with the Wizard.
When the Pupil is old enough, Gandalf takes her with him on a journey. They spend years travelling together. Keeping up with Gandalf is not easy for the Pupil, but she perseveres.
With the Grey Wizard, the Pupil visits the Western Kingdoms, the Elven Realms, and Eriador. She helps Gandalf with his quests and meets many new people.
Later, when she is more experienced, Gandalf deems her ready to spread her wings and have her own adventures. She travels doing errands and fulfilling quests that her Master assigns her.
She spends some time studying under Saruman - from him she learns the basics of arcane knowledge. However, Saruman fails to appreciate her quiet, subtle talent. He is not pleased with her progress, nor is she with his teaching methods, and they part ways on non-too-amicable terms.
Her stay in Mirkwood is much more fruitful. From the Silvan Elves, she picks up the basics of scouting and learns how to read the signs of the Forest. She is fascinated with Radagast, and dedicates time to assist him in his tasks as the Guardian of the Woods - learning about the powers that lie dormant in the ancient trees. Radagast teaches her how to care for animals and heal what is broken. Nurturing and patient by nature, the Pupil responds well to the Brown Wizard’s tutelage.
The Pupil is present in Mirkwood when Aragorn brings Gollum there for safeguarding, and later when Gandalf comes to question him. She learns of the Ring and of Sauron’s return.
Gandalf assigns her a mission to go to Erebor, to enlist the help of the Dwarves. She arrives at Rivendell with Gloin, Gimli and the rest of the Dwarven deputation.
She is not deemed important enough to join the Council of Elrond, and besides, Gandalf has other plans for her. He sends her forth to scout the gap of Rohan, in case they need to pass there on their way to Mordor.
After the Council and the period of preparations, the Fellowship sets off. The Pupil finds them on the trail further South. She is able to clear any doubts for them: the Gap of Rohan is overrun with Saruman’s spies, and so the passage is closed to them.
They decide to go through the Redhorn Gate. Gandalf orders his Pupil to return to Rivendell, but to his surprise, for the first time since he took her as his ppprentice, she defies him. She wants to travel with the Fellowship, intent on helping her Master in any way she can.
Faced with her obstinacy, Gandalf finds a task in which she can indeed be of use. He’s been growing more and more irritated with the Hobbits’ mischief. They are loud, impish, and unused to living in the wilderness. “So long as you keep the Hobbits from pestering me, you may travel with us. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, my stubborn Pupil,” he grumbles.
The Pupil, who is of a gentle and giving nature, but also stern when she needs to be, quickly forms a familial bond with not only the Hobbits, but the entire Fellowship.
She has met Aragorn during her earlier travels with Gandalf. The Ranger knows he can rely on her scouting, and is relieved to have someone beside himself and Legolas who knows their way around the woods. She helps Aragorn gather herbs and imbues his mixtures with her subtle healing spells.
Though she’s met Legolas in passing during her Mirkwood days, she only becomes better acquainted with him during the Fellowship’s trek south. Legolas is glad to know someone who is well acquainted with his home, and shares his love for the woods.
Because of her earlier mission to Erebor, and the shared journey from the Lonely Mountain to Rivendell, she is well acquainted with Gimli. The dwarf teases her for being “too elfy” and a “tree lover”, but he is very grateful for her kindness and her efforts to ease tensions within the Fellowship.
Frodo has long known her as Gandalf’s Apprentice, and the rest of the Hobbits warm up to her quickly. They are delighted to be around someone, who, like themselves, isn’t so strongly focused on the topics of warfare and survival. Istead, they bond over their shared appreciation for a good meal and a good laugh. Tasked with keeping them out of trouble, she often mother-hens them, especially Merry and Pippin, who are the youngest.
Boromir is the only one who, not knowing her prior to their meeting on the trail, has some trouble trusting her at first. He is generally suspicious of magic users, and also a little bit jealous of how quickly she builds good rapport with the Hobbits (though he will not admit it).
That being said, he might not be so immune to her caring touch as he thinks…
Tumblr media
II ✦ Soup for the Soul ✦
I should not let them fall asleep like that. True although it was, this realisation came to Boromir rather late.
After their failed excursion through the Redhorn Pass, the Fellowship had descended to once again take shelter under the canopy of the woodlands of Eriador. They now had only one route open, through the Mines of Moria, and all save for the Dwarf did not take well to that prospect. They were travelling South, slowly and reluctantly, still recovering from the snowstorm that cut their path.
Earlier today, once they had set up camp, Boromir had organised a fencing lesson for Merry and Pippin. He had hoped that some light exercise would speed their recovery and help them regain some of their lost strength. Even Frodo had joined on this occasion, which gladdened Boromir. Their journey had not lasted long, but the first signs of wear and discouragement could be already seen on the young Baggins.
After their sword practice (sword being a generous word for the dirks that the Hobbits carried), they all sat down under a tree to sharpen their blades. Pippin had trouble with maintaining the angle, and asked Boromir to show him how it’s done. As Boromir expertly whetted the dagger, the three hobbits leaned in on him, supposedly to better observe and learn. Boromir was none the wiser, and only Meriadoc’s loud snore made him finally realise that the three Halflings had fallen asleep, using his padded shoulders and arms as pillows. Now he was stuck under them, not wanting to disturb their sleep - not when Frodo was peaceful at last, after several nights during which Boromir had heard the Hobbit toss and turn.
Tired and hungry, Boromir resigned himself to his fate. As he could not move without waking the little ones, and it was gradually getting dark, he quietly observed the Fellowship’s campfire from a distance. Gandalf was sitting on a log by the fire and smoking his pipe, clearly content to have some peace and quiet. Samwise was busy cleaning after the meal - a stew which Boromir did not have the chance to taste yet, and probably wouldn’t now, not while it was hot at least. Gimli had been assigned with securing the perimeter - it was his turn to scout the surrounding forest and make sure they were safe for the night. Aragorn and Legolas were seated together some distance away from the campfire and discussing something in hushed tones - likely their strategy for approaching the Gates of Moria. Boromir was rarely included in their talks, which sat ill with him. Not for the first time he regretted their less-than-optimal introduction during the Council in Imladris.
There remained one more member of their party - the woman who everyone except Boromir seemed to already know. They called her the Pupil, likely because of Mithrandir. My young Pupil this, my clever Pupil that, my stubborn Pupil, my silly Pupil... - the Wizard  would always say, and it stuck. Boromir could not tell her age - she looked neither old nor young. She did bear elven nor dwarven features, nor orcish for that matter… and yet he could not be sure she was wholly of the race of Men. Boromir did not know what to make of her.
Right now she was crouching next to the campfire, her back turned to Boromir, so he could not see what she was doing. He had not trusted her, at first. She hadn’t been part of their original team. She did not seem proficient in combat, nor very sturdy. He had been angry when she had declared they couldn’t travel through the Gap of Rohan, as he himself would have preferred that route to any other. And yet her intel had proved correct. She was also useful in other ways. During the snowstorm atop Caradhras, he had witnessed her magic - not flashy, like the Wizard’s fireworks, but rather slow and subtle. Mithrandir refused to light a fire for fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention, but she had used her quiet talent to keep the little ones from freezing with potions. She had imbued Boromir’s leather grieves with some sort of a warming spell, too, even though it had seemed to sap at her strength. He had to assume she was loyal to the Grey Pilgrim, and so, by extension, loyal to the Ringbearer’s mission.
He noticed that she stood up, then. Instead of addressing the Wizard, she turned around to face Boromir, and he noticed a bowl in her hands. He then guessed what her purpose by the fire had been: she was heating up the leftovers of the stew. Slowly, carefully, so as not to spill anything, she approached Boromir and the Hobbits’ resting place under the tree.
She kneeled and set the steaming stew on the forest floor beside them. Then, once their eyes met, she touched her lips with her finger signalling him to remain quiet. That he could do. She noiselessly stood up and scampered off back to the campfire, leaving Boromir once again. The smell of the stew reached his nostrils and he cursed quietly. Some help she was, leaving him to smell the meal, but without the means to taste it! Not without disturbing the Hobbits, at least.
But he was not left to pine after the stew for long. Soon she returned to him, carrying a bundle that she then unfolded to reveal a chunky warm blanket. She covered them with it, Boromir and the three sleeping hobbits, tucking the edges in gently. It did help to ward off the evening chill, Boromir admitted.
Then she plopped down to the forest floor next to Boromir, sat cross legged and picked up the bowl once again. Is she going to make me watch her eat it? Boromir thought and felt a surge of irritation at her inconsiderate behaviour. She scooped up a hearty portion of the stew with a spoon, but, to Boromir’s alarm, she did not bring it to her  mouth. Instead, she directed the spoon surely and smoothly to Boromir’s own lips.
In that moment, Boromir would sooner open his mouth from sheer shock than for the sake of any sort of cooperation. He was a Man grown! It has been… nigh to four decades since he had let anyone spoon-feed him last. He turned his head away firmly. The Pupil, however, would not give up so easily. She reached out with her free hand and gently swept Boromir’s hair away from his face.
The gesture made him flustered. It has been… quite some time since any woman has touched his face. He was thankful for the shroud of dusk. He had nowhere to run however, and he felt her nudge his lips with the spoon, urging him to open his mouth. He was forced to meet her gaze once again. 
What he found on her face was not amusement, nor condescension, but rather... gentle pleading. She really was only trying to help.
"Let me", she mouthed silently.
He shook his head and pursed his lips even tighter.
Then, as if his own body wanted to play tricks on him, they both heard his traitorous stomach give out a loud growl.
The Pupil raised her eyebrow at Boromir.
Well? Are you going to deny that you’re hungry now? her expression seemed to demand.
He rolled his eyes as a universal way of saying whatever, I care not, and finally opened his mouth.
A spoonful of warm stew finally landed on his tongue, and he felt the most delightful warmth spread through his body. He had to fight an urge to growl at the pleasant sensation.
The Pupil smiled.
There. That wasn’t so hard, Boromir read from her content face.
This was a good idea, after all, he thought after the second spoon. He had been ravenous, he realised, and the stew was doing wonders for his mood. It was surprisingly nice to have someone take care of him that way. For too long a time he had been only attending to the needs of others, not accepting any help for himself.
He met her concentrated gaze, as she continued to feed him the stew, restoring his strength with each spoonful.
“You did good,” she mouthed silently and Boromir furrowed his brows, confused. “With the little ones,” she added, and vaguely indicated the sleeping Hobbits with her head. Oh, she means the sword-practice, he thought, and felt no small satisfaction from her compliment.
He was reminded of how taking care of Faramir was always a duty that filled him with joy and pride. This was not dissimilar, he realised, and it was nicer still to have someone help him and share some of that responsibility. He felt contentment at what they’d accomplished together: Pippin breathing deeply, with his head resting on Boromir’s arm, Meriadoc snoring quietly slumped against his friend, and Frodo - looking strengthened and at ease, sleeping soundly propped against the tree on Boromir’s other side.
Is this how being a father feels like? What if I had a child of my own one day? he asked himself. But this thought of parenthood that came to him, perhaps for the first time in his life, was so strange and foreign, and so surprising, that he dared not dwell on it any longer. Instead he resigned himself to the gentle care of the strange woman, who turned out to be… not so strange, after all.
Tumblr media
III ✦ Picking up the Pieces ✦
Boromir was sure he would never forget the moment Gandalf fell.
He remembered the unearthly heat and the fumes of sulphur that wafted from the hellish chasm. He remembered Mithrandir’s white knuckles, holding on to the collapsed bridge’s edge, and the Wizard’s desperate last message to the Fellowship: Fly, you fools!
But what he remembered the most, and what was was going to forever haunt him, was the cry of Gandalf’s devoted Pupil. Her broken, desperate wail, the kind that a mortally wounded animal might give out, as if her very heart was rent out of her chest and thrown into the fiery pit.
She wanted to jump in after her Master, and would have, but for Boromir’s interference. Unmoved by her screams of protest, he had hoisted her up over his shoulder and heeded the Wizard’s last bidding. He ran.
He ran after the others, despite the army of orcs upon their tail and despite her angry trashing in his grip. He ran to the open sky and to safety, so that they both could live to fight another day.
But right now it did not look like she had any fight left in her. They were, all of the Fellowship, cooped up on the border of Caras Galadhorn, the elven realm of Lothlorien. Aragorn and Legolas were currently negotiating their safe passage through the woodlands with the elven Marchwardens. It was a heated dispute in Sindarin, of which Boromir could catch only certain words, but he understood enough to know they were not likely to face a warm welcome.
The rest of the Fellowship had been allowed to rest. They were, all of them, in foul spirits. Gimli had been quiet ever since he had learned of the tragic fate of Balin’s Kingdom, and Boromir could only surmise that the Dwarf needed his space to fully take in the bad news. He was loath to intrude upon his friend’s quiet contemplation. Frodo and Pippin were weeping openly and Sam was trying to offer them whatever comfort he could, mostly by wiping their wet cheeks and noses time after time.
The state of Gandalf’s Pupil worried Boromir the most. Since he had carried her away from the danger, once she stopped resisting the rescue, she went completely still and quiet, her eyes unseeing. She had not spoken a word, not responded to any attempts at conversation. He could only suspect she was in some sort of shock. He’d seen it on the battlefield enough times to recognize the signs. It made sense;  as Boromir understood it, Mithrandir had been a father figure to the woman, someone she considered family. In a way, with the Wizard, her entire life had fallen down that chasm. He felt helpless; he wanted to console her, but the sheer magnitude of her loss left him overwhelmed.
He felt a tug at his gambeson and looked down. It was Meriadoc.
“Go to her,” the Hobbit whispered.
“I… I would not presume. I do not know what to say to her,” Boromir confessed, dejected.
“Then do not say anything,” Merry insisted. “Just go there and hold her,” he added. “Trust me, it will help.”
Boromir took a hesitant step in her direction. Then another. He spared a thought to his appearance… he was bone-tired, aching and covered in goblin ichor head to toe. Not exactly conducive to physical intimacy. Then again, she was in a similar state, and, really, vanity was the least of their concerns.
Tentatively, he sat next to her on the wooden platform. Up close he could see that, although she was sitting motionless and staring ahead, her eyes were damp. The tears had washed away the dust from her face, forming clean streaks down her cheeks.
He had long since stopped regarding her as merely Gandalf’s Apprentice, or just an ally in a dangerous quest. Instead, upon seeing the state she was in, his heart wept with her…
*
Gone. 
Her mind could not comprehend it. Everything she had learned about the Wizard during their life together contradicted this truth. Her Master could not die, he was simply too powerful, too wise, too… godly, for the mundane laws of life and death to apply to him. And yet, what had happened - happened. She’d seen it with her own eyes and his fall would now play out in her mind again and again, each time shattering the ground that she had built her life on.
Such kindness, such wealth of knowledge as her Master’s would never again grace Middle Earth, she was sure of it. And now that light was gone. Extinguished forever with a mere flick of a monster’s whip.
What shall I do now? Wherever shall I go? she wondered. Was she even welcome in the Fellowship anymore? Ever since she could remember, she had been Gandalf’s Pupil. And now that there was no Gandalf, who was she? A nobody. Aragorn and Frodo likely had no use for a nobody. But such thoughts were too painful to bear in her current state. So, instead she let them go and simply drifted in the darkness of her inner world, that was now forever marred by grief. She did not know where she was, or how much time had passed. A million years wouldn’t be enough to mourn her Master.
The first thing, the first sensation that managed to break through the dark shroud that surrounded her consciousness, was that of the warmth of another. Someone’s arm was on her back, rubbing gentle, soothing circles. Then that very same arm encircled her form and drew her into a hug. She had no wish to be consoled, she didn’t want any comfort. She wanted to cry, to wail and to tear at her clothing… But then she felt Boromir’s familiar presence. Him, she could let close. He had been a comfort to her during their travels many a time. She relaxed gradually and let her head fall back to find support against him.
Slowly but surely, his steadying touch made her come back to her senses and to the present moment. She was seated on the forest floor, she noted, in Lothlorien most likely, if her geographical knowledge had not failed her. Boromir was seated next to her, his back propped against one of the giant trees. He was also holding her in his arms, close to his chest and stroking her shoulder soothingly. His cheek rested atop her head. She had no strength nor care left in her to wonder what this closeness could mean for the two of them. She was just… immensely relieved and thankful for the comfort that his arms offered. She was at her lowest and most wretched, and yet he was willing to share that moment with her. For that, she would be forever thankful.
Boromir’s compassion moved her and tears spilled down her cheeks once again. Against her wishes she started sobbing. She felt the Man next to her stir. For a moment, she thought he would let go of her and leave her to her sorrow. Instead, Boromir tightened his embrace. Then he gently but surely pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“...mise me you’ll never do that again.” She realised he was whispering something to her halfway through his sentence.
“Never do what?” she asked.
“You… Back at the Bridge… at Khazad-dum,” he said quietly, “you wanted to jump after him, didn’t you?” This was no question. “I couldn’t bear it,” he said simply. “Promise me you’ll live.”
“What reason to live do I have left?” she asked. There was no bite to her words, just a simple statement of the facts, as they appeared to her.
“I could help you find a new purpose, if you would but let me,” he whispered to her ear and held her fast in his embrace. Against her better judgement, and despite their tragic circumstances, her heart did a flip. 
“Boromir, I…” she began, but her sentence was cut short when she felt a firm shove upon her side.
“Oi! Move!” a voice sounded from behind her. She turned around and saw the four Hobbits standing next to the tree. “Make some space for us! We all need a hug, and you’re hoarding all the best cuddles to yourself,” said Pippin and sniffed.
She regarded the Halflings: their red, puffy eyes and their wet cheeks. They were grieving too, no less than she was. Even so, Pippin was making an attempt at levity. For her sake, to help her bear the pain, she realised. The little ones had the gift of laughter, and it would not fail them even in their darkest hour.
Suddenly, her purpose became clear to her anew: Gandalf had bid her to take care of the Hobbits. And so she would continue to do that. Her Master might be gone, but his legacy yet lived. It lived through her, through the Fellowship, and their quest. She would not abandon them now.
“Of course, Master Peregrin,” she said, her voice creaky from all the crying. “There is cuddles enough for everyone.” And so Meriadoc weaselled his way between her and Boromir, and the rest of the Hobbits piled up atop them like hens on the roost.
*
“Do you think we ought to wake them?” asked Legolas. The Elf and Aragorn were back from their negotiations with the Marchwardens. The Lady of the Golden Forest had intervened on their behalf, and so not only the passage was now open to them, they would be provided rest and comfort in Caras Galadhorn. What the Elf and the Ranger did not expect was the sight of all their companions, even the Dwarf Gimli, passed out from grief and exhaustion atop one another in one giant group hug.
“Let them rest a while,” said Aragorn gently. “After what we've all been through, I’ve half the mind to join them myself.”
Tumblr media
[fanfiction masterpost]
61 notes · View notes