#us ranger trousers

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

a/n: 2.3k - boothill finds you digging around in junk and then offers you a gift he hopes you won't refuse... [plsdontflopplsdontflopplsdont-]

the heavy metal clinking of boothill's foot steps clank their way to your shop's door. an all too familiar door he'd always find himself going up to whenever he was in need of repair- big or small. the swiveling security camera you keep at your entrance blinks with red-lit life and moves to start following his movements as soon as he enters it's field of vision.

who knows if you're ever actually paying attention to the camera feed or not though. you can be careless like that. sometimes you're just out- couldn't be bothered or could care less about the remote feed linked directly to your phone. other times, you're so focused on some project you neglect it entirely.

based on the sign hanging on your shop's door he was familiar with- it seemed that this time in particular you were out.

boothill didn't need to know how to write- much less read well- to take a wild gander as to where you had wondered off to. putting his spring loaded and metal jointed hands on his slim waist, his chin dips with an amused chuckle and shake of his head. the cowboy lifts the toe of his mechanical boot and twists his body fully 'round; his spurs scrapping across the ground during his lazy about-face. with one foot in front of the other and thumbs hooked through the hollow crops of his trousers, the galaxy ranger makes his way towards the junk yard.

it would never occur to the standard person to spend their free time digging around a scrap yard filled with junk thrown out for a reason- but you were anything but standard. if you weren't tinkering around in your shop or finishing up a repair or commission, you were scrounging around the grounds for material or 'hidden treasure'... which was key for just slightly more valuable junk.

a typical haul for you would be a few pieces of scrap metal you could use for wielding, the rare unstripped screw or loose gaggle of bolts, and all sorts of wire. if it saved you a few credits by finding material instead of buying them, you weren't one to argue with free trash.

passing under the wire-metal gate leading into the fenced-off territory, his thumbs still tucked into his pant legs, his ears stay sharp. listening for any sound of you digging around in some heap while his head swivels back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of you.

"ey, sugar, you around!" boothill shouts, one of his hands detaching from his hips to cup around his mouth. he wanders further in, gets more ground, before calling out the same sentence a second time. shaking his head in bewilderment on how far in you had gone digging, he goes even further still and tries calling out a third time.

"here!" you finally answer back. your voice echoes around him, bouncing off the scrap metal and spooking the rats and other critters that call the junk yard home. his head turns in the direction of your voice, the way his body leans towards it before his feet start carrying him that way never took notice in his own mind.

eventually, he makes it to you. squat down to the ground, under the rusty remains of some poor saps long eroded escape pod from whatever solar system they crashed in from. he crosses his arms, then his ankles, leaning his metal shoulder on the ruined dome you were digging under.

the ranger had no idea how long you had been out here, but judging by the half full bag you kept on your shoulder and the grease sticking to your neck and exposed skin he could guess it's been a bit. he chuckles when you dig out a rusted, broken pipe of... something, before tossing it over your shoulder with a disappointed click of your tongue and looking up at him. your cheeks had some gunk on it too, probably from you wiping the back of your gloves on it.

"fancy diggin' around in junk?"

"it's not all junk."

"the fudge it aint," he scoffs. to him, it absolutely was all junk. "this aint called the dang junk yard for nothin, sugar."

"it's a scrap yard."

"stubborn-bottom." you move to stand up, clapping your gloved hands together before taking them off so you could use your hands more freely. "good to see ya took my advice and startin' wearing some forkin' gloves around here." he eyes around at all the rust and sharp metal. "gonna get tetanus or somethin', and we can't have that."

"im liable to get tetanus from you before anything else," you joke so straight-faced it didn't feel like a joke. his crossed arms drop along with his jaw and his stance straightens as he uncrosses his ankles.

"ey', i aint as forkin' filthy as you pretend i am, and you know it." you shrug with a half smirk that was so dismissive he was tempted to keep arguing. you push the goggles you were wearing over your eyes to avoid getting anything in them and possible irritation onto your forehead. seeing the contrast between your sweaty, grease and dirt marked skin and the clean skin that was protected under the goggles had him scoff. "yer filthier than i am, by the look of things."

you roll your eyes and move to climb out of the rusty treasure trove of junk you had deemed no longer having anything of value. reaching out, boothill offers you his hand. you take it easily as he starts pulling you up and out to stand in front of him. your hand drops from his when you stand safely in his bubble, and he isn't sure if you know how close you are or not.

your nose is always so focused in tinkering around or messing with work that you can't always... read the room so to speak. its endearing, until it gets frustrating anyway.

"so, what're you here for this time? need something fixed again- i swear if you already burned through that new servo i replaced a month ago, im going to take off your arm and you won't get it back for a week."

"well, that's awful sweet of you." you knew by his dry tone and sneered lips that exposed his sharp teeth that the word sweet was definitely supposed to be a different five-letter word starting with 's'. one that his broken beacon (which you refuse to fix out of entertainment) wouldn't allow him to say.

"seems like an appropriate consequence to me, considering i don't charge you for repairs."

"i ain't here for not goose-dud repair," he hisses. "i had planned on givin' ya somethin', but based on your sweet attitude i aint so sure about it now."

"you brought me something?" he nods. "from a different solar planet?" he could see the curiosity start to ignite in your eyes. he nods again. you stuff your gloves into a pouch in your pants that he swears you've sewed another pocket into, before you're marching away from him and towards the entrance he had marched from at the beginning of this search. "well come on, let's get a moving!" you shout over your shoulder.

his synthetic voice chuckles at your back. eagerly waltzing after you.

boothill soon finds himself sitting with his knees apart and comfortably lounging with his arms on the back of your worn-down, two-cushioned couch the moment you two got back to the shop. he had taken himself to your quote- reception room, as he waited for you to unload your finds from the junkyard (meaning you just took your bag, flipped it upside and let its content spill out unceremoniously onto your worktable before you would eventually sort through it at a later time).

the tapping of his metal toes against your floor echoed dully against the rug under the sofa as you soon made your way to stand in front of him, hands on your hips and an expectant look in your eyes. flicking the brim of his hat cheekily to get a better look up at you, he lifted his chin.

"my attention is yours," you dramatically sigh, hands flaring to your sides before bouncing back against your legs.

"im flattered, sugar," he jests back. still, he shifts. the small pouch he had strung to his belt that was home to his array of extra fire rounds was soon detached from him. the string of which was used to tie it to him previously, hangs lazily from his metal fingertips. with a raised, semi-skeptical brow, you carefully take it off his hands.

"if this is some sort of prank," you warn. his hands raise in the air with his elbows still resting comfortably on the back of the cushions he was leaning against, gesturing that he meant no harm.

slowly- cautiously- you pull open the bag and remove two different items that had been nestled safely inside.

tossing the now empty bag onto the couch next to boothill's leg, you took each item into one hand and looked between them. one was a small crystal that was no larger than the center of your palm. shining a swirling color of green and blue, you could only imagine that it would look even prettier properly polished and with a light shining behind it. in the other was a small box, one that could be opened with a rusty lid. giving it a small rattle revealed something to be inside. doing so revealed a small robot that had been covered in rust, missing a robotic arm and wires spilling out from under the cracked and broken screen that would most definitely have acted as it's face.

"what's all this?" you ask softly. boothill stands from his lackadaisical lounging on your sofa to come and waltz up to your side. he pointed at the robot sitting sadly in the container he had brought him in first.

"i found this lil fella and thought you'd have a gas fixin' him right up. as for that," he points to the crystal of dual-swirling shades next, "accordin' to my scanners, that there's a pretty dadgum power source." boothill takes the small crystal from your palm and hovers it just above the robot. "it suits him, don't it?" he chuckles.

in truth, the slightly dingy looking crystal shard was too magnificent compared to the busted and rusted robot. but, with a bit of work, repair and love, perhaps the color of the crystal really would look nice against polished sheet metal.

"i figure givin' you somethin' else to tinker with would be more... enriching than just your usual forkin' machines." and it could keep you company, but he didn't say that out loud.

when you would get it working like he knew you could, maybe you'd stop and think about him while he was away chasing his reality out as a galaxy ranger. if you could just spare a single thought towards him every day because of a small robot and shiny rock? he'd be tickled pink.

"he's cute," you whisper gently and boothill wonders if you know you said it out loud at all. he chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup the designed dents atop his cowboy hat. taking it off his head, he gently drops it onto yours, gaining your attention back from the gifts he had given you.

the way you lift your eyes to look at him- filled with something akin to excitement and fondness- and gently cradle the small rusty robot with his hat now shadowing your face, he could almost hear the wires in his chest running on turbo. he'd had to cool down asap before he overheated or crashed.

taking a step back- for his own sake- he leaves his hat on your head before patting your back.

"get to it," he softly tells you. you mutely nod, an excited smile breaking out over your lips as you trot towards a different room. it was a small private work space you retreated to for personal projects. boothill was one that was usually allowed inside since this room was where he would get his tune ups most times.

with boothill following your back, he watches you trot to your work bench. you gently set the robot's box down and remove it from inside. the crystal you submerged in a bowl that you soon fill with polish to let it soak. it took all of ten minutes before you're surrounded by tools and wires and equipment made for digital repairs. all the while boothill remade his comfort in a worn-down rocker you kept in the corner, content on staying put until he was forced to leave. whether it by your or by his next bounty.

he couldn't very well leave you with his hat either, even if it looked better on you than him.

the next time boothill comes into your shop after that gift drop off, it wasn't a visit but a proper repair. running out of cooling agent for his internal hardware was just waiting for a disaster to happen. his synthetic-coded laugh burst into the room jollily as when he sat down on the stool he always planted his ass in for repairs, a small, shiny robot- with the cutest digital expressions and a small blue-green swirling crystal placed in the center of its chest- was waddling across your work bench. a vile of blue cooling agent the near size of his small metal body grasped tightly in its robotic arms.

it chirped happily with a digital reverb when you thank it for bringing the coolant over.

boothill was indeed tickled as pink could get seeing you already attached to the lil fella. he wondered what you named it.

a/n: smol robot go beep-boop (i love the idea of mechanic!reader just having a cute lil guy to follow them around like a puppy :(( [big thanks to @/birinboom and my partner for letting me pick their brain on what gifts boothill ended up giving to the reader bc i had no idea lol smooches <3]

[bullet-prooflove]

Dean Winchester. Coat, Cheese, Flowers.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @private-jett @cosmic-psychickitty

Prequel to:

You, Me & Tennessee - Dean always returns to Tennessee.

On The Mountain - Dean wishes he was back on the Mountain with you.

Six Pack (NSFW) - You realise the man waiting for you isn't Dean Winchester.

Memories (NSFW) - Michael invades your home whilst you're away.

Sweet Dreams - Dean thinks about how this all started.

Deals With the Devil (feat: Michael)- You wake up with an angel in your bed.

Dean doesn’t intend to fall in love in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It’s something that just happens after he starts hearing rumours about strange attacks up in the National Park.

You know the instant he turns up at the ranger station to investigate the circumstances that he’s a hunter. He has the same demeanour as the first one you met a few years ago, similar features. He’s surprised when you call him out on it, more so when you agree to take him up to the Fire Tower with you.

“There’s more to being a forest ranger up here isn’t there?” He had said, standing in front of the open weapons cabinet surveying the small arsenal. It’s certainly not the usual shit you see out here in the wilderness, silver bullets, long range rifles, military grade explosives. That’s just some of the interesting paraphernalia you have stored away in there.

“There’s lot of power up here on the mountain, it attracts things.” You had told him as you picked out a flare gun and a couple of blocks of C4. “Let’s just say this isn’t my first monster hunt.”

It’s refreshing being open with someone about the work he does. You spend the evening sharing a mini charcuterie board that you manage to pull together with some cheese, jerky and crackers, swapping stories about your exploits. The attraction starts then he thinks, because you’re pretty, funny and a complete badass. The shit you’ve dealt with on this mountain, it almost makes him quake in his boots. He wants to ask you how this all started for you but then you both hear the cries for help and a scratching at the door and it’s hunting time.  

It’s five hours later that you return to the Fire Tower, the both of you a little worse for wear. Your coat is shredded, there’s mud smeared across your cheek, your hair is a mess and the scent of motor oil clings to you from the C4. Dean isn’t in a much better state. He’s bleeding from a gash in his hairline and there’s a three inch slice up his forearm that you’ve managed to patch up with moss and strips from your ruined jacket.

It turns out there wasn’t just one Wendigo, there were two. It had been a fight to the death before you’d managed to trap them in the abandoned mine shaft they’d been using as a nest before activating the C4.

You’re both still hopped up on adrenaline when you get back to the Fire Tower, usually you’d take it out on the punch bag outside out then then Dean kisses you and you spend the next two hours working it out in other ways. You end up watching the sunrise together with a cup of coffee on the balcony, you wearing his t-shirt and nothing else.

He’s regretful when he has to leave. Usually he has no problem hitting and quitting but there’s reluctance in him because the two of you have shared something special up here, something he isn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“Call me alright?” He says as he writes his number on a post it note. “If you get in over your head and I promise you, I’ll come running.”

“I have a whole team of rangers who do the same sort of shit that I do, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You tell him, tucking it into your trouser pocket.

He gets the message loud and clear. You’re strong, independent, you don’t need him, not really and somehow that makes Dean want you even more.

The next time he’s travelling through Tennessee, he ditches Sam and drops by Gatlinburg, just to check in, see how things are going on the mountain. He’s barely half way down Main Street when he catches sight of you stepping out of the florist with a bouquet of sunflowers, cradled in your arm. You’re wearing  jeans that hug your ass in a way that has him groaning and a brown leather jacket over an ACDC t-shirt.

You don’t react when the black Impala pulls up alongside of you, it isn’t until Dean calls your name that you realise someone’s trying to get your attention. You pull out your earbuds before tilting your head towards the wound down window, surprised to see Dean Winchester sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hey.” Dean says with that handsome smile of his. “Need a ride?”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[alpydk]

PROMPT: smut with confessions of feelings: Gale starting to jerk off to fantasies of Tav. Tav can’t sleep and decides to go to Gale’s tent to ask if he has a sleeping spell. Tav arrives to see Gale stroking himself and softly moaning their name. They confess their feelings. Gale fucks Tav into the bedroll, then the two of them cuddle to sleep.

Self Control

I will preface this by saying that although I read smut, and give many a smutty idea, I do not write it very often. I have 3? (now 4?) smut texts to my name. Smut is a craft that I am working on and so I hope this appeases your needs. - Thank you for the prompt and I'll be looking at the other one soon enough :)

Word count - 1779 - GalexTav (GN) - CW - Smut

Gale couldn’t believe the orb had been calmed. His body now held a new weightlessness that he hadn’t felt for a year, pent-up emotions bubbling to the surface that did not need to be held back because of the threat of detonation. The touch of Tav’s hand on his arm had been met with an instant warmth throughout his body, a sensitivity long buried under pain and fear. He hadn’t expected the results of the orb’s stabilisation to be so instantaneous. Anger at Elminster’s request should have been the first matter to deal with, followed by his own choices of his future with Mystra or back in Waterdeep alone, if even still alive at the end of it all. Instead, Tav’s touch had driven him to his tent alone, excuses of needing space to think, not being complete lies; he just would not be thinking of his fate.

As the sun set on their campsite, the shadows growing amongst the ruins, and the world becoming quiet, he closed the tent flaps and lay back on the bedroll, his breathing quickening a little at the thoughts of what he knew his next actions would be. So primitive… he thought to himself as he listened to the sounds around him. He could hear Astarion creeping away from the camp, hear the crackling of the fire a few meters from his tent. Wasting spells on something like this would prove ridiculous if, in the following morning, they ran into something dangerous and so he decided he would simply have to use some self-control.

He gazed up at the blue fabric of the tent above him, his back resting on the solid ground beneath him. Oh, to be back in Waterdeep with a soft bed. He closed his eyes, imagining the scene, seeing the comfort of his home in front of him. The sound of the waves on the docks drifted from the open entrance to the balcony; the smell of parchment and sandalwood sat in the air, and he could feel the delicate cotton sheets under his hands.

Now the thoughts of a partner emerged into the illusionary scene, first a shadow as his mind wandered over potential companions for this first night of self-indulgent pleasure. Astarion? The pale-skinned elf lay next to him, and he felt the icy hand run along his chest. Not quite… A tad on the chilly side. Karlach? The vampire altered form into the fiery tiefling, her large hand pressing down on his shoulder, asserting control. Doesn’t quite suit the mood. Tav? He’d tried avoiding the image of the ranger, his heart a little too involved in his opinion of them. His mind drifted, hearing their voice, seeing the way they looked at him, feeling the bow scarred fingers on his arm. His body reacted to the made-up touch, the warmth of earlier in the day flooding his system quickly.

Drifting over their form in front of him, he saw as they did little more than stroke his arm. Even in his imagination, he still felt bound by an unwritten obligation to be a gentleman. He could imagine them naked, see them without the leather armour that tightly adorned their figure, discover the secrets that lay beneath, but he hesitated; the sensation of their fingers tracing up his arm already enough to drive him wild with burning desire. He traced his finger down the centre of his robes, allowing them to part, revealing the leather of his trousers. Searching fingers pulled at the ties, a slight impatience interrupting his fantasy. Gods damn these layers. He placed an eager hand under the fabric, feeling the increase of tension as he let his mind go back to Tav and Waterdeep. He watched as they lay there next to him, their fingers back to running up his arm, his own hand beginning its gentle rub along his length. Making a sound was not an option, and yet the quiet gasp of longing escaped his lips. He grew irritated at the feeling of leather upon him, tugging down his trousers enough to release him and give him the freedom he desired.

His weave-touched hand tightened its grip ever so slightly, the sensation of his hardening flesh causing his breaths to quiver and his will to fracture as a soft moan broke free. While lying next to them on the bed, he kept his mind on Tav. He focussed on their eyes, their lips, the way a strand of loose hair brushed in front of their face as they watched what he did. He became lost in the illusion, the tent and world around him now an afterthought as the heat built inside him and his sense of control wavered. A quiet whisper of their name escaped him, his secret desire for them taking over what little discipline he clung on to.

The cool air, a shock upon his body, drew him from his train of thought. The precipice he trod now vanishing into the far distance with the realisation that he’d been caught by the one person he wished never to see him in such a position. Tav stood, wide eyed, at the entrance of his tent, a small smirk creeping on their lips at the sight of him on his back, his hand on his erection and his cheeks flushed.

---

Tav had lain in their tent for a long time, tossing and turning. The thoughts of Gale struggling with his newfound destiny whirled in their mind, trying to find a reason behind the orders and looking for solutions to save him. They’d fallen for him early, his simple “hello” enough for them note the butterflies. It was the first night when he’d told them to “go to hell” that they’d truly lost themself to him, a deep longing to protect him and be with him driving them forward through each challenge they faced. Now they knew he lay alone in his own tent; his mind being torn in two by obligation and longing for freedom. If only they could help him.

They sighed deeply and left the comfort of their shelter, the cool night breeze helping to relieve the tension in their shoulders. Their footsteps caused the grass underneath to let out a small crunch; a pebble being kicked off ahead made them pause in a hope nobody would catch them on their solo mission. As Tav reached Gale’s tent, they heard his heavy breathing, a rising worry that maybe the orb had not been as stabilised as they had all initially believed, but as they heard the whisper of their name, they finally understood the entire situation. They peered in, the sight of Gale in front of them a surprising but welcome image to behold.

At first, Tav considered turning to leave, an unspoken embarrassment passing between the two of them, and yet the ranger knew this might be the only chance they would get to speak their feelings, to show the longing they’d held back for so long. They slowly entered the tent, the flaps closing behind them, and lowered themselves between Gale’s thighs, letting their own hand take the place of his.

---

He felt as the fingers wrapped around him, causing his head to lean back onto the bedroll, the slow movement up and down his cock causing the fantasy of Waterdeep to pale in comparison to the reality he was now faced with. The warmth of their palm grasped around him caused him to forget all reason and yet he wanted more. He wanted Tav, and he fought his release, his walk along the precipice becoming more dangerous the longer they continued.

His hand trembled more than he wanted as he reached over to Tav, beckoning them to join him. As they looked into his eyes, he saw the same love reflected at him, the deep yearning they both had shared for too long hoping to be let out. There was no gentle build up of romance and pining, there was only the long-awaited release of touch starved hands finally being allowed to roam freely. There was flesh upon flesh released from shackles and a hunger demanding to be satiated between them.

Gale found himself on top of Tav, eager kisses meeting their body as he could finally do what he had once believed impossible. He felt the warmth of their hand weaving through his hair, the other gripping onto his abdomen, trying to pull him closer. There was so much he wanted to explore of their body, from the soft nipples he flicked with his tongue to the hips he grasped onto as he urged himself forward tentatively. He felt as their thighs parted for him and for a moment he hesitated, looking into their eyes for some sort of confirmation. He worried that speaking would break the illusion, that for another night he would again wake alone on the rough bedroll, the orb aching as it always had.

Tav’s hand pushing his lips to theirs was the approval he needed as he sunk himself into them, the sensation causing his composure to falter quickly. There would be no holding back of moans, no self-control in this act. Primitive and animalistic as it might have been, this is what they both wanted. He buried his face in Tav’s neck, the sweat between their bodies taken upon his tongue as he followed the way they arched backwards. He thrusted into them with little regard for the gentlemanly persona he’d portrayed during the daylight hours, his climax nearing. Tav’s muscles tensing drove him on, the moans released from them a symphony he longed to hear more of. He heard his name whimpered from their lips as they came undone around him, their hands frantically searching for his body to cling on to. His name uttered was enough for him to relinquish all control, letting his body go on instinct, his hips snapping and back arching as he rode his own orgasm to completion.

As he regained his senses, he let himself fall to Tav’s side, his heart still racing, the tent now humid and the air close. They laid a gentle kiss on his chest, and he took their hand, pressing it to his heart, the dormant orb now having little say in what he wanted or could have. I love you… He could utter the words he’d pondered over for many weeks now. He could confess everything to them as they both lay in post coital bliss, but he decided against it. That would be saved for another night. One under stars and romance, one where his self-control would be less of an issue.

[ju-nebugg]

a complete (and ever-evolving) list of the many titles of mr. henley whispers

because Henry Shields is a genius and all of this deserves to be documented

Henley Whispers

aka the Turbulent Wind

aka the Storm Before the Calm

aka Lithe Spirit

aka Lord of the Prance

aka Bowfingerer

aka the Bark Knight

aka Work Hard Fae Hard

aka Coyote Handsome

aka Tree Weird

aka the Gorse Whisperer

aka the Arrow-ma Therapist

aka Aragorn-al Activity

aka Quiver Phoenix

aka Jack of All Trades, Master of All Trades

aka Tree Willy

aka Dave Fern

aka Soft-Core Faun-ography

aka Forest Whitaker

aka Notorious Tree-IG

aka Mr. Yumnus

aka Ranger Danger

aka Lust of Wind

aka Parry Hotter

aka Pollen Farrell

aka The Wood, The Bard and the Smugly

aka the Longest Bard

aka Daft Skunk

aka Brodo Swaggins

aka Dismay in a Ranger

aka Harriet Shrubman

aka Jeffrey Archer

aka Fen Diagram

aka Look Who’s Tolkien

aka Fennel May Care

aka the Grass Samurai

aka Chloro-Phil Spector

aka Woody Allen

aka Thelonius Trunk

aka the Moss Adjuster

the ✨ rhymes ✨:

human ranger, damage dealer, story weaver, owl deceiver

human ranger, goblin killer, pale ale swiller, dream journal filler

human ranger, rabble rouser, full of heart, devoid of trouser

human ranger, hidden stranger, friend of danger, dark avenger

human ranger, expert juggler, against the chains which bind us struggler

human ranger, loot stringer, shameless swinger, on da funk bringer

human ranger, check bouncer, espresso mispronouncer 

human ranger, rule flouter, truth spouter, earthworm doubter

human ranger, poker player, that which others won’t say sayer

human ranger, trendsetter, otter petter, in-joke getter

human ranger, blame dodger, advertising for a lodger

human ranger, cheeky chancer, always-on-the-off-beat dancer

human ranger, truth spinner, under-7s judo winner

human ranger, time waster, different brands of water taster

human ranger, hog roaster, subtle boaster, party ghoster 

human ranger, crystal healer, your-layers-like-an-onion peeler

human ranger, hell raiser, into-the-abyss gazer

human ranger, lithe linguist, sensual astrologist

human ranger, bugbear wrestler, established-societal-norm questioner

human ranger, tune hummer, every-known-fear overcomer

human ranger, knowledge gleaner, has the grass that’s always greener

human ranger, deer consumer, vole beguiler, badger groomer

human ranger, havoc wreaker, noted after dinner speaker

human ranger, cattle roper, inter-species interloper

human ranger, prey pouncer, fearless fighter, local counselor

deer stalker, fox glover, the one you’re with lover

black run skier, caged bird freer, the-change-you-want-to-see-in-the-world be-er

human ranger, eldritch blaster, surreptitious podcaster

human ranger, villain injurer, power broker, serial milliner

human ranger, wild reaver, what-a-tangled-web-we-weaver

human ranger, seed sower, flower goer, the-distance goer

human ranger, head turner, butter churner, bridge burner

human ranger, shameless liar, rule defier, hair dyer

human ranger, misbehav-er, always-against-the-grain shaver

human ranger, beast enrager, strong orator, up-upstager

human ranger, owlbear slayer, soothsayer, the-field player

human ranger, quick-quip punner, villain stunner, long-con runner

human ranger, heedless cur, own-job-interview saboteur

human ranger, of-wind guster, no-one truster, goat buster

TRUE FACTS ABOUT HENLEY:

he believes that any bird singing in the forest is doing it specifically for him (and birds don’t sing when he’s not there)

he trims his pubic hair into the word “shazam”

he keeps a dream journal (but if he has a nightmare, he ignores it and makes up something nice)

he writes really bad poetry (short, broken sentences, “rupi kaur style”)

he’s been using Ghoul’s Gruel as anti-aging cream (it doesn’t work)

his spirit animal is himself

he pronounces espresso like “ethpretho”

he has a bad feeling about worms in general

he howls at the moon

he pretends to understand all inside jokes

he’s very concerned about the mortgage repayments on his house

he always dances on the off beat in order to stand out in the club

he’s the reigning champion of the under-7s judo competition in his local area

he can tell the difference between brands of water (and he has very strong opinions about them)

he leaves parties without telling people and then comes back in disguise to talk about the fact that he left

he uses healing crystals

he gazes into the abyss until it gazes back because he wants the attention

he uses “sensual astrology” to try and seduce people

he has every known fear (the exposure therapy backfired)

he shaves (against the grain) with a sword (your hair doesn’t grow in hell. he does it anyway.)

he always has the greenest grass (he steals any grass he sees that’s greener than his own)

he runs a grooming business for badgers (“what does he get in return from the badgers?” “…friends”)

he’s an accomplished after-dinner speaker

he tried to hibernate with badgers and they kicked him out

he majored in drawing in sand with sticks

he’s a bed wetter

he always bets all in when playing poker

he is a leading member of the “pithy council” (it’s just him and a ferret getting together to recite pithy sayings)

he will love the one YOU’RE with (aka sleep with your wife)

when someone asks him a difficult question, he turns and runs

he thinks he’s been leaving episodes of a podcast called “whispers on the air” in various rocks and twigs on their journey, but he doesn’t have the spell for it so he’s just been talking to inanimate objects

he has an unhealthy obsession with hats

he sleeps in a web

he invented a kind of long distance running called long distance fleeing (26 miles = safety)

he burns every bridge he crosses

henley (a natural blonde) dyes his hair blonde (his natural hair color) so people will think he has grays because he’s older and more mature than he really is

he must always be upstaging someone

he has an inexplicable hatred of goats and, similarly, an inexplicable love of sea turtles

[blazingstar29]

What's your thoughts on mav wearing ice's clothes and being swamped, like sweater paws and everything 🥹🥹

first of all, YES. second of all:

They both choose to spend their money on different things, that's how it starts. For Maverick it's an obvious choice, his bike. Everything goes into the Kawasaki and what's left goes into less exciting things like rent and groceries. Ice on the other hand pools his money into clothing. Only a few pieces at a time, nothing crazy, but he's a firm believer in comfort and longevity. Which also means he's never out of fashion, though he does play into trends he think will last. (slider calls ice a sloane ranger and he didn't talk to him for a week)

He buys the softest wool jumpers and light, breathable cotton t shirts. It's a luxury he can justify. It's also a luxury Maverick's never bought into (white shirts and blue jeans all year round baby). When they move in together, it doesn't take him long to discover these items of clothing.

It's love at first sight.

Maverick starts to come home and shed his uniform before donning Ice's soft clothes. Some of them are already oversize on Ice which means most of them hang past Maverick's hips. He can't help it though. As much as he loves the uniform, when he's tired and a little bit over stimulated, all he wants is familiar, gentle fabrics.

The first time Ice sees him wearing on of his shirts, Maverick is standing in the kitchen. The collar slips down on one shoulder, exposing the freckled skin. Ice fucks him in it before the week is out.

When the winter months draw in, Maverick continues to steal the clothes. The jumpers are harder, because if he wants to get stuff done the sleeves are just too long and piss him off. But when he's not doing anything? He secretly enjoys the way it the jumpers loose and baggy. It makes him feel safe. Once or twice he uses his sweater paws to slap Ice on the ass.

But some quick notes

Maverick thinks that Ice's woolen sailing jumpers are way to scratchy and thinks its the reason rich people are so grumpy

"imagine wearing that all the time. you've got your awesome boat and you're wearing an itchy jumper. i'd be grumpy too"

ice wears mav's shirts for funsies but they're tight enough to give him a public indecency charge

Mav loves steaing ice's shirts and jumpers and any tops really, but he hates the feeling of trousers being too big, so ice gets to keep those

eventually ice offers to show mav where he buys his clothes so he can have some of his own but mav said he'd still love them just as much if they were college handouts

after this, ice goes to the thrift store and buy some random shirts and wears them for a while. that way mav can have some of ice's shirts to do odd job and work on his bike

[that-one-enby-ranger]

Tattoo

Day 13 of the Ranger Gathering - Tattoo

More blood appeared on his face as yet another punch was thrown. Halt had been hit so many times that he would have been on the ground only half conscious if he hadn’t been tied up in a position so he was standing. So instead he was standing lazily only half conscious.

“This is what you get, you ranger brat!” One of the abusers spat at him. Literally. Spit threw out of the dirty man's mouth hitting Halt in the face. Somehow he found this worse than the punches and kicks. “You put us through torture,” he was saying, “and now we’re putting you through torture.”

“We tortured you because you’re a criminal, you bastard,” Halt managed to grind out before he was punched again. It hurt like hell, but Halt continued on, probably unwisely. “Did you really expect to get away with murdering people? Lighting houses on fire and just leaving them to burn with the families inside? I mean, I guess there is a possibility that you could be cocky and stupid enough that it never even crossed your mind.”

He only just managed to get the full sentence out before more punches rained down on him, one of them opening up an old cut that had been so close to properly healing. Apparently that wasn’t enough for the man. He raised his leg and quickly and forcefully drove the heel of his foot in Halt’s knee. Halt, unable to stop himself, let out a pained scream. He would have fallen to the ground if not for the burning tight ropes keeping him up. Before he even had time to fully process what had just happened, the man in front of him grabbed him by his chin and forced him to look into the man’s eyes.

“You failed here today,” the man goaded, “We got you. You’re our prisoner now, and I’m going to make sure you always remember that.” The man motioned to two other crooks he had with him to go on either side of Halt. He then brought out the long bladed extremely sharp looking dagger from the sheath at his belt and quickly cut through the ropes securing Halt to the tree. As soon as the ropes were released Halt began to fall to his knees, but he was held up by the men to his sides. They were gripping his arms so much it hurt, but he barely felt above all the other pain.

“Rip his shirt off,” the man with the dagger ordered, and the other two complied. Using their smaller knives, they slashed down Halt’s shirt, tearing it off of him until all he was left wearing was his trousers.

“Thanks,” Halt mumbled sarcastically and was silenced by yet another punch.

“Turn him around,” the lead man ordered and the others forcefully turned Halt around so his back was facing the man. “Now hold him still,” the man ordered unnecessarily. It wasn’t like Halt was struggling to get out. He had no energy or strength left to even try.

“This will be your reminder,” the man said, stepping closer to Halt, “a permanent one.” Halt could feel the man’s cold hard hands touch him and wondered what he was doing, and then he felt the tip of the knife stab into him, and then slice around, cutting lines throughout the flesh in his back. Halt tried to not to cry out and somehow he managed even though the pain and the thought of not knowing what the man was doing was unbearable.

The man continued to cut around, not caring about how much blood he was drawing. He formed a shape with the knife.

He spent a while longer with his art, then finally stepped back, eyeing his handiwork.

“Hopefully,” the man said quietly, half to himself, “that will scar over, and it'll be permanent. Like your own little tattoo to remind you that we captured you.”

← — →

Later on, when Crowley managed to find Halt and helped him out of the men’s camp, Halt finally got a chance to look at the scar with Crowley.

The man was truly wicked.

He had carved a rough marking of an oakleaf into Halts skin. Across that oakleaf, was a giant x, cutting deeper than any other line. Even if Halt took care of it, it was sure to scar a little bit.

It would leave as some fucked up tattoo.

I didn't bother to properly proof read this which is pretty much what I've been doing for all of them at this point. So if it has a million plot holes and errors then I blame you.

This was actually pretty fun to write even though I didn't put too much effort into it again and I'm lazy.

Probably the reason I liked it was because HALT and the idea of nice tattoos 😏

Hope you liked it, I'm gonna go draw my clown oc while watching YouTube in the background

[decvyed]

DS2 F/W 23 Collection feat. CLEPTO

Hey guys, for this drop, I teamed up with the amazingly talented @cleptobycleo to put together a collection inspired by Dsquared2's F/W 23 collection. 🌵 Make sure to get the female sets from Clepto HERE This drop includes the following: Bronco Star Jeans 6 Swatches - Male Frame - Bottom Category - Specular Map for Shine Darlin' Top 4 Swatches - Male Frame - Top Category Ranger Trousers 5 Swatches - Male Frame - Bottom Category - Specular Map for Shine Roscoe Fringe Top 2 Swatches - Male Frame - Top Category Saloon Buckle Belt 1 Swatch - Male Frame - Bracelet Category - Specular Map for Shine Blender version of DS2 F/W Collection is also included New Mesh • Med-High Poly • HQ Texture • BG Compatible • Teens to Elders • All LODs • Custom Thumbnail • Disallowed for Random Base Mesh Credit: kalisbaz Base Body Credit: @magic-bot Render Credit: @huestudios Models: @bella-studios, @cleptobycleo & León DOWNLOAD TOU:

Conversions are not allowed regardless of the gaming platform

Do not reupload

Do not claim as your own

Do not edit or recolour the mesh

Alternate Link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/83347219 CC Finds: @sssvitlanz @sims4finds @lanaccfind @emilyccfinds @xmiramiraccfinds @afrosimtricccfinds @mandijsimsccfinds Thank you for shopping DECAYED. Feel free to tag us on Instagram or use the hashtag #SHOPDECAYED on Tumblr. We love to see you in our content.🙏🏾💫 You can also see our previous releases on our Pinterest Board 🌟

[mushroomates]

i looooveeed your posts! They are so creative and maked me and my boyfriend laugh! Kudos

What the fellowship would react having a daughter ( very girly type) at some young age just packing her things saying ist her time to go on a adventure

uhhhh, okay! so i wasn’t completely sure what age, i’m thinking like 7? or whatever the equivalent is in hobbit/elf/dwarf

merry: laughs, offers to help her pack. they go on a small quest to uncle pippin’s to steal his treasure. his “treasure” includes the good kush, all the loose change they could find, and the buttons off of his best trousers.

pippin: watches from the window as she toddles off past the backyard and out of the shire. she comes back, 3 hours later, with twigs in her hair and missing a shoe. (the hobbits keep an eye on the younglings collectively, but a young took with their mind set on something cannot be deterred)

frodo: collaborates on an adventure story, like a one on one dnd session. writes it down and they add to it every now and then. when she’s older, he gifts her the book.

sam: terrified. worried sick. tries to tell her about the awful food, about the terribly long hikes. sends her to frodo so she can get her adventure fix. she comes out ready to climb mount doom.

gimli: sends her on a small outing with her uncles/cousins/siblings/other family. gives her an axe for good measure. dwarf children are the responsibility of the collective. he uses this time to take a break and unwind.

legolas: flashbacks to him demanding the same thing to his dad. thranduil thinks it’s hilarious and gifts her a bow of her own for good measure. he does take her through mirkwood and teaches her how to navigate using the stars. unfortunately, she’s now more interested in shooting things.

aragorn: takes this as a good time to teach her how to hunt and prep meat. she gets sick of it quickly and temporarily becomes a vegetarian. no child wants to skin a rabbit for breakfast, even if they are a ranger’s kid.

boromir: lets her come with on patrols. they never leave gondor but she has a good time. they walk together as long as she can manage- for the rest of the day, she’s on his back or shoulders. when she gets tired, he carries her back and tucks her in.

ganfalf: takes her to the shire. lets her pick out a few hobbits to accompany her. (one must always take a hobbit on a quest, for good luck and good company) they journey to rivendell and back.

[sevens-evan]

okay, so, 30 (tourist/knowledgeable local au) go go go

this turned into tourist/park ranger au and is heavily/entirely based on a hike i went on in arches national park years and years ago. slot canyons my beloved. please reblog if ya like it!

“Alright?”

“Great,” Ava says, trying not to look down into the canyon between her feet and the rest of the hiking trail. It’s maybe two feet wide and a long way down. Beatrice holds her hand out over the gap, and Ava takes it. She doesn’t even try not to enjoy the warmth of Beatrice’s hand or the callouses on her palm. Thirsting after her park ranger guide on a group hike definitely isn’t the highest point of Ava’s life, but it’s not the lowest, either, and she’s refusing to feel shame about it. It’s not her fault that Beatrice somehow makes a park ranger uniform look good. It should be impossible, between the pleated trousers and the baggy grey shirt and the stupid, stupid, stupid hat, but Ranger Beatrice is doing it. Ava has been at the front of the pack through the whole hike, throwing in an occasional glance at the shape of Beatrice’s arms beneath the short sleeves of her shirt amongst the views of slot canyons and rocky vistas.

“Ma’am?”

Ava blinks. She’s still holding onto Beatrice’s hand, and has yet to take the step over the canyon before her.

“Ava,” Ava says. “Ma’am was my mother.” She makes a face. What did she just say?

“Ava,” Beatrice says. Oh, Ava likes that. She really likes that, the way Beatrice’s accent turns over the second a in her name. “Just one step. The more you look down the worse it seems.”

“For sure.” Ava decides to let Beatrice think she’s afraid of heights. At least for now. She’s getting, like, major gay vibes, so maybe she can correct that misunderstanding at a later date.

Ava takes the step.

“One small step for Ava, right?” Ava says, looking up from her hiking boots to grin at Beatrice. Beatrice smiles back at her, which is just—devastating. Ava will never be the same.

“One giant leap for Ava-kind,” Beatrice agrees. She squeezes Ava’s hand before she lets it go, and Ava has to clench her jaw shut to keep from doing something embarrassing like asking her to do it again. Or moaning.

They follow the trail as a group as it narrows between two rock walls, then widens again, letting them out into a sort of split in the side of the solid rock hill, rock faces soaring a dozen feet high on either side of them. It affords them an incredible view of the desert out beneath them, sand and rocks and hills. Beatrice stops near the far end of the open space, turning and waiting as the hiking tour group files in behind her.

“Everyone doing alright?” Beatrice says. Ava watches as she does a quick headcount, following along with the numbers Beatrice mouths. If that involves staring at her lips, well, Beatrice probably can’t tell. Beatrice nods a moment later, apparently satisfied with the number of hikers gathered before her.

“This is my favorite spot in the entire park,” Beatrice says. “If you’ll all entertain it a moment, I’d like to tell you why.”

“Go for it,” Ava says. She’s the only person in the group to speak aloud. Beatrice glances at her, and Ava refuses to be embarrassed, offering an encouraging grin.

“Well, if Ava approves,” Beatrice says with a smile. She reaches up and takes off her hat. Several strands of brown hair have escaped their neat bun, and she brushes them back with one hand while the other holds her hat against her side. “My first summer in the park, I was cleaning cabins. I graduated college and lost contact with my entire family not long afterwards. It was a very difficult and confusing time in my life. I thought that I had made a mistake in coming to the US. I thought that I had made a mistake by coming here. I thought that I was in the wrong, that it was my fault somehow that my parents weren’t accepting of me. That it was my fault I was different.”

Gay, gay, super gay, totally gay. Ava agrees with the voice in her head and then tells it to shut up. There’s a rehearsed quality to Beatrice’s voice—Ava suspects she gives this speech on every one of these hikes—but there’s something genuine in it, too, and Ava wants to listen.

“One day towards the end of July—the hottest day I’d ever experienced up til then, being from England,” Beatrice says, “a friend I’d made, a ranger, took me up here. She sat me down and told me to talk to the desert, and ask it if I’d made a mistake. And then she went back up the canyon to give me some privacy. I sat here for ten minutes before I finally did it. The desert did not answer.” A ripple of quiet laughter goes around the group. Ava doesn’t join in. She’s transfixed by the look on Beatrice’s face, a little half-smile that Ava wants to stare at forever. “But on the hike back out I found a tarantula on my backpack.”

“And that made you want to stay?” Ava says. Beatrice glances at her.

“The tarantulas are a very important part of the ecosystem, Ava,” Beatrice says. Ava shuts her mouth and busies herself with the lid of her water bottle. “But yes, it did. It felt like…the desert was calling me stupid for even asking. What does a bunch of sand and rock care if I’m here or not? Have a spider for your troubles, you idiot.” More laughter, and Beatrice laughs quietly at herself this time. “But the people do care. My friend cared to take me here and show me all that sand and rock. And I care to show it to all of you. It’s my job, yes, but it’s only my job because it matters to me. And I hope that it matters to all of you.” She takes a deep breath and puts her hat back on.

“So,” she says. “On the way down the hill, if you want to, I hope that you’ll all ask the desert a question. Doesn’t have to be out loud, don’t worry. The sand won’t hear you either way. And I can’t promise you a tarantula, although some of you may be grateful for that”—no fucking kidding—“but I can promise that the desert won’t answer. And I can promise that that will be more comforting than it sounds.” Beatrice pauses for a moment. Ava might be in love with her. “Are we all ready to start?” There’s a general murmur of assent, and Beatrice turns away from the group, leading them towards the trail out of the split in the rock and down the hill. Ava hurries to catch up to her.

“So,” she says as she draws up shoulder-to-shoulder to Beatrice. Beatrice looks over at her. “Quite the story.”

“I suppose.”

“All true?”

“Of course.” Beatrice shakes her head slightly, amused and scandalized by the idea of lying.

“Got any more stories you’d like to share?” Ava says. “Maybe over a beer or something?” Beatrice is silent for long enough that Ava’s rapid, anticipatory heartbeat turns worried and even faster. “That can be my question for the desert,” Ava says. “If you want. Don’t want. Whatever.”

“Asking the desert to have a drink with you,” Beatrice says. “How unconventional.” Ava shrugs.

“I’m not really the conventional type.”

“No?” Ava shakes her head. Beatrice looks down the trail. “I’m done for the day after this tour,” she says. “There’s not many bars worth visiting around here, but if you’d like to come by my cabin, I make an acceptable gin and tonic.”

“High praise,” Ava says. “There’s literally two things in that drink.”

“Three,” Beatrice says. “There’s lime.” She pauses. “Four. And ice.”

“Sold on the ice,” Ava says. “How the fuck do you do this hike in July?” Beatrice laughs, a sharp, abrupt noise, like it’s been startled out of her. Ava’s hands clench into fists at her sides, trying to catch it in her fingertips.

“You get used to it,” Beatrice says. “Now watch where you’re going. You’ve been missing all the views staring at me.” Ava flushes pink at being caught, but she obeys, turning her head and watching the desert stretch out before her.

[ranticore]

some of the outfits i drew up to get a handle on what different classes of men wear in Régian era Inver (1860s. the king is Régis, therefore it's the Régian era). left to right are middle, upper, and lower class getups.

not pictured: bowler hats & top hats. Only two groups of people were known to go out in public without some sort of head covering - rangers and priests. everyone else wore a hat befitting their class. felt bowler hats for most men, silk tall hats for the gentry. women wore bonnets (fancy) or headscarves & shawls (less fancy)

every man in inver wore gaiters as part of their daily dress, these are not stockings because they go outside the trousers and over the shoes, and usually fasten a little way below the knee. it's a rainy, muddy, snowy country, and these gaiters protect your lower legs from the elements. also it's just fashionable. the ability to wear gaiters in a pale colour & fragile type of fabric was a mark of class, with the upper classes expected to wear white satin or silk. it was a way to show off how little you ever had to go outdoors into the dirt of the city or countryside, as the white would always be clean, and a way to flex your ability to have your clothes washed regularly (few people did).

everyone else used either wool or leather gaiters, usually in darker colours (brown/russet was common) that didn't show up the dirt so well. although, cities like Invergorken turned every item of clothing coal-black eventually whether you liked it or not. they were bulky and usually ill-fitting, with the lowest classes usually having the fasteners/buttons on the inside of the leg, to make them easier to put on. wealthier people who would be expected to ride horses had the buttons on the outside (and upper classes had buttons on the outside because they had people do that for them)

aping the upper classes to appear richer has always been a thing so you would see the lower classes wearing white gaiters on special occasions, though they would be very quickly taken off and stored away from dirt as soon as possible.

clothing was nearly invariably wool or linen, with wool being more readily available (linen was imported from hibernia). a winter overcoat (left) usually incorporated some form of cape down to the elbows and closed all the way to the shins or ankles, and was worn over the more usual day suit & coat (right). those are trousers, not breeches; they tend to be pretty baggy, even among the upper classes, and usually end with a stirrup that passes under the foot.

[sorn-orlith]

Making an Impact | 18+ MDNI

Shadowheart/m!Tav/Astarion CW: Impact play, undernegotiated kink

They had cornered him.

Tav, still throbbing from Abdirak's display of faith, was backed into a wall with two pairs of hungry eyes -- one crimson, one emerald -- pinning him in place. A wave of embarrassment overcame him.

They had seen him writhing, crying, begging for mercy only hours before and responded with praise. Shadowheart had asked whether Astarion had any thoughts about his display; Astarion responded that he had his hopes. Both of their faces twisted in a sick display of approval.

His cheeks flushed. "And --" he gulped. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Oh, don't be so bashful," chided Astarion with a smirk that had Tav feeling absolutely bashful in the moment, "I saw how you screamed for that cleric. You can drop your pretenses now."

In the moment, Tav had been riding the adrenaline high of infiltrating a goblin camp and encountering a master-torturer who demanded his supplication. Now, his senses returned to him, he could feel his guts turn with fear.

Fear? Or excitement? Shadowheart didn't give him time to decide. "Don't mind him; I knew you'd be shy." The Sharran closed in, her fingers tracing along the lines where fresh scars littered Tav's back. "But pain is a gift, remember. It keeps us sharp. Alive."

Agony.

His jaw clenched shut. In an instant she had whipped him around. Claws ripped down his back like knives, threatening to tear the shirt standing between him and his tormentor. Tav ground his face into the stone wall.

He didn't realize the moan in the air was his own until Astarion's dark chuckle followed.

"Come now, Shadowheart. You'll spoil the fun before it starts." A blessedly cool hand rested over the small of his back. "What do you say, Tav? Have you had your fill of pain for the evening, or are you greedy for more?"

"More." Gods, he wasn't even remotely himself. His body cried out for them to rip off his clothes and flay him, to take his pain and drink it in until they were sated to the last drop.

His eyes were closed, so the purr in his ear came as a surprise: "Oh, I was hoping to hear you say that."

"Come," said the other, her timbre as sweet as steel. Shadowheart nudged him back just enough to slide between him and the wall. He settled his face into the blessed soft of her neck.

Tav was dimly aware of his trousers being pulled down his legs, followed by his small clothes. The cool night air nipped at his exposed skin, and --

Ice. The first strike sent shock through his body like frigid lightening. Something wide and hard had hit him. Something created to draw out pain without damaging the meat underneath -- not that his body could register that nothing lasting was harming him.

His teeth grit together. "Very good." Tav felt the vibration in Shadowheart's chest more than he heard the words. Anticipation gnawed at his brain as he awaited Astarion's next strike.

He didn't have to wait long. An obscene smack rang through the night air, followed by the telltale sting of the impact. His head swam, his blood rushed to the afflicted area all too quickly. The next hit was one his body was keenly aware of.

On they tormented him, working his ass and thighs raw until a lovely throbbing began making itself known between his legs.

"He's excited; look at him." Her voice contained no mockery. Only satisfaction.

Astarion was, on the other hand, breathless for the exertion of the torture. "Hold him out of the way. I won't have my fun ended early."

Tav had hardly registered his own arousal hanging heavy from his pelvis until a hand snaked between his legs to cup his balls.

Her gorgeous hand protecting him, holding him --

"Good boy, shhh..." She squeezed. That was all it took. Tav's toes curled as he peaked, spend spitting against the stone floor. He would cry out had his vocal chords any substance left to them. Instead, ranger pressed his face into Shadowheart's shoulder to ride out his orgasm in silent bliss.

Another hand as sickly sweet as the one cradling his sex coaxes his own off her hip and down, down into her trousers into the slickness within. Tav gets lost in the sensation of her cunt on his fingertips. He rubs, massages at her lips when something hard presses in behind him.

Astarion's ice-cold voice sounded out in the darkness. "You won't believe me, but I do hope this doesn't hurt as much as I think it will. Your shouts of pain were ecstasy; I can't wait to hear what your cries sound like for pleasure."

[fanficwriting1]

Your Hypnotic Words (Updated Version)

Chapter Two: Of Gardens, Wizards, and Dwarrow

Bilbo was having a fine day before Gandalf came and ruined it.

He’d been in his garden - attending and whispering to his siberian squills (reminding them to not grow beyond their bounds), to his iris pumila (encouraging them to continue blooming), and to his lilies of the valley, lavishing each plant with words of love and devotion.

He loved Spring and the plants that flowered and grew with it.

He attended to his tomatoes with a piety that even his neighbors found shocking. Bilbo’s devotion came from a love for what he tended to - he often swore he could hear his plants talking back to him. Not in a way of speech, but rather by feelings and fleeting images.

Of course, he never spoke aloud of it, so his family simply believed him to be a hobbit who adored his garden. Not that many could say otherwise and it wasn’t like he could rebuff them aloud if they said so; his garden was one of the only places he had the freedom to speak.

And so, one bright morning, that is where Gandalf found him - hands buried in loamy soil, waistcoat abandoned somewhere behind him in the grass, sleeves rolled up high on his arms, lips moving to speak soft words to his plants, and a dirt-streaked face that shone with contentment and happiness.

“Your garden is in pristine condition, as it is ever, Bilbo Baggins.”

Upon hearing Gandalf’s voice, Bilbo bit back a snarled curse and instead threw a rude gesture over his shoulder. A deep chuckle was the only response he received.

“You know you are free to use speech with me, Bilbo Baggins. I am not easily influenced.”

Bilbo sighed but relented. “So you say.”

“I have a favor to ask of you, my friend.”

Bilbo closed his eyes and silently berated himself for not running and hiding as soon as he heard Gandalf.

Gandalf moved closer, and his shadow cast itself over Bilbo as he finally sat back and turned his gaze towards the wizard. “If you are here, Wizard, to give me another one of your foul plant hybrids to ‘test grow’, I swear this will be the last time anyone sees or hears from Gandalf the Grey.”

“Why so cruel? You loved my last plant.”

“What you brought me was not a ‘plant’. It devoured all of my vegetable garden! I only just managed to save my tomatoes by burning the blasted thing. I will not do it, Gandalf. Find another hobbit to host whatever you’ve procured.”

Chuckling again, Gandalf settled down on the grass next to Bilbo. “Then you will be beyond thrilled to hear that I have not brought another exotic plant.”

“What have you brought then?”

“An offer.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “An offer for what?”

“Adventure.”

Bilbo bit back a curse and stood hastily, wiping his hands on his trousers. “I have made certain my feelings on such things were abundantly clear. Take any of your offers to other hobbits or better yet, bring them to the Rangers - they are far more qualified to take care of such things.”

Gandalf frowned at him, “Bilbo Baggi-”

He cut him off. “Besides, I must stay here to ensure my tomatoes will win the festival again this year.”

That pulled a smile from Gandalf once more. “I do believe you have an unfair advantage over your neighbors, my dear boy. Why, when I was passing through the market, I could hear Lobelia speaking about how you’re cheating - they are on to you, my boy.”

Bilbo snorted. “It’s not cheating. I am simply using my talents to cultivate my plants. Everyone can do the same. If mine happens to be ever so slightly stronger, I don’t think it particularly matters. Lobelia is simply jealous of my abilities.” he sighed and shook his head. “No adventures, Gandalf, not for me.” he turned and headed back towards his smial’s back door. “Would you like to come in? I made a batch of lemonade the other day, and I believe you’d enjoy it - despite your dislike for any liquid besides red wine.”

Gandalf smiled, rising from the ground. “I do believe I will take you up on your offer for that, my dear boy.”

———

A heavy knock sounded at his door.

He frowned, utensils hovering above his fish.

With a sigh, he pushed away from the table and walked grumpily to the door. Who in their right mind would call at this hour?

He found that answer quickly when he pulled the door open and was met with the sight of a displeased dwarf.

“Dwalin, at yer service.” The dwarf gave a quick bow. He eyed Bilbo.“Soft.” Dwalin grunted.

While the word itself wasn’t a negative one, Bilbo had little doubt the dwarf meant it as a slight, so as any respectable hobbit, he was offended! There was no issue with being soft! There was no need for battle in the Shire, and a hobbit’s pride was living in comfort with contentment, and being a bit soft! Bilbo decided he did not like Dwalin very much.

“Has it been canceled?” Dwalin asked when Bilbo didn’t move to invite him in.

Canceled? Nothing had been planned so nothing had been canceled. Bilbo shook his head. Obviously this dwarf had simply lost his way, resulting with him knocking on Bilbo’s door. He felt his anger cool slightly. He knew it was frustrating to get lost and turned around in the Shire, it had happened to him before and he lived there. It would explain the dwarf’s clipped words.

He gnawed slightly on his lip. He could tell the dwarf he was in the wrong place and where he should go - he felt calm enough to speak, and as long as he kept it short, there wouldn’t be any problems.

It was decided. He’d direct the dwarf, dismiss him, and go back to eating the dinner he’d prepared. As long as he kept a cool head, he could-

He was interrupted by the door being roughly pushed inwards and Dwalin stepping in.

Rage flared and his tongue tingled as he clipped off the words beginning to emerge. He’d stumbled to the side of the entry as the door was opened, and he glared at Dwalin. Obviously this dwarf deserved none of the courtesy Bilbo had felt the urge to give! The blatant disrespect and the slights!

“Where is it?” Dwalin asked, peeking in rooms. At Bilbo’s lack of response he said, “Dinner, that is.”

The words on Bilbo’s tongue burned for release, a bitter taste, similar to bile, crawling in his throat. Unable to contain it for much longer, Bilbo stormed towards his dining room, pointing into it. Dwalin took Bilbo’s seat and began eating Bilbo’s meal. Another hot rush surged through him and a burning feeling rose behind his eyes - not tears, but flaring power.

Moving quickly, he moved to his backdoor and entered his garden. Finding a section of weeds that he’d been meaning to pull out for a while, he fell to his knees in front of them, a high keen pulling from his lips.

As soon as the noise reached the weeds, they withered, blackening and curling into themselves until they were nothing but crumpled strings. Bilbo sighed in relief as the burning subsided and the bitter taste in his mouth receded.

If there was one thing he did not take well, it was rudeness. Bilbo couldn’t stand the invasion of his home, his space. He could take the insults, as bitter and offended they made him, he could push away and ease that burn, but he found it much harder to do when it concerned his home.

With a grimace he stood. He shouldn’t leave that rude dwarf in his smial - who knew what kind of damage he could wreck. It was obvious as he entered back into the smial. The two cookie jars on his mantle were gone, the cookies being devoured by the rude dwarf in handfuls.

It seemed that Bilbo had also obtained another unwanted guest. Short and a bit stout, a dwarf stood next to the rude dwarf. He had a long white beard and had a smile on his face. His eyes caught Bilbo’s

“Ah!” Bilbo stepped back slightly as the dwarf rounded the table towards him. “You must be our host! Mr. Baggins, was it?”

Bilbo nodded.

The dwarf gave him a short bow. “Balin, at your service. Terribly sorry for intruding on you at this time of night. We’d expected to arrive earlier, but I fear our travels were delayed due to some slight mishaps.”

Balin . . . Bilbo’s eyes flicked to the rude dwarf. Similar names - family perhaps?

“He’s my brother,” Balin explained as if he’d read Bilbo’s mind. “I do apologize for any offense he might have given.

Brothers. They might have been related, but their demeanors could not have been more different. There were some years between them, Balin having white hair and the rude dwarf having brown. Perhaps the rude dwarf only slightly passed his majority. If he was, Bilbo would find it easier to excuse his actions.

Knocking came again and Bilbo answered, finding two more dwarrow. Wonderful.

“It’s a hobbit, Fili.” The brunette breathed, eyes wide.

“Rather strange looking - look at his feet!” Fili replied.

There was no doubt that these two were barely past their majority - with their wide-eyed stares and unfiltered comments it was easy enough to tell. Still, Bilbo’s eye twitched and he reached up to rub it away, slightly dislodging his frames as he did. He was liking this less and less - if that was even possible.

They barged in with little ceremony, with self-importance and arrogance. They were nearly as bad as the rude dwarf.

“Here’s these.”

An armful of weapons was dumped into his arms.

“Careful, Fili!” Kili said, “The hobbit might hurt himself!”

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed. The hobbit? Since when did he become an object? Yavanna had truly decided to test Bilbo’s patience - the little he had.

With a clenched jaw, Bilbo dumped the weapons outside of his smial. They didn’t show any respect, and if he couldn’t kick them out, he most certainly wouldn’t be showing any to their weapons.

———

After the group of nine more dwarrow descended on him, accompanied by Gandalf, he retreated to his study, unwilling to risk a possible unleashing of negative emotion through speech onto the dwarrow. He highly doubted that they would survive such a thing. It was really quite kind of him to care enough to take the proper precautions so he wasn’t a threat to them.

He’d been in there for about an hour, glasses on and pouring through a couple of his tenant contracts, distracting himself as the dwarrow emptied his pantry. He rubbed his temples as there was a knock on the door. He rose and opened the door, looking up at an amused Gandalf, and felt something snap.

“Leave me be.” he hissed.

Gandalf’s eyes widened for a moment before his face grew thunderous. He pushed his way into Bilbo’s study, shutting the door firmly behind him before locking Bilbo down with a piercing gaze. “Do not use that tone of voice on me, Bilbo.”

“Why? I thought you could handle it.”

Gandalf’s voice hardened even further.

“Tell me, why are there 12 dwarrow in my smial? After I rejected you?”

“You will receive no answers when you talk to me like that, Bilbo, as you are well aware.”

Bilbo hissed again, tugging at his hair and pushing his emotions down, desperately trying to reign them in. He breathed in deeply before trying again. “Gandalf, why are there twelve dwarrow in my house and why did they decide to raid my pantry?”

Gandalf’s expression lightened. “These are the dwarrow you’ll be going on an adventure with.”

Bilbo restrained himself from smashing his face against a nearby wall. “Tell me-” he stopped. “I told you I’m not going.” With that, Bilbo scooted past Gandalf and left his study, going to check on how much damage control he would have to do after these blasted dwarrows left.

He entered the dining area, only to abruptly turn around when he saw his mother’s west farthing fly through the air. A small keening noise escaped his lips as he sought to leave to his study once more, but an arm secured itself around his shoulders and steered him back into the parlor.

“Master Baggins, I wish to go over the contract with you before you sign - it can be helpful for you to understand what’s expected.” Balin’s voice was cheery as he pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

Casting a worried look towards his dining room, Bilbo gave a tired sigh and nodded. He wouldn’t be going, but he needed something to distract him from the stress of seeing his things be tossed about. He’d prefer to simply tell all the dwarrow to vacate his home at once, but he feared the potential repercussions.

“Well, then, Mr. Baggins, if you would look at the thirteenth clause here, you’ll see that if this quest succeeds, you’ll be given a fourteenth of the share of the treasure.”

Bilbo looked at the contract, pushing up his glasses, reading over the clause. It was a clear contract, and fair by all means. Bilbo considered himself somewhat of an expert in contracts, having inherited his father’s contracts and creating new ones for tenets.

Knocking on the door disturbed him from his reading. It was a lighter knock than the rude dwarf’s, heavier than Gandalf’s, but carried a weight none of the others had seemed to.

With a heavy breath, Bilbo asked Yvanna if this would be the last one, tucking the contract into his robe pocket and pulling open the door.

Hobbits innately appreciated that which was beautiful, cultivating their gardens to be perfectly beautiful and shaped, and the dwarf that stood before him was so.

Dark, stormy eyes, reminding Bilbo of the summer storms that would occasionally come through, dark hair like moonless nights, a straight nose, and a regal profile, Bilbo found himself temporarily stunned.

“So this is the hobbit.”

The deep voice sent shivers across his skin as those eyes raked over him and the dwarf entered. An unknown feeling swept through him, nearly pushing him to his knees.

Distantly, he registered that Gandalf was introducing the dwarf - Thorin, that was his name.

He might’ve remained in such a state if Thorin hadn’t opened his mouth after Gandalf finished.

“He looks more of a grocer than a burglar.”

-Thorin-

It was as if he'd been struck by Mahal’s hammer. His world seemed to reverberate, being shaped into something entirely new - completely different but yet the same, centering itself upon the creature that stood before him. His heart trembled and his breath grew short, for he had found, in this small hobbit with copper curls and a disgruntled look, his One.

His eyes devoured the sight of his One, hungrily taking in every detail: each small curl, the long lashes, the faint freckles scattered across the bridge of the creature’s nose, the frame of the glasses that partially covered them, the sour twist of his lips, the patchwork robe his One wore - completely adorable in, but Thorin couldn't help the image of the creature being swathed in deep blue robes.

He’d have to get an exclusive tailor just for his One when they reached Erebor. It wouldn’t do to have a regular dwarven tailor, he’d have to get one that would be on constant beck and call so he could commission all the necessities and opulent clothing that the creature deserved.

His One looked soft, nothing like any burglar he’d met before. He looked to be more of a grocer than a burglar when it came to occupations.

Roaring laughter startled from his thoughts and he found himself with a very affronted-looking hobbit. The company stood around them, smiles and grins on their faces.

Too soft to fight. Concern swept through him, brows furrowing. It would be dangerous to bring his One along if he had no experience fighting or in protecting himself. Thorin knew he wouldn’t always be there to defend his One as much as he desired to. When it came to quests, nothing was assured.

“Tell me, Mr. Baggins. Have you done much fighting?”

Those beautiful eyes narrowed and there was a faint curl to the hobbit’s pink lips. When no answer was forthcoming, Thorin frowned. Did the hobbit not believe he was worth answering?

Gandalf coughed. “Please don’t be offended - Bilbo does not speak.”

-Bilbo-

There was an instant uproar.

The rude dwarf. “What do you mean the lad can’t speak?”

Kili. “He’s mute?”

Fili. “That’s what doesn’t speak mean, Kili.”

Nori. “It’ll help when he goes into Erebor - a quiet thief is a good one.”

Bofur. “At least he wasn’t ignoring me because he didn’t like me.”

Ori. “I’m sorry if I offended you with all my questions earlier, Mr. Baggins. I didn’t know you couldn’t speak.”

Oin. “Was it an injury that made him voiceless? Or has he been like that from birth?”

Balin. “Explains why he was quiet when I was talking about the contract.”

He watched the scene with a dull amusement, turning towards Gandalf.

“I said he doesn’t speak, not couldn’t, you frustrating dwarrow!”

Gandalf’s voice was drowned by the clamor of all the dwarrow’s voices, and Bilbo pulled on Gandalf’s robe and shook his head as Gandalf tried to explain again.

With a disappointed sigh, Gandalf nodded.

Satisfied, Bilbo looked at the chaotic group. He had little desire to speak with such noisy people, they were overwhelming as they were, and he had difficulty stomaching the thought of all of them asking him constant questions.

“Well!” Balin’s voice cut through the air. “Even if Mr. Baggins can’t speak, we must show him the contract. Make sure he understands what it means so he doesn’t have any questions.”

The company filed back into the dining room, taking their places around the table. Thorin sat at the head with a bowl of soup that’d been prepared by one of the dwarrow, and Bilbo took the small stool that was in the corner near Thorin.

He pulled the contract from his robe and began going over it. He wasn’t sure as to why - he had no plans on going with them, but he might as well amuse them.

“There’s the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, the time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, and so forth,” Balin said, pointing to a section.

Funeral arrangements? Bilbo frowned and looked at Gandalf with concern. He opened the contract further, and read the potential danger section. Surely there weren't this many dangers they may face. Lacerations made sense. Evisceration? Incineration - wait, what?

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. Surely he had read that wrong. He reread it. Nope, it did indeed say what he thought it had.

Fili peered over his shoulder to look at what he was looking at. “Ah, incineration.” He patted his shoulder. “Smaug will melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye! Think ‘furnace with wings’. Flash of light, searing pain, then - poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash!”

Bilbo swallowed hard, fighting off the sudden dizziness that sought to overcome him. It subsided slightly and he stood, needing to move. He moved to the entry, foot tapping, breathing slowly. He was fine - he wasn’t planning on going anyway.

Incineration? The thought overcame him again, and the dizziness came back in full force and he didn’t bother to fight it off.

It was too much. Frazzled from dealing with so many dwarrow, exhausted from all the stress they had given him, and highly concerned with all this talk of dragons and ways to die, Bilbo let himself go limp and fell to the floor, welcoming the abyss of blackness.

[paperstorm]

From Wikipedia which of go be believed suggests Carlos is dressing by the book.

Uniforms

Modern-day Rangers (as well as their predecessors) do not have a prescribed uniform per se, although the State of Texas does provide guidelines as to appropriate Ranger attire, including a requirement that Rangers wear clothing that is western in nature. Currently, the favored attire includes white shirt and tie, khaki/tan or gray trousers, light-colored western hat, "ranger" belt, and cowboy boots. Historically, according to pictorial evidence, Rangers wore whatever clothes they could afford or muster, which were usually worn out from heavy use. While Rangers still pay for their clothing today, they receive an initial stipend to offset some of the costs of boots, gunbelts and hats.

____

I don’t love the look. I don’t love the career move but I feel they were heading towards it with Andrea’s speech even before Gabriel was murdered and because I’m fairly sure Tim hinted at it 2 seasons back (I think he said Rangers more likely than detective as detective would be very little screen time). As long as they acknowledge the change of heart or make it clear he is doing it (at least at first) as it’s the best way to solve his fathers murder case then I can definitely live with it. I agree I think it’s going to turn out that Chief Bridges or another Ranger is involved in Bad Stuff and I think that’ll be good drama with the danger from within (as long as he doesn’t go rogue and lie to TK again, that would be backwards character development). Rafa is going to nail the acting and I think he’s getting decent screentime so overall I’ll mourn the short sleeves, hopefully enjoy the wedding ring at all times and say I’m pretty excited.

Rafa is absolutely going to nail the acting he always does. I am patiently waiting to see what the actual storyline will be! Having him becoming a ranger wouldn’t have been my first choice but we have no idea yet how or why it will happen and I am often pleasantly surprised by storylines in this show that on their face I wouldn’t expect to be good.

[illuminopetnx]

OC INTRODUCTION

Iandara Mandaguari (She/her)

Akangan tiefling (homebrew), mid 20s

Swarmkeeper ranger

Bisexual

Vibe: Feira de Mangaio, by Clara Nunes

BIOGRAPHY

Iandara was born and raised in a village on the northern steppe. Growing up in a time of uncertainty due to the threat of foreign invasion, she was constantly in odds with the village elders due to her curiosity about the outsiders passing through the village.

In an act of stubborness, Iandara decided to participate in the gruelling ritual to select the village's new guardians, the noiteiros. To her own surprise, she was the only one left after hours of having her hands stung by thousands of bullet ants.

As the new noiteiro, Iandara was granted access to part of the Swarm, ancestral souls trapped in insect form, bonded to the earthly realm through rituals using sacred bone flutes, which kept the knowledge the villagers had acquired throughout the centuries.

To the relief of the village, Iandara seemed to take her role seriously, dilligently performing the necessary rituals and chores. That was, however, until the arrival of a mysterious triton, who captivated Iandara like no one had done before.

The triton recruited Iandara's help to study the medicinal properties of local herbs. After months working together, Iandara and the triton decided to get married.

When the big day came, the triton was gone. The noiteiros soon realised that one of the sacred flutes had been stolen. Blame immediatelly fell upon the missing triton, and Iandara was accused of treason and exhilled from the village. She managed to keep her Swarm and thus, survived the crossing of the wastelands until the nearest city.

There, she met an old human tailoress who offered her passage to the Old Continent in exchange for help in her atelier. In this new land, Iandara discovered her true passion: fashion. Slowly, she progressed from fitting clothes to designing and making them from scratch. Her life took another turn when the tailoress passed away, and Iandara was dismissed by her children.

Struggling to survive, Iandara moved into a small room which doubled as her atelier, and started catering to sailors and cabaret performers who valued her willingness to work odd hours.

Fixing trousers proved not to be enough to make ends meet, and with the encouragement of one of her clients, she joined an adventuring party.

[an-honest-puck]

An inexhaustive list of things Henley Whispers calls himself Henley Whispers Titles

S1E1: Avernus

a.k.a. The Turbulent Wind

Human Ranger

Fancy Dancer

Forest Dweller

Tall Tale Teller

Tree Bark Smeller

S1E2: Best Laid Plans...

Damage Dealer

Story Weaver

Owl Deceiver

S1E3: Styx and Groans

a.k.a. The Storm Before the Calm

Goblin Killer

Pale Ale Swiller

Dream Journal Filler

S1E4: The King and Die

a.k.a. Lithe Spirit

Rabble Rouser

Full of Heart, Devoid of Trouser

S1E5: It's A-Maze-Thing

a.k.a. Lord of the Prance

Hidden Stranger

Friend of Danger

Dark A-vanger

S1E6: New Level, Who Dis?

a.k.a. Bow-Fingerer

Expert Juggler

Against-the-Chains-Which-Bind-Us Struggler

S1E7: Soul Traders

a.k.a. the Bark Knight

Lute Stringer

Shameless Swinger

On-Da-Funk-Bringer

S1E8: You're Pulling My Greg

a.k.a. Work Hard, Fay Hard

Cheque Bouncer

Espresso Mispronouncer

[tomtenadia]

Sunday adventure

Hello!!  Here I am again with a new cute Rowaelin. This one is set in the same AU as two of my DadRowan fics: Little Monkey and A trip to the Aquarium. For this fic I used a bit of the TOG folklore but also Celtic one.  I do mention Tir Na Nog - in celtic mythology is the fairies otherworld. Also, the Fairy Glen actually exist (HERE) it’s one of my favourite places on Skye. It’s a magical place and Skye has a lot of connections to the fairies due to Dunvegan castle and the Fairy flag. The entrance of the glen is inspired by a place near where I live called Burn O’ Vat (the image should give you an idea of what I meant for the entrance).

I hope you will enjoy dadRowan with his family.

====

Weekends in the Whitethorn-Galathynius household were a busy affair. Aelin was home and the three always tried to make the most of it. On most occasions, it was their five years old daughter dictating the actual plans. The previous night she had confessed to her parents she wanted to go in the woods hiking. Rowan and Aelin had started taking her out to some shorter walks in Oakwald and the girl had quickly fell in love with nature. Rowan who, in his younger years had worked as forest ranger, had been more than happy to indulge his little girl.

He was now in the kitchen preparing their bags with all the provisions they needed. He would prepare lunch and a lot of snacks, together with coffee for the adults and healthy juices for Maya. Aelin would joke that they were not going for a week long expedition, but Rowan was always very serious when it came to outings in the woods.

“Dada, can I take Marvin?” His daughter walked to him while holding the giant stuffed penguin on one of his fins.

“No my love, he needs to stay at home.”

“Oh.” She added dejected. Rowan, who could not bear to see his daughter sad, kneeled in front of her and brushed her head “You can tell him all of your adventures when you come home.” A soft kiss on her silver hair “We can also try and spot the Little Folk.” Rowan had also started telling his daughter about all the legends from Terrasen and Aelin had bought her a few books that in turn they read to Maya. 

The girl’s eyes lit up in joy and rushed back to her room to stash away the penguin.

Aelin appeared a moment later, all dressed up in the nice mountain wear he had took her to buy. She had no sensible clothing for Terrasen mountains so he made sure both his girls had all the correct equipment. He took the mountains very seriously.

“Where are you taking us today?”

He turned and folded his arms around her waist “nothing too complicated. There’s a lovely path through the forest that will lead to the Fairy glen and there’s a stunning waterfall waiting for us.”

“You know that Maya will try and chase the fairies, right?”

He kissed his wife “I want her to believe in the legends, grow up connected with nature.”

Aelin snuggled to his chest when a tiny hand patted them.

“Mama, dada I am ready.”

They both looked down and saw Maya with her bright green jacket, black trousers and walking boots. Rowan laughed when he spotted the mess she had made of the laces. She was still learning to tie her shoes.

He kneeled “let me fix the laces for you.”

At the same time, Aelin went to fix her hair and place a nice hat on her daughter’s head and then finished with a pair of sunglasses.

Once they were both done, Aelin took a picture of their daughter “you are our little explorer.”

Maya grinned lowering her sunglasses on her nose “Let’s go.”

The car journey had been the usual chaos and mayhem with Aelin and Maya singing out loud from a selection of songs ranging from cartoons soundtracks to rock music. Rowan just hummed along while he was busy driving.

It was a good hour later when they finally arrived and Maya was already agitated as she tried to remove the seat belts and climb off the car seat.

“Maya, we are almost there, wait for dad to park the car.”

“I want off.”

“Maya.” Rowan’s voice had enough hint of a command that the little girl calmed back down.

As soon as he parked, Aelin got off and freed their hyper daughter.

Aelin opened the trunk and got their backpacks while Rowan changed his trainers for hiking boots. 

Rowan was the one with the big backpack, while Aelin had a smaller one with essentials for Maya and the wee girl had her own unicorn rucksack with her water bottle and a few toys she insisted on taking with her.

Rowan ready, he walked to his girls and took Maya’s hand “ready?”

His daughter jumped in excitement and Aelin grabbed the other hand.

The three of them left the car park and Rowan guided them through the marked path that disappeared in the forest. It was a lovely spring day and he was looking forward to a day with his family. He knew that part of Oakwald very well after his years as park ranger. The trail that were following that day was one of his favourites and he had been looking forward to share it with Aelin and Maya in a while but they had to wait for their girl to get more used to hiking. There was no actual ascent to climb, it was a very gentle stroll through the forest until they reached the glen.

“Dada, are there really fairies?”

He chuckled and smiled at his daughter “yes, but they love to stay hidden, so we leave them offering to thank them for looking after the forest.”

“But I want to meet them, like Mei in Totoro.”

“I admit that I’d like to meet a Totoro too and fall asleep on his belly.”

“The sìth in Oakwald are not as fluffy.”

Rowan was talking when Maya let go of his hand and ran quickly towards the trees “Deer, dad a deer.”

He walked to her “shhh… do not scare it away.”

Aelin took a nice picture and crouched at her daughter side. She loved seeing her daughter excited about new things. They lived in the outskirts and Maya was used at seeing squirrels in their garden but deers were a discovery.

“It’s so pretty, can I touch it?”

“No my love, we just observe. The fairies don’t want us to disturb the animals.”

“Ok, dad.” She said her goodbyes to the deer and grabbed her parents hands once more.

They walked happily while Rowan told them both about the legends of the place and both listened attentively at his voice spun wonderful tales of magic and wonders.

After a good twenty minutes they reached a clearing with a few boulders to mark the entrance to a new grassy path.

“That, “ he added pointing at the big rocks “is the official entrance to the Fairy Glen, but before we can go in we need to pay our respects to the guardians of the valley.”

Maya looked up at him with curiosity while Aelin admired her husband and she asked herself how it was possible to fall even more in love with him. His pagan, tree hugger nature was something that he kept hidden and only a few selected individuals knew of it. It was not something he shared easily as he had confessed her that on occasions he had been ridiculed for his beliefs. Aelin on the other hand had wanted to know more and she had been delighted when he had started to involve Maya too. She wanted her daughter to grow up a nature lover like her dad.

Rowan opened his backpack and extracted a couple of buttons and a few acorns and gently placed them on the boulder.

“Dada, what are you doing?”

“I am giving some offerings to the hidden ones. Buttons because they love to collect trinkets from humans and acorns because they love them.” He crouched down her level “we give them offering as a thank you for letting us through the forest.”

Aelin chuckled and removed the plastic pink bracelet she had around her wrist and placed it on the boulder near Rowan’s items “You never know… maybe they are into fashion.”

Rowan laughed and kissed his wife.

Maya removed her backpack and from it she fished out a green crayon. Rowan, lifted her in his arms so that she could placed her offering near the others “they can draw now.”

Aelin brushed her daughter’s head “they will be so happy.”

“Come on girls, let’s thank the hidden ones and continue.”

“Thank you fairy.”

“Bye bye fairy.” Added Maya walking quickly to her father.

The two boulders were side by side but in-between them there was an entrance. The path had smaller rocks and was covered in water “Walk on the rocks.”

When Maya struggled he took his daughter in his arms and passed the aperture then waited for Aelin to join him. At his side he heard a sharp intake of breath “Ro, this place is…”

He took Aelin’s hand and pulled Maya to him “welcome both to the Fairy Glen.” 

The scene in front of them was otherworldly. Green land stretched in every direction, dotted with bumpy and oddly shaped hills, with the odd pond accompanying the landscape. On one side there was a rocky formation that looked like a castle. All around them the silence was only broken by the sound of water crashing in a pool from a stunning waterfall.

Aelin was speechless. The place was something she only had imagined in fantasy books. And it must have been truly stunning because Maya was silent too. Her daughter sat down at their feet and looked amazed at the landscape in front of them.

“Dada, do fairies really live here?”

Rowan nodded “See that rock formation?” He pointed at the ruins that looked like a castle “Legends says that’s the gate to Tír na nÓg.”

“Can we go and say hi? They can have my sandwich.”

Aelin laughed at her daughter’s need for adventure “I am not sure the fairies loves sandwiches.”

“But I want to see cinanoc.”

Rowan’s smiled at her daughter’s attempt to pronounce the ancient name for the fairies’ otherworld.

“We can climb and have a look.”

His daughter gave him the most stunning smile and started running freely shouting to all the fairies to come out and play.

“I think that she is scaring them,” joked Aelin, as her arm wound around her husband’s midriff “I love seeing her be so free.”

Aelin squeezed him “she loves nature just as much as you.”

He looked at his daughter with pride “come, let’s go and save the hidden ones from our daughter.”

Hand in hand they reached Maya who was now trying to climb the rock formation on her own. Rowan switched in fuss mode and joined her “easy, be careful, my love.”

“Dada I am a good climber.”

Aelin chuckled and accepted her husband’s hand to climb the first rockier part.

Maya, with the help of her dad, was the first one to reach the top of the ruined formation and started shouting in happiness declaring the glen beautiful and then counted all of the mounds “mum, dad, there are a lot of houses for fairies.”

Aelin took a lot of photos of the landscape but also of her daughter. She was working on a series of albums with Maya’s stages in life. She wanted to document her daughter’s life.

“Dada, waterfall?” Asked Maya, as soon as she was done with the castle.

Carefully, Rowan helped his family descend and once down Maya started running once again.

“If we are lucky she will be so exhausted that she will go to bed early.”

Rowan kissed his wife’s head “that’s wishful thinking. She has limitless energy like you.”

Aelin hummed in pleasure and with her hand in his she followed him through the stunning glen and along the path to the waterfall. Maya always in front of them, running from one side to the other all excited.

It took them a good half hour but eventually the waterfall appeared in front of them, tall and majestic, water cascading forcefully in the pristine pool below.

“Dada, water.”

Aelin looked at him and nodded “Yes, I have a set of spare clothes, just in case.”

It took them two seconds of distraction, that Maya was already at the bank of the pool, her hand reaching playfully for the water.

“Maya, darling, careful.”

“I am saying hi to the water fairies.”

Rowan laughed. He had read her stories of the water nymphs and their legends and now Maya wanted to say hi to them every time she was near water.

Aelin moved at his side and sat on the bank and removed her shoes, placing her feet in the fresh water “like this, Maya.”

The little girl followed her mother and clumsily tried to remove her boots.

Rowan kneeled and helped her free her tiny feet “Go, do like mum.”

“Hi nymphs, my feet are not smelly.” She admitted as she splashed happily and her parents laughed at her admission.

“Come on big man, join us.”

Rowan removed his hiking boots, rolled his trousers to his knees and stepped in the pool, the water barely brushing his calf.

“Me too.” Maya was about to climb in the water but Rowan grabbed her “Let mum remove your trousers, then you can splash too.”

Aelin removed the item of clothing from her excited girl and Rowan hugged her, her legs dangling freely and she laughed as he dipped her and then pulled her out quickly.

“Swim?”

“No my love, the water it’s too cold for swimming. We just play like this, okay?”

“Dada, fishes!” She squirmed in his arms and he let her down in the very shallow side of the pool, standing behind her for protection.

Aelin in the meantime was relaxing in the sun, watching father and daughter play.

“Mama, come in water with us?”

At her daughter request she stood and joined her family “Maya, let’s thank the water nymphs for letting us play in their water.”

“Thank you water fairy.”

By the time they finished their little adventure in the pool, Aelin had to change her daughter completely as she expected. Maya loved water and she and Rowan had soon discovered that it was impossible for them to keep her away.

While Aelin sorted out Maya, Rowan had started taking out their lunches. His girls would soon start screaming for food, and the bank of the pool was a perfect spot, it was secluded and stunning.

“Maya, now sit with your mum and let’s have lunch.”

“Food,” screamed the two girls and he. Laughed. He knew them very well.

He had prepared a nice spread of sandwiches and other healthy snacks and Aelin complained about the crazy amount of vegetables “Buzzard, we are out on an adventure, more chocolate and less veggies?”

He smirked and dunked a carrot in some hummus and passed it to Aelin who let her husband feed her “well, if you put it this way.”

“Our daughter is here,” he added at her sensual tone.

“As if the water nymphs had never seen us getting busy in a loch.”

Rowan laughed and kissed her lips “you are such a menace.”

“Maya kiss too.”

Rowan grabbed his daughter in a bear hug and landed on the ground with her in his arms, while he peppered her face with kisses. Aelin joined them a second later and Rowan enveloped her too.

Once the picnic was over, Rowan led his two women to his next destination. Maya had moved on his shoulders and Aelin was at his side, her hand always in his. She had tried to protest and swap backpacks, but Rowan was adamant that he could carry their daughter and the big rucksack at the same time.

As they got closer to the waterfall, the roar of the water grew in intensity.

“Pretty.” Added Maya once they were right in front of it.

Rowan grinned and kept walking until they reached a fenced path that took them right underneath.

The cave allowed them protection from the water, but the view was stunning.

Maya leaned forward to touch the water and Rowan allowed it and the girl screamed in excitement.

Aelin tucked at his side and looked up at father and daughter. Both of them with faces lit up but a beautiful smile. Rowan had sometimes the reputation of being a grump, but only she and Maya knew his true self. She treasured dearly the smiles he’d reserve to her and Maya. She looked at him and kissed his shoulder “love you.”

“Love you too mama.”

Rowan looked down in his wife blue eyes and mouthed an I love you.

They stood a few minutes, but as it got colder away from the sun, he prompted his girl to go the final part of the hike “Come on, there is one last surprise.”

Back on the path Maya started protesting to climb back down so Rowan let her free once more.

Not long after they arrived in a secluded clearing. Maya had sat on the grass and was staring at the scene in front of her.

In the middle of that patch of land stood tall ancient stones arranged in an almost perfect circle.

“Welcome to this ancient site dedicated to Mala.”

Maya looked up and smiled at her dad. She knew of the ancient gods and like her mother, she loved Mala the fire-bringer.

The little girl stood and went running and hugged one of the tall stones and her mother joined her a moment later.

Rowan laughed, took a picture of them both, knowing that it was going to become his new home screen and joined them.

“Legends say that she had a house in the woods and this area is quite famous among rangers for its higher numbers of stags, that as we know, it was the animal sacred to Mala,” he explained “when I was a ranger I used to patrol this area a lot. Stags are a sacred animal in Terrasen and it’s illegal to hunt them. Poachers would kill them just for their majestic antlers.”

“Bad.” Added Maya quietly.

Rowan brushed her silver hair “yes, my love.”

He took his two girl in the centre of the ring and sat down with them, Maya between his legs and Aelin tucked against his side, his arm around her waist.

The three of them stood as Rowan told them legends of the ancient gods or just folktales. He was in the middle of a tale about Mala, when a stag appeared from behind a tree.

Maya squirmed in his arms but he held her back, not wanting to scare the animal away.

The stag moved closer and Rowan extended his hand and the animal approached them allowing him to gently caress its head between the antlers. Maya and Aelin copied him and in surprise the stag licked their hand and Maya squealed in delight, then she reached for her backpack and took out a piece of her sandwich. She placed it on her hand and offered to the animal in front of her. The stag smelled it and then ate it quickly “She likes it.” Another few morsel, a last lick of hands, and then the stag walked away just as quietly as it had arrived. Maya looked at her parents in amazement.

“I think Mala likes us very much.”

They spent another good hour in the sacred site, then Rowan convinced them it was time to move and start to walk back towards the car.

By the time they arrived at the car park, Maya was asleep on his shoulders. He placed in her car seat and then turned to Aelin who was staring towards the waterfall. He embraced her from behind “She will never forget this, you know?”

Rowan kissed her head “I hope not,” another kiss “You are both my firehearts, and Mala today has shown me that she approves of both of you.”

Aelin turned in his arms and looked up in her husband beautiful green eyes.

“Yes, I am fool enough to pray to the goddess of fire to let me love a woman with fire in her veins.”

She stood on her tip toes and kissed him “I melted your icy heart.”

“That you did, my love.”

A soft kiss “come on, let’s take our little terror home, then I might take you up on the challenge you threw me at the loch.”

Aelin squeezed his arse playfully “hmm, you can tire me out all you want.”

Deep laughter left his lips.

As he walked around the car to the driver’s seat he cast a last look towards the woods and sent a silent blessing to the ancient gods and asked Mala to look after his family.

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