#black elk peak

[bookguide]

Nicholas Black Elk: Medicine Man, Missionary, Mystic

Author: Michael F. Steltenkamp

Book: 1/1

Genre: biography

Summary: Nicholas Black Elk: Medicine Man, Missionary, Mystic, tells the full interpretive story of Black Elk. Steltenkamp shows that Black Elk was not the native traditionalist others have depicted him to be, but rather a religious thinker with a positive outlook that merged Lakota ideas with Christianity. This text tells of Black Elk’s travels, visions, experience in the Battle of Little Big Horn, and the way he led his people along the path of God.

Review: I immediately pulled this book off the shelf when I saw it’s title. Quick fun fact: I attend school in the Black Hills area of South Dakota and I have personally hiked Black Elk Trail in Custer State Park. It is absolutely gorgeous. Since I have been in some of places that Black Elk has walked, I was eager to learn about his story. Steltenkamp’s telling of Black Elk’s story provided in-depth details, as well as parts of his story that many authors did not want to tell. Previous biographies about Black Elk only tell of his pre-Christian life while practicing Lakota traditions. However, Black Elk wanted his story as a missionary and his family’s involvement in their church to be told. Steltenkamp gives the reader the background of other authors’ stories and this lack of truly understanding Black Elk as a Christian. Steltenkamp fully immerses the reader into Black Elk’s life as a medicine man, heyoka, missionary, and an important figure in the church. This book contains lots of information, some parts more entertaining than others; I would recommend this book to anyone who loves history, non-fiction, and learning about other cultural experiences.

I included photos I took at Black Elk Peak, enjoy the view!

Rating: 5/5 stars ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Keep reading⛰

#nicholas black elk #black elk #Michael f Steltenkamp #Steltenkamp #black elk trail #black elk peak #custer state park #south dakota #black hills #native people #native culture #indigenous #native american #lakota #pine ridge reservation #oglala lakota #keep reading #bookguide #currently reading #new books #aesthetic #quotes #bibliophile #booklr #quoteoftheday #quotation #book blog #book summary #book review #bookish

[chaddavisphotography]

View from Black Elk Peak in the Black Hills of South Dakota

#Black Elk Peak #Black Hills #Clouds #South Dakota

[gungieblog]

© Tami Freed/Shutterstock

Black Elk Peak, South Dakota

Black Elk Peak is the highest natural point in South Dakota and probably the best perch from which to gaze across Black Elk Wilderness, a remote swathe of the Black Hills National Forest named after a holy man of the Oglala Sioux. The peak is topped by a distinctive 1930s fire lookout tower, built from native stone, and looks over the dramatic landscape of pine forests, jagged peaks, canyons, lakes and open grasslands.

#Black Elk Peak #South Dakota #photography

[virtie333]

Exult with him, you heavens,/ glorify him, all you angels of God. (Dt 32:43)

#morning verse #black hills #black elk peak

[nightblood999]

#custer state park #view #hiking #black hills #black elk peak

[daily-property-police]

Day 391- Up a tower

#This is harney/black elk peak in South Dakota btw nice place it takes sooo long to get to the top tho #daily-pp

[pealeii]

I climbed Black Elk Peak yesterday, and it looks like a certain Jacobs boy did it, too.

#making her boys climb black elk peak is definitely something esther jacobs would do #les jacobs #jacobs sibling #esther jacobs #newsies

[thorsenmark]

Summer Escapes to the Black Canyon (Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: A view looking to the south across the canyon and gorge with blue skies above at the Islands Peaks View overlook in Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. My thinking in composing this image was to angle my Nikon SLR camera slightly downward and capture that sweeping view with the fissures, spires and rock islands to the front with canyon and cliff walls around that. There would then be just a portion of the blue skies in the upper part of the image.

#Azimuth 173 #Black Canyon #Black Canyon Of The Gunnison #Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park #Blue Skies #Canyon #Canyon Walls #Colorado Great Sand Dunes & Black Canyon of the Gunnison #Day 4 #DxO PhotoLab 3 Edited #Elk Range Area #Islands Peaks View #Landscape #Landscape - Scenery #Looking Down a Canyon #Looking South #Nature #Nikon D850 #No People #North Rim #Outside #Portfolio #Project365 #Ridge #Ridgeline #Ridges #River Canyon #River Gorge #Rocky Mountains #Scenics - Nature

[readychilledwine]

Requiem for a Dream

Part 3: Change

(Two months into Rhysand's Return home)

Rhysand and Rhiannon are still walking around their sexual tension, but our high lord has finally decided enough is enough. After a month of lingering touching, glances, and true re-courtship, he wants his mate in his bed.

Warnings - Smut, NSFW, D/S dynamics (daddy/Princess and sex slave/master) ownership kink, praise kink, oral (F Recv), not edited. Minors- DNI

A/N - This is kind of that last step before the peak of Rhys, in reality, reclaiming his sexual being, which is a journey a lot of SA survivors go through. While everyone's journey is different and models different patterns, I felt Rhysand's NEEDED to show aspects of regaining domination and control, and I do not feel that was truly shown or touched on by SJM.

Rhiannon's character, at this point, may not be for everyone. She is very submissive due to her own trauma and back story I crafted for her. Let me know your thoughts, feelings, if you want more, have gripes. Also, the song in mind is "Change (In the House of Flies)" by Deftones. The theme to one of my absolute favorite movie sex scenes in history.

Author ps - as an active member of the kink scene, I see festish written on here, but it never comes with this warning and when we do not know who is reading our stories, I feel like it needs to be said.

Please DO NOT ENGAGE IN BDSM with a partner you do not fully trust. BDSM, dom/sub dynamics, all varieties, and sex in general need to be based on trust and the care for each other's emotional well-being. You all deserve the best, give yourselves the ability to have that 💜 love yourself enough to WANT and NEED to have that.

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Part One Part Two Part Four

Rhys had convinced Rhiannon to join him for dinner alone in the River House. They ate in silence, hands held over the table. They were dressed casually. She was wearing a dark plum sweater that went down to her mid thigh, tight black leggings and fuzzy socks. Rhysand had on a cream sweater with casual pants.

He had asked the twins to make her favorite meal. Elk steaks, potatoes with gravy, greens, and homemade bread and butter. He had personally flown into Velaris, arriving at a sweet shop his mate absolutely loves, asking if they had her favorite cupcakes available that day. They had made them for him, without hesitation as he did some other shopping for her. She was eyeing them with a sparkle he had not seen from her since his arrival home. But after all, what female could possibly resist the imported vanilla and sea salt caramel this bakery used.

"When were you going to call on the bargain with Feyre? I'm worried about her powers eating her alive." Rhys looked at Rhiannon. "He won't train her. She needs to be with someone who will."

Rhys nodded. "I assume the realm gave you that information?" She nodded. "I would like to ensure my own home and court are on a stable foundation before bringing her here."

Rhiannon was no fool. She knew immediately what he meant. She gently put her silverware down, turning to look at her husband. "I did not realize there were issues in the foundation. Is something wrong in the court?"

Rhysand sighed. He wouldn't be able to woo her now. This conversation was happening, and it was happening much sooner than he anticipated for the night. "Not necessarily with the court itself. I worry more about my family and Inner Circle." Rhys paused to turn to her, "My wife hasn't kissed me since I arrived home, despite many chances and opportunities to do so. I keep attempting to recourt her with countless gifts, praise, and flirtation, but I just cannot seem to bring her into my bed." Rhys paused to watch her look down. "You are my most trusted advisor when it comes to Illyrian Females, Rhiannon. Do you have any suggestions on how I can get my wife to be close to me again?"

Rhiannon put her silverware down, clearing her throat before responding. "Is she possibly afraid that reciprocating your affections may hurt you or the progress you've made?"

Rhysand smirked, finally getting the answers he needed. "I would not know," he laced their fingers together. "Aside from asking me how my day was, doing her duties to fill me in on her assignments, and small conversations, she has all but closed me out. I know she loves me. I just worry that maybe I am not doing enough to show her I would like to begin the process of us going back to who we are."

Rhiannon felt tears lining her eyes. "I know you still have nightmares about her, Rhys. I just feel like sleeping with you, touching you, or even kissing you is retraumatizing you. I love you too much to risk hurting you emotionally and mentally."

He nodded, taking a sip of his wine before beginning to speak to her. "I appreciate how much you care. I have always loved your empathy and kindness, darling. I want to sleep with you at my side, though. I want to hold you. To kiss you. To fuck you until I cannot tell where you stop and I begin." He took another deep drink. "I am ready to try, my nightingale. I need to try. Madja believes I am ready. I believe I am ready. Please, Rhiannon, come to bed with me tonight."

She nodded. "And we will stop if it is too much?" He sent her confirmation down the bond. "Mor made me wear something pretty under this for you. Just in case." His ears perked up at that. He took her hand, dinner long forgotten, and pulled her to their large bedroom.

Rhysand took the chair that sat across from their bed, leaning forward on his elbows as Rhiannon stood close to him. "Take your clothing off." Her scent hit him immediately. The sweet scent of her arousal mixed with the normal soft smell of moonflowers and honey. He watched, eyes fixated on every inch of slowly exposed skin as her sweater was removed and set on the desk near them.

She went to remove her leggings next after he gave her a nod, exposing her muscled thighs to him first. He groaned loudly at the sight of her mating mark. The delicate pattern of swirls and stars that ran the expanse of her leg, mapping out the night sky at the exact time they accepted the bond.

Mor had picked a wonderful little set for her to wear. A black haltered bra made of strictly lace and mesh that left nothing to his imagination, a matching high waist thong, and stockings that stopped at her midthigh. He patted his lap, leaning back as she crawled to straddle him.

They studied each other for a few seconds. His fingers ghosting the new muscles she had earned while training with Cassian, then her pretty throat, then her breasts and stomach, before reaching her panty line. "Mate, please." The bond was banging like a war drum in both of their ribcages, right where it connected their hearts. "Rhysand, please."

He pulled her to him, locking their lips for the first time in 50 years and moaning at the taste of her. It was exactly how he remembered, yet so different. Her lips were soft on his, tasting faintly of the sweet red wine she had been drinking. The bond began to almost hum, begging for more.

She fully submitted to him, allowing him to control the pace and pressure. One of his arms quickly wrapped around her hourglass waist while the other went up her back, allowing his hand to tangle into her hair.

It was a familiar position to them. One they had been caught in countless times by Azriel, by Cassian, by his mother. He almost smiled, remembering the first time Azriel had walked in on Rhysand pounding into his sister while she moaned and cried for him. Every single punch of the absolute beating her older brother had given him that day was worth it. Every single punch Azriel still gave him was worth it.

Their first time seemed so distant now as he pulled away from her, lifting her and carrying her to their marriage bed, kissing her throat, and whispered praise into her soft skin. He laid her gently down and sat on his knees between her legs.

Her dark hair was spread out in every direction, her pupils slightly dilated as she began to enter the part of her mind and behavior only he had the pleasure of seeing. Her lips were swollen, bringing out the soft blush they naturally had even more. He ran his thumb down them, smiling as she immediately opened her mouth and began to suck the digit, looking at him with her wide eyes.

"Such a beautiful little treat, aren't you, darling?" He pulled his thumb from her lips, "You're dripping already. Daddy wants to have his favorite dessert. Is that okay with his princess?" She whined, her back arching slightly off the bed. "Words, my darling. Daddy asked you a question."

She looked up at him, wide eyed. "Please Daddy. Need you. I'll be a good girl." Her submission had him ripping his own shirt off and removing his pants with speed he hardly knew he still had in him as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees to be closer to her dripping cunt.

"I wanted to take my time with you, worship you and this body of yours, but I fear I just do not have the patience for all of that today." He misted the now offensive lace from her body, leaving only the thigh highs and growled at the sight before him. "Such a pretty cunt, Rhiannon. Who does she belong to?"

Rhiannon was already breathing heavily. "You. I am yours."

He growled, throwing her legs over his shoulder. "Good girl." Without warning Rhys began his assault. Licking long stripes from her leaking hole the the apex of her thighs. He drank from her like a man receiving water after being trapped in a desert for too long. He was starving for her. Aching for her. He groaned as her hands found his hair and gently tugged to bring him closer to her clit.

He had missed this. He had missed waking her up with his head between her legs. He had missed the feeling of her tight entrance twitching on his tongue. He had missed the sweet taste of her. He pushed his tongue into her, nose nudging that sweet bundle of nerves, "Fuck daddy, yes!" Her back arched of the bed, and he instantly locked her down with his forearm, growling at her in warning.

Keep still like a good little toy, or I will leave you dripping and aching. He continued his feast, knowing fully well he couldn't, and wouldn't, do that to her. He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking lightly, and moaning as it earned him a harsher tug on his hair.

His free hand moved up, taking some of her wetness on one finger before slowly pushing it into her. She was tight. So tight. His pretty girl only had her own fingers to play with, and he realized he'd need to slowly stretch her back open all over again for him to slip inside of her like the little sleeve he had made her to be again.

He smirked at the thought of retraining her to be constantly wet and ready to take him at a moment's notice. He curled the one finger, chuckling against her as she swore and prayed to the Gods. Just Rhys or daddy is fine, darling. There are no Gods here to save you from me.

"Rhys!" She gasped loudly as he slowly put another finger inside of her, moving them in and out and curling them into the soft spongy spot that he knew made her see stars. "Fuck please don't stop." He doubled his efforts, moving his fingers faster, sucking and licking at her clit a little harder as she began to flutter around him. That tight coil in her stomach was winding itself up faster and faster with each well planned lick, suck, and curl.

Is my little princess going to cum? A loud whimper of his name came as her breathing picked up. Does my princess have permission to cum?

"Daddy please. I need it. I need to cum. Please." Rhys removed his mouth from her nerves, keeping himself within licking distance.

"Who makes you feel this good? Who is the only male who gets to make you feel like this, huh?" He went back to licking circles and figure 8s on her as his fingers began to move even faster.

The room was filled with her cries, her pleads, and the sound of her wetness. Rhys released his hold on her hips, only for tendrils of darkness to take his forearms place to begin the quick mission of stroking his cock. I asked you a fucking question, Rhiannon. Scream. Scream for all of Velaris who is making you feel this good.

And she did. Her walls locked and began squeezing his fingers as she screamed his name over and over. The tight coil in her stomach releasing and causing more wetness to flood her mate. He moaned against her core, refusing to slow down until he also found his peak. That refusal instantly sent Rhiannon back over the edge with little effort. One graze of his teeth gently against her clit had her crying out of him again, and then him roaring as he came seconds later.

His head fell into her thigh, peppering small kisses there as his hips rutted, and they rode out their bliss together. She tugged the bond, silently begging him to come hold her, and he obeyed. He laid on his back, pulling her into his side, and began playing with her hair. He placed a soft kiss on her lips before trapping her in a more heated one.

One month, he said to her mentally. In one more month, I'm fucking you on every surface of this house. She smiled against his chest, nodding.

"Is that a promise, my love?" She held her pinky to him, making him chuckle and smile as he enloped it into his larger one and pulled her into another deep kiss. A feeling of the familiar zip of a promise being made hit them both. New tattoos, three small stars, adorned their left ring fingers, right above their wedding rings.

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Requiem for a Dream Tag List:

@horneybeach1

@we-were-beautiful

@cat-or-kitten

@twsssmlmaa

@dream-alittlebiggerdarling

@tothestarsandwhateverend

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys fic #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #? #Im tempted to use these in the au #some characters deserve some more fun names hehe #rise of change #warrior cats #warrior cats design #warriors #warriors names #warriors naming #warriors prefixes

[lostinwildflowers]

Dragon Island

Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

Summary: Kirishima is nothing but loving toward his dragon. When she disappears with no trace, he panics. When set out on a voyage to find her, he finds something he wasn't quite expecting.

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: strangers to lovers, also kind of idiots and enemies to lovers, fluff, very slight angst at the end, and slightly more mature language, a little *tiny* but spicy but still SFW :3

A/N: Wow, wow, wow, it has been a hot second. I have been so insanely busy with work that I am completely exhausted by the time I get home. Please enjoy this Kiri fic. -Birch<3

Useful Info:

Part i. Romantic Flight- Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Nothing is stronger than the bond between a dragon and its trainer. The relationship is strong as the metal forges that build their armor, it's as tough as the gnarled skin of the dragon. It even is as tender as the love between a married couple, soft and kind.

This rings especially true for Kirishima, who loves his Rumblehorn, Honey, with all of his heart. She is a remarkable dragon; obedient, protective, and most importantly, loyal.

You see, Kirishima raised Honey when he found her egg abandoned in the mountains of his home. There was no clutch of other eggs, no mother dragon in sight. There was no indication of a home for the egg, so he took it to his village to raise on his own.

Kirishima spent countless hours incubating the egg, monitoring its temperature and position until it hatched. That is when Honey joined the world.

Honey, once hatched, was identified as a Rumblehorn, a medium-sized tracker dragon. Known to be tough skinned and thick-skulled, Kirishima knew this little dragon was going to be his entire future.

That's why it stung so much when she disappeared into thin air.

The roar of the ocean was loud in Kirishima's ears, the dark, steely blue waters slapping against the keel of the ship. It was a rhythmic crash and pull, one that seemed to tug him deeper and deeper into his mind of worries.

The crew of men was working together on the ship, following the maps and comparing them to familiar landmarks. And the path of the dragons.

The longboat was one Kirishima had been in many times as a young boy, but now he found it dreadful and confined. He felt trapped by its mossy walls and soggy floorboards, wishing at any moment he could step onto dry land.

A cry from the darkened sky above crackles the air, and the sight of fire breaking through the blackness of the night makes Kirishima's throat tighten. Yet a moment later, it's silent again, or at least back to the sound of waves crashing.

After the brief interruption from whatever dragon was in the sky, Kirishima attempts at busying himself, sharpening his blade, sorting through his rations- anything to help him stop fretting over the disappearance of Honey.

At least, he tells himself, At least it wasn't just Honey. That Nadder from the family up on the hill has been missing, and even Mrs. Oonlouck's Grockle flew off.

So, the hours on the ship slowly ticked by. A night full of dangerous waters and old shipwrecks merged into a light blue dawn full of hope and prayers.

And, Dragon Island.

The island was beautiful, to say the least. Soft, white sand edged the beaches, with nothing but clear waters washing the shoreline clean.

The island was mountainous, with a high peak in the far-off distance carving into the sky, while smaller trees and bushes coated the rest of the land. Kirishima could see the small, colorful specks of flowers and wild grasses where the sand faded into the dirt.

And that's where the dragons were.

Many distinct dragon species dotted the skies and the ground as the longboat came ashore; Gronckles, Deadly Nadders, Hideous Zipplebacks, and even the occasional Monstrous Nightmare.

Some of the dragons were fishing in the clear waters, rendering themselves full of fat fish. Others were scavengers, hunting down deer and elk further inland. And those that were full sat basking in the sun, soaking in the heat of the day from the warm rocks they laid on.

Crimson-colored eyes raked the sky, the water, and the land, but there was no sight of the green-toned Rumblehorn anywhere. Kirishima tried to keep his hopes up as the men prepared the ship for docking, but he couldn't help the feeling of his stomach sinking at no sight of Honey.

He tried to push off the nervousness and help his mates settle the ropes and unload the supplies before they set up camp. It was no easy task, skirting around the dragons and trying to find an unoccupied and central location where no one would burst into flames, but after a while, they found the perfect spot to set up.

They had to hike a good distance inland, as many dragons liked to nest on the beach, but they eventually found a quiet field with the cover of some tall pines as protection. As brave as the viking men were, there was always a minor fear of getting blasted by an angry Thunderdrum or Scauldron on the beach.

So the men set up tents and a main fire to cook their dinners and soon set off on their own paths to find the missing dragons.

Every dragon roar that hissed through the air made Kirishima's heart flutter, but there was still no sight or sound of his beloved Rumblehorn.

He recalled that when he found Honey, he was deep in the mountains, so he would set off for the tall peak that signified Dragon Island first thing the following morning.

The next morning, Kirishima gathered the most he could in his pack and started his hike deep into the heart of the island. Alone.

Many of the other men were missing their dragons too, but they figured that based on their dragons' personalities and species, they would be lower in altitude, more likely to be by the beach or lower forests.

So, the redhead picked his way through the underbrush on the outskirts of the camp, his heart pounding in his chest. He traveled as carefully and efficiently as he could while he hiked, the small pack on his back carrying a canister of water and a couple snacks, as the climb wasn't easy.

Up and up he climbed, the ground changing from lush, brown soil to rocky outcroppings, with loose stones underfoot. The stone was smooth under his boots, and Kirishima stumbled a few times and had to slow his pace down so as to not hurt himself.

Why am I doing this? Kirishima thought to himself as he rounded a bend leading to a flat clearing near the top of the peak. There was little grass, but he could see the mouth of a cave up ahead.

He was tired and sweaty, a thin sheen of sweat coating his entire body and dripping down his forehead. The sun was almost setting at this point, and Kirishima knew he wasn't going to make it back to camp tonight.

Instead of dwelling on the fact that he'd miss dinner, Kirishima focused his attention on the cave he saw in the distance up ahead.

Well, this could be it, he wonders as he makes his way over to the inlet. It was dark in the mouth of the cave, the sun's orange and pink rays only lighting up the very edge of the cave, but nothing deeper inside.

He slowly cranes his neck into the darkness, but the cavern was damp and quiet. When he doesn't see anything initially, a crestfallen sigh breaks past his lips as his crimson eyes trail to the ground.

Nothing.

But then, an ear-splitting roar sounds out, and Kirishima whips around just in time to see a flash of green armored skin, and he lunges into the bushes just outside of the cave as the scaled creature dives into the cave.

His heart racing in his chest, Kirishima peaks out of the bushes to try to see what just dove past him, but he couldn't make out a figure. It's silent, so he peaks around the edge of the cave entrance, where he had just been standing, to lock onto the unmistakable golden glow of a dragon's eyes.

Kirishima starts, "What the-", but is interrupted when the dragon turns to face him head-on, and a soft "Wait," falls from his parted mouth.

The redhead squints, trying to dig through his memory, and takes a hesitant step closer to the dragon. He slowly offers his hand, the tips of his fingers shaking ever so slightly, and lets his eyes flutter closed before standing perfectly still.

A beat passes. And then another one. And just as he thinks about opening his eyes to see if the dragon is still there, the smooth skin of a dragon's horn brushes against his hand.

A shaky breath falls from his lips as he feels the warm breath of the dragon puff against his face. Kirishima's crimson eyes gradually slide open, only to be met with the face of the dragon he so desperately missed.

"Honey!" he immediately calls out, lunging excitedly into the chest of the large green Rumblehorn. His muscular arms wrap around the neck of his beloved dragon, and he can feel Honey chitter underneath him in happiness, her eyes soft as she nuzzles at his back.

Kirishima does his best to keep his emotions under control, but he can't stop a stray tear or two from sliding down his cheeks. However, he rapidly pulls back from the hug when he hears a small cry from deeper into the cave.

He glances at Honey in worry and asks, "Did you hear that, girl? Sounds like someone's in trouble."

He untangles his body from around the large dragon, and picks his way around to her tail. Moving cautiously and with his hand on a knife in his belt, he plunges into the darkness of the cave.

It's dark for a minute, and then fresh air hits his cheeks, and it opens up into a wider den. The gentle cast of an orange glow can be seen dancing on the walls of the cave, but his attention is soon drawn away from that.

And it is pulled to the figure of a woman.

The woman was crouched over what he quickly identified as a baby dragon, her hair color warmed by the small fires in the edges of the den.

"Hold still, you little rascal," you mutter as you try to wrestle the baby Rumblehorn. He was attempting to slide out of your grasp and toward Honey, who had appeared from the cave tunnel.

Kirishima stood silently next to his dragon, almost blending in with the wall as he watched his, his hand relaxing from his knife as he watched you try to help the baby dragon.

You didn't notice the redhead as you called out to Honey, whose footsteps you heard, "Mama Dragon, you're back! This little one had a crack in his tooth and wouldn't let me look at-"

Your words trail off as you catch sight of the tall man standing next to Honey, and you instinctively reach for your blade strapped to your back, pushing the baby dragon behind you. A war cry falls from your lips as you draw your blade and you dash toward him, sword swinging straight toward Kirishima's head.

He's fast though, and reads the attack from across the room, easily ducking out of the way. Working on instinct, he grabs one of your arms, and folds it behind your back, pulling the blade out of the hand.

Since he was close to the wall when you attacked, he uses it to his advantage, pressing you into the cave wall with his hips and knee.

Pain blooms in your chest as the air left your lungs, your collarbones cracking against the hard stone. You can feel his larger frame and muscular chest push against your back, and you hiss in frustration at his simple move.

Kirishima takes his free hand and reaches up to pull the blade from your hand that was still grasping at your sword. In a swift motion, he throws it a couple of feet away, far enough away that you won't get it, but not too close to the dragons to be a threat.

He keeps you pressed against the wall like this, and you tried to struggle and get free, but it was no use.

"Who are you, and what are you doing with my dragon?"

Kirishima could feel you stiff under his touch at the harshness of his words, yet he remained quiet in wait for an answer. When you don't say anything, he sighs and repeats, "What are you doing with my dragon? She disappeared into thin air a little while ago, and now here she is."

You shift ever so slightly in grasp, a disgruntled look on your face as your cheek laid flat against the cool, damp wall of the cave. A quiet gasp falls from your lips as you back pops from the pressure he's applying with his hips and knee, and you can feel him loosen his grip ever so slightly.

Kirishima sighs again and reiterates, "Look, I don't want to hurt you or fight. I just want to take Honey home?"

"...You call Mama Dragon Honey? Wow, I can't imagine how she puts up with that," is what you spit out. Kirishima blinks in hurt at the harshness to your words, but a look of confusion passes over his features, not that you could tell.

"Ma- Mama Dragon?" he stutters, his grip completely relaxing and letting you free. He takes a step back, giving you space as his hands run over his face.

You groan in relief and shake out your arms before you grumble, "Yeah, Mama Dragon, didn't you know she was pregnant and carrying eggs?"

Kirishima's jaw drops, "HONEY WAS PREGNANT AND SHE LEFT ME?!" You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration at this stranger and you reply, "Yes. Sometimes it's hard to tell when a Rumblehorn is going to lay eggs because they are already built so wide."

You walk around Kirishima to your fallen sword, reaching down to pick it up from the stone. Kirishima's hand instantly falls to the knife on his belt, but he doesn't move as he watches you pat Honey on the chin before walking back over to the baby you were tending to.

"So... how many babies has Honey had then?" Kirishima asks quietly, walking over to Honey's side and gently rubbing at her face. His crimson gaze watches your every movement, waiting for any sign of hostility, but he didn't see any.

You turn back toward him, the baby you were working on in your arms. There is surprise lacing your features, and you shrug and say, "She laid 4 eggs, so now she has four babies. 3 females, 1 male."

Kirishima just nods, processing the new information. He points to the one you are holding and questions, "Which one is that?" You smile fondly down at the newborn dragon and say, "I call him Boulder, he's the only boy from the clutch, and he already thinks he's the strongest."

The little red-toned Rumblehorn just yawns in your arms, curling up for a nap. You just giggle down at him, walking over to the large wood-built nest near one of the fires.

Kirishima watches you set him gently down on the dried grasses, and he suddenly notices the other three dragon newborns curled up, asleep. He gazes in awe, and can't stop his feet as he walks over to stand next to you.

He is completely starstruck by the colors of their scales, and kind expressions on their faces as they cuddle up together. His mouth falls open before he stammers out, "I- I am so sorry for fighting you like that. All this time Honey's been away, and you've been taking care of her?"

You turn to face him, and you have to look up to catch the corner of his red gaze, but you nod in response. "Yes, I have been watching over Honey. This den isn't usually occupied because it's so far from the water, but I knew a special dragon must have chosen this den for a reason."

Your (colored) gaze flicks over to Honey, and with a gentle smile, you continue, "She is the first Rumblehorn I've seen in a few years. You are very lucky to have such a strong dragon at your side, Sir...?"

Kirishima just looks down at you, his eyes glazed over. In the time of your fight, and his whole world being flipped upside down at the factor his dragon left him to become a mother, he didn't realize how beautiful you were.

Your (colored) hair was pulled back into a couple of intricate braids that cascaded down behind your neck, a few stray pieces lingering to frame your face. There was a firmness to your eye that let him know your guard was still up, but he could see the kindness written on your features.

"Hello?" you repeat, "What can I call you?" Kirishima shakes his head back and forth for a moment, a warmth blooming on his cheeks as he chuckles and offers you his arm as he replies, "Sorry, this is all a lot to take in. Please, call me Kirishima."

You nod and reply, "Nice to meet you, Kirishima. Honey is an excellent mother and a very gentle dragon. I can't imagine how much training it has taken for her to be as good as she is."

The tall man shifts on his feet and glances over at Honey, who had made her way over to the other side of the nest and laid down. She had closed her eyes to rest as well, it seemed.

"To be honest, I really didn't do that much to train her," Kirishima started, "From the moment she hatched out when I was a boy, she always was the sweetest dragon. It's sort of how she got her name."

You just giggle at that, and Kirishima immediately finds your (colored) eyes, genuine happiness coating your features. Your giggling persists for a moment before you wave at him, "It's nothing, it's nothing, I swear. That's just a funny origin, that's all."

Kirishima just tuts and gestures toward you, "Well then, miss, what name can I call you? Especially if you think Honey's name is so ridiculous."

You get slightly shy at that moment, glancing down at your boots as if they were the most interesting thing at that moment. You shrug and mumble, "I'm just the caretaker for the dragons on this island, that is all."

Kirishima steps closer to you and insists, "Well, you must go by something," he feels butterflies bloom in his belly but he gushes, "You have a gorgeous face, I can only assume your name is equally as stunning."

You freeze at his words, and you swallow thickly as heat spreads from your cheeks to your ears, and down your neck. Kirishima seems to understand the weight of his words, and he shuffles back in embarrassment and stutters, "I- I, I only mean-"

"Y/n," you cut him off with a smile, glancing up at his obviously flustered appearance, "You can call me Y/n L/n of Dragon Island."

He dips his head in acknowledgment and replies, "Seems as though I was right... Miss Y/n." He tests your name out like it's delicate, and yet he revels in the way your name rolls off of his tongue.

It's silent for a moment before you point to the back of the cave, even further into the den, "Would you like to sit with me? I can explain more of what I do and know."

Kirishima opens his hand and points to the narrow opening and replies, "Lead the way, milady."

You and Kirishima talk through the night, conversations of Dragon Island, breeding season, and travels filling the late-night air. You told him of your place on the island; helping dragons that were sick or injured, tending to their young, and the general welfare of the sacred breeding place.

Kirishima, in turn, told you of his travels across the seas, all of the dragons he's encountered, and the people of his home. The conversation flowed so easily that it was hard to remember that the two of you had only met a few hours prior.

It had been silent between the two of you for a while, comfortable and peaceful.

"You should come to my homeland sometime," Kirishima murmurs quietly, his eyes gazing deep into the embers burning in front of the two of you.

You are quiet for a moment, and then you shake your head, "I couldn't. There is so much for me to do here year-round, and there are always dragons that need my help. I cannot leave."

Kirishima nods but doesn't say anything, but sits there and crosses his arms across his chest. Your (colored) gaze snaps over to him, gauging the contemplating look on his face.

He can feel the heat of your gaze on him, and a soft smirk rests on his lips as he then states, "Then I'll just have to come visit you then, right? So we can catch up and talk about Boulder, Honey, and the other babies?"

You mirror his smile and reply, "That would be lovely, Kirishima." He sighs and pokes at the fire with his boot before he asks, "Do you ever get lonely here? I mean you have the dragons, but I bet you hardly ever see anyone."

You feel the weight of his question more than he realizes. Yes, it does get lonely. Yes, I do crave connection and human attention. But my lifestyle cannot afford that.

All you can do is nod and whisper, "I do get lonely, Kirishima. More than you could ever know." The redhead's gaze is on you this time, your own eyes latched onto the dying flames of the fire.

He shifts from his wooden seat to stand next to your own, offering you his hand. You look up at him, vulnerable in a way you never would imagine with a stranger, yet he made you feel so comfortable.

"I get lonely too, Y/n. You don't deserve to be alone all the time. Please consider joining my village, or even coming to visit. The invitation will always be open for you," he whispers back.

He leans down slowly, placing a soft peck to the top of your head before retreating back into the main den where Honey and the babies were sleeping.

"W-wait!" you call out after him, your cheeks burning and your mind racing. He stops in the doorway and looks over his shoulder back at you, waiting.

"D- do you really mean that?" you manage to choke out. He gives you another gentle smile and states, "Never been more sure in my life." And he walks down the hall as the dawn light starts to flood into the den.

The trek back down to the ship seemed to come quicker than the hike up the mountain. Maybe it was because of Kirishima riding down on Honey's back, or the way he had to chase Boulder and the dragon babies as they rolled down the grassy hills.

You bid him farewell at the mouth of the den, promising that you would see each other again. Neither of you discussed the kiss on your forehead, but there was tension in the air as his figure disappeared in the direction of the ocean.

You could feel your heart splintering at the thought of him leaving. You knew you didn't truly know him, but you could tell your body felt like it knew him, that your souls were somehow akin.

You didn't know what to do, so you let him walk away.

But then you heard a soft cry from the back of the cave, toward the edge of the nest you had helped Honey build. And there, sitting in the depths of the nest, was a tiny, and freshly hatched Rumblehorn baby,

You dug through the straw the find the remnants of the shell, and you gasp in disbelief that you somehow missed an egg that Honey laid.

Crap, crap, crap, you thought to yourself as you looked at the newborn in front of you. This little fellow really needs his mother, but I bet Kirishima and his mates have probably loaded up and left at this point. What do I do?

Another glance down at the newborn told you everything you needed to know. You needed to get to the water before their ship sailed off.

So you wrapped the baby in a spare shirt that you had, tucked him under your arm, and ran as fast as you could in the direction you knew Kirishima set off in.

Your lungs burned for air as you ran, your feet sliding on loose shale, your calves aching as you pushed your body to its limit. You could feel your arms growing weaker from the weight of the newborn, but you pushed yourself on, determined to find Kirishima before he left.

You ducked under low-hanging limbs and jumped over dense brush, swerving and dodging everything in your path. C'mon Kirishima, you think, Please wait. I know you don't want to leave yet, so please wait!

It seems like hours as you rush down the mountain, time somehow flying by and slowing down at the same time. You swore your heart was about to explode in your chest, but you were so close to the shoreline, you couldn't give up now.

But by the time you get to the white, sandy beaches, you can see the viking's longboat sailing into the horizon, and you can't stop the sob that rips itself from your throat. Your body crumples to the ground in sheer exhaustion, and you bring the small dragon into your arms to hug closely.

"I- I'm so sorry, little one," you hiccup out, tears streaming down your face as you pulled back to look at the little green Rumblehorn baby, "I couldn't get you back to your family in time."

It just peers up at you, curiosity and innocence emanating from it's sweet face. This only makes you cry harder, and you clutch the little dragon back to your chest.

You sit there in the sand for a few moments, blinking through the tears and emotion as you watch the ship float off into the distance.

That is, until you feel warm pressure on your shoulders, and when you look up, a tall figure is blocking out the morning rays of the sun.

"You're missing me already? I don't think gorgeous women like you should cry, Y/n," comes the voice.

A loud sob pulls past your lips, and you scramble up to crush Kirishima in a hug with one arm. You cradle the baby in the other, careful to not hurt him.

The tall redhead just chuckles and steps back at the force of your hug, but wraps his arms around you closely, holding you tight, "I've gotcha... I've gotcha," he whispers as you settle down.

You pull back a minute later, wiping the tears from your eyes, you punch him in the shoulder and yell, "You forgot something, dammit!"

Kirishima yelps in pain and shies away from you as you hold out the small baby Rumblehorn, and awe takes over his face as he cups the delicate dragon in his large hands.

"I didn't know there was another one," he mumbles as he glances back up at you, "Thank you." You roll your eyes and mutter, "That wasn't the thing you forgot, dummy."

In one swift movement, you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips. Your mouth collides with his own a second later, and he can't help but let out a groan at the taste of tears on his tongue.

The kiss is short but sweet, and it's enough to send both of your minds into overdrive. You both pull back at the same time, staring blankly in shock at each other.

The moment is interrupted when Honey chuffs, nudging Kirishima to give her the last baby. He quickly sets the green-scaled baby on the ground before turning back to you.

"Now, where were we?"

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima #kirishima x you #kirishima eijrou x you #kirishima eijirou x y/n #kirishima x y/n #eijirou kirishima x you #eijirou kirishima x y/n #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijiro x you #bnha eijiro kirishima #my hero academia #httyd #httyd x reader #my hero academia x y/n #my hero academia x you #my hero academia x reader #mha #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n

[the-hearth-and-the-wild]

The Cathedral Spires on the trail to Black Elk Peak, Black Hills SD

#my photography #my photos #hiking #walking in nature #mountains #mountain hiking #south dakota #nature photography

[chaddavisphotography]

Black Elk Peak (formerly Harney Peak) is the highest natural point in South Dakota, United States. It lies in the Black Elk Wilderness area, in southern Pennington County, in the Black Hills National Forest. The peak lies 3.7 mi (6.0 km) west-southwest of Mount Rushmore. At 7,242 feet (2,207 m), it has been described by the Board on Geographical Names as the highest summit in the United States east of the Rocky Mountains. Though part of the North American Cordillera, it is generally considered to be geologically separate from the Rocky Mountains. Lost Mine peak in the Chisos mountains of Texas, at an elevation of 7,535 feet, is the furthest east peak within the continental United States above 7,000 feet. Source: Wikipedia

#Black Elk Peak #Harney Peak #Hike #Hiking #Mountain #South Dakota

[oogaboogasphincter]

Make My Wish Come True | Joel Miller x f!reader

a hidden crush, a secret admirer and a blind date for a present? talk about a love flurry for your christmas forecast! your best friend joel miller might know more than he’s letting on. 

word count/rating/warnings - 6600+ // MATURE 18+ ONLY: jackson era!joel, friends to lovers (more like idiots to lovers lol), swearing, food and eating mention, one gun mention, very little talk about infected, bodies, etc., tommy, maria and ellie mentions/appearances, lots of anxiety talk but the good kind, everyone is painfully sarcastic in tlou ‘verse, kissing, choking mention, allusions to sex

a/n - @laureliciousdefinition​ is my wonderful giftee for the @pedrostories​ secret santa event! i had soooo much fun writing this and truly got carried away haha, i've never written something this complex. this was also my first time writing joel, i hope i did him justice <3 and i hope i fulfilled your wish lauren! 💕 i left the ending sort of open so the audience can take creative liberty as to what happens next, but i have no qualms against writing a spicy part two hehe 🤭

“A blind date? Really, Tommy?”

It’s early in the afternoon on Christmas Day. Outside your quaint little house in Jackson, the sun - chopped into severe angles from the distant Teton mountain peaks - shines bright against the snow banks. Black-capped chickadee songs float through the crisp air, chirps and mews from elk echo across the great planes of frozen land that comprise your new home - and Tommy is standing across from you in your living room, dumping an unexpected and unwelcome present on you on the cheerful day.

“Come on, practically the whole town’s pitched in to bring it together!” He would’ve never made it as a salesman in the pre-outbreak world. Relying solely on weak persuasion and guilting the customer? A pink slip would’ve found its way into his hands within the first week.

“Even Joel chipped in?” you ask incredulously. Joel’s been your best friend since your first day in Jackson. After being dragged to the town pub by none other than Tommy in an effort to acclimate you to the community, you spotted Joel as soon as you walked in; stood in the corner, keeping to himself. The soft smile hidden under his thick facial hair told you he found alone time pleasant, but when it grew to twice its size when you introduced yourself, you vowed to never come unstuck from his side like velcro. 

You knew your best friend - Joel loved you, but he would never approve of setting you up like this. You can’t really put your finger on any specific reasoning as to why, you just know in your gut he wouldn’t. 

“Yes,” his younger brother states bluntly. Tommy was never good at lying either.

“Look, it’ll be fun! We made it all nice for ya, you don’t have to worry about anything besides being... approachable,” he looks at you with a playful accusatory glint in his eyes. One reason you and Joel get along so great is because you’re two of the few - if not only - people in Jackson that don’t focus on finding love; Well, at least you don’t express it outwardly. Since forming your close bond with the old grump, you’ve wondered to yourself numerous times how deep what you two have swims into those blurry lines that separate platonic and romantic relationships. You definitely haven’t gotten lost in your thoughts day after day pondering how far you want your relationship with Joel to go either. Nope, sleepless nights imagining what it would be like to stand up on your tiptoes during one of his tight hugs, leaning up and finally planting a kiss on his lips couldn’t be more unfamiliar to you.

“We all gotta get wrangled up at some point. Hey - it might be your secret admirer! At least this way we can start to narrow down the options,” he attempts to convince you again, and this time he’s a little more successful than before. For the past few weeks there’s been someone in town vying for your heart. You’ve come back from patrols to find warm servings of food on your back porch. You’ve been awoken from your sleep by gentle melodies coming from outside, down on the street and drifting up to your bedroom. Most recently you set out for the stables for your scheduled patrol only to be stopped by a plate of chocolate crinkle cookies at your feet, and turned away from your horse as someone had volunteered to cover your shift.

“I don’t know. They seem like a ghost, I doubt they’d admit it to my fave if they’re already putting all this effort into being sneaky,” you reason.

The food and treats that have been left on your doorstep are served on no identifiable dishware, left without a note. The musician plays under the cloak of darkness, choosing to not use their voice and let their acoustic instrument do the talking. All this covert attention would have spooked you, but after having Joel taste test the food to make sure no one was trying to poison you, you began to see the romance in it. You grew relieved to find dinner already made for you when you tiredly slugged back to your house, optimistic to hear what lullaby you would fall asleep to that night. And you would never turn down getting excused from patrol.

“Well, you got me there...” Tommy sighs. Ever the matchmaker, he’s irritated this stealthy admirer has been able to sneak around right under his nose anonymously. He can’t officially pair you up with John Doe.

“Your date’s already at the cabin,” he circles back, not letting you get out of the measly slab of romance he was able to piece together.

“What?!”

“I came from his house. I knew if I came to you first you’d up and vanish into the mountains by the time I told him about it.”

You groan exaggeratedly, annoyed at his accurate prediction. Being around Joel so much, Tommy learned too much about you for your liking sometimes.

You’re not ungrateful for this surprise, in fact you find it really cute and thoughtful. But it’s just not you. With Joel, and this secret admirer - you can barely sort your feelings out for your own sake, let alone for anyone else involved! And now there might be a third interest in the mix, thanks Tommy. 

“So you rudely sprang this on him just like you’re doing to me?” you say with your arms crossed. Who is this other poor soul that’s been ensnared in this trap?

“That’s kind of a weird way to say ‘I’ll go on this date, Tommy’, but yes,” he tilts his nose in the air, far too proud of bugging not one, but two people today.

“I don’t want to do this, just so you know,” you grumble, staring him down, trying to get him to crack. But the longer you glare, the more giddy his stature becomes, his smile widening until his teeth show maliciously.

You crumble in defeat, “Where is this? You said something about a cabin?”

He claps his hands together, enthusiastic to explain, “Yeah, it ain’t the lodge. It ain’t really a cabin neither, just sounds better than an old withered shed we found tucked away in a corner of the woods,” he finishes with a laugh.

“Sounds lovely,” raising your eyebrows in mocking bewilderment. You’re now sort of excited to seize this new opportunity, but will hide your feelings from Tommy if it’s the last thing you do.

“Hey, we dressed it up for you two sons of bitches. Just take the main trail east, follow the stream for a bit, until you get to that great big aspen with the gash in its trunk. Take a left where the trail divides there and follow it for a bit. Ellie will show you the rest of the way.”

Your jaw drops, “Ellie’s in on this?! Oh, when I see her-”

“When you see her you’ll politely follow her, is what you’ll do,” Tommy chides. You can take momentary despise on her all you want, and though Ellie was glad to be a part of this scheme, the man in front of you holds most of the blame; it was his original idea.

“Fine,” you surrender. You guess he really did recruit other people from town to orchestrate this plot.

With all your might you ignore the bemused sounds coming from Tommy as you lace your boots up and shrug on your jacket, grabbing your keys and going to the door. He follows behind you on your way out and chirps, “What, you’re not gonna take any gifts? Try to lube him up?”

Your face scrunches, “First of all, gross way to say that. And second, hell no. Me being there should be plenty.”

“’Atta girl,” he pats you on the shoulder.

Once you’re both out, you lock your door, then turn on your heel and look at him directly in the eyes so he knows you’re not messing around, “I’m going to get Maria to smack you for me for this.”

To your demise he huffs out a laugh, pluming into a white cloud in the frigid air, “Oh, she’s looking forward to this just as much as I am.”

“Screw you both!” you yell over your shoulder, jokingly. As you trudge through the snowy streets to get to the stables and begin your journey to your objectionable present, you don’t look back when Tommy bids you an annoyingly joyous farewell, “Merry Christmas!”

-🎄-

Earlier

"Tommy, I can't do this," Joel accosts his perpetually-meddling younger brother.

The Miller brothers, Maria, Ellie and yourself had gathered at Joel's house this Christmas morning to exchange presents, and upon seeing his brother lingering as everyone said their goodbyes, Joel suspected Tommy was going to let some cat out of a bag. Never in a million years, given how close the brothers have been for their entire lives, would Joel think Tommy would have the gall to suggest a blind date, let alone "gift" one to him.

"Joel, we both know you've taken on much more terrifying things with a brave face. Talking to the woman you love is what gets your tail tucked between your legs?" Tommy nags his eternal bachelor of a brother, watching Joel's scarred hands clutch and release the neck of his guitar with an anxious, cyclical grip. As far as he was concerned, he was doing Joel a favor by planting you two in the middle of nowhere, alone, granting him romantic pretext to work with.

"Like you weren't shaking in your cowboy boots when you started talking to Maria," Joel fires back. Tommy was irritatingly correct, but Joel wasn't going to take the full charge when they were guilty of the same crime.

"I never said I wasn't. That's just a part of love, Joel, you know that. What happened to the casanova that could charm the pants off about the whole population of Texas?"

Joels scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. Sure, he allowed flirtation to bud and sometimes blossom if he was lucky, when the world wasn't falling apart at the seams, but he wasn't that good. He just had gotten more action than Tommy, something the younger brother refused to acknowledge for what it was. Besides, Joel was never too focused on love; it was nice when it was there, but not as important as other aspects of life: family, for one. However, he's seriously considering rearranging his priorities given Tommy's current behavior.

"That was a long time ago," Joel reasons, truthfully, "This is... different. She's different." He struggles with his words, scrambled by adoration overtaking his heart, and he's fully hypnotized when your face comes into his mind. Your breathtaking eyes that he just wants to fall into; your cute nose whose tip gets frigid in the wintery air that he wants to kiss warm; your soft cheeks he wants to cup with his rough hands and marvel at the difference in texture; and your lips, oh, your lips.....

"Goddamn, you really are in love," Tommy jests, receiving a halfhearted glare from underneath Joel's lashes as he leans his guitar against his couch and crosses his arms over his chest, broadened with an odd mixture of pride and insecurity. Proud of his loving commitment to you, nervous that his true feelings are being perceived by others for the first time after what feels like decades of being a statue.

Okay, it's 99% nerves - he's just trying to seem like the same-old unyielding Joel and doesn't know what to do with his hands so he shoves them under his armpits.

"You're not helping," he cocks an eyebrow at Tommy.

"Alright, alright, just- I was going to say be yourself but that's horrible advice given..." Tommy gestures to Joel's stiff form, earning another hardened stare.

"Okay!" Tommy stands from his chair, putting his hands up in surrender. Dear lord, if convincing Joel is this hard, how much of a fight will you put up? He restarts, "What can go wrong? You'll get there before her; I came to you first because I figured I'd do you a favor by letting you set your stuff up, obsessively run through your conversations in your head, get a lay of the land - you know, you and your anxiety and all that."

"Thank you, Tommy," Joel guesses it's a sweet gesture given the troublesome context, "But..." he trails off, stress still coursing through his veins. There are so many unknowns...

"There'll be overlapping patrols the whole time you're there so no having to fight off infected, you got your six string, your coffee and cookies, it'll only be the two of you...?" Tommy looks at Joel expectantly, waiting for the lines of his face to turn up in hope. But Joel's eyes keep to the box of extra chocolate crinkles he watched you taste on your way to the stables a few days ago, unknowing of the second surprise of pardoned work he had arranged for you.

Tommy attempts again, putting a diverting inflection in his voice, "We tried to make it cozy."

Joel can't help the smile that cracks across his face, growing wider as he imagines what you would be thinking if you were in the room right now, "We're not the romantic type."

Tommy counters with a pointed, sarcastic attack, "Who are you talking about? The man who quite literally serenaded his woman in the moonlight and the woman who near broke down in tears of joy over it the next day at breakfast, or some other heartless souls?"

"Would you stop being smart and listen to me?" Joel's patience has run out. He wants to do this, so badly wants to admit to you his infatuation and present his heart on a silver platter for your taking - but there's some undercurrent of trepidation he can't seem to shake.

Tommy's heart sinks as he watches his brother's arms unfold to hang between his legs, gaze lowering to his boots, dejected. Even if Joel can't go on the date, Tommy won't stop trying to help him navigate these feelings, now that he's gotten lucky enough to have caught them, "You worried she won't reciprocate?"

Joel contemplates the gentle question, taking a few moments to make sure he's got everything straight in his head, "I'm afraid she'll think differently of me when she finds out I'm the one who's been doing all this nonsense," he waves his hand unceremoniously in the air, referring to his secret admirer antics.

"It ain't nonsense. And you've seen her face when she finds your little presents; she loves 'em."

It's true. Joel's caught you humming while doing your work around town the tunes he's played for you under the starry night sky, seared into his brain the picture of you giddy with delight at both the idea and flavor of the food he's left after he "taste tested" it - did you really think he would eat, or let you even think about eating, something a stranger made in the world you live in now?

"Do you think she won't love you back?" Tommy drops the final question. Potent, but essential in answering.

Joel knew maybe you didn't love him in a romantic way. But confidently he knew from the way you sought out his company every single day, the way you hugged him a little tighter when he would leave or just get back from patrols, the way you looked at him... you loved him dearly.

"She already loves me."

"Then what're you afraid of?"

-🎄-

Present

Joel paces the rickety floorboards of the battered shed, restlessly awaiting your arrival. It probably has only been a few minutes since he got here, but his mind has written, doubled back, erased some, rewritten and ran through enough possible conversations with you to last eons. After fatefully agreeing to Tommy's blind date scheme, Joel traced the path his brother directed him to take and was greeted with what seemed to be nothing but a mountain of snow and densely packed aspens. Only by rounding the giant snow drift was the "cabin" revealed, and oh what an improper name. Joel smirked at the poor state of the structure, but observed his brother's logic for choosing it - it was virtually undetectable.

The door took a few well-muscled pulls to open, and after completing an initial sweep to make sure no bandits had discovered this perfect hideout, Joel shook his head at the decor. Bundles of mistletoe line every inch of the miraculously sturdy ceiling beams, making almost the entirety of the singular room a kiss zone. There is a red and green plaid couch in the center, which Joel thought would look atrocious in any other setting, but looks sort of pleasantly festive against the stripped wood interior. Its upholstery has noticeable signs of age, the colors faded to muted maroon and evergreen, but other than that it looks decent - spectacularly holding no stains of carnage after all these years.

As Joel wondered how it survived, he took in the few candles placed around the room, a matchbook sitting next to each one. With the "cabin" (that name will never not be funny) battered by the wind and snow, some of the paneling has warped, leaving microscopic seams to the outside. The winds blustered so fierce, the frost snuck through these cracks, creating an icebox. Joel went around and lit the candles, taking delight in the complementary scents; must've been Maria.

As pinecone and lime, peppermint bark and red velvet began to drift through the air and warm the cabin up - maybe the flames are a placebo effect because Joel is still shivering his balls off - he arranged the items he's brought. He set his guitar up against the arm of the couch, his box of cookies on one of the cushions, his thermos tucked away into his bicep like a stress ball. And then he was faced with the insurmountable, maddening, parasitic task of waiting. He paces back and forth past the door, ears pricked for any semblance of noise disturbance coming from outside. Nothing but howling wind so far, once in a while the pittering of snowflakes adding to the encapsulating drift trick him into thinking he hears hooves, hooves carrying you. But no, so he goes back to pacing.

He makes himself dizzy, sprinting through possibilities of what might happen. He plants his feet steady, hands balancing himself over the back of the couch, trying to fight his nausea. He pins the blame on the sickeningly sweet smell of the candles, but even for his stomach's sake he can't convince himself of something that stupid. You've seen her a million times, he reasons, what's so different this time? You're her best friend, she loves you, she doesn't know, you don't have to follow through with the plan if you don't want to, just pretend like this is all some ridiculous joke. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. She. Doesn't. Know.

Instead of calming himself down, he makes his heart ache more. He's been lying to you. Going behind your back, slinking around unbeknownst to you, fibbing right to your cute little face as you look up at him with all the trust in the world. He puts his fist to his mouth and clutches his stomach with the other, trying to slow his body and take some deep breaths. His efforts are for naught when he hears Ellie's voice carried in the wind.

"Shit," he gasps to himself, pressing his ear to the door to listen.

"You'll never guess! Have fun!"

"Okay, thanks, stay safe!" your cheerful lilt swirls in his heart like the snowflakes outside. Oh no.

He heaves through his teeth, putting his gloved hand to his forehead. It slips from the amount of perspiration, so he takes his gloves off, followed by his winter coat. He lays both on the back of the couch, deciding to keep his flannel sleeves rolled down so you don't notice his tacky skin. Now he wishes he were cold, as this doesn't help one bit. He pats his face dry, replaying Ellie's words: you'll never guess what?

He'll think about it later. Maybe. He doesn't know. He smooths his shirt, closes his eyes and breathes as evenly as he possibly can while he hears your boots crunching closer and closer to the door. Just say hi, he instructs himself, just say hi.

It takes you a few shoves to open the door too. Joel would help, but he can't move from where his feet are cemented to the floor. After you get it cracked, the barrel of a gun peeks inside, followed by your searching eyes. You had the same idea of bandits as he did.

When your wary eyes meet Joel's, all caution melts into disbelief. What the fuck is this, Tommy? you think.

Your best friend sighs, a little haggardly you notice, before he greets you, "Well, well, well."

You put your weapon away in your coat, stepping inside and closing the door to this definitely-not-a-cabin. You smirk at Joel, but heightening candle flames guide your attention up to the ceiling, where bundles of mistletoe are hung. You sneer, "He isn't very subtle, is he?"

Joel clicks his tongue, "Nope. And I bet that was indeed a Tommy touch."

"So you were fed the same blind date story that I was?" you walk around the room, taking in the rest of the place. It surely lives up to the picture that Tommy painted for you, but it isn't so bad. Not when you're here with Joel.

"Yep," Joel looks down at his boots, scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his you've come to find sort of endearing. But why is he nervous?

Please don't notice I'm nervous, he stops as soon as he realizes the hint he's giving you.

"They really couldn't just get you some more sandpaper, or carving tools? Or me some peace and quiet?" you ponder, turning back to him. It's not that this seems all that horrible now, but more like a lot of effort for minimal payoff. This is what had Tommy, Maria and Ellie so doubled over in giggles?

"It looks like we got plenty of that here," Joel smiles at you, tight-lipped, but it stirs up warmth in your belly nonetheless. He's right - wicks sizzling and snow dancing are the only sounds you hear. You mirror his expression, and try to relax a little in hopes he'll become less tense. Maybe he's cold? Why'd he take his jacket off, it's cold as fuck in here.

His chest puffs with a breath before he speaks, "Since we already came all the way out here, we might as well make the most of it."

Your smile builds, reaching your chilly cheeks, "Okay."

Okay, this might actually be the best Christmas gift ever. All alone in the forest, for whatever length of time you want, with nothing to focus on other than Joel? You have to think of a way to thank Tommy without giving him any more ideas.

"I missed you anyways," you go to give him a hug, desperate to bury your face in his strong pectorals, but his hands reach for your coat on your shoulders before you can step into an embrace.

You turn around, letting him slide it off you as you coo over your shoulder, "Ooh, how chivalrous."

He hums, amused, wanting to keep his hands on you, pulsing your muscles between his palms, rubbing your cold skin back to warm, chasing away shivering aches from your bones. To your dismay he doesn't, but you two never shy away from getting cuddly, especially recently due to the season. Maybe you can get cozy on the couch.

"Make yourself at home," Joel gestures to the piece of furniture, which now that you're taking a closer look at it, you see how old it seems to be. You'd cuddle with Joel outside on the frozen ground if you had to, so this plaid relic won't be an issue.

"Thanks," you chuckle, taking a seat. Only two cushions, that means we'll be closer to each other, nice!

"I brewed some of the coffee you gave me this mornin', you want some?" he asks, uncapping his thermos. Your Christmas gift to him was a bag of whole coffee beans from his favorite coffee shop chain he used to frequent. Ever since you had your first coffee conversation with him years ago, he continuously cites that when you grind them fresh it's "so much better". You tease him for the line all the time, but it's one of the many quirks of his that you find irresistibly adorable.

"No, it's your present, not mine!" you remind him. Although his offer was a monumental one; Joel is territorial over and protective of his coffee like a grizzly bear. So much so, you're the only member of such an exclusive club, after Ellie tried a sip and proceeded to spit it out.

"Have you tried it yet?" you ask, watching his careful hands fill the cap. No steam rises from the surface - iced, just how you like it. You try not to get mesmerized by the way his long fingers grip the makeshift cup, bounding off into your fantasy land where those same fingers are wrapped around your own, your quivering thighs, your neck...

His timbre knocks you out of your trance as he comes over and takes the seat next to you, "No, but-"

Everything happens at once: Joel sits down on the couch; there's a bizarre cracking sound that fills the room; the two of you share a worrisome glance; you both go tumbling back as the sofa's legs give way. With the couch now sitting on its back, your legs are in the air and you're staring at the mistletoed ceiling. Laughter strikes through you like lightning and only gets more thunderous when you look over at Joel, blinking slowly, trying to avoid getting spilt coffee in his eyes. His grin grows exponentially, as do his uncontrollable cackles ruminating from deep in his chest, while he lies in place, literally soaking in the experience.

"Goddamnit," he grunts through a smile, setting his empty cup down.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you lean over him, having difficulty seeing him through the tears squeezing out of your eyes.

"Yeah," his tongue darts out and licks his drenched mustache, "Mmm, good roast, thank you."

"You're welcome," you guffaw, pulling your shirt sleeve taut over your hand, your lip between your teeth and patting the liquid off his face - thank heavens he wasn't in the mood for hot today. Your sleeve will dry in time, much like his shirt will have to do too. You're violently struck with the thought of him taking it off, putting his hairy chest on display for you to ogle at in the romantic candlelight. You hope he can't feel the aroused heat radiating from your cheeks by how close you are as you finish cleaning him up.

Just kiss her, Joel's brain yells at himself while his eyes rake over your beautifully concentrated face, take the opportunity while it's inches away from your reach.

He can't do that to you though, spring something so brash on you out of nowhere. He's not Tommy.

In no time you right the couch together, sitting with your backs against one arm each, legs stretched out and intertwined, weighting it to the floor. Joel pours himself a refill, putting on a show of being overly cautious, which makes you giggle.

"At least I'll smell good," he grumbles up at you from under his lashes. You wish you could appreciate his joke more, but his saturated shirt clinging to his muscles is tormenting your sanity...

"You always smell good," you spit out without your brain's permission. You hurriedly pivot, trying to quash the minute uptick of his brows, "Um, so how have you been? Patrols easy?"

Good, that's a regular, sane question, you congratulate yourself. You haven't seen him for more than a few minutes at a time for the better part of a week, both your duties ramping up as the entire town wanted to have everything taken care of and then some for the holidays.

"Yeah, for the most part. Clickers are like most pests, they retreat when it gets too cold. It's the bandits that get desperate, lookin' for shelter, that you gotta watch out for. I don't want to jinx it but there's only been two individuals that we came across, died of natural causes. Nothin' to worry about."

Throughout his speech he's been running the tip of his finger around the rim of his cup, embarrassed that you're staring. If only he knew.

"How've you been, my little busy bee baker?"

His nickname engorges your heart, pumping praise through your veins. The part you fixate on is "my". You're his.

"On my feet. Thankfully I've only been baking like crazy, someone's been picking up my patrols for me."

"Oh?" Joel puts his best acting mask on. If he could steel through your unintended interrogations before, he can evade you for just a little bit longer.

"Yeah, I get to the stables on my scheduled days and they tell me to go back home, that someone's volunteered to take over my shifts. I wish I knew who they were so I could thank them, I wouldn't have been able to make all of my cookies without their help." Your Christmas present to everyone was personal boxes of homemade cookies. Crafting cookie boxes was one of your favorite things to do before the outbreak, so you thought you'd spread some nostalgic holiday cheer this year.

"Well I'm sure they got their due compensation by way of some of the extras you left over at the church hall."

He was a good boy - he only ate what was in his box and left the extras for the town. He really needs to get that lemon cookie recipe from you though, or better yet, truly indulge himself and ask you to come over and bake them yourself - it wouldn't be a complete lie if he told you he wouldn't be able to make them the same; he can't tell a teaspoon from a tablespoon.

"I hope so."

You and Joel sit and chat for a while, exchanging pleasantries about the weather, anecdotes about your days; topics that sound like they're utilized as a pillow for awkward conversation, but your energy flows gracefully with Joel's, like always.

Bringing it up again like it's the joke you know it to be, unaware of the effect it has on Joel's heart rate, you inquire, "So what were your tactics to seduce your date?"

He pauses for a moment, passing it off as a shared laugh with you and not a dive into an anxiety-riddled black hole before answering, "Reel her in with my natural charm, of course."

"Of course," you nod.

"Maybe crack some jokes, you know, because I'm a funny guy."

"Hilarious. Did you take a look at one of Ellie's joke books?" Joel had told you about the first of her findings, now she has amassed quite an impressive collection.

"No."

"Ugh, talk about missed opportunity! There are some good ones in there."

"Well I figured I wanted my lady to fall in love with me, not the book, so I'd tell them from the heart," he looks directly into your eyes, not wanting to give you any inclination that he might be harboring some unseen lovestruck magma beneath his rocky exterior.

"Oh, how romantic!" you tease.

"And then I brought this," he fishes his guitar from behind himself, stretching back with a groan, "Figured I could strum a song or two and see how she'd like it."

At the incredibly rare occurrence - thank you but still fuck you Tommy - you leap, "I'm your arranged audience, lemme hear!"

Joel sets the guitar in his lap, picking a familiar tune from the chords before he can stop himself. As the notes gather into a song, you come to anticipate the next strums, guessing correctly every time. You've heard this before, but where.... And then you remember. The night where it was so fucking cold you pitied your Romeo who was buried somewhere in the snow beneath your window, braving the temperatures to lull you asleep. What a weird coincidence.

It is a festive song that was immensely popular pre-outbreak, so it's not as strange of a fluke as you first thought. You sit and stare, admiring Joel's fingers dancing, his eyes glued to the instrument to watch what he's doing. You both know he could play blind, but thankfully you breeze over this extraneous, damning piece of evidence, for if you were to look in his eyes, you would see the admirer within.

Fading out, he pats the body with a concluding thump, "Do you think I would've swept her off her feet?"

You shrug, not keen to feed another Miller's ego today, "Maybe, if you had sung."

"Nah, that's reserved for at least date five."

"Ohhh okay," you chuckle. Not a romantic my ass, Joel.

He turns the tables, "What were your plans to woo your partner?"

"Um... well I wasn't going to put much effort in because... I-I already have feelings for someone in particular, and I figured he would never agree to something like this," you stammer, honestly, staring at the certain someone in question.

Confidence is injected back into Joel's face on a bright wave of intrigue, "You've got a crush?! And didn't tell me, your best friend?"

He sits up straight, eyes wide and mouth agape in a smile, messing with you, "Your reaction is exactly why I didn't tell you, dork."

"So you weren't even going to try with them? Oof, that's cold," he playfully scolds you.

"Looks who's talking, Mister Iceberg."

He ends his taunting at that. You certainly aren't wrong.

A few comfortably quiet moments pass, then you shiver with a laugh, "I actually am cold."

His beard scrunches in a smile, favoring his jacket to yours and tucking it over your shoulders, running a hand over your bicep once, twice, before reluctantly retracting it to his lap. You wish you could steal it; you'd bite past the tough material and sleep with it if it meant you could snuggle into his residual heat, the worn-in scent of fir sap, wood shavings, black coffee.

He whacks the primal, possessive urge inside him down like a mole, his blood stirring just looking at you in his clothes. He'll dream of you dressed both in more of them and less of them tonight.

The candles in the room have burned a substantial amount of their wax, the sun still shining bright but from a narrower angle behind the clouds continuously dropping snow. Maintaining the front that you're angry at Tommy for this is going to be near impossible to accomplish. You can already see yourself wishing on the stars next year for this very same gift.

Okay, maybe with a more comfortable sitting arrangement. While the tumble was funny and allowed you to get close to Joel, your back is killing you. You can't imagine what Joel's must feel like right now. Later tonight, when you've returned to town and after having dinner with him and Ellie, you'll direct him to lay down on his bed - like after any other intense patrol - and work the knots out of his spine.

"I'm happy we're here," you blurt. Suppressing your delight is useless.

Joel relieves some of the pressure in his heart, "Me too."

Goddamn that drawl brings you to your knees. Sure, it makes your stomach fill with butterflies every time he opens his mouth, but sometimes it mercilessly shoves you onto your back. You rally yourself and press forward boldly, "I'm happy you're here."

His expression doesn't move, sending a shallow ripple of alarm through you. He  seems a bit off, usually he gives you a smile or something.

Holy fuck, his brain shouts, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.

"I, um, brought some cookies too," he chokes out. He's about to reveal his big, stinking secret, and while it won't be quite verbal, that somehow makes it ten times more anxiety-inducing. Clawing talons of fear in his throat tempt him to take you by the shoulders and just scream 'I love you!'

Shit, you thought. Was what I said really that bad? You helplessly try to stick the bandaid back on the wound while Joel is preparing to rip it off.

"Wow, you were really going all out," you reference all the stops he had planned for his hypothetical date. Lucky son of a bitch.

"Yeah," he shrugs, trying to keep the tin steady in his clammy hands, "Would you like one?"

"Sure. Are they mine and you were going to pawn them off as yours?"

Your cute joke goes right over Joel's head as he pries the lid off, swallowing thickly and holding it aside so you can reach in and grab a chocolate crinkle. Never would he think of a cookie being sadistic, but his disconcerted soul is claiming otherwise.

Like the shattered powdered sugar coating, your conviction cracks. No way this is a coincidence.

You look up to Joel to find his side profile suspended in worry. You feel the gears in your head turn and he swears he hears them moving at a frightening speed, "Di-did you make these?"

"Mmhm," his throat is tight. He's made of marble, holding the tin open, unmoving. He knows you know and you know he knows you know.

A handful of silent beats pass, regrettably dangling him in suspense, but you're completely dumbfounded, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I- I was afraid. Still am," he puts lamely in his opinion, bravely in yours.

"Don't be," you assure gently, placing a hand on his rigid forearm. Like an ax, you snap him free of immobility, pushing the incriminating tin away.

He layers his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles and back again, calming himself more so than you, "You know me, you know I have a hard time expressing my... emotions."

He snarls the last word like having a heart that beats is something to be ashamed of. You do know him, and flirtatiously retort, "Sure didn't seem like you had a hard time expressing them outside my bedroom window at midnight, sneaking around my house in the morning, rigging the patrol schedule behind my back..."

Your welcoming smile spreads to his face, "Why are you always right?" he grumbles.

"I have to balance you out somehow if we're a couple. Opposites attract, right?" you lean in, flicking your eyes from his hazel puddles to his mouth and back again. He reads the unmistakable cue and meets you, pressing his lips softly to yours.

On the second kiss, he molds his mouth to yours firmly, allowing a moan to reverberate up his throat. You sound one back as he pulls you forward, situating one thigh outside each of his so you're straddling his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck and his around your waist, you lose all concept of time, your mouths dancing infinitely... before Joel abruptly breaks you apart.

"Hang on."

"What?" you pant.

"We ain't under any mistletoe," he muses, scooting you off the couch to directly under a bundle. Brushing your hair away to reveal your face, he gazes up at you in awe, his body finally at peace - but not for long, when you break out into a smile and him a sweat.

"You really are a funny guy, Joel Miller," you tease against his parted lips, feeling his confirmation vibrate your tongue as you go in for another kiss,

"Hilarious."

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[blankdblank]

Divided

Separated outside the Goblin Tunnels and badly injured from taking Azog over the side of that cliff all you had to go off of was what you had been told of the lands ahead of you. Found and healed by the Lorien Elves in a matter of days atop a rather eager elk you rode off East towards the Lonely Mountain. Wary of being detained inside the vast Greater Greenwood some dared to call Mirkwood you went around. The long way, perhaps too far along as you found yourself awakening after a long moonless night on the edges of a vast set of hot springs to low deep voices.

Dwarves by the dozens stripped of their regal attire named themselves by your catch of names the Company had spoken of, well really Thorin had grumbled of in recounting which Dwarf Lords refused to aid in marching on Erebor. And right atop a flat smooth boulder all of them had left their regal adornments, crowns, circlets, necklaces and rings to mark their statuses piled on alongside their golden seal stampers to mark their postage and contracts legally to their titles. To yourself you smirked at a plan forming and softly urged your elk to stay in place after readying it to be ridden again. Right over to the boulder you bear crawled to creep up and like a raccoon take each piece with dainty fingers you put quietly into a sack you had to once hold some of the lembas you had been given you’d added to the other sack to make room and not crush your only secure food source.

And when the last piece was added you lowered down again as if you were never there. Back to the elk you crawled and then hurried to climb atop its back with hold of a rock you had pulled out of the earth on the way back. Hard and loud you threw it once barely to the edge of being visible as your silent elk sprang away instantly stirring a notion of alarm through the Dwarves soon bled to anger at the notice of their jewels gone.

Days you managed to stay two hours at least ahead of the amassing army ravens and hawks had been sent to warn for from Southern Dwarf Kingdoms even alarming the Men of Rohan who sent a legion of Riders to join along in chasing the unthinkable thief.

Right through the final night with the peak in sight your elk gladly kept the pace in this game of evasion as a storm had gained you a spare few hours of rest as the Dwarves were diverted around a flooding river it bounded and trudged through easily.

Halfway across the plain to the peak you halted its path at the sound of a loud roar that only meant the Dragon had been woken. Over the front of the saddle your leg swung so you could jump off and dig out a chunk of black metal used for dragon weaponry, the only metal able to pierce the scales of the beast.

The gates were thrown wide open and with the chunk in hand off a chain around your neck you eased a large Dwarf Ring of Power you had found after falling off the cliff the white orc wore like a trophy and slid it on your finger using the chain to help fill the gap between metal and skin. The main power of the thing was a pathway to the only way to drive the Dwarves to possible ruin, the ability to multiply anything they mined and you had pulled this metal right from the earth yourself so it counted at least to you on the vague interpretation of the rule. And just like you hoped a firm grip of the metal had it glowing and fire out both ends to form a giant spear the unknowing beast ran itself through unable to stop in time at the sudden jolt at his breast. Down into the earth he collapsed as you let go of the metal and scrambled to get a foot on the elk’s stirrup and urge it to spring away, as it planned on its own to do. Up above your view of the jostling saddle you drug yourself to be seated upon again was a huddle of bodies that came to stare at the now downed dragon and the nameless too blurry figure atop a steed now turning widely their way.

It didn’t take long for your name to be shouted in both relief and shock, but in the light of the fiery gold lit open doorway they could see the Elven garb and source of your survival. “Hey,” you said dropping off the saddle again to be drawn into eager hugs while the elk came to curiously inspect the hall to see if food was in sight.

“Lothlorien,” Thorin said breathlessly in awe of your survival of nightmarish disaster beyond his worst imaginings. “How did you down the beast?”

And you showed him the ring dangling from the chain wrapped around your palm and wrist loosely. “Azog had this. Multiplies what you mine, found black metal, made a giant spear.” And he let out a proud chuckle then looked to the sack you offered him. “We’re gonna have some angry Company in a few hours.”

His brow rose and you took hold of the reigns of the elk to go and find the farming peaks to let it rest and eat there Balin had once mentioned for their goat and boar steeds. “Y/n?! Where did you get these?!” He demanded to your back after he’d drawn out a familiar seal for the King of Orcarni he kept hold of to show you and the others in your turn to glance back at him still walking away.

“You know there’s a giant hot spring near Orcarni?”

“Yes..” he growled.

“Well there were some familiar names caught and good news, got you your armies. I’m gonna tuck them into the farming peak and then find the dungeon to lock myself in.”

“Y/n!! You-!!” At a loss for words at the sound of a distant Dwarf horn alerting of armed forces ready to advance after the last roar and thunderous crash he lowered his voice and told the others, “Seal the gates, we tell them we captured the thief and we will work out something less severe as a punishment later after a term of stay in our dungeons. Balin, mind her, before she marches another army on our gates please.” The exasperated glance he gave your back had his cousin chuckle and oblige, hurrying after you to congratulate you on the miraculous return and plan to help kill the beast. “And Bilbo, get searching for that stone.” Bilbo nodded and hurried to do that to the motion of the others to force the gates shut and locked again so they could wait atop the overlook in wait for the thousands of Dwarves to arrive and demand answers.

.

A second horn of a fouler tone however found you called for and amidst the ranks of Dwarves and Men standing above Dain now on his back from a warg bite with a chunk of his armor bent into the flesh of his thigh. Oin worked to stem the bleeding to get him able to be moved while you used a stack of dead orc and wargs to funnel the oncoming orc into a more manageable number for full view of the King who had mind to stab you himself when he’d first seen you. All the same on the front against the orc and goblin forces your bright eyed glowing petite thief of a self stood on their side and he would not cut you down unjustly mid battle and could wait for retribution later and now lay at your mercy.

Over the wall of orc a goblin scrambled and collapsed taking hold of your bloody dirt stained braid tugging you backwards in its fall. Belly up for the double handed grip of an orc who smugly grinned at being able to plunge his blade into your exposed chest.

Far off in the distance the sight of an Eldar Elf born and glowing with the light of the Two Trees even in that area plunged with darkness through grime and filth could not be missed by any of the Silvan forces who lined the edge of the forest in case of advance on their borders. All called to arms just same as the Dwarves at the roar of the fallen beast.

The King himself however was the one to break the hold to fire and let loose three arrows to clear the goblin who had hold of the lone Elf and two orc advancing upon them. Lothlorien garb explained little of why they were there aside from possibly having been amongst the Rohirrim and got stuck here after travel from some important message being sent to King Thengel. Then alone at sight of your spring to your feet ready for the next orc to advance was reason of the call to charge. Straight through the darker forces his thousands of soldiers sprung to make clean work of the orc and goblins Dwarves had split into smaller numbers as you had done.

The King himself off his elk dropped helping Dain and Oin up to have the steed charge towards the healing tents made up inside the guarded peak. Blades in hand to assist in this swarm of hundreds the Men of Rohan burst to aid with after clearing their own hundreds, an odd left over pool you had gotten edged to funnel off alone to just keep at bay until others could come and help as Dain had tried while his men behind him got thwarted by a band of wargs they were using to hold off as a wall more orcs trying to come at the back of their Longbeard kin who sprung from Erebor itself.

Hard into his back the Elf King turned his head, having just used both blades to kill five orc nearest him to scowl in focus at your smaller self pinned to his taller frame. Blades locked with a mace of a crooked leaning goblin that had found the obscure nail adorned weapon after losing its own. Easily he swung his arm to sever the head of the goblin and had to restrain his amused smirk at the huff you gave when the force and weight against your blades dropped to the collapse of its body and weapon.

A hand to his side with a hard shove an hour later again had him look to the smaller body trying to stagger away from a collapsing tower in Dale that would have fallen on top of him. Wide eyed in the moments of clarity before heavy stone obscured his view he saw a panicked expression on your face at the loss of crumbling ground to stand upon that had you fall mid squeak as words seemed to fail you. Loudly it fell apart into a giant heap and through the dust he clambered to get over the rubble to find you just ten feet down plopping off your side onto your back.

Just a halo of the body of the King seen through the cloud of dust in view and you squeaked, “Ow,” forcing a breath of relief from his lungs that you were not likely to have been badly injured. Down into the crevice you had found he hopped with other Elves to come into view watching his ease to your side. “Have you landed on anything?”

“Just my ribs it seems.” You frailly replied and out he reached to test a touch of your legs to prop those up in a first step so he could scoop you up.

“Better your ribs than a blade.” He replied.

“Nope, got that too,” you whined in a shift of your hand to draw attention to the hilt of your blade that caught in your outer coat there fraying the side of your gifted Elven embroidered pants at the thigh.

“Clever,” he said collecting the blade he tucked into the sash around his waist so he could ease his arms underneath you. “Now,” he said on his knees having drawn you off the ground and into his chest, “Out of this rubble, Healers await.”

“How do I know you?” You squeaked next when he’d leapt up out of the crevice, to be walked in a heavy number of guards to escort you to a safer place to be seen to.

“My name is unimportant at the moment.” He replied, “Conserve your energy, damage to the ribs will take time to mend properly. Once you are safely placed into a guest quarters in Greater Greenwood I shall write to Lord Celeborn of your safety.”

“No, but my elk is in Erebor.”

“My soldiers will bring your steed as well.” He said and looked down as you narrowed your eyes at him and tilted your head.

“No, I know you from somewhere.”

“I am certain it will come to you in time.” He replied and looked forward again.

Right to an Elven tent amongst the Dwarf stations he brought you to first ensure no serious injuries were unseen before you were transported to the forest.

Though from the moment he’d passed beneath the cover of the tent his instant panic for your slip into unconsciousness was soon overtaken by argument of the Company who refused to allow you to be taken to the forest as you were a member of their Company and had slain Smaug, the direct source of a small tail spike that was found buried in your clothing to be just harmful enough to let out a steady stream of blood from your lower leg to fill your boot.

.

Deeply you inhaled, waking inside a lavish apartment in the Royal Floors of the mountain under watch of an Elleth who seemed pleased you had awoken.

Sheepishly in her slip out of the room you eased off the bed to limp to the robe left on the chair along the wall to cover the silk nightgown you had on with more painted silk you tied around your waist. Free hand on your throbbing ribs as you did this. Silence hinting you were alone had you sneak out of the bedroom and find the front door, that when opened revealed a line of armed Dwarf guards and Dain inside an armchair positioned directly there, complete with footrest his injured led rested upon so he could be here when you awoke.

“You, dragon slayer.” Deep and grumbling he let out a reluctant breath and said, “Had you not saved my life and I owe you a life debt, I would have you thrown from my kin’s lands. For now, I thank you for fealty in battle,” his finger raised to point at you, “But you touch another relic of claim to rule of my kin again and I will see to it you have no hands left to steal so much as a crumb to nibble upon.”

For a moment your lips parted and then closed causing his brow to rise, “Have you lost your voice in battle, Lass?”

“Mr Dwarf,” you squeaked out causing his brow to lift a bit higher, “Honestly I got lost trying to meet Thorin after our separation. And I happened upon you all, all the Dwarf Lords Thorin had named who refused to help him reclaim his home.” At that he scoffed and you said, “Thorin needed help, Azog was alive still until I beheaded him in the fall from a cliff, and I had no clue who would be upon him next when I found him. Turned out to be a dragon. I would say I am sorry for my actions however you must admit it was a clever plot. Classic, honestly, always worked on Finwe.”

Together his brows furrowed through a huff and he growled out, “Aye, it was. Naught but my beard adornments and a wee glowing thing races off with my rites to my crown.”

“I’m certain in a few years it will be a humerous leg to the tale of how Erebor was reclaimed gold over many ales.” Softly you groaned to the plant of your hand on the frame of the door and he gestured a hand to go with a Khuzdul order, and one of the guards came to help take hold of your slouching self.

“Back to bed now, before the Elf King hears of your tired self collapsing. Went and had to save his life too, now the pointy eared princeling is bartering with Thorin for his gems and release of your sticky fingered self to his halls for a stay. No telling what you pinched from him.”

.

“You are not in bed,” The Elf King spoke aloud having caught you in a late night sneak down to check on your elk. Whose face you were stroking while it nibbled on the carrots you brought down here to the stables where you’d left them that now housed more steeds from each army.

“The last Elf King I met was Gil-Galad. You do not look like Gil-Galad.”

“I am pleased,” he joked, “We did not see eye to eye on many things.”

“I would not doubt that very much, he was taller than you, but I know you.” You said and he looked at you still grinning post chuckle at your height comment.

“We crossed paths in Valinor, when I was very young. And very short, shorter than you I would dare to say.”

“Now that must have been a very long time ago then.” You said and he chuckled again.

“Barely a moment to me.” He said and you looked his face over, “I shall assist you, the last time we spoke, prior to my collecting you from that crevice, you were collecting me from a tangled net within which I fell in an act of thievery inside your orchard.”

“And they call me the thief.” You teased and he chuckled again.

“I had never tasted such a pear in all of my life.”

“As the one you stole,” you added and he nodded amused.

“As the one I stole.”

“I would hope not, I created them myself.”

He nodded and said hopefully, “We have much room in my kingdom should the two of us make terms for me to acquire a tree for within our borders.”

“I would have you know I never abandon my orchards.”

“I had hoped as much,” he hummed hopefully causing you to draw in a breath at his lingering gaze locked upon your eyes.

@jesevans, @theincaprincess, @lilith15000, @devilishminx328

#Thorin #thorin's company #durins #bilbo #Dain ironfoot #Dwarves #Dwarf Ring of Power #Lothlorien #Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #elf reader #the hobbit #lotr

[shamandrummer]

Wisdom of the Thunder Beings

The Thunder Beings are a related family of divine beings who bring about weather changes such as thunder, lightning, wind and rain. Through their power abiding in the atmosphere, they sustain the Earth and protect the people. Through lightning, they directly purify the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the earth we cultivate. They create a world-wide lightning display that produces and maintains the "heartbeat frequency" (Schumann resonance) of the Earth's electromagnetic grid. Their holy medicine includes creativity, fertility, protection, peace, harmony, balance, compassion, wisdom, enlightenment, death and rebirth. Through the Thunder Beings, all life has been created, is sustained and will be destroyed. They sustain balance and destroy imbalance, the cause of suffering.

From time immemorial, people have worshiped the Thunder Beings. They are the source of all ideological, religious and spiritual transmission. The early cultures attribute their belief systems to the teachings of rain gods and goddesses. Their myths tell of how rain deities created the world, humans and all life. They came down to Earth in the distant past and gave humanity language, law, the arts, spiritual sciences, wisdom and knowledge. The Thunder Beings were instrumental in teaching their mortal cousins how to properly honor and commune with the spirits to gain their blessings.

The core beliefs and principles of all spiritual cultural traditions come from the Thunder Beings. The Native American spiritual traditions originated from the rain deities known as Wakinyan, Animiki and Kachinas. The Mongolian shamanic traditions originated from the sky deity known as Tengri. The Maya shamanic traditions originated from the lightning deities known as Chaac, K'awiil and Yaluk. The Chinese Taoist traditions originated from a thunder god known as Lei Kung. The Australian Aboriginal shamanic traditions originated from the cloud and rain spirits known as Wandjina. They are the roots of all integral shamanic and wisdom traditions.

Among the Yoruba people of West Africa, the orisha (god) of thunder is known as Shango. Shango is renowned for his oshe, a double-headed battle-ax, as well as the double-headed bata drum he uses to summon rain storms. The orishas are the powerful divine spirits of the Yoruba religion. They are the creator and sustainer of all things. They are the manifestations of primordial energies, both creative and destructive. They are the conduits by which life and all cultural wisdom entered the world. Like all of the Yoruba gods, Shango is both a deified historical ancestor and a divine natural spiritual force. Orishas enter the mortal world, complete epic feats, live, die and then are reincarnated into the world to complete even more amazing tasks. They are immortal energies that represent a core part of Yoruba philosophy and belief.

Every spring, the Lakota people gather at Black Elk Peak in the sacred Paha Sapa (Black Hills) for the "Welcome Back the Thunders" ceremony. The Lakota ceremonial season begins with the return of the Wakinyan or Thunder Beings. According to legend, the Wakinyan are huge winged beings that humans cannot see because they are shielded by thick clouds. Thunder is made by the sound of their voices, and lightning is created when they open and close their eyes. The Wakinyan created wild rice and gave the Lakota the spear, the tomahawk and pigments to make them impervious to weapons. The annual vernal equinox ceremony ends with Lakota teens carrying a sacred pipe and food offerings to the top of Black Elk Peak. As the highest point in the Paha Sapa, the Lakota consider it to be the most appropriate spot to bring prayers to Wakan Tanka (Great Mystery).

Among the Pueblo people of the American Southwest, the deities known as kachinas bring the rain for their three main crops: corn, beans and squash. Puebloans believe that kachinas are divine spirits present in features of the natural world such as clouds, winds, thunder and rain. They are also ancestral spirits that help connect humans with the spirit world. They come to the human realm to collect the people's prayers and take them back to the spirit realm. The kachinas dwell in sacred mountains and other holy places, but spend half of each year living near Pueblo villages. During this time, the men of kachina societies perform traditional ceremonies linked with the presence of the spirits. They wear costumes and elaborate masks and perform songs and dances associated with specific kachinas. The Puebloans say that during these rituals each dancer is transformed into the spirit being represented.

In the Asian traditions, the Thunder Beings are responsible for expressing the higher truth of spiritual reality, safeguarding it and disseminating it for the benefit of all beings. The essence of the Asian spiritual traditions is the direct experience of enlightenment--of perfect tranquility and unconditional bliss. This experience is fully attained through the Thunder Beings by virtue of their mystical thunder and lightning blessings. In Tantric Buddhism, their names and images are used in visualization-based meditations to awaken the mind. Through the proper use of these images and sacred sound in meditation, we can liberate our minds from suffering.

The Thunder Beings are invisible, yet out of compassion they reveal themselves through thunder, lightning, wind and rain. Their visible manifestation or mystical visitation is universally one of storm-display. Even though there is great destructive rage in storms, in truth this is merely a means of ushering in peace, of clearing great obstructions. Everything that the Thunder Beings do has the effect of bringing about peace and harmony.

Thunder Beings are perfect and beyond suffering. Nature is their manifestation; it is quite beautiful and harmonious. Where there is calamity, the cause is poor human activity, such as war, pollution and environmental devastation. There is little peace on Earth because there is little peace in our hearts. In order to establish it, we must diligently work for it through meditation and through compassionate activity. Meditation--whether it's silent or drumming up a storm--increases our wisdom and insight, our capacity to be of true help to others. Wisdom is the light of the Thunder Beings shining through our heart. It is the lightning within us striking its way out.

#shamanism #cosmology #mythology #kachina #lightning #thunderstorm #orisha #rain #enlightenment #divine beings #weather