Incomingggg

Incomingggg

Got some Logan Howlett headcanons coming Friday :)

Albino mole😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I'm convinced that every variation of moles are inherently ugly

And naked mole rats are at the top of the ugly mole charts

Hello it is 1am……. Did you know hedgehogs see exclusively in black and white 🤔 i have been feeding the little ones in my garden lately…… i saw some tutorial on my puter how to make little houses for them for winter….

That's adorable 🥰

Sounds like hedgehogs have retinas that are mostly rods (no cones for the silly guys)

aAahH thank youuu this means so much to me!! I'm so glad you liked it! 🩵

First blood rambo, as a husband, where he and the reader helping each other with mental health issues? much love ♥

UUUGGH I love this idea! Thanks for the request <33 I spent so much time on the backstory oopsie

Warnings: mentions of Rambo's PTSD, depiction of depression, loss of parents for reader

We may not be perfect but we're perfect together

Hope was a small town nestled among towering pine trees and rugged mountains. Everyone knew each other in town, and the arrival of strangers was always a topic of conversation for the people. You had always lived there, your parents raising you in the quiet, predictable suburbs in the close-knit community.

All that changed the day he came into town. John Rambo.

You first spotted him walking along the main street in town, his military jacket and sad eyes marking him as someone who had seen too much in his lifetime. The townspeople buzzed with whispers about him, the drifter, especially after Sheriff Teasle confronted and escorted him out of town.

The way the sheriff dealt with drifters wasn't new, but the way you felt about this one was. You sensed there was more to him than met the eye, and you felt genuinely bad for him when the sheriff took him away.

The tranquility of Hope shattered and chaos erupted when news spread about Rambo's arrest and then escape. The manhunt that came next turned the town into a war zone. You returned to your home earlier than expected, as per the sheriff's request. Everyone had. You kept the news on, anxious about the updates it would give. You wanted your home to go back to its peaceful ways, but you also rooted for Rambo, who seemed to be fighting a war within himself. You just hoped he would be okay and that your town would be okay.

The news showed that he eventually turned himself in with the help of his old colonel. You didn't hear much about what happened to him after that, but even months later, you found yourself thinking about him often.

Many months later, through the usual conversation and gossip in the town you learned that Rambo's colonel, named Troutman, convinced the judge to shorten Rambo's sentence. The news was met with mixed reactions in Hope. Some feared he would return, others were indifferent, and some were angry. Angry about the wreck he left behind when he was arrested, and just angry about the war in general. You however, found yourself hoping he would find a fresh start.

Almost a year after the incident, you spotted Rambo again. He had returned to Hope, or rather the outskirts of it. He chose to live in a remote cabin nestled deep within the woods near where he had once escaped and hid.

The townspeople gossiped about his return and Sheriff Teasle made it clear he wasn't happy about it, but he had learned his lesson last time and steered clear of the veteran.

You decided to do the opposite of the sheriff and reach out to him. You didn't really know the reason why you felt the need to know him, but you at least wanted to offer him kindness he probably needed. One afternoon, you gathered your courage and explored into the woods intending to find his cabin, carrying a basket of homemade bread and jam.

His cabin was difficult to find, and you ended up seeing him before you found his home. He was in a clearing, carving something on a piece of wood with his knife. He spotted you when you were a ways away, and you approached him carefully. As you got closer, his eyes scanned you for any sign of threat. But your genuine smile and the simple gesture of bringing food softened his stance.

He accepted the food, a slight nod of appreciation the only sign that he welcomed the gesture. You stood for a moment unsure of what to say.

"I don't usually venture into the woods," you admitted, glancing around at the dense trees that seemed to close in from all sides. "But I thought I thought maybe you could use some company or at least some food," you said, holding your basket up.

His eyes met yours for a brief moment, his expression unreadable, but he didn't seem annoyed by your presence. He didn't say much, just a quiet "Thank you," before returning to the piece of wood in his hands. It was clear he wasn't used to having visitors, and you weren't sure if you were intruding or accompanying.

Feeling awkward, you added "If you ever need anything, I'm usually in town." With that, you turn to leave, the path back feeling longer than the way there.

During your walk, you couldn't shake the feeling that something important had started, even if you didn't fully understand it yet.

Over the next few weeks, you made it a habit to stop by his cabin. Sometimes you brought fresh bread, other times small supplies you thought he might need, like candles or a new set of gloves for the winter. Each time he accepted your offerings with the same quiet acknowledgment and each time the silence between you grew more comfortable.

During this time, the silence started to fade away and turn into small talks with each other. You and John started having short conversations about simple things like the weather, the recipe used for your bread, and your hobbies.

One summer afternoon during your visit, you lingered a bit longer than normal, the conversations flowing in short simple exchanges. You told him about the town, how things had settled back into routine since he returned. He listened, his responses brief but thoughtful.

Then, one week you didn't come. You weren't feeling well, stuck in an endless cycle you knew well. You all but abandoned your personal hygiene, opting to stay in bed or aimlessly wandering your home. You wanted to visit John, but you didn't have the energy to leave your house.

John noticed your absence, but there was nothing he could do about it. He made a mental note to mention it the next time you came. He was surprised just how much he missed having you a part of his routine.

When you came back the next week, John's eyes reflected a flicker of concern as you approached your meeting spot. You were quieter, less cheerful than usual, your smile faint and more tired. He noticed the subtle changes - how your steps lacked their usual lightness and your hair messy as if you just got out of bed.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice as low and steady as always, but with an undertone of genuine concern.

You hesitated, not wanting to burden John with your depression and the thoughts that came with it. But then you remembered all he'd gone through, so you thought, maybe he was the one person who wouldn't judge you, but would understand your pain.

I've just hit a tough patch," you admitted, your eyes glued to the ground. "Sometimes it's like this. It's hard to get out of bed to do anything, really. That's why I didn't come last week."

John nodded, looking in the distance like he was deep in thought. For a long moment neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the sounds of the forest around you.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again, his voice almost a whisper.

"I get it," he said, his words simple but heavy with meaning. "Sometimes it gets difficult for me too."

You looked up at him, surprised by the admission. You knew that he had been through so much during the war and after, but it was the first time he opened up to you about anything personal and you realize how much trust he was placing in you by sharing even that small piece of himself.

From that day on, your visits felt different - more significant, more connected. You continued to confide in him about your struggle with depression, and told him about the dark days when getting out of felt impossible and the constant battle to find joy and meaning in life.

John opened up more about his past - his time in the war, the friends he had lost, and the nightmares that still plagued him.

Soon, the relationship between the two of you started to change for the better. You started to visit him more, and he even started coming into town to visit you. Before long, the two of you were inseparable.

Many of the townspeople began to accept his presence, now seeing him as less of a threat and more as one of them. Mitch, the young redhead deputy, reached out to John, and soon another friendship blossomed.

During this time, your and John's relationship started to become romantic. He would take you on casual dates at different cafes in town, the library, and John's personal favorite - hiking. It didn't take long for the both of you to know that you wanted to be together forever.

One evening, under the stars near his cabin, John asked you to marry him. He didn't have a ring or a rehearsed speech. Just a simple heartfelt question. You said yes without hesitation, knowing that despite your imperfections you were perfect for each other.

When it came time for your wedding day, everything was perfect. You were in a simple but beautiful dress, and John was in a freshly pressed suit. You both picked a beautiful clearing in the woods, and you invited a few close friends to witness. Mitch was the best man, a few of your close friends were bridesmaids, and John's closest friend, Trautman came all the way out to marry the two.

The ceremony took place at sunset, the golden light filtering through the trees as you exchanged rings and vows. John's voice was steady as he looked into your eyes.

"We may not be perfect," he said, "but together, we're stronger and better."

As the night went on, you did typical wedding things, like cutting the little cake made by your mom's old bakery, and tossing your bouquet to your group of friends.

Trautman offered his hand to you after the bouquet toss. You looked at him, confused.

"For a father-daughter dance," he said, taking your hand. "You're family now."

You teared up as you danced. You hoped that your parents would make it to your wedding, but they passed away a few years ago.

As the dance ended, you thanked Trautman, feeling a warmth in your heart you haven't felt in a long time. The loss of your parents had left a void, but today, surrounded by friends and the man you loved, you felt pure joy.

As the evening continued, your friends slowly began to go home, leaving you and John in the last light of the setting sun. The clearing was quiet now, the soft home of the forest filling the air.

"Would you dance with me?" You asked in a hushed tone. You knew John wasn't one for grand gestures, but he looked at you, his expression softening before he nodded and gently took your hand in his.

There was no music for you to dance to, just the sounds of the wildlife in the forest. You laid your head against his chest as the stars started peeking out in the sky. You listen to his heartbeat while his arms wrapped around you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else existed but the two of you dancing in the woods.

"I never thought I'd have this," he murmured his voice low and filled with emotion. "A home, a family...you."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. "You deserve it, John. We deserve it."

He smiled a rare, genuine smile and leaned down to press his lips against your forehead.

"Let's go home," he said softly.

He led you to the cabin you knew so well and started a fire in the fireplace. You sat by each other in the familiar comfortable silence you often shared.

As you sat together, you thought about the best day of your life that you just lived, about the vows you just made.

"We may not be perfect, but together we're stronger and better."

Those words echoed in your mind, I promise not just for today, but for every day that followed.

Married life was peaceful and happy with John, but the both of you still had your hard days. With each other, you were able to cope a little better and heal more with time.

The woods surrounding the cabin were quiet, the moon' glow filtering through the curtains and casting patterns of light onto the wood walls.

John suddenly woke up drenched in sweat and disoriented. He sat up carefully, trying to catch his breath while keeping you undisturbed. He looked over at your sleeping figure, your face relaxed and serene, framed by the moon's glow. The rise and fall of your chest was steady, a soothing rhythm that starkly contrasted with his erratic, fear-driven breathing.

He didn't want to wake you, he knew you had your own internal battles and needed to rest. He reached for a glass of water sitting on the nightstand, his movements deliberate and quiet, hoping that it might calm his nerves.

But the effort to keep still was in vain. You stirred sensing the disturbance in your sleep. Your eyes flooded open, and you noticed John sitting up and the haunted looking his eyes.

"John?" you whispered, "are you okay?"

"It's nothing," he reassured. "Just a bad dream."

You sat up, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "You don't have to go through this alone," you said gently. "Let me help."

The weight of your words sat on his mind for a moment. He'd been fighting his trauma on his own and building walls for so long, he was still getting used to letting you in.

He leaned his head on your shoulder as you spoke again. "Was this a nightmare or a memory?"

"Memory."

An involuntary tear slipped down his cheek.

"It's over now, you're safe here," you whispered to him

John felt himself begin to relax, your words overcoming the fear his mind fed him. He pulled you into a hug and laid back down.

"What would I do without you?" John whispered.

"You'll never have to find out."

I welcome thou rambosgirl i come with a serious question…….which of the henry eight wifes is your favourite🤫 mines anne of cleves….. also you can answer based on looks if youre not into lore

if any of them ended up unaliving him for his atrocities, that would be my fave, but UNFORTUNATELY none of them did :(

so I'd have to say maybe Anne of Cleves, bc she got a good settlement from their divorce (and based on looks) or Katherine Parr bc she was the last one, seeing Henry in his final days (and it's my personal hc that she somehow killed him for revenge teehee)

This is where I write a lot of my fanfics 💅