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galacticgraffiti · 8 months

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⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead (2) ⋆☽⋆

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: After you start to get better, feelings start to grow - and you find out Halsin's secret. Or: Halsin is the softest man and I want to live the cottagecore fantasy with him so bad.

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 6k Descriptors: The first two chapters are fairly genderneutral. Reader's physique is not really described aside from being quite a bit shorter and smaller than Halsin. CW: Fluff, softness, building up some feelings before we get to fucking, pet names, oblivious pining, Halsin in bear form, thirsting for druids is hot, talks about feelings, resolving the tension.

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Chapter 2: The Bear

The morning brings… surprises.

You wake up, your legs sore and your functional arm sorer, but you feel clean, and your hair still smells of Halsin.

You stretch, clenching your teeth at the pain that flares up as your muscles contract and your joints crack into place. New bandages cover your deeper wounds, and oddly enough, the sight of them makes you smile. Halsin must have dressed the wounds after you had already fallen asleep.

The thought of leaving the bed seems terrible, except that the last thing you remember is Halsin telling you he sleeps right outside. It may just be worth it to leave the comforts of your sheets to find him. You can imagine him now, his large form curled up by a fire, watching the stars in the night sky move with his impossible patience as he falls asleep, and seeing the sun rise in his golden eyes when he wakes.

You wrap yourself in your sheet and try not to collapse as you limp towards the entrance. It is only a few steps, but the way seems entirely too long, even if you can lean against the cave wall to prop yourself up. The outside is already bright with the light of dawn, and you squint into the sun, taking in the newly familiar sight of the grove and meadow, feeling the grass underneath your bare feet for the first time.

At first glance, you don’t see Halsin anywhere. There is no campfire like you thought there might be, no tent or even a bedroll. You look around, a little lost for what to do. This has never happened before - you have not been able to walk by yourself for so long, and you have never left the cave before yesterday’s bath. You had never needed to before - Halsin was always there whenever you required anything, and most of your time has been spent sleeping, reading and recovering.

You look around, taking in the fresh morning air and the beauty of nature before you, when a noise catches your attention. It comes from the shadows beside the cave, right behind a big boulder covered in moss. It sounds… almost like a snore. Except no person could ever produce such a noise, not even one of Halsin’s size. It’s much too loud, much too… animalistic. But Halsin would never let you sleep anywhere where you were at risk of being attacked, right? Surely not. He wouldn’t leave you alone if he was not sure that you were safe.

Carefully, though your entire body is screaming DANGER, you make your way around the boulder. And you are met by the sight of…

A really large fucking bear.

A bear. Next to your cave. Sleeping, curled in on itself, its giant head resting on huge paws with sharp claws. You can see its chest expand with deep breaths, and if it weren’t right there in front of you, you would find it fascinating. The bear shifts, huffing as it moves, it’s nose scrunching up.

You nearly scream.

But its eyes are closed, and you press your hand to your mouth just in time that all you utter is a muffled “hmph”.

You stare and stare. Your eye twitches. Your legs shake, as if the new effort of keeping yourself upright was not enough already.

You press your lips together and try to breathe as quietly as you can. And then, you move. Slowly, ever so slowly, you try to make your way back towards the cave, away from the animal that sleeps right next to your resting place. Then, a thought comes crashing in: Halsin. Where is he? Did that bear do something to him? What happened to-

In your panic, your silly feet miss a step. It’s like you are falling in slow motion, the world blurring around you. You hit the ground with a dull crack and a cry of pain escapes from your throat. The bear grunts, its head raising.

Your spine aches and all the air that has been pressed from your lungs when you hit the ground floods back in, but you don’t scream. Instead, you close your eyes and… give up. What else is there to do?

You can hear the bear shift, and you can almost feel its breath on your face, sharp fangs glittering behind your eyelids as you wait for the worst; wait to be mauled to death, to be ripped open and devoured in a bloody mess of bones and cartilage.

The worst does not come.

When you are brave enough to open your eyes again, the bear is staring right at you. With Halsin’s golden irises glowing in its face.

*****

You get over it.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it.

You… find out. And you accept it. As soon as your mouth has stopped screaming in terror, as soon as paw turns into hand and fur into skin, you accept what has happened.

Halsin’s explanations make sense, and his voice calms you. You feel so stupid- you should have connected the dots ealier. But your mind is still reeling, and your heartbeat still much too fast. You might have collapsed if you were not already on the ground, but… you are oddly fine with it.

It’s just him. For a moment, the relief that nothing bad has happened to him cuts through the surprise, and that is enough to ground you. You pull yourself together and snap your mouth shut. You stare and stare, not moving, but not moving away either, as Halsin carefully approaches you, both hands raised in the air.

He sits down next to you with a sigh, far away so he won’t touch you. You watch him, watch his profile. And all you can think is: you should have known. A wood elf with his build? Of course he is a fucking bear. Of course this happens. You should have expected it.

Once the panic starts to fade, you are just ashamed at your reaction, which is not helped by Halsin apologising way more than he should.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you hear your voice say, eventually, though your mind is still somewhere else entirely, but he keeps on saying sorry for something nobody should ever have to apologise for. “You are just… a bear. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“I should have told you.” He sounds so broken that you shatter at the sound of his voice. “I should have-”

“You should have nothing,” you interrupt him. “This changes nothing. I’m fine, I promise. I was just… surprised. I’m sorry I reacted so poorly, I should have made the connection sooner, but I swear I’m alright.”

“You were screaming for about ten minutes there.” His voice is so dry and matter of fact that you nearly burst into laughter.

“I… I mean, yes.” You take a deep breath. “Was this the ideal way to find out? Absolutely fucking not. But… Halsin. Nothing could change the way I feel about you.”

“You… feel about me?” He seems genuinely confused.

You roll your eyes, and everything you have been keeping inside for weeks now, all the feelings you tried to shun and suppress, bubble to the surface.

“You are incredible,” you whisper. You push yourself closer to him, your fingers finding his and holding tight. “I…The way you took care of me- I should have guessed you were a druid. I should have known-”

“-you couldn’t have-”

“-and even if I had known earlier, or even if I hadn’t found out just now, nothing would have changed. I love staying here, with you.”

His fingers squeeze yours gently.

“I am glad I found you, you know? This summer has been one of the best I have had in many years.”

You smile quietly, but you don’t push him. There has been a sizable surprise already, you are not sure you could take another one. You are happy just sitting next to him, his large palm covering your hand entirely.

You limp back into the cave eventually, holding onto Halsin’s thick forearm for stability, and curl up in bed again.

“I won’t ask any questions,” you say as he sits by your side, peeling berries from a twig. “But you can always talk to me. You know that, right?”

There is a small smile in his eyes.

“Thank you.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you lay back, your lids shutting all on their own.

You dream of a bear with Halsin’s voice and Halsin’s eyes, leading you through a forest with thick trees and sweet smells. He never leaves your side and you are never lost.

*****

The next day, you ask Halsin if he can carry you to the meadow that lies before the cave.

“I cannot bear another day of being bed-ridden,” you complain. After a moment of hesitation, you add deviously, “...no pun intended.”

Halsin’s face freezes, then he bursts out in laughter, so loud it makes your ears hurt in the small space of the cave. You watch his shoulders shake with joy and think to yourself that you have never been happier.

You could probably walk to the meadow by yourself if you had a walking stick or something similar. After all, you made it nearly all the way yesterday. Neither of you ever mentions that, not when he scoops you up into his arms, and not when he kneels on the softest patch of grass he can find to put you down. You like being taken care of. You like being taken care of by him. And you get the feeling he likes taking care of you, too. One day, you’ll return the favour.

You spend the whole day there, watching Halsin go about his day, enjoying the sun on your face and the birdsong around you. The meadow is beautiful, and your eyes keep finding something new every time you look around. When Halsin carries you back to your bed that night, you can barely sleep thinking about what the next day might bring.

He carries you to the meadow every day from then on, and lays you down, as gently as if you could break, to rest in the summery sunlight. You ask him if he has anything you could help with, and he shows you how to weave baskets, how to skin an animal so you can use its hide, how to whittle and sharpen your knives and so much more. You get the feeling he just enjoys teaching you things - none of this is actually directly helpful to him in any way.

But when his deep voice calmly instructs you and sings your praises when you manage to get things right, how could you ever complain? And it’s nice to see nature through his eyes: not scary and strange, but familiar and comforting, providing all anyone could ever need.

A week passes like that, and then another. Halsin spends more and more time by your side, brooding over scrolls, helping you hone your new skills. He fishes so he can stay close to you - or at least, you hope that is why. And one day, he asks you something unexpected.

He is sitting next to you, checking the rod of his fishing pole. You watch him as you always do - out of the corner of your eye, fascinated beyond measure by everything he does and the way he moves. He clears his throat suddenly, and you are startled from your daydreams.

“I want to ask you something. The bear… did I scare you?”

You consider this for a moment, your hand resting next to his on the damp grass.

“No,” you answer finally, and truthfully. “It- it scared me that I didn’t know it was you. But once I found out that you were the bear and the bear was you… you have never scared me. Never made me feel unsafe. Why should the bear be any different? He is just another part of you. Is there… Why do you ask?”

“Well,” he grumbles, shifting beside you, and putting down the fishing rod. “You haven’t seen me in that form since then, and… I didn’t know if you would mind.”

He sounds so cautious it makes you think that someone before you did, in fact, mind. But you don’t- and you tell him so.

“Good.” His sigh is one of relief, and a broad smile appears on his features. “I will be honest, I was getting tired of using a rod to catch our dinner.”

It takes you a moment to understand what he is saying. When you realise, a shiver runs down your spine - excitement more than anything else. You are way more excited to see his bear form again than you probably should be.

“Do you… usually catch fish as a bear?” you ask, trying to sound casual. Halsin turns to you, and your heart stumbles. His features are illuminated by the light of the afternoon, soft and glowing, and a strand of hair sticks to his cheek. You want to brush it back, you want to-

“I do, yes. It’s… easier. Less time consuming. And it’s not fishing - it’s a hunt. It is fun, and it helps me… keep control while I am human. The hunt relaxes me, but it also gets my blood pumping - it can be hard to control the beast if I don’t let it out every once in a while.”

You swallow thickly. You could imagine some other situations that would get his blood pumping-

“Ah,” is the only response you can utter without sounding like a desperate fool.

A moment passes. Halsin’s fingers play with the grass, pulling and weaving. You clear your throat.

“Well, I don’t think we have any food left for tonight.”

He looks up at you, his eyes shining. You know full well that there is a basket full of smoked meat in the cave, and a whole collection of berries, weeds and flowers to eat. He must know it too.

“Well, then,” is all Halsin says. “I’d better get you back inside and go hunting, wouldn’t I?”

He gets up, towering over you in all his glory. You bite your lip.

“Actually… I was thinking I could stay here,” you mumble.

Halsin cocks his head.

“You want to watch me hunt? I promise, it’s not nearly as exciting as it sounds.”

“I don’t mind,” you admit quietly. “I just… like watching you. I would like to learn more about you - and about the bear. If that is what you want as well.”

“Hm.” He glances across the meadow, over to the river, where the water gurgles and the fishes leap. “I suppose… this should be far enough away.”

Excitement floods you like fire in your veins. You smile at him, squinting into the sun.

Halsin flashes you his teeth in a short smile. You try not to stare as he stalks over to the large boulder next to the cave and starts shedding his clothes. You try really, really hard. And you fail miserably.

You have never seen an elf with his build, the bulging muscles, the soft belly, the thickness of his thighs and the roundness of his broad shoulders. It gets you every time.

He wades into the water, and you watch as a golden shimmer flashes across his skin, bringing fur and claws and wildness with it. It makes you think of that time he built a bath for you - how his eyes flashed, how you told yourself that the spark in the water was just an odd trick of the light.

Now you think it might not have been.

The beast is hard to control when my blood runs hot.

Your belly tightens when you think about the implications of it. Was he- when he got in the pool with you… how close had he been to losing control? What would-

A triumphant roar interrupts your budding inappropriate thoughts. You watch as the bear - large and imposing, the water parting around its mighty hind legs - scoops one fish after another from the river. The thought that this wild animal is Halsin- that he is actually in there, with all his careful attentiveness, all his gentle touches- makes you feel things you cannot describe.

The whole thing cannot last more than a few minutes, but you feel like you watch the bear forever, in all his wild golden-brown glory. Every once in a while, his head turns to you as if to make sure you are still watching. Eventually, the bear wades back to shore. Only as he comes closer do you realise just how huge he actually is: Round belly, soft fur and deceptively cute ears.

A sudden flash of panic surges through you when you realise that you have no way of escaping him.

Your arms start to shake and you have to remind yourself to take deep breaths. It’s Halsin. This is Halsin, he would never hurt you. You press your eyes shut, then hastily open them again. The bear’s steps have slowed, he watches you with careful eyes. With Halsin’s eyes.

Your heartbeat calms.

With some effort, you heave yourself up from the ground, and stretch out a hand towards the bear. With steps that make the ground shake, he approaches, ever so slowly, until his wet nose bumps against your palm.

Carefully, you run your fingers up his flat nose, slowing your breath when the bear plops down next to you with a deep huff. He seems so… gentle. The wildness of the hunt is gone, evaporated along with the water of the river he stood in.

You don’t fool yourself- you have seen the damage a bear’s claws and fangs can do, and Halsin would be no different. And yet, nothing about him seems threatening or dangerous.

Your hand follows the outline of his fur-covered ear, and you smile when he twitches. For a while, you let yourself stay very still, until your legs start to tremble with exhaustion from standing up. Finally, you give in, sinking to the ground. Your stomach makes an absolutely inhuman noise as you do, and you realise how hungry you are.

The bear’s ears prick up. Languidly, he rises to his feet, shaking his fur like a wet dog.

“Hey!” you giggle when the droplets of water hit you. The bear’s head whips around, and the baring of his fangs seems almost like a smile.

He trods off, towards the boulder, and in a shudder of golden light, his form contracts and fur gives way to skin once more. Halsin smiles at you softly.

“You are a miracle, little flower.” His deep voice carries across the meadow, and you wonder if he meant for you to hear it. Heat rises to your cheeks as Halsin unabashedly dries himself off before stepping back into his trousers and pulling his shirt over his head.

He never seems to care about these things: him or you unclothed before one another. He never seems to notice it in the same way you do, though you think you have caught him looking at you a few times. You always tell yourself you must be mistaken - certainly, he would have acted upon it by now.

But to see him like this, to get to be part of his world so entirely- to be able to gaze upon the bear and see the man… Well, your blood certainly runs hotter, that’s for sure.

Halsin crouches down next to you, his finger stroking your cheek.

“You really don’t mind, do you?” His voice is full of wonder. You shrug and smile at him.

“I told you that I don't.”

“Many have told me. Few have ever truly meant it,” he mumbles. There is a pause, his face so close to yours that all you want to do is grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

Halsin clears his throat.

“I should get the fish.”

As he wanders off, you are left to stare after him, wondering if maybe, he does not feel the same way about you as you do about him.

*****

That night, you have a nightmare.

It’s the worst one since the battle, and you wake up in tears, screaming until your lungs give out. You are only half-awake, thrashing in your bed, the smell of blood in your nose, when Halsin is already by your side, in human form, pushing your flailing arms down to the bed and talking over your cries.

“It’s alright, little flower. You are alright, you are here with me, alive and well- you are fine, I’m here with you, I’m here…”

You bury your face against his chest and sob, haunted by the faces of your dead companions, by knives slashing at you and the sharp agony of an arrow through your shoulder. Halsin holds you through the pain, his arms tight around you, the warmth of his body the only thing tethering you to the presence.

When your head hurts and you have no more tears, you gently unwind yourself from his embrace, staring at him through swollen lids. The question slips out of your mouth before you think about it.

“Will you sleep here tonight? I don’t think I can fall asleep again on my own.”

“Of course, my love.” There is not a moment’s hesitation, he just crawls into bed with you and opens his arms. You bury yourself in his strong embrace, feeling small and fragile. You are so relieved that he is here, his mere presence providing much needed comfort.

“No harm will ever come to you again,” Halsin murmurs into your hair. “I shall see to that. I will be there to protect you, little flower.”

The tears you cry now are those of an affection you cannot put into words. Exhausted by your nightmares, you fall asleep wrapped in him. You wake up a few more times that night, scared and shaking, but Halsin is always there, stroking your hair and telling sweet stories until you fall back asleep.

When you wake properly in the morning, your bed is cold where Halsin used to lay, and your sheets are stained with sweat and tears. With eyes still swollen from last night, you scoot to the edge of your bed and test the waters. Your legs carry you - hesitantly, but they do carry you. You stumble through the cave, dragging your sheets with you, intent on washing them so they can dry during the day. You will not make Halsin clean up your mess again. He did enough last night.

When you reach the outside with trembling legs, Halsin is nowhere to be seen, though you find a note at your boulder:

I am sorry if I have not returned and you must find me gone. I did not intend to leave you alone, but you looked so peaceful I did not want to wake you. I am on a hunt - I shall be back before you know it, little flower.

You grumble, but fold the note up neatly to put it in your pocket.

Little flower. He makes you smile even in his absence.

The few steps to the river seem like an eternity, but you need to wash the sweat off of yourself and your sheets. In the shallows, you can sit, though the water is ice cold and even less comfortable than it was in the little pool Halsin once made for you. However, the feeling helps you wake up, and as you are hanging your sheets from the tree branches, hurrying to rest your burning legs, you spot the bear on his way back towards your little camp.

Your heart beats faster at the sight of him: Halsin is back. You knew he would not leave you alone for long - you wondered that he left at all. Then again, you have seen the amount of food the man eats, so maybe it was hunger that drove him out of the cave.

The bear lumbers towards you, bumping your hand with his snout.

“Hey there,” you smile. Sometimes, you find it hard to connect the animal and the man, even though rationally, you know they are the same. But the bear makes it so much easier to touch him, to not feel like you are asking for too much when you let your fingers glide through his fur. He nuzzles against you so hard you nearly topple over and you laugh.

“Oy! Careful there, I’m still not too well up on my legs.” You smile to soften the blow of your words, then point towards the little hollow in the meadow where you usually sit. “Will you come lay with me? I could use the warmth after my bath.”

The bear snuffles and nods his head. You hold onto him, using his sturdy form as a crutch as you wrap yourself up in a clean sheet and make your way over to your usual spot. There are some leftovers from last night to snack on, and Halsin has left you a scroll or two with some stories about the forest. You grow curiouser and curiouser how he has accumulated all that knowledge. You know he is a druid, but he seems to know so much about the forest and all its inhabitants that you want to learn more as well.

The bear curls up next to you, sniffling and groaning quietly as he does. You carefully lean back against him, buried in a living blanket of fur and warmth. He is so comfortable, his breath quiet and steady, his belly expanding against you whenever he inhales.

You have some food while you read, but soon, your eyelids grow heavy and you close your eyes. Just for a moment, you tell yourself. You will just rest for a moment.

Sleep has you faster than a net catches a fish.

When you wake up, nothing has changed apart from the light - it has become the light of a late afternoon, the sun already low in the sky. You stretch slowly, hearing your joints crack with the movement. The bear next to you huffs and shifts. You turn around to face him, raising a brow.

“Seems we’re both having quite the lazy day, aren’t we?” You chuckle to yourself. Your stomach is growling, though, and as much as you wish you could curl up against the bear again, you should probably cook something. When you tell this to Halsin, the bear rises to his feet and trods over to the boulder where Halsin’s clothes are strewn about.

The familiar golden shimmer rises from his fur, and a moment later, Halsin in his human form regards you with warm brown eyes.

“I’ll help you,” he says.

*****

It becomes part of your ritual after that: You, curling up against the bear whenever you grow tired and he is there. Every day, Halsin seems to get more comfortable changing shape around you, and you are happy about it. The bear, oddly enough, is an excellent listener. Telling him things feels easier than telling them to another person, even though you think to yourself that telling Halsin things is already easier than telling anyone else.

Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t speak, or the comfort of being able to touch him without implications. Still, your heart beats faster at any shape Halsin is in, and you slowly come to realise that it’s not only lust that moves your heart. You like him. You care about him - a lot more than you realised.

Sometimes, as long as the nights are still warm enough, you sleep under the stars, curled up in the bear’s warmth, talking about the vastness of the universe or the flavour of the berries you had that day. Sometimes, Halsin the man sleeps in your bed, thick arms wrapped around your body which always seems so tiny in his embrace. He always makes you feel so safe, and he never asks for anything more. He just crawls into bed with you and opens his arms, and you slot against him like you were created to fill that space.

The only time you are ever really apart is when Halsin the bear goes hunting. Sometimes he comes home with his snout covered in blood, but you don’t mind. That is as much part of him as your violence is part of you, and you know he never kills without reason. The forest is about balance, and Halsin would never disrupt that. He starts bringing you wild game to cook and brine. Under his guidance, you learn more and more about the forest and its plants and creatures.

The leaves are almost turning when you are finally fully healed.

You never talk about it - not really. One day, Halsin just takes the bandages off and puts no new ones on. One day, you can make it all the way across the meadow by yourself, and then you venture into the forest, and beyond the cave; in the beginning always with the man or the bear by your side, and after some time, you go on your own, picking berries and mushrooms while Halsin hunts. And you never talk about leaving.

It is a quiet and peaceful and happy life. You have become closer than you ever thought you would, but still, he has never indicated that he wants anything more - nothing, aside from the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you. You are not even sure him sleeping in your bed is any indication that he likes you… in that way. That his affections are of the same kind as your own.

You try to be quiet in your love for him, afraid of disrupting the harmony, afraid he might leave if this is not what he wants anymore. You don’t press too close, you don’t bat your lashes, you don’t make any jokes, afraid it might all get too much. The thought of losing Halsin is more than you can stand.

One day, you are laying in the tall grass next to each other, your fingers interlaced as you look up at the clouds.

“That one looks like a bear,” you say, squinting at a particularly round accumulation of clouds and pointing.

“Do you say that to tease me?” Halsin laughs. “Have I become so fat and lazy in your presence, my love?”

You frown, sitting up on your elbows, unhappy that your silly joke could have made him think that way about himself.

“You are neither of those things, Halsin. You are perfect.”

“Perfect…” he muses. “It is not in nature to be perfect, and yet all of nature is.”

You watch him, the softness of his profile, the tree trunks of his arms, the lines all of his sunshine smiles have left on his face. And before you can overthink it, you roll over and clamber into his lap.

Halsin’s eyes are full of surprise, but his hands grab your hips immediately, slotting right into place as if he has been waiting for centuries to touch you. You look down at him, anxiety and excitement mixing in your belly.

Halsin looks back, his eyes warm and soft and hungry, mirroring your own.

You lean forward, tentative and slow, giving him time to stop you, to pull away, to lift you off his lap as if you were a feather. But instead, Halsin straightens up, his lips meeting yours in a sweet relief of tension.

You close your eyes, your hands burying in his hair, his fingers digging into your hips. The kiss is sweet, but there is something simmering just beneath the surface - a hunger that is hard to describe but which consumes you whole. Your lips are swollen when you break apart, and your heartbeat is fast in your throat.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for so long,” you croak out, your hands fluttering nervously to his shoulders, his jaw, his chest. Halsin smiles, and it’s the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

“If I had known, I would have encouraged you more.” His eyes roam your body unabashedly, and heat rises to your cheeks. “All these times I slept in your bed, I could have done so much more to help you… relax.”

You choke on your own tongue, surprised by how forward he suddenly is.

“I-” you need a moment to make your brain function again. “I’m sure we will find some time for that still, my love.”

“Mhhm, I hope so.” Halsin’s fingers stroke your cheek. “I was so focused on making sure you would feel better- I should have noticed- I should have told you that this was always an option.”

“Always?” Your brain is spinning and you think you may have lost control of your limbs. Halsin’s eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Always, little flower. There is nothing under the sun that is not beautiful, and you may be the most beautiful of all of nature’s creations I have ever witnessed.”

You have never fancied yourself a particularly romantic kind of girl, but his words make your heart flutter and your breath hitch. Halsin’s eyes flash golden and he grimaces, his hands tightening on you for just the fraction of a second. The shimmer reminds you of something, something that seems so long ago now.

“The way your eyes just- that time in the pool, when you made a bath just for me-”

“I wanted you,” Halsin interrupts you. “I wanted you with every fibre of my being, but you had never given any indication that you had thought about me that way. I was worried I might scare you away if I was too forward- that you would not feel comfortable in my presence anymore. You were not well back then, and I… I could not risk losing control. The bear would have destroyed you.”

“The bear-” your mouth hangs open at the implication of his words. “Do you mean- I-”

“I told you, it’s hard to tame the beast when blood runs hot.” Halsin’s eyes are golden again in the light of the sinking sun. “Being around you so much has made things easier in some senses, and harder in others. I only want what you want, be it man or bear.”

“Or both,” you whisper. His eyes widen just a fraction, but that is enough. You kiss him again, with all the desperation, all the desire and yearning you have kept inside for the past few months. The groan that escapes him is animalistic, and before you know it, Halsin has picked you up and risen from the ground.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you, your back slamming against stone when he presses up against the entrance of the cave.

“Do you know what you are saying, my heart?” Halsin’s voice is hoarse. His breath is hot on your face and you shiver at the look in his eyes - pure desire that sparks liquid fire in your belly.

You tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, lost in the feeling of his strong, warm body against yours, trying to somehow get even closer, to feel even more of him.

“I do,” you confirm quietly. “Though for tonight… maybe I’ll stick with you in this form.”

Halsin laughs, the sound rising into the air like smoke from a campfire.

“A wise decision, little flower.” His mouth descends onto you again in a swift motion. “We’ll have to make sure I fit as it is.”

⋆༻༺⋆༺༻⋆••●••⋆༺༻⋆༻༺ ⋆

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I am once again in tears over him, come and be soft with me my loves. If you would like to be added to my taglist, follow this link please.

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @rescuethewretched @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker

#bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #halsin #halsin bg3 #halsin x reader #halsin x you #big love ahead series #gala writes

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yan-lorkai · 7 days

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Hi Lorkai! I know you have so many requests and you're busy, so it's okay if you'll ignore this one. But it would really mean the world to me if you made this one for me, since i'm going through really hard time in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart 🙏🏻🥺❤️

Can you please write about Alucard being very protective and caring for his reader!Darling, who's been suffering from mental abuse from her alchoholic father for so many years? Sometimes this trauma comes back, leaving the reader a sobbing, trembling mess, unable to catch a breath.

I have always seen Alucard as my source of comfort and understanding, and as we have seen in Hellsing Ultimate, even he sheds tears when his traumatic past haunts him in his nightmares. That's why I like to imagine he would treat his beloved reader with great care and gentleness, trying to do everything in his power to keep his Darling safe and reassured that he'll always be there for her. He doesn't want the reader to suffer alone the way he did.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡A/N: Hi, darling. I'm truly sorry to hear that you're going through such a hard time right now and I want you to know that I'm here for you if you want to talk and vent. I'll hope that this can help you, even if only a little. I'm also sending you lots of strength and positivity! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

You clutched your chest, feeling your lungs rise and fall at a frantic pace, a rhythm you couldn't control no matter how hard you tried. Every breath you took felt like fire, scorching your lungs, your throat and your eyes. You knew you needed to breathe, to calm down, but you couldn't remember how. Was this a panic attack? Or was it a heart attack?

Were you dying? Were the screams still echoing through the hallway? Or this was only a nightmare?

You wanted to scream, to let the tears fall, but everything felt frozen. Reality seemed to blur and warp, too real and yet not real enough. The burning sensation intensified, consuming you, threatening to overwhelm you entirely. It felt like the world was closing in, trying to crush you, leaving you powerless and desperate.

If you could find the words, that's how you'd describe the sensation - a brutal, unyielding force.

A noise beside you snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, and you suddenly sensed his presence. Your beloved's presence, dark and oppressive yet strangely comforting, surrounded by shadows and having a startled expression on his face. You turned towards him, desperate, searching for the air that escaped you, searching for the comfort only he could give you.

The comfort he always gave you. Always present to soothe your fears and worries, always there to wipe your tear and hold you for as long as you need. Nothing, not even Integra could tear you two apart if you were having a bad time.

Alucard spent years dealing with his problems, completely alone. He forgot how the feeling is but he still remember the anguish, how draining it was, how difficult. There was no way he would let you deal with this alone.

"Darling, you're exhaling too much. Focus on my voice." Tears streamed down your cheeks, and he wiped them away with his gloveless fingers. His figure wavered before you, but his presence was unmistakable, his familiar cologne grounding you. "Breathe in, through your nose, little one."

Your eyes widened as the world seemed to crash down on your exhausted mind. You felt trapped in darkness, fumbling blindly for the light, searching for cracks on the walls and beneath doors. Searching for a way to stop the voices and the screams, wincing when Alucard's hands rested gently on your shoulders.

Stumbling through the tunnel's darkness, you saw no light, no end, no switch to bring relief. No tool to fix what was broken. Cold sweat clinged to your skin as you struggled to call for him.

His touch cool and steady, he knelt before you while he watched you. Watched pain and shame painting your face, how you bit your lips till they were bruised and bloody, eyelashes wet from your tears. "Listen to me," Alucard repeated softly, his voice a lifeline in the chaos. "Breathe in, through your nose, slowly."

You tried to follow his instructions, drawing in a shaky breath through your nose. The air felt thick, like it was fighting you, but you persisted, clinging to his voice, clinging to him as if without him beside you, you'd die. Alucard's presence was a safe haven, a stark contrast to the darkness that had you snared.

"Good," He murmured, his voice soothing. His hands were twiching, wanting to hold you but hesitant to do so. You needed space to breath and smothering you on his chest wouldn't do you any good. "Now hold it for a moment."

You held your breath, feeling your heart race as you struggled to maintain control. Alucard's fingers traced small, comforting circles on your back, trying to keep you on the present moment and not letting you sink back into your nightmare where you saw your drunk father pacing around the kitchen, slamming everything on the counter and screaming.

This was over, this was the past and here is the now, the place where you didn't have to fear.

"Now, let it out slowly, through your mouth." He whispered.

You exhaled, your breath trembling, but the burning began to ease just a little. Alucard's eyes, crimson and intense, never left yours. "Again," He urged gently, holding your hands tenderly.

You repeated the process, inhaling deeply, holding it then exhaling slowly. It was difficult and hard, relapsing every few seconds whenever your conscious remind you what your father used to scream. Yet each breath brought a tiny bit of relief, the panic slowly losing its grip though it's tendrils were still curled around your throat, holding it. Alucard's presence anchored you, his shadows swimming around you and all over you, like a giant blanket, enveloping you.

"That's it," He whispered, his voice like a soothing balm. "Keep going. You're doing well."

With each breath, the burning in your chest and throat began to subside. The world started to come back into focus, the overwhelming blur receding.

"You're safe, darling." It was true. With him, you were always safe. Always loved and protected. And you never knew fear from the day you started calling him yours. Your lover, your adorable vampire. "I'm here with you."

You nodded weakly, the tears still streaming down your face, but now because of the relief you felt. Alucard's words, his presence and his unwavering support slowly pulled you back from the edge. Like he did once, like he promised to do again and again, no matter how many time he need to.

After a few more breaths, the darkness wasn't completely gone but it was tolerable. You looked up at Alucard, exhaustion evident in your eyes as you let your head fall into his neck.

"Thank you," You whispered, your voice hoarse. Tired.

Alucard gave you a small, reassuring smile. "You're never alone, darling. Nothing can hurt, everything is fine now. You can rest now."

He gently pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you in a protective hold that felt like a fortress protecting you against the chaos within and around you. His embrace was firm, tender, and the warmth of his body seeped into yours.

You let yourself sink deeper into his arms, feeling the remnants of fear and panic gradually receding. The sensations that had overwhelmed you - burning lungs, blurring vision, the oppressive weight of dread - began to dissolve in the cocoon of his hug. The profound sense of safety and comfort he provided overshadowed everything else.

The world that had seemed so overwhelming and distorted slowly began to right itself. Colors sharpened, sounds became clearer, and the crushing weight on your chest lifted, replaced by the gentle pressure of your heart beating and Alucard humming slowly.

And for now, that was enough.

It was enough to be in his arms. It was enough when he pulled you to lie down again and arranged the covers around you. And it was enough when he let a little kiss on your temple, so reverent, so warm. For now, your heart was buzzing with warm feelings, your worries forgotten while you stared at his very beautiful red eyes.

#yandere hellsing #yandere hellsing ultimate #yandere alucard #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard x y/n #hellsing ultimate alucard #hellsing alucard #yandere hellsing alucard #hellsing alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x reader #tw yandere #lorkai imagine

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wardenparker · 2 years

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Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 5

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems. ✨ Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Explicit! Word Count: 15k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Masturbation (m and f), accidental exhibitionism, nudity, hair pulling, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, biting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Confessions! And a little something at the end that I won’t spoil 👀✨ Summary: A heavy storm locks you inside the cabin with Pero, but there is no shortage of pleasurable ways with which you can pass the time. Notes: Thanks to everyone for your kind words last week, I’m feeling much better and powering ahead in life and in creativity. Remember how we said last chapter that it was about the yearning and the tension? Well, the wait did *not* last long!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Finding sleep is difficult with so much on your mind, but the old trick of basically lying still with your eyes closed and pretending to be asleep until you actually get there usually works for you, so you've been lying in bed under two blankets and the new hide trying desperately to fall asleep for what is probably an hour by now. It's much colder tonight than it has been and the snow is coming in sheets outside. The wind whips but doesn't come through the cracks in the window quite as much since Pero stuffed the open spaces with moss last week, but even thinking his name makes you wish you could just fall asleep already. He's barely four feet away in front of the fire and he's still all you can think about. If only you could just drift off...

You have been quiet for a long time, surely you must be asleep. Pero has lain quietly, willing you to sleep so he can take care of the incredible need he has. Since the conversations he had earlier, all he can think about is you – under him, taking him. Quietly, he reaches under the blankets you provided and unlaces his breaches and pulling his throbbing cock out, a small groan escaping his lips.

You barely manage to keep your eyes from popping open when you hear it, instead squeezing them even more tightly shut. That sound is unmistakable, but you can't believe you're hearing it in this space. Is he...? You swallow the lump in your throat and stay silent as the grave so as not to let him know that you're awake. Whatever does or does not happen between you, you don't need the awkwardness of him finding out that you have heard him.

He wants it wetter, imagining your cunt around his cock. you are still quiet and so he lets go of his cock, reach up so he can spit in his hand. Hissing when he wraps his hand around his cock again, he starts stroking himself a bit more eagerly.

Hearing him spit in his hand nearly makes you groan. Honest desire is about the sexiest thing in the world and the slick sound of his hand around his cock is going straight to your cunt as you listen with your eyes tightly closed.

It the low light of the night, the embers barely making a shadow over the walls. Soon he will have to build it back up, but for now, in the relative darkness – he whispers your name. Not Sassenach, the one you had murmured to him only once before. The one he had tucked into his heart and committed to memory the moment he discovered it was your scar that he bore. He whispers it to the dark as he works his hand up and down his length.

Did he just? Your eyes snap open but thankfully you’re facing away - facing the wall to be precise - and he can’t see your face. He’s thinking about you while he jerks off? Holy fucking shit…

He continues to work himself, thinking about the things that both drive him crazy and delights him about you. Which seems to be every damn thing that you do. Imagining using his mouth on you like you had talked about and hearing you cry out his name in your sweet voice... Pero groans your name again, closing his eyes.

The sounds he makes. God you could die a happy, horny woman in this moment. Instead of dying, though, you mentally throw up your hands and allow yourself to revel in it – snaking your own hand silently down to your now aching pussy. Dipping your fingertips in your dripping hole gets them plenty slick enough to rub your clit in time with the sound of his self-pleasure.

It's wrong, so very wrong. To be jerking off on your floor while he murmurs your name after you have given him a place to stay. Offered him a life that he still couldn't imagine. Still he cannot stop, rocking his hips up into his hand, hisses as he tightens his grip.

Not a sound comes from your bed even as your mouth hangs open, fingers rubbing your clit almost feverishly as he ramps up his own efforts on himself. There isn’t a hint of guilt, since you know he’s thinking of you, but there is a nagging and intense curiosity. You’re desperate to know what he feels like now that you know how he sounds.

“Mierda.” He grunts quietly, the pressure building, and he feels way that his balls are pulling up tight to his body. The scrap of a cloth he had snatched from your sewing basket is what he uses, covering his cock while he spurts ropes of cum into it. Moaning quietly through gritted teeth.

Listening to him moan and grunt through his end is gorgeous. It makes your whole body clench in the best way and just a second later your own orgasm is heralded by a tightness and tingling in your core right before the floodgates open. The blood in your ears is pounding so hard that you don’t hear the way you choke on your breath slightly – the only sound to slip past your lips.

Pero freezes, his ears straining to hear any other sounds from your bed. Praying to God that you have not woken up and heard him.

Sleep is nearly instantaneous and so wonderfully sweet that you barely pull your fingers from between your thighs before drifting off. All you can hope is that your dreams will be more of the same.

The soft snore that comes from you makes him relax. Cleaning himself up quickly, he tucks his cock as and crawls over to the wood to put more on the coals. The temperature has dropped and still plunging lower, he wants to make sure you are warm.

******

You wake up before he does in the morning, sneaking around to stoke the fire against the dip the temperature took last night and getting the morning pot of porridge on the fire before going into your stores to find the last of the fresh rosemary that has not quite dried yet. The strong scent will mask the smell of cum on your fingers until you can have a proper bath and wash everything away.

He groans quietly, burrowed into his blanket and curled in on himself. It had gotten cold last night, but he didn’t want to burn too much wood, so he had just toughed it out.

Feeling a little too affectionately toward him to tease this morning, you let Pero wake in his own time. When he is finally starting to sit up breakfast is almost ready, and you have been sitting and petting Binx since almost the second you got dressed. The storm is still raging – there will be no walks or leisure outside at all today.

“Mierda.” Pero hisses with a shiver as he climbs to his feet and moves towards the fire. “It has gotten cold.” He huffs.

“We have nothing to do but stay inside today,” you tell him, motioning toward the cottage’s few windows. “The snow is fierce and heavy.”

“That is good for us.” He insists. “We will melt the snow for the bath. And since there is nothing to do, you can linger as long as you like.”

“You could have one too, if you wanted.” The part of you that touched yourself to the sounds of his self-pleasure wants to offer to share the bath, or maybe throw your legs open in the water and let him watch how you touch yourself. Anything to find out if last night was sincere or just a fluke.

"I will bathe after you do." It's practical, using the same water. And it's not intimate, at least it wasn't before now. He has had to share water in public bath houses many times. Right now, though, even if he had jerked off just hours ago before he slept, his cock twitches at the thought of your naked body soft and wet.

“Good then.” What else is there really to say? You have a near-perfect visual in your head for how he will look in the bath since you stripped and washed him while he was sick. You may not remember the exact shade of golden skin that lies under his clothing, but you certainly remember how thick his cock is.

The tension that was there yesterday is still hanging in the air. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but it’s there. Heavy and thick. He groans again, stretching the sleep away from his limbs as he tries to tell himself that he’s imagining things.

Don’t react to that sound, you tell yourself sternly, but end up biting your lip despite yourself. Today is going to be just impossible – all because he doesn’t know that you want to drag him into your bed and show him exactly how good things can be.

Pero relaxes slightly and hums. “As the snow builds, the cottage will be more insulated.” He offers, shivering slightly. “But the next two days are going to be bitterly cold.”

“We will do what we must.” The fleeting thought of having him in your bed crashes through your mind again, but you tamp it down as best as you can. “Snow can be made into hot drinks as much as we need.”

“It will be made into your bath.” He reminds you. “I will collect it to get to the horse and your chicken.”

“I will be a much better smelling companion in a little while’s time,” you joke, trying to stop your mind from immediately making every single thing he says into something suggestive. The thought of washing your hair, though? That does make you sigh happily.

“You are always sweet smelling.” Pero blurts out before he can even think to stop himself. The scent of sweet herbs clings to you as well as something he can’t quite identify. It had driven him crazy over the weeks and he wants to burrow his nose against your skin and drink your scent in until it’s etched into his memory.

“You flatter me.” And because of that you really just can’t make goddamn eye contact with him this morning. It’s not knowing that he jerked off thinking about you that makes you shy, of course not. It’s the same damn compliment you would get for using literally any Bath & Body Works product.

“I tell the truth.” He huffs, rolling his eyes slightly. “Used to smelling sweaty men and horse shit.” He grins. “You smell like flowers and something spicy.”

“The truth can still be flattery.” You point out, trying not to look too pleased. The soap blend you use is one that you made yourself to avoid the horrible lye soaps of the time. “Come…we should break our fast.”

Nodding, he follows you over to the table and sits down. He watches when you lean over to spoon up the porridge. "You should tie your hair back." He murmurs. "It will be easier for you."

“I—” Keeping your hair over your eye has been habit the entire time he has been with you, even while you wore the mask. The idea of protecting him from being forced to look at your shared scar had dug into your mind very deeply. “I will wear the mask, then,” you murmur, setting the pot down on the table.

"Why?" He doesn't know why you are hiding from him, but he knows that is what you are doing. Reaching out when you go to move away, he captures your hand gently and tugs you back. "Why do you hide yourself?"

Claiming that you aren’t would be a fairly useless lie, and you end up sighing quietly. “It is bad enough that I have forced you to live with this,” you say finally, motioning to your useless eye and the scar across it. “I would not force you to look on it day and night.”

Pero scoffs, rolling his eyes and tugging on your hand again to have you look at him as he stands. Reaching up, he brushes your hair back and his thumb traces the bottom of the scar gently, feeling the mottled skin that is echoed on his own face. "Mirar a una mujer hermosa no es una dificultad." Looking at a beautiful woman is not a difficulty He murmurs in his own tongue. "It is a mark of courage and will to survive."

You really could just fucking break down and cry right there, but yesterday was full of too many tears and he didn’t seem to react well to them, so you hang on to composure with all of your might despite the riotous way your heart is beating. A small nod against his hand is the best gesture you can offer that doesn’t seem overactive, but it’s also not big enough. Not enough to say thank you for the permission to just exist that he has given you which you never give yourself. For something ‘big enough’, your body seems to act all on its own – leaning forward to press a kiss to his marred cheek before you can stop yourself.

For a man who has lived through what he has, seen what he has, he's stunned. Rooted to the spot right where he stands by a simple kiss. Especially since he has had much more involved ones with you. This one is one of thanks, for what he doesn't know, but it makes him burn. He stands there for a long moment before he turns and moves over to the table where he had been working on the hides, picking up a leather string to give to you. To tie your hair back. "Show your strength proudly, hermosa."

******

The morning moves easily after that. The tension between you doesn’t rise but it never dissipates, smiles and flirtatious remarks punctuating your time together instead of loaded sexual comments. He calls you hermosa twice more and you swear you could melt, feeling like you’ve hit schoolgirl crush levels of giddiness without trying.

When Pero opens the door, the snow is knee high. Making him click his tongue and huff as he grabs the buckets you have. It will be difficult to break the path between the cottage and the barn, but it is better to do it now than when the snow is higher. "Get your kettle ready.” He warns as he looks over his shoulder.

“We can fill the cauldron as well.” The suggestion almost makes you grin. Even after years, you still love the aesthetic of brewing in a cauldron. “You can see your bruja at work.”

He huffs and shakes his head. "If you can turn water into wine, I will get on my knees for you." He teases as he closes the door.

“Guess I should try.” Grinning at the closed door, you shake your head as you move around the cottage. “It might be worth it.”

Bucket after bucket is brought back into the cottage as he works. Gathering several at a time before he opens the door, knowing that every time he is letting more cold into the room. Although the fire is roaring, he does not wish for you to be more uncomfortable than you need to be, finding the buckets empty when he goes to trade them as you start to fill your kettle and cauldron with the quickly melting snow.

The bathtub is much larger than it looks, you find quickly. Every cauldron of water that heats to steaming is poured in so that the great, heavy pot can be refilled with snow, and you find yourself longing for a bubble bath with a glass of scotch and a romance novel before the thing is half full. It will feel like heaven to be clean again – truly clean – and you’re so grateful that he was able to catch that second deer. To trade it for something as luxurious as a bathtub is extravagant, but fuck is it going to feel good. Some dried flower buds go in, perfuming the water with scents that would not taste good but smell wonderful, and you sigh happily. This might be the first snowstorm you’ve enjoyed in years.

Pero pants, working in the snow as he finally reaches the barn. He is sweating, can feel the heat warm his body even as the extremities are colder. He will check on the animals and gather more wood to bring inside along with the snow. Eager to sit in a hot bath with the fire roaring and even more, he would like to catch a glimpse of you at your bath.

******

It’s almost another hour before Pero returns, and you had decided that undressing and getting into the bath before he returned would be gentler to both of you than having to shield him from a striptease inside the small cottage. The clean set of clothes from your trunk is laid out in the edge of your bed and Binx is snoozing away in the spot of winter sun illuminating your worktable, making the whole place quite tranquil when he opens the door one last time to come back inside for good.

Bare shoulders are the first thing that he sees when he walks into the cottage, immediately making his eyes widen before he realizes he should look away. That he should give you privacy. It makes him turn his back slowly, dragging his gaze away as he slides the bar back down over the door. While he did not worry about man bursting in, the wind could blow the door open and send icy snow inside, so it was best to have it barricaded.

“How are the animals?” Treating it as conversationally as if you were sitting doing any random chore, you take the wash rag – a new one, you couldn’t find your old one with your sewing things – from the side of the tub and begin to wash your legs under the water.

"They are fine, I broke the ice on the water trough and made sure there was plenty of hay." He chuckles. "Your hen was sitting on the horse's back." He moves towards the bedding that had been moved so the tub could sit in the warmest spot.

“Karen is fond of softness and warmth.” It’s the dumbest possible name for a hen, but the plume on the bird’s head had reminded you of the infamous Karen haircut and it made you laugh to scold the creature when she clucked at you as if you could possibly have a manager. “I will not take much longer. And there is a new cauldron of snow heating to make your bath hot.”

"Take your time." Pero insists. "I am not in a rush. Linger and enjoy it." He can hear the splashing and imagines your wet form, closing his eyes slightly as he tries to determine what your tits would look like bare. "It is a long day and we have all of it."

“Some of the salted venison is in a bowl of snow to become dinner tonight,” you tell him, still going about washing yourself fairly efficiently despite being told to take your time. “I thought to roast it in a way you might not have eaten before. You may like it, since you like spice.” It isn’t as though you’re trying to seduce him with a romantic meal – something that seems both unnecessary and a little odd under the circumstances – but you wanted to do something nice for him since he worked hard to get you this tub. “A year ago a merchant from Calabria came through with foods from his homeland and he had spicy peppers with him, so I bought as many as I possibly could. There are still a few left.”

Pero grunts and practically licks his lips at the prospect of a spicy meal. "I am sure it will be warming." He has to tell himself not to look over his shoulder at you, sitting in the tub and scrubbing at your skin. "We will warm some ale to go with it."

“Actually…” you glance over your own shoulder only to see the very deliberate way he is facing away from you with tight shoulders, like he’s having to force himself to behave. You nearly snicker, but keep it to yourself. “And you ever had truly cold ale? I know it will not fight the cold, but it is delicious.”

"I have not." He frowns slightly at the idea of cold ale. "It would be better when it is hot outside, no?"

“Yes.” A cold beer at a concert even during a Florida summer was a thing of beauty and it makes you sigh wistfully. “But sometimes just having something delicious is enough.”

"Then I will put the ale outside in the snow." You seem to want it, and he is finding that it is hard to deny you things that you want. He moves over to take the small cask off the table under the window to do just that.

“Thank you for indulging me.” It’s bitter cold for just a moment while he nestles the ale in a snowbank but he is back again in no time and the door is barred once more.

He chuckles quietly, keeping his dirty thoughts to himself about how else he could indulge you. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the fire as he creeps closer to it in order to throw some more logs on the fire and build back up the warmth for you.

“Be careful,” you bite back a giggle seeing how aggressively he is not looking anywhere near you. “One of us has already lost half their sight. You should not sacrifice yours too.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes, hearing your teasing tone. "Would you rather I stare?" He asks, as he stokes the fire and feeds it. "Make you uncomfortable?"

“I…” It’s definitely not going to make you uncomfortable. Horny, maybe. But not uncomfortable. “You are allowed to look at me, Pero.” You’re probably digging your libido’s grave, but so be it. After last night, you’re not about to deny him.

"When you are dressed." He huffs, trying not to turn his head to look at you. "Not while you are in your bath and vulnerable."

The smile that brings to your lips is small and shy – not disappointed at all. More like…impressed. “There is more than one way to be a good man, cariño. I will remind you of this next time you claim to be otherwise.”

His shoulders round slightly, flustered at the praise. And especially the endearment. “You are my soulmate.” He grunts after a moment, as if it explains all.

“Yes.” You hum, dipping your head back into the water to speak your hair. “Thank goodness.”

“You—” His head whips around to face you and catches an eyeful of your tits pushed high as you wet your hair. “Mierda.” He hisses and looks quickly back at the fire. “You are pleased I am your soulmate?” He asks, completely puzzled to why you would be thankful that you are soulmates.

“Pero…” You giggle a little at his reaction, finding it just fully amusing that he’s being so virtuous when last night he was moaning your name. “I trusted you enough to tell you my story after only a few days. And then I asked you to come back with me. I would not have done that if I—” If I didn’t have feelings for you. “If I did not think so well of you.”

He feels guilty. Guilty that he had tugged on his cock and whispered your name in the dark. Guilty that he cannot help the way his cock twitches and hardens while you are bathing, bathing. It should not make him burn as badly as it does. Gulping, he nods, trying to find the words to respond to that. "I think of you— well." He manages.

The part of you that is truly a ball buster wants to tell him that you know exactly how well, but that would only spoil the moment. “I am glad.” Is what you tell him instead, and simply reach for your soap to wash your hair.

The silence isn't heavy, but it falls between the two of you. The only sounds the very intimate ones of your bath. Pero bites his lip, hot from the fire and from the heat of his attraction but he does not move a fraction of an inch away from the small groans you give as you lather your hair.

The water is nearly cold by the time you reach over the side of the bath for the length of cloth you use as a towel. Your fingers are pruned and you’ve scrubbed every inch of your skin, giving you the most satisfying clean you’ve felt in…years, probably. “I’m getting out.” You tell him, wondering if he’ll continue to avert his eyes, and figuring he deserves the respect of a warning if he is trying to be respectful.

"Okay." Pero croaks out, biting his lip as he sees you stand out of the corner of his eye. Why had he thought he could be in the same cottage as you while you bathe? He huffs and tries to get a grip on himself, feeling his cock hardening.

It isn’t difficult to maneuver around him, wrapping yourself up in your towel and drying off just enough that you won’t soak through your chemise when you pull it over your head. Years of changing in large tents at summer camp or in gym locker rooms has helped you know how to do this quickly and easily, but that doesn’t mean you don’t thoroughly enjoy the way he’s struggling with his thread of self-control as you tie yourself into your stockings and stays, and then pull on the woolen tunic dress that keeps you properly clothed. You know you’ll be struggling just as hard once he’s the one who is naked, but for now it’s a nice little boost to your ego to know he wants you.

Shuffling to his feet, Pero can't hide the tent in his breeches as he moves to draw out a few buckets of water to reheat and add the water that is still in the cauldron to heat the bath back up. Giving him something to do that isn't staring at you.

“Take your time and enjoy.” His one spare set of clothes that had been protected in his saddle bags is out and ready for him and you set yourself down at your worktable to begin preparing supper. “As you say, we have plenty of time.”

He knows that, but he still spends more time heating up water than he needs to. Trying to give his body a chance to calm down but like the traitorous thing that it is, it does not. His cock strains against his breeches still when the steam curls up from the tub and it is probably hotter than he should have made it. Leaving him no option but to start stripping down.

You should be fine. The man was naked and unconscious for you-can’t-remember how long when he came to you and you stripped and washed him. You should be fine. But he was ill then, racked with it, and despite thinking he was well built you had forced yourself to ignore the rest. Since then? Since then you have been fully pressed against that body, and despite there having been clothing in the way those times you had imagined so much from it. The strength and breadth of him is undeniable — and puts him squarely in the category of full fucking three course meal as far as your attraction goes. So you did not need to accidentally glance up from your knife right as he was starting to unlace his breeches. No. No you definitely didn’t need the extra focus that it brought to the tented fabric. Jesus Christ he’s going to be the death of you, you think as you try not to squirm.

Pero has no issue with his nudity, he is not a prudish man. However, he is embarrassed that he is fully hard and unable to make it soften as he pulls his breeches down and steps out of them. His cock bobs as he moves, tenting his loose linen shirt before he is pulling it over his head to drop down onto the other clothes.

He was polite and respectful and didn’t leer, and you know you shouldn’t either. You know you shouldn’t. But the one tiny glimpse you get of Pero getting into the bath is unintentionally perfectly timed to give you a glimpse of his fully hard cock and you genuinely might just melt into the floor. It’s an utter miracle that you don’t make a sound, but you immediately avert your eye back to the mushrooms you were cutting. Do not imagine riding him in that tub. Do not do it…

Pero groans and hisses as he lowers himself into the tub, having to cup his cock and balls to keep from settling into the hot water too quickly for the sensitive flesh. Groaning again when he gets settled and can lean back in the hot water to relax. The perfumed water smells like you and it doesn't help the state of his aching cock.

“Bueno?” You have to clear your throat slightly, but the question comes out evenly enough.

"Bueno." Pero rasps out, leaning his head back to hang between his shoulder blades as his arms perch on the sides of the tub.

“It is a luxury.” From where you are sitting, all you can see is what is above the rim of the tub and you smile softly at his blissful expression. “But one we have now, thanks to you.”

"Worth giving up the meat and hide." He groans, feeling his muscles relax and his eyes close as he soaks.

"It will be good for you." With all the physical labor necessary in this time, a hot bath to let the tension out of his muscles is a very good thing from time to time. "Every time it snows, we will celebrate with a bath."

He chuckles and rolls his head over to look at the white out window. "We will stay very clean this winter I think." He jokes, settling a bit deeper in the water and groaning again. "Mierda."

"So much the better for us." You hum, returning to your work. "We will be the best smelling and cleanest outcasts the village has ever seen."

He huffs and shakes his head. "They are the ones that suffer from casting you aside, hermosa." Pero tells you, turning his head to look over at you at the table.

"I am grateful for the friendship of the few people that I care most about." Having Arwena be less afraid to come and see you has warmed your heart and made you miss Beth, seeing some undeniable similarities between the teenager and your best friend back home.

"You have friends back in your time?" He asks curiously. "People who will be missing your presence? Worrying about you?" He wants to know if you have a lover you left behind, but it is none of his business.

"Well, I can't say for sure what they're thinking or feeling, but...I think so." Laying down your knife again, you look at him curiously, trying to figure out what he's really asking. "I have a best friend. So close that I call her sister. A few friends at the place where I work. My family lives far away, but I try to see them once a year."

The idea of women living far from their parents without being wed is strange to him but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he watches as you carefully cut up the vegetables that you have in front of you. "My mother would have liked you." He murmurs. He smiles as he imagines his mother's reaction to having a soulmate like you.

"Oh?" Smiling curls the corners of your lips and you can feel your cheeks heat despite the chill outside. "My parents would like you, too."

He snorts and shakes his head. "No man likes the man his daughter sleeps with." He drolls, remembering the moaning of men in all the taverns he had visited, drowning their sorrows over their daughters leaving home.

"Then I guess you still have time before he'll hate you." You quip, shooting him a teasing smirk.

He flushes slightly, when he realizes how you took that comment. His cock twitching below the water and breaking the surface. "How much of a time difference is there between us?" He asks, suddenly needing to know.

"Um..." The question makes you cringe, not knowing how he will process it all. It is such a large difference. "I will not be born for almost one thousand years."

"Fuck." Pero blows out a breath and tries to imagine that amount of time. "So you obviously prefer older men." He grunts out.

The fit of giggles that pulls out of you is fully unexpected, but it's so very much a joke that Beth would make that you get a big extra laugh out of how little people have really changed over so much time. "I do, actually, but usually not this much older. I've made an exception for you."

"Why?" That is the question that has nagged at him. Eaten away at his thoughts. You are from a different time, a better time. Why would you choose him. "Is it because we wear the same marks?"

"Because—" His confusion definitely sticks a pin in your laughter, and you tilt your head at him slightly. "Because despite the two of us being so very far apart in time and space, we're still so similar." You tell him, when you can finally wrap your head around the thoughts you're trying to express. "We are stubborn, and passionate, and caring in similar ways. We have the same sense of humor and we love to tease each other. We fight but never end the day angry. We disagree but never let it stand in the way of sitting down to supper with smiles on our faces. You are such a good man but not in the ways you think you should be and so you won't ever believe it, just like I will never believe that I could deserve to be loved in the way I desperately want to be. Just because we were born a thousand years apart does not mean that we are any different as people. It...it might actually prove that people have always been the same in their hearts." You shake your head slightly, feeling the tightly wrapped hold he has on your heart as surely as you draw breath. "It is not because we wear the same marks, that I feel so strongly. But perhaps it helped me to admit it to myself more quickly than I would have otherwise."

"You deserve more than me." Pero admits, lifting a hand to silence you when you frown and open your mouth. "You do deserve more than what I can give you, that what any man can give you." He insists. "You are kind when you have every reason to be spiteful and cruel. You are giving when you should be selfish. You are strong and stubborn and yet you have a grace and goodness that cannot be taught, it is ingrained in your very soul." He takes a deep breath. "I am not worthy of a soulmate like you, but I am selfish enough that I will hold on tight to the gift I am given."

"I hope you do." Though neither of you are ready to say the words, the air around you hangs heavy with their meaning. For two people who were strangers bare weeks ago, you have come together so easily that you truly are certain that the universe was correct in putting you together. "Whatever ideas of our own worthiness we have, only you can determine what is right for you, and only I can know what is right for me. It just...is fortunate that we seem to agree with the universe's decision."

He smirks and shakes his head, lifting a brow as he looks around the cottage and then up at the roof. "It isn't like we have much of a choice right now." He teases. "You would have starved, and I would have frozen to death." He gives a shrug and sinks into the tub deeper. "Now you are warm and your belly is full and you can soak in a tub of hot water." He sends you a playful wink. "We apparently work well together."

"You would have been dead long before the first frost if not for me." Clicking your tongue at him is just playful teasing, but you do have to admit now that the idea of losing him tears at you in a way that you cannot articulate. "But I am glad that it was my cottage you happened upon and not anyone else's."

"I am too." He admits fondly, readily admitting that you had saved his life. "Even if you tried to poison me with that foul brew."

You snort, shaking your head at him as you pick your knife back up and go back to work. "Tease me about it more and I will make you drink it again," you warn, though the threat is entirely empty.

“Bleh.” Pero grimaces and shakes his head. “I will pass.” He picks up the soap that you had left by the tub and starts working up a lather with it to scrub his body clean.

Silence falls again, as he washes and you work, and before long you are setting a pot of venison, parsnips, mushrooms, carrots, and chilis on the fire to stew. It will be enough for multiple days, but this is something that you are certain he is going to like so you have put plenty of confidence into it. "That will take some hours," you tell him, trying not to peak at him in the bath. "But it will smell divine."

“What do you do while you wait?” He asks, sluicing off the soap from his skin and reaching for the bucket to wet his hair. “When you were alone before?”

"Talk to Binx. Perhaps sing to her. Sketch, if I have a spare surface." Paper is expensive in this time, but sometimes stretches of canvas or planks of wood have been surface for your mediocre artwork.

“What do you want to do now?” He asks, soaping up his hair to scrub clean. After doing that, he will trim the hair on his face again.

The honest answer to that is still ride him in the bath, but you shrug as innocently as you can and reach for the kettle of hot water which will make both of you hot cups of lavender tea. "I do not mind," you admit quietly. "We could sit in silence and I would still enjoy being next to you."

“It is going to be colder tonight.” Pero hums. Finding the weather to be a good topic is boring, but it’s safe. “We might have to stuff rags under the door.”

"We might." The suggestion sticks in your throat, wondering what he might think of you being so forward in a world where women are expected to submit and obey. At its core, though, you're really just thinking practically – even if it does have a few fringe benefits that you would both enjoy. "Or we could use your mattress to block the cold...and we could share the bed?"

Pero drops the soap into the water. “Shit.” He hisses, scrambling to find it. “That— that would be— uh, yes.” He nods, not wanting to sound like an idiot and failing miserably. “Warm. We would be warm.”

"More blankets and body heat." You nod, as though no other reason had ever crossed your mind. "And I know it will be more comfortable for you."

It sounds so innocent when he is anything but. “I should not.” He groans, dropping the soap that he finally locates into the side of the tub and slides down to dunk his hair. His still hard cock lifts out of the water as he moves. “I will be awake all night. Disturbing you.”

"What is the harm in lying awake sometimes?" Lifting your head to look at him is terrible timing, as the water moves and reveals the fact that he is still painfully aroused in the bath. Good lord he's thick... "I—it...doesn't..." your mind has suddenly gone totally blank and you shake your head like a wet dog. "It does no harm. The worst thing that happens is that we sleep late tomorrow."

Sitting up again, Pero groans, wondering why you cannot just let him freeze. The price of being cold is a small one to pay instead of admitting he would be rock hard all night and itching to sink into your body, burrow into your skin and just stay there. "I am a man..." he offers weakly.

“Yes…” You’re about to say that you don’t see the big deal since you’re both adults, but then it hits your thick skull that that is exactly why it is a big deal. You might not have a problem lusting over him because you know he reciprocates – but he is still worried about offending you. “If you would not be comfortable, I understand.”

He sighs, hating how you phrased it. Growling at the way you are pulling this out of him. “I ache.” He hisses, standing up in the water and revealing the heavy length of his hard cock jutting out from his groin, standing proud. His scowl is defiant and embarrassed. “How can I share a bed with you and not touch you? When this is my state just by being around you?”

Full-on confessional was not where you expected him to go in this moment, but you do appreciate his honesty first and foremost. It takes you longer than you are proud of to tear your eyes away from the sight he has shown you, but you manage it, lust curling around something heavier and more meaningful in your belly. “Why can you not touch me? When was that law set down?” You challenge, wondering if he has some kind of rule in this mind about your imagined virtuousness.

Pero inhales sharply, cock twitching again and he growls under his breath, low and pained. “You— our— when we…talked.” He manages, water dripping down his body and he sloshes slightly as he steps out in front of the fire, making no pretense to cover himself since he has already bared all to you. You are not screaming or banishing him outside. “You did not tell me I could.”

“Forgive me, then. I should have been more plain.” Getting up to hand him cloth to dry with, you swallow the thick wanting in your throat and force yourself to meet his eyes and nothing else. “If you lay beside me tonight and are consumed by passion once more, please understand that I am in a similar state. Quiero que me toques, Pero.” I want you to touch me.

Pero's eyes are hot, liquid pools of desire and his breathing is stuttered in his chest. He wants to touch you now. Nighttime is too far away for his liking. Instead of taking the cloth, he grabs your wrist and drags you closer. "We are clean." He ventures, water still dripping out of his hair.

“And wet.” There’s still an abundance of your modern, dirty sense of humour in you, and the double entendre slips from you before you can even stop it, making you grin. “If I take you to bed now, we will dampen everything and make it freezing for ourselves tonight.” There is not, of course, any reason things can only happen in a bed, and you press in a little closer to him - as close as you can with him still dripping water onto your clean, dry dress.

He grunts, knowing that is true and he looks around the cabin, slightly frustrated that this is happening while both of you are wet. "Then we will dry off." He decides, reaching up and taking a handful of your wet hair and wrapping it around his hand. "Then I will touch you until you tell me no."

From the look on his face, he was not expecting you to moan when he tugged unexpectedly on your hair. The casual show of strength shoots right to your core, and you let your head drop back as if by command, biting your lip to keep from embarrassing yourself by whimpering. Hair pulling has always been a turn on for you, and it’s been so fucking long since anyone did it.

Hissing, he feels like he's about to cum right now, the urge to flip you over you and pull your skirts up so he can sink into you is nearly overwhelming. His hand tightens in your hair again and he's rewarded with another little moan, not as loud but it shoots straight to his cock. "Mierda." He pants, looking down at your tits as they heave. "You are— you like that?"

“Yes.” You narrowly avoid the urge to add sir to the thought, not wanting to overwhelm the moment with too much new information that he might have trouble wrapping his head around.

He growls, dragging you closer and fusing his lips to your desperately. Needing to touch you in some way. The need is as mutual as it is immediate, and you open up for him without hesitation. A kiss with the promise of more has you wrapping your arms around him without a single further thought for getting wet. At this point your aching pussy feels like it's dripping down your legs anyway, so who cares?

Pero plunders your mouth, his aching cock pressing against your belly through the material of your dress. Kissing and panting into your mouth for long minutes before he remembers that you are dressed and he is still wet. He has to take your shoulders and physically push you back because he cannot pull away. "Take off your dress." He orders you roughly.

The heat of the fire keeps the room warm but you swear that the heat rolling off the two of you rivals it right now. Pulling your tunic over your head takes no time, but the stays you just laced are slightly more stubborn. Loosening them just enough to pull those over your head too, the thin chemise that you wear close to your skin is effectively see through, giving him a moment to see you before you toss that aside to be naked again in the fire light.

He stands there, looking at you for a long moment, reaching up again and pushing your hair back behind your shoulder so you are not covering your face. Wanting to see all of you just as you are. "Hermosa."

Your bodies are littered with the proof that he has survived many battles and the few that have marked your own life. Bearing everything for him is easy in some ways, because he has seen every way your body has been marred already. But in others it is the most vulnerable you have ever been. Beyond any other attachment – he is your soulmate. If anyone is going to bring you to that place of breathless pleasure, it’s supposed to be him. And it’s supposed to make you inseparable. You just…you can only hope that that is true.

"I want—" He pauses, pressing his lips together for a moment before he starts again. "The things that you spoke of— the acts, I want to try them with you." He confesses, skin flushed and nearly scorching from his lust and the fire that crackles. "I want to see if it is as you say." He wants to explore you with his mouth, spread you out on the table and feast in the light from the hearth.

“All of them?” Clarification is for his sake, because you know that he is thinking of touching you already. That was said explicitly. But you wonder if he is even thinking clearly enough to want anything beyond just burying his cock inside you and cumming until your walls are covered in his seed. When there are other things – things he has not yet experienced – that he could also enjoy.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows heavily, licking his lip and nodding. Peering into your eyes and wondering if you had been blustering for the younger ones when you had spoken of such things. "Whatever you will— it is your decision." He will be happy with your hand on his cock and allowing him to slide inside your heat. He is a simple man with even simpler ideas of pleasure, but he knows that you are expecting more.

“Good.” He is tense as a bow string in front of you, holding himself back with every ounce of restraint he has, and you lean in to kiss him once more before stepping back again. Only when he’s watching you with hungry eyes again do you sink down to your knees, knowing he needs relief much more than you do right now.

He forgets to breathe. Thoughts gone from his head as he watches with wide eyes. Your form sinking down and your smirk playful while you are inches from his cock. He reacts physically, stomach lurching and a small tremor rushes through his muscles as he realizes what you are going to do. “I— I’ve never—” he stammers, even though you know he’s never had a woman’s mouth on his cock. He told you that, but he tells you again.

“I know.” You remind him gently. As badly as you just want to reach out and greedily gulp him down, you don’t touch him yet. Not until he’s okay with what is about to happen. “Will you let me be the first?”

“Fuck. He whispers, nodding quickly, almost making his teeth rattle with how hard he is bobbling his head in agreement. “Anything you want.”

“If you don’t like something I do, tell me.” Is the last instruction you give him before leaning forward to lick up the precum leaking from the purple head of his cock.

The noise he makes. It’s loud, obscene as it echoes through his head. The wet heat of your mouth is shocking, although it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s the fact that your tongue is pressing against the slit.

Inside your own head you’re giggling evilly, wondering how fast you can reduce this fearsome mercenary to his knees with just your tongue, but the first time is not for that. Instead you hum, pleased with his initial reaction, and reach up to steady yourself with one hand on his hip so the other can wrap around the base of his length as you sink down on him. While he isn’t overly long, he is thick, and you may not be able to take him all the way down your throat because of it. At least not this time – not when you’re out of practice.

Pero groans, his hand flying to the back of your head and he holds it there, certain that his knees are about to buckle. “María, madre de Dios.” He pants. Mary, Mother of God.

This time when you hum it’s around him, making the sound vibrate through his body and making his cock twitch heavily against your tongue. It’s stunning, the way something as simple as the way you swirl that muscle around the head of him before using it to trace every ridge and vein makes him sound like he’s going to collapse or explode - or both - and you love it. Working his rest of his throbbing length with your hand is easy given the way your spit and his precum is leaking from the corners of your mouth, but you’re not going to stop for anything. The bath water is right there: if you need to wash your face after, then that’s what you’ll do.

Another flick of your tongue and Pero is gone. His body tenses up and to his utter relief and mortification, he starts to cum. A gasp is all he can manage, not even giving you a warning before his seed is spilling down your throat.

You don’t mind that it happens quickly - in fact you were betting on it from how long he had been that hard and the fact that this was his first experience with oral sex. That was kind of the whole point of you going down on him first - so he can calm down a little and enjoy things more if he decides that he still wants to explore with you. You drink down every drop that you can but it is a big load, and a few drops escape the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts. Moaning happily around him, you can feel yourself practically dripping in the cottage floor, but you’ll wait until he’s ready. Even if he needs hours to recover mentally and physically, you’ll still wait. He’s worth that respect.

It was a hard decision, closing his eyes in complete surrender or watching as you drink down his cum. In the end, he watches you under heavy lidded eyes, panting and whining while you continue loving him with your mouth. Shuddering when the slight pressure becomes too much, and his hips pull back slightly.

Rocking back on your heels so you don’t fall forward, you pick up the strands of cum that your mouth couldn’t catch on your fingertips and lick them clean, looking up at him with curious eyes. “Was it what you thought, cariño?”

Pero grunts, shaking his head and reaching for you to drag you up to your feet. "No." He rasps out gruffly, pressing his lips to yours. "Better."

You practically giggle against the kiss, glad to hear him so enthusiastic about trying something new with you. “We can rest as long as you need, hermoso.”

He frowns and shakes his head, pulling back and searching your face. "You do not want me to do the same?" He asks, disappointed by the prospect of not being able to explore you and give you the same pleasure.

“Of course I do.” Gently, one of your hands leads his to the meeting of your thighs, letting him feel that the dampness coating your curls is not water. “But only when you are ready.”

He grunts, again and lifts a brow at you in suspicion. "What kind of men are from your time?" He huffs, fingers sliding through your curls as he turns you around to guide you back to the table. "When I first spoke of this – I was meaning putting my mouth on you."

“Men are as changeable as women,” you gasp slightly when one of his long fingers probes deeper inside you but make it over to the worktable without incident. “You may not know every word I speak, but you know more than many men in my time if you know that a woman can find pleasure in many ways.” The number of men you slept with who thought the clitoris was a myth was shameful.

"I want to learn." He breathes into your ear. "Hear your sweet cries and watch you pant in pleasure." His hand doesn't leave your wet cunt as you sit on the table and move back, giving him room to sit in front of you.

“Y-you should have looked to the bed last night, then.” You tell him, gasping and squirming slightly as your body cries out for much more than his first, gentle touches. “You would have seen much.”

"You were asleep." He grunts, guiding you to lean back and he spreads your thighs wide in front of him. The light from the fire is enough for him to see your cunt clearly and he groans when he sees the slickness coating your lips.

“I was faking.” The grin on your lips curls into a smirk when you see him utterly fixated on your dripping pussy. “Bringing myself pleasure while you moaned my name in the dark.”

Moaning in embarrassment, his face turns hotter than the fire. His eyes fluttering slightly and he huffs a curse under his breath. “You touched yourself to my sounds?”

“I could not resist.” Sitting up, you press kisses to his forehead, nose, and lips without pushing too much. There are plenty of men who don’t like to taste themselves. “Knowing you wanted me as much as I wanted you? Set me on fire.”

He growls and captures your lips again – kissing you and biting your bottom lip sharply before he pushes you back slightly. "Good." He grunts. "Now I want to see if you enjoy my mouth as much as I enjoyed yours."

“I can all but guarantee it,” you promise him, laying back on your worktable propped up on your elbows so you can watch every single moment of this. Your legs spread completely, giving him plenty of room to see and explore you even as his fingers have never stopped dancing over your aching slit.

“Tell me what you like.” He demands, spreading your lips apart while he looks his fill. You are more experienced in this than he is. He is not so proud that he would not learn from someone who can teach.

“I like to be explored.” It sounds like a line, probably, but with his fingers stroking your pussy as he studies you, you’re biting back whimpers at every turn. “When you have licked along every part of my pussy and I am begging you for more, then focus on this.” One of your hands draws his attention to your clit, swollen and already aching with need just from having him so close. “Lick it, suck on it, whichever you like better. But no teeth. I like pain with my pleasure but not in this.”

He listens carefully, nodding and studying your cunt like it the outline of a battle plan. “This is where you like your pleasure, not inside?” He asks, sliding a finger over your clit.

“Both.” The whimper that passes your lips when he touches you is downright pitiful. “If you curl your fingers inside me you’ll see how much.”

“I will.” His fingers are wet with you, sliding around the hole that flutters so prettily for him. Groaning slightly as he pushed two fingers into the first inch of your velvet walls, his eyes finding your face while he sinks them in deeper.

Part of the challenge, you can see right away, is going to be patience. Not letting your hips be insistent or searching for pleasure or pressure but letting him explore and rewarding him with those moans and whimpers and encouragements that show him what you like most. Expecting him to understand your body’s nonverbal cues would not be fair at all, and only end up frustrating you both. “That’s it,” you nod, sighing audibly when his fingers delve a little deeper. “Just like that.”

He likes that. Pero’s fingers push deeper at your encouragement, feeling the slickness on his rough fingers as if it were his cock. He loves the breathless tone and he wants to hear more. His other hand caresses your hips, sliding down over your mound and grinning as he moves through your curls to press his palm against your clit as he curls those fingers up.

“Ah! Fuck. Yes.” The dual sensations take you by surprise, having been too caught up in watching the smirk on his face to pay attention to his hands. Your head drops back for second and you whine, loving the thickness of his calloused fingers. “Feel that?” You ask him, feeling him experimentally press against your g-spot with his fingers and making your hips buck and squirm a little each time. “That feels so good for me.”

“There?” His brow furrows as he presses up against that spot and your hips buck up off the table and another curse falls from your lips. His growl of delight matches the nearly feral quality of his grin as he starts to focus on that spot as he pumps and curls his fingers.

“Fuck!” Keening with the intensity of his strokes, the heat in your body has nothing to do with the roaring fire and everything to do with the man between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone touched you besides yourself and Pero’s attention to detail is so startling, that you can feel the knot in your belly already start to tighten. “Oh god D-do you—think you can suck on my clit at the same time?” You would be begging in a rambling mess of incoherent words if you weren’t trying to so hard to stay focused and teach him, but fuck if he isn’t a quick study.

His palm comes away from your clit and his mouth descends. It’s awkward, his shoulder folding in so he can keep his fingers moving inside your cunt while his tongue flicks over your clit experimentally. You taste warm, tangy and musky. The notes of your soap and skin hit his tongue and he groans, pushing his face deeper into you as he takes your clit into his mouth.

It’s almost a pity that you’re climbing to your peak as quickly as you are, wanting to savor this feeling as long as possible, but your body is responding to his attention so earnestly that it only takes a minute or two more before you’re gasping out a warning and bearing down tightly on his fingers with a cry of his name that echoes in the little cottage.

Pero groans again, feeling the hot rush of liquid on his fingers. Letting go of your clit and starting to rub his tongue all over your lips and again over your clit, noticing that your hips buck up again when he does.

The point of overstimulation is almost beautiful considering it shows how eager he is, but you have to nudge his head away with a groan - one that ends up a giggle when he pouts at you fiercely. “You’re a natural,” you grin, chest still heaving as you try to get your breath back.

“You enjoyed it?” His fingers are still buried inside you, unable to slide them out from your still fluttering cunt. He loves the noises you made and he wants to hear them again.

“When I scream your name, it is a good sign.” He still looks so hungry that you shiver a little and push up on your elbow to see your own slick shimmering on his lips and chin in the firelight. “You want more, cariño?”

“Yes.” He’s not going to deny it, wanting to see you fall apart again. He’s always been a greedy man, wanting more and this is no exception. Especially when there is no time limit on this, no where he has to be than right here in the warmth of the cottage with you stretched out for him to feast on.

“Tell me what you want.” With snow outside and the only other occupant of the cottage – Binx – disappeared somewhere out of sight, you have no desire to do anything but let him explore you.

“Tell me what else you like.” He demands, curling his fingers up inside you again. His cock is still soft, but he knows he will be hard again soon, once he has recovered.

There’s a lot. You won’t deny that, knowing that you have a couple of kinks that could come out in the future but not wanting to give him too many new or ‘modern’ things all at once. Assuming that he knows that tits are a sensitive pleasure center all their own, you reach down and thread your fingers through his wet hair indulgently. “I like things a little rougher than other women. As you saw when you pulled my hair. There’s also places I like to be…bitten. Unless that sounds too odd to you. We can go to bed, and I can show you another way to lick my pussy if that is what you wish.”

He tilts his head curiously and looks down at your cunt again. “But not your cunt, correct?” He asks of the biting, remembering your earlier words.

“Correct.” It actually makes you grimace a little. “That could be like me biting your cock.”

He grunts and shakes his head, his fingers curling gently. “Don’t do that.” He asks. “I don’t want to hurt you, want you to feel pleasure.”

It’s been just long enough that the feeling of overstimulation has faded, and you hum softly when he starts to move his fingers inside you again. “I won’t ever hurt you intentionally,” you promise, knowing that humans are clumsy and accidents happen. You can’t swear never to hurt him, but you’ll do everything you can to avoid it.

“What else do you like?” There is something incredibly indulgent about talking with you while your naked and his fingers are moving inside you. “Tell me, hermosa.”

“There is—” It’s hard not to gasp with him slowly finger fucking you again, but you would never claim not to love it. “A way for us to lay together…where we can have our mouths on each other.”

Pero growls, eyes darkening in delight. “You will show me.” It’s not even a question, he knows you will.

"On the bed." You tell him, glad that you rightfully guessed he would immediately love the idea. "Always on the bed. For comfort."

He groans, not even wanting to pull his fingers away from you yet. His eyes watch you for another moment before he shakes his head. “After.” He huffs, leaning down again. “After you cry out again.”

He's going to be the death of you, you can tell already. The entire winter will be spent wrapped up in each other if Pero has his way and really, you would be lying if you claimed to be upset about it. "Whatever you want," you agree, too distracted by the way he is spreading his fingers apart inside you to worry about literally anything else. It draws a moan from you, and you grind down on his hand unconsciously to get more of that gorgeous sensation.

This time there is less hesitation, more confidence in the flick of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers. Listening to the sounds you make and cataloguing them with tremors of your body. He's surer the second time, one hand digging into your flesh and shoulders holding your legs wide open for him to have a full view whenever he opens his eyes. The curiosity is still there but this time it's hungrier, understanding a little better the way your moans and shaking legs lead him toward your pleasure. A second orgasm is slower to build but Pero never backs off, never hesitates, just keeps pushing you up and up that mountain until you're teetering on the edge once more.

The sounds you make are gorgeous, this time going to his cock and stirring it again. Making him harden as he works you towards an orgasm while every flick of his tongue before he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks on it as he watches you.

The way your thighs are squeezing him, if they were around his ears he’d have completely muffled hearing by the time your body tenses up and draws his fingers in tightly, coating them in another rush of cum as you cry out his name into the cold afternoon. The stars bursting behind your vision keep you - temporarily - from seeing the pleased flash of desire in his eyes right before he doubles down on drinking every ounce of your pleasure and prolonging the spasms of your climax as long as he possibly can. It’s like drowning and floating all at once, held steady by the broad shoulders, strong hands, and plush lips of the man determined to devour you whole.

This time he does not need you to push him away, sitting back and watching your breasts heave while you come down from your high. He’s smirking, smug in his ability to bring you pleasure twice now. Happy that he could do that.

"Fuck." The groan is accompanied by a low giggle, though, as the lingering adrenaline of orgasm makes you feel like you're floating instead of lying on a table. It isn't until you sit up again that you see the nearly feral smirk on his face, and you draw him into you so you can kiss him more easily. "You deserve to look that smug."

“That is fun.” Pero hums against your lips. His arms wind around you and pull you closer, still disbelieving that he is allowed to touch you. His soulmate.

"You can do it anytime you want." He tugs you into his lap, easily having you straddle his thighs in the process. The insistence of his renewed arousal is right there for you to feel, heavy against the inside of your thigh as you brace yourself over him and nip his bottom lip between kisses.

This is what his mamá was telling him about. The feeling that was indescribable when you are with your soulmate. Pero squeezes you tight and his answering bite to your lips is just as passionate as yours.

"Pero..." So many friends had described this moment to you in the past. This first moment of real intimacy with your soulmate being such a telling thing between the two of you - and it's stunning to you how right they were. The way he wraps his arms around you and breathes you in is astounding, and he has somehow become your only source of oxygen. If you ever stop kissing him it will be far too soon.

His eyes are closed, relaxed. Not that he’s been on guard around you, you literally found him at his weakest. Just this moment is monumental for him, swearing that his heart stopped beating for an instant and started to beat in time to yours.

You're the first to move again, body demanding more despite already having cum twice. The feeling of him beneath you is just too good and you grind down in his lap to roll your hips over his cock and feel him buck. "Amor, por favor."

The breath he lets out boarders on a whine, fingers digging into your back and hips while you grind down on him expertly. If he didn’t know better, he would say that you were a most talented whore, sent to empty all his pockets of coins, but the heat and tenderness in your touch tells him that it’s so much more. “Amor.”

The word had slipped from you without realizing it, too caught in the honesty of the moment to censor yourself or even catch the unconscious truth from emerging. Opening your eyes, you lean back slightly and cup both of his cheeks in your hands to bring his gaze to yours. "Amor." You whisper, knowing that you don't need to be any louder than that for him to hear you. It's like breathing him in had awakened something inside you that you never knew was dormant, bringing it all right to the surface.

Pero is strong. One of the things that he is proud of is the fact that he has strength that would rival plenty of men. With that strength, he grunts, lifting you up to carry you the short distance to the bed.

He laughs when you squeal, throwing your arms and legs tightly around him as he starts to get up to cling to him even though it takes him all of five steps to get to the bed. No one has ever done that with you before no matter how sexy you always thought it would be, and it gives you a sort of giddiness that only makes your accidental confession better.

Pero doesn’t toss you down, but both of you tumble to the bed and he makes sure that he covers your body with his own and his might immediately attaches to your neck.

If you thought he was broad before, it is only thrown into even sharper relief with him hovering over you. It doesn't seem to matter to either of you, though, as your fingernails dig into his shoulders to keep him close and his thighs continue to keep your legs spread in this new position. All that matters right now is that he never stops, and the heavy weight of his cock against your inner thigh has you wet all over again.

“Sassenach.” He groans, kissing down your throat and biting gently on your skin. Keeping your comments about enjoying being bitten in mind.

There's going to be a trail of bites along your skin tomorrow that are ever so slightly tender but you really could not care less. It will be a gorgeous reminder of being spread out beneath him, feeling the weight of him pressing you into the mattress while delicious anticipation builds all over again. Each nip makes you gasp, back arching off the bed to press your chest against his.

Pulling back, his dark eyes bore into you, “I want to be inside you.” He groans, nearly begging for permission as his hand caresses your thigh. “Can I have you?”

That twist in your chest says you can have me forever, but given the slip you had a minute ago you just nod, crushing your lips against his before shifting on the bed to spread your legs a little wider. "Please."

He’s practiced in this. Sex is something that he knows. Wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping, pulling back the foreskin as he shifts his hips and lowers them so he can press against your entrance. “Amor.” He murmurs, kissing you while he starts to push forward.

It has been a hell of a long time since you've been in this position – not taking the chance on forming connections in the past had been a line you fed yourself for years until ultimately being solitary became habit. Even before arriving it had been several months since your last encounter, making it something like eight plus years since you had had anything but your own fingers between your legs. That might be a part of the reason it feels so fucking incredible to have Pero's cock slowly spearing into you, but you know it's mostly him. Your soulmate.

He’s grateful that he had cum earlier, the hot velvety grip of your cunt has him in a chokehold. Making him grunt as he slowly fills you. Bracing his elbows in either side of your shoulders and staring down at you in wonder.

You shift almost immediately, hitching your legs up high on his waist and letting them wrap around him to take him deeper and letting out an appreciative moan when you can feel the head of his cock nearly bump against your cervix. It's an impressively full feeling, one that has your eyes rolling back in your head for a moment as you pant under him, eager to feel how perfect it will be when he's fucking you into the mattress as hard as he damn well pleases.

The first thrust is experimental, wanting to see if that sense of liking it rough is different from his. Often he can be harsh but never cruel as he worked out his frustrations but he doesn’t want to be too harsh with you.

It’s like being in another world altogether, that gorgeous snap of his hips making you moan and rock against him as he finds the rhythm that he wants. Gentle or rough doesn’t matter to you right now, knowing there will be more than enough time for fucking as well as love making in the winter to come.

Pero moans, loving how easily to take him, the eagerness in the way your legs tighten around him. You name falls from his lips when he buries his head at your throat.

The pace he sets isn’t rough, per se, but it’s eager. Wanting to see how deeply and entirely you can take him and how sharply he can make you cry his name in pleasure. The grind of his hips makes you gasp each time and nearly see stars, and the deliberate strokes make it entirely clear to you as you cling to him - if Pero Tovar fights half as well as he fucks, it’s no wonder he never had trouble finding someone to sell his sword to.

He’s never felt anything quite like you. Maybe it’s in his head because you are his soulmate, maybe it’s that your body fits his perfectly - but it’s like you were made for him. His hands curl under your back, pulling you closer as he bears down, every jolting thrust met with a cry of pleasure that he’s quickly growing addicted to. “Mierda.”

Moments run together, making time meaningless as the entire focus of your world is narrowed to the man inside you - surrounding you, anchoring you to the world. His own grunts and growls vibrate through him, making your body tingle with every sound he muffles in your skin.

He can feel your grip tightening on him, squeezing him. He knows that you will cum soon, groaning as he pushes his hips a little harder and the echoes of his skin slapping against yours is heard.

When you finally tense beneath him one more time, the rambling praise and cries of his name are louder than any other sound in the little cottage, echoing off the walls and coming back to his ears like music. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders as you cling to him, back arched to press you against his chest and body heaving with the effort of the most intense orgasm you can remember. It might be that it’s just good sex – but that bursting in your heart promises that it’s because he’s your soulmate.

You are perfect beneath him, wonderful and he can’t even remember the last time he has felt so much pleasure. Your pleasure makes him rush headlong into his and within a few short thrusts, he is pulling out of you, not even touching his cock as he grinds against your belly and paints your skin with his release as he whines out your name again.

The only sound for a long time is the two of you panting for breath, punctuated by soft kisses exchanged in the firelight. For as greedy and demanding as your need for each other became, this moment is full of tenderness. It is also, unfortunately, a little dishonest. Or at least not containing the full truth. “You didn’t need to do that,” you murmur softly, voice tinged with regret as you look down at the Pollock-like work of art his cum has turned your skin into. You should have told him. He deserved to know before you got too close, says your mother’s voice in your head. Guilt attached to something you had absolutely no control over. Over something you never chose.

Pero frowns, shifting to his side and shaking his head. “I have no desire to plant a baby in your belly right now, amor.” He murmurs softly. “Even if you have the means of dealing with it.”

“Th-that…is good.” When you turn your head to look at him, he has settled on the pillow beside you and is gazing at you with such affection that you frown and look away again. “Because I cannot bare your babes no matter how often we might try.”

Pero frowns again, sending you a confused look. “You know you cannot?” He asks, tucking an arm behind his head and stroking your side with his other hand so you will look at him. “You have tried and failed to have a baby?”

“In my time, there are doctors…those who specialize in the health of women.” How do you explain a gynecologist? Or a Pap smear? It used to give you panic attacks just to think about - having to one day tell your partner that you couldn’t have kids. Now you find yourself heartbroken all over again because of how difficult it is to explain. “Mine discovered that I am barren. It was not through trying and failing, but because my body…my womb did not form properly.” You shut your eyes, exhaling deeply before opening them again to find him with your singular gaze. “I should have told you before this. I am sorry.”

Reaching out, Pero captures your chin in his hand and holds it firmly in his grip. "Do not apologize for things you cannot change." He tells you firmly. "You cannot have children. I never imagined actually having any." He admits. "Never thought I would live long enough."

“I had always thought to adopt, if my soulmate wished for children.” Despite the slight tremble in your chin, you’re grateful for how steady he is in this moment. So many other people had considered you less of a woman for something entirely beyond your control. “But that is…a question for much later, I suppose.”

"Adopt?" He furrows his brow and tries to understand what you mean.

Right. Vocabulary. You frown at yourself, but there is no difference in the already displeased expression on your face. “Take in a child in need. A child without a family of their own.”

He nods, understand what you mean now. "Taking in a bastard or urchin." He grunts, not opposed to the idea at all. "If you wanted to, I would not stop you." He promises. "If you wanted to not do that, I would not look down on you." He pulls you closer. "I do not care about your womb." He stops and smirks slightly. "Except for the knowledge that I can fill you without worry."

“As often as you want.” It is a relief to have what would generously be called your confession over with, and you lay your head on his shoulder. “I did not think we would ever be in this position.” The entendre makes you grin. “Or any other that we tried today.”

He chuckles for a moment and holds you close, his fingers brushing over your skin gently as the two of you lay on the much more comfortable bed you sleep in. "You were upset when you told me." He doesn't like that and his voice is gruff. "Why? Did you think I would toss you aside?"

“I—” You have to resist the urge to turn away or look elsewhere again, knowing that you need to be honest with him. “Yes.”

He grunts at that, rolling his eyes slightly before he catches himself. He doesn't know what it would be like to know he could never have children if he wished. He reaches up and caresses your cheek as you lay on his shoulder. "I am not." He promises you. "You are my soulmate." He reasons softly. "If God or the universe wished it—" He shrugs his other shoulder, not mentioning that he would have assumed that if it was supposed to be then it would be possible. He is not a man who dwells on what he cannot change. "It is good that you know so you do not fret when you cannot give me a child."

All the imaginary conversations you ever had with imagined versions of your soulmate over the years come brimming to the surface and you bury your face. “If the day ever came when you decided you wanted a child of your own, I would understand.” It would break your heart; you know that now. But loving someone means wanting them to be happy, and calling him amor was not an exaggeration. You do love him.

Pero snorts and decides that you need to look at him. Rolling you over and pinning you under him again. "Listen, Sassenach." He grumbles at you. "I have no need of a child of my own. And I will not be breeding a bastard on someone." He scowls slightly at the mere idea of it. "You will have your gato and maybe more chickens and a goat to love on. If you want a child, I will drag home some urchin for you to love on and worry over, but I do not need you risking your life and body to bear me a child in order to be happy."

“I have said my piece.” There is no way to escape his gaze like this, and you know that that is what he intended. For a man who could be coarse and frustrating at nearly every turn, he has a gentle sweetness and care that you wish you had the words to describe properly. It’s like having a special place to sit that is all your own, perfectly tailored to be the exact comfort and care you need without having to ask for it. Plus orgasms. “Gracias, amor. For accepting it.”

"De nada." He hums and leans down to press his lips to yours again. He senses you do not want to discuss it anymore and he will not push you. He would not dream of pushing you to talk about things like that. Instead, he just concentrates on making you moan into his mouth softly.

“Tomorrow we will give Caballo the hay from your mattress.” You tell him, glad to see the smile return to his lips and feel it on your own. “And the cloth can be saved for whatever need may arise. I wish to lay with my soulmate each night.”

Pero hums and nods. “I will never deny you.” There’s a small smirk and a flash of a wink. “Your bed is comfortable and we will be warm.”

“And you will never need to touch yourself late at night again.” It’s too good to resist teasing him just a little, since it turned into this.

He huffs at you, biting your shoulder and pouts slightly. “I did not know you were awake.”

“I was afraid to say something and frighten you from providing me such a beautiful sight.” You admit, pressing a kiss to his cheek before he can lift his head away.

“You saw me?” He could disappear right now in embarrassment.

“Only a glimpse.” The blush on his cheeks is not something you would have guessed at, but it is so endearing that it earns him another kiss. “I had to be sure that what I was hearing was true.”

He snorts and shakes his head at his luck. Although he doesn’t really mind it since it had allowed him to touch you today. “You could have invited me into your bed last night.” He grunts at you playfully.

“I could have.” That thought did flutter across your mind, even though it seemed too fantastical to be a real possibility at the time. “But then our baths would have been much less dramatic.”

He chuckles quietly. “I did imagine you in your bath when I told the boy to get one.” He admits, ducking his head and nipping your shoulder.

“Was it worth it?” It was certainly worth seeing him in the steaming hot water. You would kill to get him under the powerful shower head in your apartment back home.

“Yes.” He groans happily and nods. “So much so that I would do it again tomorrow, or the next day.” Having a tub in the house is a luxury and it feels decadent and rich to watch you bathe in the large tub he had provided.

“I am glad.” Nipping at his skin in turn, you soothe the small bite with a kiss and offer him an honest smile. “We will pass an extremely pleasurable winter this way, I think.”

“Much more satisfying than I had imagined.” He agrees. “I had imagined sneaking out to the barn to relieve myself as my want for you grew.”

“We will leave the barn to the young ones.” It warms you to know that his feelings were growing the same way yours were - both emotionally and sexually - and that neither of you had to hide it any longer. “But perhaps we will see next time if that bath can hold the both of us?”

If he were younger, he would be spreading your thighs again. For now, he had can only nod and occupy himself with another kiss.

“Rest, amor.” The suggestion is soft, accompanied by your hand carefully searching out the edges of the blankets and furs on your bed to pull them up. “It will be hours yet before supper is ready. And we have had a great deal of excitement today.”

He hums and shifts slightly, his leg thrown over yours while you draw the covers up over both of you. “We have. Sleeping next to you is just what I need right now.”

“Then we shall sleep.” One more kiss to his lips and another to the pronounced bridge of his nose for good measure, and you tuck yourself into his side to rest. A well-earned afternoon nap is calling both of your names, and you’re sure it will only be the first of many for the season.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom

SatS: @canadianmaebe @badassbaker @od-ends @amneris21 @padbrookcottage @chaoticfestninja @xdaddysprincessxx @mostclevermiss @im-sylien @wherethewildfanlives @ficsbynight @djarinsimp @ellenmunn @jediknight122 @under-the-seas @wellaintthatsumthin @sarahbellesaurus @roxypeanut @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @bruxasolta @kaylay2187 @freshlemontea @humanransome-note @virtualanchortimetravel @leoisme @do-not-go-gently-42 @catsandgeekyandnerd @happypalaceroadpie @ghoulpatroul @lizzystorm48 @imoutoid @rainbeaubrightchild @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dudelorian @thirddeadlysin @piratesangel @jazzieomega @iceclaw101 @strangegirl32 @lights-on-the-ridge @godofbadass8909 @pann-malii @littleone65 @notyouraveragemochii @shawdowolf993 @rebel-fanfare @rav3n-pascal22 @love93sstuff @choppedmugjudgeplaid @aurelac-heart @we-could-have-been @bilibiche @prettydull180 @dinoflower @my-life-as-a-bird @tuquoquebrute @damnitjaskier @fishingforpike @sherlock221b114679797 @sainteredhood @nekodemon73 @missredherring @middlemichi @moonflower91 @rachelle-on-the-run @miscellaneousfangirling @danamercury @hyacinthsatdawn @i-am-amora-the-enchantress @milkandoil @generalplaidhorseherring @raptorclaw24 @mrsparknuts

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x you #Pero Tovar x female reader #The Great Wall #soulmate au #disabled reader

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crownrots-archive · 6 months

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— WHAT’S AT YOUR OCS CORE? & WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

TAGGED BY @corvosattano & @simonxriley to do these two uquizzes, thank you! 💚

TAGGING @queennymeria, @risingsh0t, @thedeadthree, @loriane-elmuerto, @faerune, @shellibisshe, @rhetoricalrogue, @unholymilf, @florbelles, @minaharkers, @elliewilliums, @leviiackrman, @shadowglens, @cryptcombat, @galvus , @nightbloodbix, @carlosoliveiraa, @bbrocklesnar + anybody else that wants to do it!

ATONING (FOR SOMEONE ELSE)

You are sweet, sweet sorrow. Parting ways at an intersection, an angel's footsteps walking side by side with your own, the shadows of the past looming, looming. You are apologetic-moon-light and loiter-at-the-back-of-the-classroom and stilted-silence and rich-with-life. You are stepping-on-eggshells your way through life, be less careful. Be less careful. You make mistakes, you made mistakes, and you will make mistakes, but imagine growing from them without the wish to go back. Stop restricting yourself. Take a breath of the clean air. Stop breathing in your own secondhand smoke.

ACERBIC WIT

you're a mentor — an old scarred wolf, an injured soldier, a disgraced paladin. your teachings read as shamelessly pretentious, speaking in rhymes and biting down hard into anyone stupid enough to make the wrong move. this isn't your first life, nor your second, nor your sixth — you'll make the most of your time shackled to this world, no matter how many loops it takes to get it right. with every defeat, you reincarnate; a little smarter, a little quicker, crueler and nastier. will you choose to be brutal, equalizing, that final strike in the face of your enemies? will you go soft, become tender and domesticated? the choice is yours. it's not like i can stop you.

SHINING (FOR THE WORLD)

You are sunshine. You are too bright for this world and you know too much for your experiences. You are not naive, but you are not a cynic. You are not an optimist, but you don't see the point in pessimism. You are bright bells of energy and great pealing laughter and coffee-shop-dates and meet-in-person-lunches and you draw people to you like a magnet with the way you shine. You are bright and drained, drained, drained. You are restless nights, heavy days, broken moons. You deserve a rest. You deserve to release. You cannot carry the weight of the world alone. Share the tasks, be the light, and create the connections.

WARPED METAL

it's not working out the way you want it to. no matter how hard you try to look scary, the very picture of karmic retribution, your efforts will inevitably fall short. you're out of place here, a broken doll and a used marionette. there's nothing to gain in pretending you can't be hurt like anyone else. there's nothing to gain in pretending you aren't human, that you're made of twisted steel and distorted memories. embrace your humanity. embrace your vulnerability. give in to trust.

THRIVING (FOR YOURSELF)

You are beautiful, and there is a light in your eyes now. There wasn't, before. You feel light and you hug people tight because you know what loss feels like. You are sunsets and throw-your-head-back-laughs and 2-am-shopping-sprees and looking-over-your-shoulder-for-ghosts-of-the-past, but you are thriving. There are fifteen things you've never checked off your to-do list and never will, but you're determined to find your way to them anyway. You are glowing and it's admirable. You crawled your way from somewhere terrible and now you stand, breathing in the sun. You are admirable, never forget.

SILENT ADMISSION

in tarot, the fool is numbered 0 – the number of unlimited potential. as the protagonist, he is ever present and therefore needs no number as well as no introduction. the world revolves around you in ways that i can't begin to describe, though you'd shrug it off if i were to begin to explain. i need you to know that time is running out. if you want to get this done, you need to start now. sloth is your greatest enemy in this world, and you can only run so far from the opposition when you start with such a disadvantage. keep your head high, yeah? the kid you were is still in there somewhere. you need to show him that it was worth it.

#i have to post from the side blog since tumblr is leaving my appeals on read -_-#i might just even have to remake or start using this as my main if they don't pick it up 😭#c: marik #c: phillipa #c: slater

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offtorivendell · 2 years

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Could SJM's 'Mr Brightside' comment be a hint about Azriel's powers?

Day 2 of @azrielshadowsingerweek - shadows and powers.

We all know that SJM has said that Azriel's song would be Mr Brightside, by The Killers. If you listen to the lyrics, the situation described is reminiscent of him pining over Elain while she has a bond with another male.

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But what if it's more?

I've suggested before that I think Azriel could have ancestry among the Starborn fae, like I think Rhys and Mor, and Helion and Lucien do (at the least, I'm sure there are others as well). For Azriel, I imagine it could be through a Hewn City ancestor - maybe even Clotho, if @ladynightcourt3 and I are correct about the many parallels that exist between the two.

Could Azriel, whose "shadows" can brighten into sunshine (and, I suspect, can also become invisible, possibly as a halfway point between dark and light) be more like Ruhn Danaan that we know, with Starborn light that is hidden under shadows?

It ordinarily took Ruhn a good amount of concentration to summon his starlight, and it usually left him with a headache for hours afterward, but … He was intrigued enough to try. Setting his index finger onto the crystal of the prism, Ruhn closed his eyes and focused upon his breathing. Let the clicking metal of the orrery guide him down, down, down into the black pit within himself, past the churning well of his shadows, to the little hollow beneath them. There, curled upon itself like some hibernating creature, lay the single seed of iridescent light. He gently cupped it with a mental palm, stirring it awake as he carefully brought it upward, as if he were carrying water in his hands. Up through himself, the power shimmering with anticipation, warm and lovely and just about the only part of himself he liked. - HOEAB, chapter 14

It's well known that Azriel experiences headaches - to the point Elain noticed and gifted him a headache powder. Could this be related, at least in part, to his untapped powers trying to break free?

Cassian said Azriel was interested in the orrery in Rhys' office. Could he, and maybe Elain - whose powers were associated with Azriel's own, in ACOWAR - use it while learning to harness their magics?

We haven't had much of his shadows described from his own POV, but it's plausible that he could have a similar sort of wellspring inside.

Like Ruhn's hibernating Starborn magic, Azriel's siphons were described as a "half-slumbering beast" in ACOMAF (chapter 22). Is this because he only has access to the shadowy half of his powers at the moment?

A mental palm... @wingedblooms is the expert on magical hands, but given Azriel's shadows can both manipulate objects and disappear as required, this could possibly be a parallel to other suspected Starborn fae, such as Rhys and Clotho.

"Warm and lovely" - Azriel is often described as cold and icy. I suspect that will change in the future, and this may be part of the reason why.

Let's have a closer look at the lyrics...

Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine

Gotta, gotta be down, because I want it all

We know that Azriel's shadows can light up, or brighten, often in response to him feeling happy or secure... just like Ruhn. What if, also like Ruhn, he has to burrow under his shadows to reach and free his hypothetical Starborn light from its cage?

Or possibly, as I've wondered before in a post I never finished 😅, and @wingedblooms has suggested in this post, could Azriel have a beast form of some sort? Is that why his siphon was likened to a "half-slumbering beast"?

He wants it all, not just one half of his powers. Are shadowsingers and lightsingers two halves of the one whole, or two sides of the same coin (bigger theory on it's way when I get my arse in gear), and is Az, potentially, both? And Elain, who has strong links to both shadows and light?

Now I'm falling asleep

This is more plot than power related to be fair, but @elriell has a great Sleeping Beauty theory from right after ACOSF's release.

And I just can't look, it's killing me, and taking control

I know I've suggested this before, but will someone, perhaps Koschei, take control of Azriel or his shadows? Is this why Azriel's ability to spy on key figures has been somewhat lacklustre of late? Has someone or something hijacked them, preventing them from seeing, or reporting, important details?

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

This one is thanks to a prompt from @wingedblooms, who shares my theory that Azriel could become a conduit of sorts for a god or god-like being: if the space between flows, could saints refer to the conduits? Could he turn his hearing to the Void of the murky realm, as Elain appears to turn her Sight?

Again, this is more plot than powers, but we know that songs can hold spells, as one such song lulled Nesta into an unwitting scrying in ACOSF. Combine this with the magical ear plugs that Azriel was gifted at solstice in the same book, and it makes you wonder why that may have been. Will this relate to @elriell's SB theory?

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

Is Azriel's destiny to be some sort of heir or conduit to Koschei, or even a Prince of Hel? Thanatos might be known in the Hewn City...

Azriel's siphon was likened to the "eye" of a half-slumbering beast. Could he have some sort of eager eye himself, or help a certain Seer?

Is he eager to break free from his shadows, and harness his hypothetical light? Is that what the spark he experienced in his chest when he was standing next to Clotho meant (in his ACOSF bonus chapter)? Did Clotho spark Azriel's Starborn powers, as Cormac did for Bryce? But at what price will this come?

I could be way off track, of course - and obviously I don't think SJM based a character's powers and arc off a song from over a decade ago, no matter how good it is - but I've been wondering if there was more to her 'Mr Brightside' comment for a while.

It's probably all a coincidence, but it's still fun to theorise. I think Azriel's powers could end up being more like Rhys and Ruhn's than just his shadows.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel's powers #azriel's shadows #azriel #pro azriel #azrielshadowsingerweek2022 #azriel shadowsinger week 2022 #azriel week 2022 #azrielweek2022 #azriel theory #acotar theory #starborn #shadowsinger #lightsingers and shadowsingers #hoeab spoilers #hosab spoilers #acotar cc tog crossover theory

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kimium · 8 months

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kimium you do not know me but I read almost all your Hitman Reborn fics because even after 10+ years this hellhole series won't let me go, and each one of your 10051 fics are like an oasis stumbled upon after days meandering in a dusty barren landscape. also your writing is just plain good.

The way I remember it that Hanahaki Disease wasn't really a trope until after the manga curled up to die with the bulk of the Fandom, but it SHAKES me that I cannot locate any Byakuran hanahaki fic. It's just unnatural feeling. Like Graham crackers and chocolate without Marshmallows. An ominous void in nature where there shouldn't be one. Light without shadows.

Please share your thoughts about 100 hanahaki to satiate this thirst of mine. Only if you want too though of course! Thank you for listening!!!

Hello Anon!

Thank you so much for this ask! You are so sweet to describe my 10051 fics as an oasis in a barren, dusty landscape. That's such a fun comparison and makes my heart warm to have such high praise.

While I also cannot exactly pinpoint when I kept seeing "Hanahaki" as a trope in fics, you are correct that it was long after the bulk of KHR was an active fandom. It certainly feels like a trope that fits Byakuran well and your analogy to a s'more without chocolate is also a very fun image. Love it.

Now, as for my thoughts on Hanahaki, let's break it down.

In general, I do not like the "traditional" hanahaki trope. However, I understand why it's popular. In fact, I wrote more "traditional" hanahaki trope fics once upon a time, so I used to like the more "traditional" trope. Unrequited love is a topic that can be cathartic for the writer and readers to explore in fiction. We've all experienced rejection (romantic, platonic/friendship, professional, etc.) and the heartbreak we feel truly feels like we are going to die. Also, flower symbolism is always Top Tier and my favourite kind of symbolism.

The main reason why I dislike the "traditional" hanahaki trope is because to me it feels very self-entitled. "You didn't return my love and thus I will die!" I cannot help but make the comparison to people who try to guilt trip someone for breaking up or not dating them.

Also, the idea of "I have to completely forget about this person" cuts off so much emotional growth and development. Yes, I know "falling out of love" is an option, but I rarely saw "traditional" hanahaki fics go that route. Makes sense though: magical amnesia is such a juicy trope (and also one of my favourites). Of course, I do not mean the traditional trope advocates it, but I cannot shake this thought out of my brain.

What I enjoy more is "seasonal hanahaki" where the symptoms are less severe and more akin to a seasonal cold/fever/mild allergies. Nothing to dismiss but also the person will recover from it with time. How the writer can set this up has a lot of flexibility which I enjoy. I've seen writers write is as literally seasonal where people who experience "seasonal hanahaki" do so in spring and fall time (where traditional cold/fever/mild allergies kick up). I've also seen people write it where the person "catches" their "seasonal hanahaki" when they first realized their feelings aren't requited.

Regardless, because this isn't deadly could you imagine the world building? The Drama! The work place or friend gossip??? This opens so many more avenues than "pity" which I find most traditional hanahaki goes towards because someone is dying.

So, where does this place Byakuran in my mind? While I am not a big fan of "traditional hanahaki fics" I think the trope suits him. Even seasonal hanahaki opens up so many avenues to explore! Could you imagine the denial he'd soak himself in?? Shouichi -obviously- loves him! They're destined to be together! The list goes on. This could lead to all sorts of irrational decisions/ways of coping for Byakuran.

Again, thank you for sending me this ask! I love taking about KHR and I'm so happy for all your support. Feel free to pop on by in my inbox again or if you're not too shy, in messages!

#personal #replies #khr #mention of 10051

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anneapocalypse · 6 months

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Word Search Game

@ammoniteflesh tagged me to find the words skin, regret, and fall in my fics or WIPs. All of these I'm pulling from my big messy Ariane fic doc and this is all very first-drafty and unedited.

Tagging with no pressure: @farfromdaylight @chocochipbiscuit and @dreadfutures with the words light, place, and storm.

skin:

Ariane’s hand came to rest on his jaw then, cupping his face gently as she drew him in for another kiss. This one was soft and lingering, unhurried, and he wished with all his heart that it could never end. But end it must. “I dare say we both of us need our rest,” he said, with great reluctance. She nodded. “I dare say you especially.” It was another long moment before they reluctantly broke apart, and rose from the window seat. “Take heart,” he said. “All is not lost. Though our circumstances be dire, I dare believe we shall yet find a way, and I shall endeavor all the more to make it so.” “I have faith,” Ariane said. “I must. We must.” One last time, he took her in his arms, and kissed her. “Good night, my love. I shall see thee on the morrow.” “Good night, my love,” Ariane echoed, as she walked him to the door. “Rest well.” Her words settled in his heart, the memory of her touch still warm on his false skin, as he made his way back to his own quarters, full to bursting with emotion—most of all, in spite of their circumstances, an irrepressible joy.

regret:

“Thou art a healer of some considerable skill. I regret that I have had few opportunities to see thee in the field, but on those occasions, thy power hast been most formidable.” Ariane laughed, setting down her teacup. “I’ll be honest, Urianger, I never imagined anyone would use the word ‘formidable’ to describe me. I do most of my work standing behind someone with a sword.” “And 'tis thy talents which keep that one standing.” He smiled. “I understand thou hast taken to studying several arcane arts in parallel. Hast thou a favorite among them?” Her eyes took on a wistful look. “I always thought it would be conjury forever. And then… well. Suffice it to say, it let me down when I needed it the most.” He could have kicked himself. Master Alphinaud had relayed the story of Ariane’s unsuccessful attempt to bring Lord Haurchefant back from the brink of death—an attempt which had very nearly killed her. “Forgive me. ‘Twas not mine intent to call back such painful memories.” She shook her head. “Please, it’s all right. I’m… I can talk about it. About him.” She gave a sorrowful smile. “Avoiding speaking his name won’t bring Haurchefant back. I couldn’t save him. I have to live with that.” She sighed. “One way or another. Yes, it still hurts. But don’t feel you can’t speak of it, Urianger. I don’t want people walking on eggshells for me. I can handle it. I have to.” He nodded with all earnestness. “Aye… The grief doth linger… even as we learn to endure it. I understand. ” Ariane met his gaze, and nodded. “I know you do.”

fall:

She had seen the whole of Urianger’s face before. Once, when he had adjusted his goggle to wipe surreptitiously at his eyes, she had caught a glimpse of them, pale green and intense even in that fleeting moment. Later, when he had cast off the mask of Darkness, his whole face. But when it was over, he had shed the ornate gray robes of his disguise, and returned to his old worn arcanist’s robe, eyes hidden and face in shadow. So it been even as they grew closer, through too many teatimes to count now, and Ariane had simply grown used to it, grown accustomed to reading his expressions through the tilt of his head and the curve of his mouth. Seeing him laid out in the Rising Stones’ infirmary, still and silent and exposed, felt so deeply wrong. Ariane knew that it was for safety reasons, to keep his head and face unobstructed, should he move while unconscious. (He did not move. He was so still it hurt to look at him.) Still she longed to gently draw his hood back up over his hair. Give him that dignity at least. She could not. Nor could she keep a constant vigil by his bedside, flanked by Thancred and Y’shtola’s equally still forms. Her friends needed her out there, finding answers. And so she took only the length of a cup of tea to sit with them, with him. Her tea cup drained, she had no further excuse to sit, but Ariane took one last moment, watching Urianger’s chest rise and fall. Seeing that at least, he and Thancred and Y’shtola still drew breath. Gods, what she would have given just to hear his voice. Be it in quiet reassurance or cryptic verse of prophecy. It mattered not. Just to know he was here. Just to feel less alone.

#word search meme #tag meme #writing stuff #ffxiv stuff #the stars are blind my love #urianger x wol #shadowbringers spoilers #heavensward spoilers #this has been sitting in my drafts for two weeks because i'm a coward lol #but here!#haurchefant x wol #ffxiv spoilers

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kaitopitoo · 2 years

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It has been weeks since I almost last heard of Vio, or at least it feels like it’s been that long.

He’s been isolating himself more often than before, hiding away in his room and from what I can tell he doesn’t even bother to light up the place. I understand he would prefer to be in his own little bubble when it comes to his book reading routine, or overall planning for battle or training.

But not like this.

Me, Red and Blue barely hear anything about him or what he’s doing, even Princess Zelda is unaware of what’s been going on with him. She can’t even get a word out of him, aside from a dark mutter or quiet mumbling, followed by him storming past each of us. Barely eats anything each of us cook, and even what the maids prepare for him specifically.

This isn’t like him at all, it just isn’t, and I am horrified.

The rays of the sun set on my face as I walk, occasionally disappearing because of the window frames blocking them. The castle seems to be quite buzzing as knights and maids alike are moving up and down the hallway, giggling to themselves, and chanting back and forth. As I keep walking down the castle hallway, I begin to ponder on minor details of why Vio is behaving like this. Again, it’s unlike him to be so quiet even though we know by nature he is the silent one from the team.

However, I did notice that all of this began when… he disappeared.

And I mean Shadow Link.

It was obvious he and Vio had a thing for one another going on, it’s obvious to me now. I can’t speak for the others, but I have a feeling they know it too. Knew it, saw it, heard it. Every time Vio spoke of the man, his face would light up in glee, in such joy. For a blank slate he truly enjoyed the man’s company. Now I understand one part of the reason why he turned to the dark side that one time. I’m sure it was that, aside from his own personal little plan he should’ve discussed with us. But I think that was smart at the time, actually, not telling us to get genuine reactions out of us…

Suddenly, I look up and I’m nose to nose against a door. It took a bit to realize that this is Vio’s room. I would question why I’m here, when I have to admit I care for the guy. It worries me that he isn’t even talking to me; it worries, yet it scares me.

I gain the courage to knock on the door, but had to do it fiercely since the door is so heavy, I imagined it’s barely audible from the inside. Even then, I truly am not expecting to get a response at all. Not even a glance or a go away sign to leave. Just silence, as he’s being.

Life keeps moving behind me as I feel frozen in place, people still running up and down the hall, talking, gossiping, anything that’s considered lifelike. Here, I feel so cold, so still. But it’s all waiting, hoping for at least a response from Vio. I step back to allow my image to be seen through the peephole, still hoping-

“Hey.”

I didn’t even hear the door opening.

“Hey, uh…Vio. I–”

“What is it?”

A shiver runs down my spine at that snarky response. It’s so Vio, but in this state, it’s very much unsettling, “I just… Well, I want to see how my buddy is doing, and… I’d also would like to talk-”

“Please, no.”

I notice the door closing in and I immediately set my foot between the door frame, holding back my wince of pain, “Hey, wait a second! Vio, c’mon, I mean no harm.”

Silence falls upon us, and after such a long while of almost not seeing each other, I got the chance to see his…

Oh, Goddesses, his face.

It looks… horrible.

His usual neat and clean looks berated in a state I can’t properly describe. His hair is all messy and tangled up, some strands are matted to his face. His bright eyes now a dull color, most likely due to the lack of sleep. Considering that, his eyebags have gotten so much worse and make him look like a corpse almost. Even his body language has given up, slumped over at the door, and knees about to give out on him.

This… is an awful sight.

I really didn’t want to pry, but I’ve got to help him in some way. Find the solution to whatever is bothering him. However, if my theory is correct, that is, if it’s all about Shadow Link, then, it simply is something that can’t be helped.

“I’m not in the mood right now, Green. Go spar with Blue, or something…”

“I won’t be in the mood until I know what in the Goddesses name is going on with you.”

“It’s nothing of your concern…”

I furrow my brows, but I'm trying not to, “Well it sort of is, and I’d like to help you get out of it. Please.”

The heavy silence resumes, still weighing on my shoulders. I blink a few times while trying to both keep eye contact with Vio while also trying to look away from his destroyed image. The urge to help him clean himself up is there, the urge to comfort him in some way is also there. I just know he’ll push me away, like he’s been doing so for every one of us.

Vio’s the one that breaks eye contact however, as I hear a quiet sigh escape through his nose. He turns his heel and walks away from the door, definitely given up on resisting me. I hope he doesn’t think I've been harsh about it.

I truly care for him.

“Come in, then.” Vio emptily addresses, “Let me…”

The place dimly lights up as I see him fling the long curtains open, allowing natural light to seep through after the Goddesses knows how long since the last time that happened. A bit of dust comes off the curtains and Vio coughs quietly, swatting away close to his face. I watch him almost limp about from the window to the bed, eyeing me with his daggers for eyes. I could feel them even behind my back, distracted over the small makeover he did with the place.

Sure, he is fine organizing his room, but he should consider himself too.

I look back at him and notice he’s staring off in the distance, looking almost lost in thought and just in sheer emotional pain. I don’t bother to say anything as it feels comfortable enough to just be in silence, even if it feels heavy just as much as I assume it is to him as well. He proceeds to gently place a hand on his bed, patting it down indicating for me to take a seat. I oblige and do so, still keeping a space between us, so he doesn’t feel like I'm prying in his business too much.

More silence.

The few things that would interrupt it is the outside world being loud as ever, and the occasional heavy sighs coming out of Vio himself. From the corner of my eye, I see him breathing steadily, but he almost looks frozen, close to an inanimate object.

Lifeless.

I can tell he's exhausted, but he isn't helping himself to it.

I go on to address the situation about the dusty curtains, but instead I wanted to get straight to the point of the real matter, “You shouldn’t be locked in this room if you’re going to keep it dark. That’s unhealthy.”

“But I want to.”

“Vio, why are you doing this to yourself…?”

“To see him.”

Such a blunt response catches me so off guard I flinch, yet my conclusion was right. It is because of Shadow Link.

I went to speak but my judgment knew he wasn’t done yet.

“I admit having been quiet on a lot of things but… This is one of them. I imagined everyone would be against the idea of me being associated with him again but…”

Vio stands up and walks to the window, eyeing the outside world as if he’s contemplating what else to say. I almost got up as well to hold him, but he immediately turns to me, with a dead look on his face.

Goodness, that stings.

"I miss him. That's all I have to say."

And again, silence. We just stare at each other for what feels like ages, but these seconds feel heavier the more they go on, while I'm lost within his cloudy eyes.

He leans against the nightstand by the window, light acting like a halo around his image. Even if I'm staring into his eyes, I can tell he's gripping onto the edges; he looks like he's about to break down on the spot. Not implying that he can't be like this, but usually he's very stern and firm with his character. He would never let anyone see him like this; it's a miracle I'm in here in his quarters.

I stand up from the bed and make my way to him. I'm sure he's had no one to talk to about this so I hope I can get more out of him.

A loud thud interrupts the both of us. I immediately look behind Vio and I see what looks like a book stuck between the nightstand and the wall, I bend to pick it up and Vio’s frantic voice erupts my eardrums.

“Wait, don’t–”

Out of instinct, I pull away at Vio’s poor attempt at snatching away the book.

This… suddenly intrigues me.

“Green…”

I stay quiet, looking at him right in the eye with a serious look. I’ve never seen this horrific yet calm demeanor on Vio before, and it certainly raises red flags. I look down to the book and notice how musky it is, besides it being extremely heavy as well. I open it and hear the leather creaking as it folds, including some pages stuck to one another. This book has definitely seen better days for sure…

As I flip through the pages, and have the many words and connotations sink in, I realize that Vio is doing some serious business behind his door…

“Is this… a book for necromancers, Vio?”

No reply, just again a dead look.

“Vio…” I addressed him again, “Tell me.”

“If that’s what you think, so be it.”

“Vio, do you know how dangerous this can be?"

“I know how to use it, Green. If I didn’t, the castle would have been overrun by now.”

“Vio, I-” I sigh in defeat, I mean, sure. He may be able to use it but I’m not going to let it risk all of our lives, including the people and Princess Zelda herself.

I hold tightly onto the book, being wary of him snapping at me any time to get it off my grasp. I can’t let him keep this any longer; he’s just going to end up risking his life over something that just can’t be helped.

Ganon is gone, Vaati is just the same, and Shadow is too. There’s no safe way to bring him back without giving up something in the process.

I turn my heel and walk past Vio and stop close to the door. However, I can feel Vio’s eyes on me, prying silently.

“Green, please.” I see him turn my direction as well, but refusing to look desperate, “I just… need to see him at least one more time. I owe him an explanation.”

“An explanation for what?” I furrow my brows but intentionally this time, “He sacrificed himself for you, for us. It’s something that cannot be undone.”

“With trying my method, it can be.”

“Vio-”

“Give that back.”

Vio lunges at me with aggression but lacks speed unfortunately. I flinch back, dropping the book behind me and grabbing Vio by the arms. It gives me a chance to look a Vio directly in his eyes, and a closer yet detailed look at his face. He squirms under my grasp, showing teeth and growling in his throat. I’m trying my best to not hurt him as I hold him for dear life, but it’s hard to do so against his own strength.

Together, we step back towards the nightstand almost tripping on our feet, still fighting for both balance and preventing ourselves from becoming physical. I can hear him say things under his breath, but it’s all mumbling nonsense to my ears as I can’t make it up clearly. I did pick the detail of him almost whimpering under me. I immediately thought it might be me for gripping his wrists, so I let go a bit, yet still holding on to him.

“Let- Go of me, Green!” His voice begins to crumble, almost cracking, “Just… Leave me be! I can make this work!”

The demanding and desperate tone in his voice plus the squinting painful expression makes me wince in response. I wanted to help him, and I think I made it all worse, but who else was going to address this? Certainly not with the others as he clearly refused entry to them all, but me.

Vio continues to squirm, moving fiercely yet tiredly to get my grasp off him, but it doesn’t work. I stomp my feet on the floor to keep the both of us on flat ground, weary on not stomping on his foot again. I pull him in closer to see if I can put some sense into him. And it seems to have worked…

“Green just… Let me do this…”

“I’m sorry, Vio, but I just can’t let you continue! You’re hurting yourself the more this goes on!”

“I can make it work!” He yells, with an unhinged look on his face.

“Vio, snap out of it!” I begin to shake him, trying to lock his lost eyes with mine, “He’s gone!”

Suddenly, Vio stops squirming and stares distantly back in my eyes.

His pupils have gone pale, as well as his face.

His breathing hitches from the tantrum and what I think is… disbelief.

“...I- Green-”

I hit a nerve.

Tears begin to well up in his sockets, face turning red, and his strength subsiding.

I try my best not to crumble with him, but it’s truly a chore, “I’m sorry Vio, but he’s gone. There’s nothing that can be done about it.”

More tears come out the poor blue eyes. I can feel him shaking under my grasp which I haven’t let go of yet.

“Green…”

“...Yes?”

His mouth opens a bit, bottom lip shaking from the crying. Then, his eyes slowly close as the sudden weight of his body pulls me down.

“Shit- Vio!” My eyes widen and I immediately lunge to grab him, but he still ends up pulling me to my knees.

I use my thighs to cushion his fall, quickly moving my hand under his head for support. I use my other hand to pull him closer to my body and see how his eyes are still closed. I begin to shake him gently, brushing hair strands out of his face for a clear view.

He just fainted on me…

“Vio, Vio! You with me?”

I didn’t get any response, but I wasn’t expecting any, yet I need him to at least be able to hear me. I move my arm under his back, the other under his legs, and lift him off the ground with ease. His body limps as I take a few steps to the bed, being cautious about any sudden movements. As I sit him down on the bed, I notice his eyes flutter open occasionally while his mouth still twitches but no words come out. His forehead feels cold to the touch and is sweating profusely. I grab a piece of cloth from the restroom, and set it on Vio’s forehead, letting it soak up all the sweat as I go light up a candle.

The exhaustion has taken over him, finally making him crumble.

I close the curtain, so the natural light isn’t so harsh on him, and set the candle on the nightstand. The candle gives enough light for me to see a chair across the room, so I go ahead and grab it, placing it next to Vio’s bed and taking a seat. I wasn’t intending on leaving him like this after all. And now even less that this just happened.

Seems like conveniently the outside world has quieted down a bit, and it’s starting to get chilly. I grab the cloth and gently wipe his face clean off sweat and the remnants of tears, while occasionally fanning him with a piece of paper that was already on the nightstand giving him some air. I could tell his skin is dry and nearly unclean, and he seems to have lost some weight as well.

I can't believe it has come to this, though.

I never intended for him to grow full to the brim in anger and have this as an outcome. And I didn't even think a situation like this would have hurt him so much. His thinking process has tanked, and it's not helping him think straight.

Ever since that day, a part of Vio has been lost. And he is trying to find it, but I simply can't let him do that. From what I know, Shadow can't simply be brought back to life, can he? His source of life was destroyed a long time ago; there's no way that can be fixed or there's no alternative way to keep him wandering the land of the living just fine. Besides, the light hurt him back when he was alive, so he can't be living with us in general. Even so, if I let this continue, we might as well lose Vio in the process too.

I sigh at the idea, and at the image before me. It still upsets me how it has come to this.

I grab the cloth and rub his face clean one last time before washing it and repeat the process. I wasn't planning on leaving him until he's back in his senses. When I suddenly see the candle fire squirm on the spot, while my ears pick a gentle whisper of air.

I look to the side and shiver, swearing that the window is closed and there's no possible way for wind to go in. The fire still squirms too, looking like it's trying to keep itself lit. I sit back down on the chair, seeing how the shadow from Vio against the wall behind morphs into something strange. A sound similar to a knocking emit from said wall, so I keep my eyes on it.

My eyes grow bigger when the shadow takes shape into something I'm familiar with…

"...Shadow Link?"

AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40077648

#my art #my fic #legend of zelda #four swords #green link #vio link

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moonsilkwisdom · 10 months

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A little glamor magick to start

Glamor magic(k) and make-up magic are ways of changing how others see us and how we see ourselves. There is a great deal of variety of ways to use this style of work.

I will start with a few basics of magic. At its core, magic is sending desires out to the universe with energy to get our needs and desires filled. Most magic will fall into two categories: High/ceremonial or Low/intuitive. The two can be described as the differences between baking and cooking. Ceremonial follows clear set formulas and almost works like business transactions with some supernatural beings. Intuitive magic has a lot less structure and is more likely to be set around relationships with supernatural beings if called. One is not better or worse than the other beyond what works better for you. You may prefer clear measurement like baking or tossing together what you have like cooking soup.

I tend towards intuitive magic personally as ceremonial feels like too much work that I can take shortcuts through to get where I want to be. For others, I know the clear and rigid structure of ceremonial magic helps them focus their energy easier.

Magic is mostly a part of witchcraft that may or may not be part of your religious practice. Not all witches are pagans, not all pagans are witches. I have personally met two Christian witches, and have also known humanist pagans. Pagans tend to be earth centered and world affirming (creation is good) in their religious faith. This can include the worship of divine beings, but is not required.

Glamour magic is a type of spell casting that is mainly around how we want to be seen. It is mostly a type of intuitive magic, very little is needed in materials, and you should have access to much of it. Makeup can be a magical tool if you want to use it as such.

Lipstick can be used for spells around speaking. Think words like “let my words be clear and understood” while putting on your favorite shade.

Mascara can be used to help your second sight, to better open your eyes. “May I see what I need to know,” or “Help my eyes open,” can be a mascara spell.

Showers or baths can be used to clean your energy as well as your bodies. Words of affirmation said in a mirror can be a powerful spell.

Eye shadow or nail polish in colors that have meaning for you can be worn with intent. Essential oils can also be used. The glamour spell can be for you to see the best in yourself not about how anyone else sees you.

The possibilities are endless and your only limitation is in your imagination to put them to use. Tell yourself what you like about you. Remind yourself that you are growing and learning. Let yourself be seen for the light you shine into the world and the good you do.

#makeup #magick #pagan witch #witchcraft #witchblr

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shoshiwrites · 2 years

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Prequel to this AU prompt, because it's almost December.

❄️️

She finds him outside, on the front porch.

She closes the door behind her, still caught in a waft of cloves and lemon, cigar smoke and brown sugar. The voices are muffled now, guests and family still inside.

The cold takes a moment to hit her, flushed as she is from the house, the fire, the sips of punch. The bite of it runs up the seams of her stockings, her bare arms in the dress she’s sewn. She wants to take her hair down, out of its pins. Her shoes make soft prints on the floorboards, dusted as they are with blown snow and ice crystals like caster sugar.

“Hi,” he says, and it already sounds like an apology. “Just…needed some air.” She can’t imagine what he’s thinking, looking out onto the quiet street, the snow-covered cars and fences, the piles of firewood under tarps. All the questions he’s been getting, all the looks in the absence of them. She can’t describe his face either, cast in the porch light. “Where’s your coat?”

She smooths the skirt of her dress, hands running over the forest green velvet. Something to do, a reason to move her arms. “Inside.”

He looks like he’s about to scold her, but he doesn’t. He digs in his pocket for another smoke, fishes out a pack of matches from the other.

“Where’s your lighter?”

He moves his jaw a little. “Inside.”

She motions with her hand for the matches, and after a moment of protest they fall into the ritual of it — the way she strikes one against the side, the way his hands fold around hers.

“Are you sure you don’t-” he starts.

“I don’t think your mother would much care for me coming back smelling like cigarettes,” she says. Her eyes are focused on the end, the burning ash. If only for tonight.

His voice is worn, in the shadow against the side of the house, in the quiet of the snow. “Can’t argue with that.”

She has her arms crossed for warmth, a guard. He starts to shrug out of his coat, but she puts her hand on his wrist. If only he knew how many smoke breaks she’d taken on the back stoop only to get locked out in the cold. “Oh no you don’t-”

“You’re turning blue-”

Reflexively her arm tightens across herself, even as she protests. “Am not.”

“Are you really arguing with me about this right now?”

It hasn’t escaped her that they’re a breath away from each other, their voices low and dry in the night air. They’ve only known each other for what, two weeks? A couple of diner meetings to settle their story, and here they are. Playing at this. Like something they aren’t really supposed to believe.

“Maybe.”

He keeps his coat to himself, but unbuttons, wings the extra fabric around her side with an arm around her waist. Her cheek brushes against the soft flannel of his shirt. He’s so close that she can feel the warmth of him against the back of her neck. They need the distance from inside, for a minute.

“I think we might have a crowd,” she says, and he cranes to look at the window, a couple of faces too close against it.

He starts to mutter, catches himself before the curse, oh for-, and she snorts. He clears his throat, pete’s sake, and she giggles.

Maybe it’s the cold or maybe it’s the whiskey that has her wanting to say something, everything, but all she says is, “are they still looking?”

She can see his face without seeing it, the scowl. “Like it pays real good. ”

She leans into him, eyelids fluttering closed, until her hand is at his other shoulder and her mouth is pressed against his. It takes a second before he reacts, and draws her closer, before she thinks she hears a contented cry from the living room.

It’s just between them, the words he breathes against her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Josie-”

“Was I wrong-” she says, and her voice wavers in the cold.

He’s still so close to her, his fingertips brushing at her shoulder. He smells like the cigarettes, like aftershave, like the faintest hint of spice from the kitchen.

“No, no sweetheart-” He looks like he wants to swallow the word, but before she can apologize he kisses her again. She loses herself in it.

“They stopped lookin’ a minute back,” he breathes, against her ear, when they finally break apart.

Her face feels very flushed, her head fizzy. “Oh.”

He’s smiling a little now, and she laughs. Like a teenager, under the porch light, and maybe this was what winter was supposed to be, something that sparked.

“We should prob’ly get inside before you freeze." She bites back a retort and nods, his hand hovering around her waist, at her hip. They start to head towards the door.

“You look really pretty,” he says, and his voice sounds stripped plain. She feels it, in her hair pulled back, the scoop-back of her dress, her earrings, her toes.

“Thank you.”

She thinks he’s going to get a joke in, something about how she’s beautiful even when she’s blue, or an order about taking his coat next time, but he doesn’t. He offers a small smile again, and pulls open the door.

#shoshi writes #jo's tag #posting before i lose my nerve #still not totally 100 on this but i made some edits that feel right #and i think we learned some things #apologizing to cari and to poet in advance #any typos i am not looking i do not see #shoshi's prompt tag #shoshi's au problem

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carry-on-my-wayward-gays · 2 years

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I posted 21,812 times in 2022

That's 15,532 more posts than 2021!

235 posts created (1%)

21,577 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@spongebobssquarepants

@rabbitindisguise

@oakskull

@mustachiomadness

@darkestday828

I tagged 1,434 of my posts in 2022

#shadow says a thing - 179 posts

#jimmy solidarity - 47 posts

#solidaritygaming - 42 posts

#empires smp - 40 posts

#should i make an answer tag? - 35 posts

#tangotek - 33 posts

#team rancher - 32 posts

#shadow likes this thing - 31 posts

#nicholaspwildeblog - 28 posts

#tango tek - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#carcar‚ carley marie‚ little gremlin‚ tiny baby‚ baby girly‚ da baebaes‚ precious little girl‚ my sweetness‚ lil old lady‚ my babushka

My Top Posts in 2022:

Imagine, if you will, fWhip getting inside Tango's head about Jimmy. "He's a corrupt Sheriff. Don't waste your time with him, he'll just cast you aside when he's done with you." And it all makes Tango's skin crawl. Just the way fWhip says it, it makes Jimmy sound like a heartless monster.

And Tango knows he isn't. He knows Jimmy is warmer than the sun and just as bright. His heart is pure solid gold and he deeply cares for everyone he knows, whether he admits it or not. Jimmy doesn't have a single bone of hate in his body.

But it still keeps Tango up at night. As he listens to the sculk whisper and the dripstone drip and the rails creak he can't help but think of the possibility that maybe Jimmy changed after Double Life. Maybe he is as fWhip describes.

So Tango sneaks away. He goes to Tumble Town late at night and is surprised to find his rancher still awake, though nearly falling asleep in the pews of his church.

"Hey," Tango says softly and fondly. The giant grin that takes over his face is purely involuntary. Jimmy is here, in front of him again. He could touch him, look at him, talk to him. He was elated to have Jimmy again.

Jimmy startles awake. He blinks sleepily at Tango and rubs his eyes, returning the same huge grin. "Hey you. What're you doing here?" Jimmy asks, standing up out of respect.

Tango's face falls. fWhip's voice rattles in his mind, echoing lies from the hurt heart of a bitter ex. And Tango feels gross and far too possessive admitting to himself that fWhip and Jimmy definitely had a fling of sorts.

"I uh, wanted to talk to you. Ask you something, really." Tango fidgets with the sleeves of his cloak. He likes the feeling of the embroidery running under the pad of his thumb.

"Oh? Ask away, I'm all ears." Jimmy gestures toward Tango. His brown eyes are still sparkling even with such a tense topic, even in such dim lighting.

"Um, it- So... fWhip has been.. saying some not so nice stuff on your behalf." Tango looks around, anywhere but Jimmy.

"Oh Gods," Jimmy groans, hiding his face in his hands and slumping back into the pew. "Listen, Tango-"

"It's not like I believe him! I don't I honestly do not!" Tango cuts to defend himself. He doesn't. He only works for fWhip and sleeps in his cave it's not like he's all buddy-buddy with the goblin. "I just want your side of the story."

"He violated my trust." Jimmy growls defensively. "He disrespected me and the Law. Believe me I hated firing him and he can deny anything he wants but the truth is he betrayed me. End of story." Jimmy's face turned sour quickly. Tango takes a step back, feeling sorry(?), guilty(?) for even thinking to bring it up. Obviously this matter was still a tender one.

"I'm sorry," Tango mutters.

Jimmy sighs, taking the hat off his head and placing it in the pew next to him. "No, you're alright. Sorry if I sounded like a dick, it's still a sensitive issue. I'm trying to move on but that's kinda hard when the issue is raking your name through the mud." Jimmy laughs.

Tango walks over and sits in the pew adjacent to Jimmy. "I get it. I just think he got inside my head a little too well." Something snakes up Tango's spine as he watches the way Jimmy reclines back and kicks his dusty boots up on the pew ahead of him.

"Yeah, he seems to have that effect on people." Jimmy mumbles. He turns to look at Tango. "You need to get out of that cave." He jokes.

Tango snorts. "What, already? It's been... a day.." A sudden horrific realization dawns on Tango. It's only been a day and fWhip has wormed his way into Tango's mind. No wonder everyone else is so hellbent on borderline torturing the Sheriff.

"Yeah. Being in the caves warps your sense of time." Jimmy grunts as he stands up, picking up his hat. "Why don't you come over tomorrow. We can build something, have an adventure. Ya know, ranch it up."

"Sounds lovely." It sounds like a dream come true. It sounds like everything Tango has ever wanted. It sounds like coming home.

"Great. I'll be here all day. Drop by whenever." Jimmy pats his hat onto his head and starts going for the door.

Tango watches him leave, takes in his figure and the way he walks. He watches the tassels that swag from Jimmy's outfit, watching the spurs on his boots spin and jingle. It's Jimmy. The same Jimmy he's known and loved. The only thing that's changed is costume. But Tango has also changed in that department, so he can't speak.

"I'll see you in the morning, Tango." Jimmy winks and walks out the door, leaving it open behind him. Tango was going to leave right after, so it was fine.

And Tango holds onto that wink, that smile, and the tip of that hat before Jimmy disappears into the night. He holds onto it all the trip back to Gobland, where he leaves it at the front door to pick back up in the morning on his way out.

686 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

Can you. I mean. I'm thinking so hard about Tango finding Jimmy as or, Hell, even witnessing him turn into a toy.

Like Tango certainly did not leave Jimmy a toy in Double Life. He's never seen Jimmy be a toy in the past and for a few years the man was action figure material with his Captain America cosplay.

Tango assumes it's part of this season. Maybe it's for his persona. The bedroom walls around Tumble Town and the allay named "Buzz" are supporting evidence. But then he hears the taunting way everyone calls him a toy. It's derogatory, demeaning, an insult. He hears Jimmy's wails that he is not a toy, to stop treating him like a toy.

And Tango sees a pant leg tighter and stitch into Jimmy's skin. The Sheriff winces and stumbles for a second. Tango expects to feel the pain in his own leg but there's nothing - and he remembers they aren't in Double Life anymore.

When Tango stays the night at the new ranch for the first time, he invites Jimmy up with him. And the Sheriff agrees, happily following Tango in and sitting on the bed with the hermit.

They end up cuddling - somewhat. Tango is leaning into Jimmy's side and playing with the blond's plastic fingers. They've got joints that move stiffly to simulate knuckles but that's it. The whole limb up to the shoulder is cold hard plastic.

"When did this happen?" Tango asks, tapping Jimmy's palm to signify what he was asking about.

Jimmy hums and looks down. "Oh. That..." Jimmy mumbles. He leans his cheek against the crown of Tango's head and sighs. He can't feel the bite of the ice hair as his skin is now plastic. "It's new. Um... started a few months ago. At first it was just my hair."

Jimmy takes his hat off to show a full head of dirty blond yarn. Tango's eyes widen with horror. His rancher's once beautiful and soft hair was now scratchy yarn.

Jimmy puts his hat back on and pats it into place. "But uh, now it's spread to my whole body. Obviously. My leg is the newest change." Jimmy kicks out his leg, which just looks like stitched up denim filled with stuffing in the shape of a leg.

"How?" Tango whispers. He laces his fingers with Jimmy's and squeezes. He doesn't know if Jimmy can feel it.

"Oh you know. Gods make rules and humans helplessly follow them." Jimmy says bitterly.

Tango cranes his neck so he's looking up at Jimmy now. "I don't understand?"

Jimmy shakes his head. "Joel started it. He just wanted something to make fun of me for, and unfortunately this time it was because I reminded him of some toy cowboy. The changes didn't start until other people started ganging up on me. First it was the hair, then my skin, so on and so forth."

Tango is still for a while. He's horrified, angry, grieving for his soulmate. He wants to- to- to do something to Joel! Get revenge. Make him feel the same pain.

For a second Tango wonders how attached the god is to the child seen flying around Stratos, or the Spanish speaking man in the bamboo forest.

Jimmy kisses Tango's head, snapping the dungeon master back from his head.

"Don't you dare think about it." Jimmy warns.

Tango snorts. "How'd you know what I was thinking about?"

"I just do. You're my soulmate after all." Jimmy says warmly.

Tango laughs softly, squeezing Jimmy's hand again. His face falls when he feels hard plastic under his touch and not a gentle, calloused hand.

"Can you feel? Like, anything?" Tango asks bluntly.

Jimmy purses his lips. "No. Nothing besides my body changing."

"I'm sorry." Tango murmurs.

"Hey it's not your fault. You didn't know, and I highly doubt you could've stopped this, sunshine." Jimmy reassures, squeezing Tango's hand back.

"Still. It- It's awful. It's not right. You're a human being, Jimmy. You..." Tango trails off. Tears prick at his eyes and he blinks them back.

He ends up sighing. "I can kick his ass if you want." Tango smiles.

And Jimmy barks a laugh, quickly devolving into giggling and snickering.

"No. I can kick ass myself just fine."

979 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

Sometimes Ghost wakes up without Soap in his arms. It shouldn't be something to panic over but with what they do for a living - and when Ghost definitely remembers falling asleep with Soap next to him - it freaks him out a little bit.

Of course Soap is always fine. He can take care of himself. But still Ghost gets out of bed and goes searching for its partner.

Usually he finds Soap in the bathroom or getting something to drink or coming in from outside after hearing a noise and just wanting to be safe.

"There you are," Ghost will huff sleepily. It digs the heels of its hands in its eyes and rubs away sleep.

Soap will roll his eyes and finish up whatever he was doing when Ghost found him. "I'm a big boy, ya know. I can take care of myself." It's always delivered lightly, and Soap always goes and engulfs Ghost in a reassuring hug.

"I'm well aware." Ghost wraps his arms around Soap and rests his cheek on top of his head.

"Promise I'll stop scarin' ya." Soap mumbles into Ghost's chest. Ghost leans against a wall and pulls Soap with it.

"I don't think you will." Ghost whispers back.

They'll go back to bed and Ghost will practically wrap his whole body around Soap to make sure he doesn't leave until morning.

They never talk about Ghost's fear of losing Soap while asleep. They never acknowledge what could happen while Ghost was unable to fight back. And they never plan to.

Ghost doesn't get much sleep the rest of the night.

1,201 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

You cannot tell me this isn't the moment Ghost realized how down bad he was

1,236 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

"I've misplaced my horn." "No it's ok!"

"No one's going to set fire to this, we're all fine." "No no, that's definitely not happening."

"You haven't been angry since, right?" "No there's no rage just beautiful memories of happiness here."

"The way I look at it, that is my work, this is my homestead. This is where I rest my head." "I like that a lot."

"I thought you were going to be like "I'm out of here"." "No no I can't pass up Rancher love!"

JIMMY NOT GETTING MAD AT TANGO WHEN HE FINDS OUT TANGO IS STAYING AT GOBLAND.

JIMMY TRYING TO COME UP W A COMPROMISE SO THAT TANGO CAN STILL STAY IN TUMBLE TOWN BUT TANGO SHUTTING THAT DOWN BY SAYING HE KEEPS HIS WORK AND HOME SEPARATE.

JIMMY CALLING TANGO "RANCHER" AS HE LEAVES.

JIMMY TELLING TANGO TO MAKE HIMSELF AT HOME AND TANGO IS SAYING THIS ALREADY IS HOME.

THEM.

2,140 notes - Posted November 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#my 2022 tumblr year in review #fucking hell i'm sorry to anyone who scrolled this entire thing

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entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys · 6 months

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Then Again, it could possibly be the fake fog

You see the fake fog was described by the god Zeus as allegedly another deity he doesn't know he actually said that he's not quite sure if it is a deity or not one of the Divine family

But he is sure that it's a severe problem for all deities the fake fog is completely an absolutely sentient and 100% malevolent

It's only intent is to destroy everything in creation

. . .

I sometimes wonder if the fake fog is cancer if you think of God and a Grand Spect of All Thing's !

I wanted to fake fog is like sentient cancer !

Anyway the fake fault does a whole bunch of things one thing you need about the fake frogs is extremely corrupting it's also a complete psychic Elemental

Not an Elemental That is Psychic, No, it's made entirely out of Psionic Energy, aka Psychic Energy !

. . .

I've talked much about this piece of fucking shit but to make things even more deep I thought I let you God damn know this thing has a long list of powers and I only learned about these Powers as I suffered it and figured it out as my soul died throughout my life as it drains me it's always draining me with well I like to call them fog thralls

They're like zombified puppets but they are extensions of the fake fog they have no real free will and no real sentiness but they act like they're completely alive but they're malevolent nature is that of an extension of the fake fog itself

Think of it like Possession of a Ghost, or a Spiritual infection Upon Another Spirit

. . .

The fake fog corrupts all things and perverts all things it does not mean Dark, it will make demons act like angels and Angels act like demons

It will turn fire to water and water to fire, but the soul of the creature is not meant to act that way so it's a form of torture, And Soul Damage

The damn thing also is big on cursing the living shit out of Every mother fucking thing in Existence

The fake fog also drives deities completely insane and that sounds like they act like bad but you have no idea by the level of insanity imagine someone doing a lot of asset I mean like LSD now imagine someone smoking crack cocaine now imagine someone crazier than a Looney tune now imagine someone dropping even more acid now imagine them smoking methamphetamine which is a slightly different from crack cocaine, and that's still fucking same compared to how fucked they are

How long does it take fog last here's the paradox of the fake fog

When the fake fog is locked away it exists nowhere in time but when the fake fog is free it always existed everywhere in time ?

The fake fog also drains all power in all energy and all magic of all things even deities lose all their Divine powers and go completely insane sometimes they gain their power back again but their powers gained back only in to where the fake fall can use it to wear deities go against one another for no good reason they're more insane, then I fucking Looney tune !

They are completely insane and they are become extremely malevolent and they seemingly don't know that what they're doing most the fucking time but they're very sure of it at the same time

It drives dead he's insane and eventually they have to try to break away from it cuz they're possessed under control even Zeus is fucked even God is fucked by this thing it makes God turn on his people yes even God even fucking God so this thing must be equal to the level of God or around the same generation of God

The Almighty Creator, I sometimes wonder in these dire times if it's more important to hold loyalty to God or is it important to break loyalty to God, I sometimes wonder that shit ?

See I'm not a human being I'm a fairy and fairy is supposed to love themselves as we love ourselves we love each other, because we are a high mind we're not just a hive

THAT'S, NOT THE FUCKING POINT

I often wonder why I should do in these moments I wonder if I should stay loyal to God and keep doing this sacred chance I came up with in the name of God's glory

. . . . .

Air, Earth, Water, Fire in the name of God there is no Higher !

. . . . .

Either way I thank you whoever you are for reading it to the very end I don't know what's going on a cosmet scale is probably a Divine battle ?

🤷🏻‍♂️

At the end of my life whenever is going to happen I said this throughout my life and I'll say it again I'll be happy when I'm dead but I'm also terrified that I'll be brought back that leaves might need to go into great deep rage against God to want to listen say do ultimate battle with him because his creation it's been a cactus of my ass for a long time

And God shows me no mercy despite I show him nothing but love nothing but devotion nothing but dedication nothing but purity

I always wondered by God gave me the middle finger but then again every time the gods acted insane they always have to fog around them or they had a bit of a foggy aura or they had fog in their eyes

Either way I don't know why I have to keep suffering this bullshit when I die I hope I get to fly

When, I finally get to leave this fucking body I hope I truly am done forever

#Paranormal

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maruzzewrites · 9 months

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Commission for @catallarii of their amazing OCs (go check them out!).

There are some joys, and some details, one cannot appreciate and ponder upon unless they travel. The way the mind stores information, however, is feeble and escapes the folds of the brain like sand in the wind. It is difficult to really embrace the size, the magnificence of everything filling one’s eyes and the way it settles in the forest, or on the mountain, or perhaps alongside the river or the lake.

Melheim knows how to commit the memory to paper, trace forms and lines that compose complex shapes, layered shadows and lights, covered in natural colors. His hand can know the outline of any object just by observing the minutiae and the way it sits in the bigger picture. Every map he makes gives the viewer an idea of how to move around the environment; the paths, the configuration of the soil, the way the hill raises in that direction and then falls into an ample pasture, maybe how the valley narrows in the middle of the two mountains.

And then Callan, with his usual nonchalant behavior, walks up to the table where Melheim is working on a project. An expedition they have taken together, more often than not, to lands they either know or need to chart better. He points his finger to one point on the paper, speaking about how he remembers the way those rocks stacked in the angle or how the breeze sounded as it danced through the leaves of the trees.

Callan raises his eyes, then, with a loose smile on his lips and a playful tone moving his words. Melheim watches the fingers walk up the stylized paths as Callan returns to the same expeditions with his mind; he describes the same places they have visited together with such different words, sensation Melheim has barely enough ability to describe and his words fill the world with something new he has never felt before.

“Do you remember the way the light was shining on the grass?” Callan’s question is simple, and lingers in the air like a promise of another story. Melheim observes him, and he is unsure how to answer. He does remember it being bright and warm, but he didn’t pay much attention to how the surfaces reflected the light.

Callan sighs when he receives nothing back, “You were so busy measuring everything up…”

It’s the usual advice he gives Melheim, to enjoy more than only work and get the most out of every exploration. Perhaps he should just enjoy sceneries and feelings, rather than elaborate all the ways and all the possibilities to translate what he sees to paper. So that everyone else can see.

Callan may not understand it, but Melheim wants everyone to see what he does. Words and descriptions don’t do the trick as often as he would like, so the meticulous job of tracing the shapes of mountains, lakes, rivers, deserts, forests, seas, is the most objective way to give people something to imagine. One day, perhaps, they will manage to find the same place and marvel at the grandiose spectacle of the nature around them; meanwhile, this world is fleeting.

“Do you remember the pattern of the trees or how the cliff would climb up?” Melheim isn’t trying to sound callous or sarcastic, it is simply a method to make Callan rethink or reconsider. It would be okay to have their visions of the world being different, even radically so, but it’s important to consider the other’s point of view and respect them.

Callan thinks once more, raising his eyes to the sky as if to recall information. Then he grins at Melheim, lighthearted and easy, before he speaks, “I would love to see everything from your eyes. Better yet, I would love you to narrate it. There are few pleasures like the sound of your voice.”

A tinge of the usual teasing flirtation colors Callan’s last words, and they seem to leave a splash of red on Melheim’s ears and cheeks. Or so he feels, with the way his skin heats up and he has to resist the urge to clean his throat to relieve the tension. Not that the air was tense at all: Callan seems to be satisfied with the reaction, judging by the way his lips stretch into an even bigger, toothier smile.

Melheim knows it comes from no dark place, Callan simply enjoys his reactions and he wants to think his colleague is just testing boundaries, playing just to let the air hang a bit lighter in the room. However, there is a sort of awareness born from the care and affection of some of Callan’s actions and words – through the years they became more and more filled with a strange sense of purpose and intention.

With these thoughts circling inside his brain, Melheim cannot really concentrate. It should be frustrating and infuriating, but it’s a tender of a feeling. No malice, no bitterness, just the quiet knowledge someone is there to probe and tease with amiability. To know someone wants to care for the more stubborn sides of his personality, to the point of teasing him is a playful habit, it’s an odd type of flattery.

Or perhaps Melheim is thinking too much, as always. Is it that wrong to abandon himself to the care he is given, for once, though? He may try to let the door open just enough for Callan to look inside, and perhaps he will ask for more and never try to close that opening again.

What a silly thought. Or languid, depending on which part of his brain takes hold. Logic is steady, but it can lead towards theories that have no foundations or start from wrong starting points. Intuition is just as useful in method and, today, Melheim will lean into the curiosity of the explorer rather than the perfectionism of the cartographer.

“Yes. Narrate it, I could do that for you. Next time we find a place we need to map out, I could tell you what I see.” His observation comes out with less candor one would imagine, and he is immediately self-conscious over the invite he is offering. He sees the smile on Callan’s lips widen, his eyes crinkle at the corners with genuine fondness, and he seems to want to speak about this newfound boldness. But Melheim attempts to punctuate what he said with something typical of him, something professional, “It is a great strategy to pick out the details one would oversee.”

Those words float around the space left between them; Callan leaning over the work table and the maps, Melheim with his notes and pencils and pens scattered, yet in composed order. Another person may get offended or rethink their position if they heard those words, but Callan only lets a little chuckle fall from his mouth, onto Melheim’s ears. It is a form of intimacy hard to give up once felt for the first time, the benefit of the doubt over the way he accepts affection and care.

Melheim’s chest feels heavy, but in a tender way. It’s the same sensation of when your stomach is full, or you lay your head on the pillow after a day of work, the satisfaction and comfort coming from something you needed, you waited to accomplish. Callan had to work to dig his place into Melheim’s chest and weight in such a beautiful way, longingly yet awaited with trepidation.

“Be sure to tell me every little…” Callan steps aside for a second, sits down on a chair he purposely dragged nearby the table. His eyes trail the lines and the drafts on the map, the graphite of the pencil incomplete as Melheim was trying to calculate, record or note this or that quadrant. Then, suddenly, his eyes are on Melheim, his smile as well, “...Detail.”

That single word is a promise, for the future days. For the next expedition, probably alone, in order to gather more information before the zone sunk into the ever-shifting world. For the time being, strong with the promise, Melheim continues his meticulous work and Callan watches the skill translating into the paper.

Callan’s head lazily rests on the palm of his hand, his elbow supported by the thick wood of the table, while Melheim’s eyes try to absorb all the light the window and the lamp can give, until it’s deep into the evening and the night, until Callan stands up and distracts him again. He gives him a goodnight, a wink, and he leaves the words from before to remind Melheim to be ready one of these days.

It’s early. The sun barely peaks from the cold clouds, the sky has the pastel tint of the morning, and barely any life comes from the houses around. Yet, Callan and Melheim are awake, the former stretching his arms above his head, the latter checking he has everything he needs for another expedition.

Traveling comes natural to both of them, yet they face it in such different ways. Melheim has an objective in mind, he needs to reach the same place they had seen days prior and finish his current map, while Callan walks with a relaxed pace yet meaningfully. Perhaps the terrain under his feet will shift and change soon, and he has to commit to memory the way his feet move, or the hues that paint the background, or how the paths would lead into the horizon.

But he stays behind Melheim, never faltering and never stopping too long to admire something. The journey isn’t too long, they had worse before, but they reach the right location when the sun burns brighter and harsher, when the clouds melt into white, gold, and gray.

An open, immense field of green nestled in a frame of rocks and mountains, with trees breaking the surface of grass now and then. They separate the field from the world further away, the other path leading away from this small valley is filled with tall, sturdy trees that make one’s eyes lose the trail.

It is how Melheim remembers it, the image he had in his mind now follows the same outline his eyes are seeing. He could lose the entire day flying away with the mind and imagining how it would look from the top, so he could better draw it again on the map. However, he came here because Callan invited him to narrate what he sees and how he sees it.

For better remembering the details, he clarified, but he knows he wants Callan to be impressed. Or perhaps tell him his vision changed his own. Is it about sharing something or just being acknowledged by him? Melheim has a difficult time tracing the line between the natural need for approval and the specific want to appeal to Callan. Either way, he should start, so that they may work through most things.

“The mountains…” His voice reaches Callan, who was lost in contemplating the view, but he is quick to divert his attention towards the captain of this excursion. He is listening, at least, still with that loose smile. Melheim points towards the rocky side climbing up, and up, his voice lost in the immensity, “You divide it, by height. Scientifically, the air is different on the peak and the vegetation will be different from the base. It is a good method to show altitude, using a gradient of green, until you have to use white.”

Callan follows the motion of the finger, as Melheim points to one hundred meters, then two hundreds, three hundreds of height. His fingers and his mind follow the imaginary path that leads to the peak, cold and covered in icy snow, barely visible as it mixes with the clear sky. The entire way, Callan nods at every word.

“Would be interesting to see the world from up there,” Callan looks around the slope, observes and takes deductions as his eyes hug the entire length of the wall he and Melheim are watching. Then he, too, points, but at a specific location, “You could climb from there, for example.”

“Mh?” Melheim looks the same way, humming with curiosity. He didn’t think of climbing for real, of course, it would take time and resources they didn’t have at the moment. Perhaps another day, for another reason, “We don’t have time to do that.”

Callan now returns his eyes to Melheim’s face, a hint of questioning lingering on his features. He shakes his head ever-so-slightly, then speaks, “I didn’t mind we should do it. I was pointing out that you may add it, perhaps someone will want to find a way up while looking at your map.”

Melheim blinks at that statement. Or request, he juggles the interpretations as well as he can to decode the intention. Perhaps Callan wants to be useful, or offer a new point of view the same way Melheim wishes to do for him. Adding such information on the map, he has barely done it, yet it could be a new use for it. Not everyone who will look at it will be an expert cartographer, some will see it with the same eyes as Callan did and does – and hopefully always will.

A tool to explore, rather than a way of recording. Letting it roll on the table so that you may know where to walk, what to bring alongside with you, not just remember the place and its conformation. Melheim has his pencil between his fingers already, the notebook where endless numbers and notes crowd the pages open on a blank one, and he walks the distance between him and Callan.

“Excuse me, could you repeat where?” He looks deep into Callan’s eyes. He sees something new now, something he only catches a few times sporadically. Callan seems surprised, almost like he is holding his breath back, then slowly letting out all the air in his lungs with soft and long exhales. His skin, at the level of his ears, where his cheekbones are, flushes just slightly; and his smile seems to hang lower and bigger compared to his placid usual.

He, then, clears his throat and raises his hand again to point towards a specific part of the slope where the incline is softer, “Right there. You can probably start from there, at first glance.”

Now, Melheim must have been blind for so long, because that same behavior he has seen countless times before. In doubt, he never gave too much thought, but he sees now the way Callan gets flustered and light when he asks that question. Why is that? What could be the reason? He asks himself, and he asks him, “Why are you so red? Do you feel well?”

Callan smiles still, but it has a more shy note now. He is so sincere and open usually, at least with how words. But even he can be caught in a moment of weakness when he has to admit his emotions, nude and bare under the high sun and the curious gaze of others. Yet, he answers, “You have a passion in your eyes, cap’.”

It’s the best thing about you, goes unsaid. His eyes speak, but his mouth stops at the nickname and the compliment. Maybe Melheim is reading too much into it, maybe he just wants those words to be truly fighting to crawl out of Callan’s lips. There is something, however, telling him that he isn’t wrong, and he wants to explore it with the same ease it feels wandering the immense world of new and old landscapes.

Instead, he nods and acknowledges the statement, he whispers a polite thank you, and he is observing the mountain raising again. He notes down the position of the climbable portion of the slope, and he thinks the best way to show it in the map – perhaps color, perhaps adding a symbol to the legend.

After the fact, they pace around the grass. Melheim keeps his strides steady, taking the opportunity to understand if his scale was correct last time he measured it, and Callan imitates him when he is told the reason for his awkward steps. It manages to get a smile out of Melheim, and he writes down the difference between the two of them in his notebook. It could be useful – it will probably be just endearing, for each time he will reread it.

Then Callan asks Melheim how he shows the difference in terrain. Melheim lightly scolds him, for all the times he had to see a map and still didn’t notice the details; Callan tells him he’d just write notes at the bottom of the paper, so that people may read and understand, but Melheim corrects it by saying it would be a clumsy method. He uses different lines, hatchings or colors: most of this field is simple, plain and easy to walk around, but there are places where the terrain is wet or harder, so he doesn’t use a solid color, but stripes of green and brown, or gray and white. Callan seems to wonder about it, but he does confirm he remembers those techniques, and he wonders how someone who didn’t know the meaning behind those choices could understand. And once again, Melheim tells him off lightly forit, explains that there is a legend of all the symbols, short-cuts, techniques they use for each map, in the corners.

Callan does what he does best, take it in stride and chuckle about it. He apologizes for the superficiality first, and then he simply covers it up with admiration, “Good thing I have you besides me or I’d be lost.”

Melheim knows that it’s untrue, he is aware of the ability and skill Callan has. He is a great explorer, he is better than him in practical survivor skills, yet he doesn’t rush to show off. He is tranquil and even-tempered, and truly shines when someone requires his help. At the same time, that sentence makes Melheim feel that same comfortable weight he experiences so often lately, now warm and snuggle between his ribs. It is not that Callan would get lost, but he would feel lost, by his words – or maybe Melheim just wants to hear that meaning.

His fingers grip the notebook harder, the skin under his nails becoming lighter, and he feels the tip of his ears burning red. It is so easy for Callan, bouncing from flustered to adoring, that Melheim wishes he could give back in the same way. He has no experience, though; mapping people has been harder than the straightforward way someone can just record the shape of the world.

He has to try, though. It is not by standing around and waiting for Callan to do all the work, to push against the walls Melheim has up. Anyone would tire of attempting without feedback or answer, so perhaps Melheim should try – he wants to. One step in his direction can be enough for a day, “Your help is always appreciated. You… Opened my eyes to something.”

There is a sort of temptation to simply say more, to deflect and point towards the mountain with the back of the pencil while scribbling something without meaning to appear busy. However, Melheim forces himself to commit, to be honest with the sentiments whirling inside of him and letting the rush of thoughts run. Unprofessional, a little voice in his head declares, but Melheim sees out of the corner of his eye the way Callan grins and looks at his feet, seemingly content.

Before he can magnify the worries it can bring, Melheim reaches into the well of his passion for mapping and remembers he is on an expedition that is as much work as pleasure, it seems. He raises his eyes to the field welcoming his gaze and he counts again the trees, then groups them by density, by size, by patterns or species. He is not an expert in biology, he can describe them with the same ignorance of someone who sees nature everyday, and he actually asks Callan if he knows more.

“I know those trees usually grow near water,” he seems pensive. He springs behind Melheim to look over his shoulder and peek at the information on his notebook, thinking out loud, “See, you wrote there is a specific type of terrain around them. Seems like there is an aquifer somewhere.”

It is a good theory. Perhaps Melheim should ask his grandfather to bring along an expert, to analyze the soil and find the water. Maybe build a well, too, so that it may function as a landmark to recognize the same place once it will move far from them. He reserves the right to pencil it down, so he may ask later, and compliment Callan’s deduction. He seems proud, once he hears those words.

“This makes me think, Mel,” he continues after watching the way letters dance into reality with light strokes of the pencil. It still has the notes of something thought rather than said, yet Callan shares it with him freely, “If we ever find this same place again and it is on another side of the world, maybe the sun is hotter and it becomes a desert…”

A question many have asked before. How much the shifts and changes influence the external existence too, if the sun moves with the waves of the moving lakes or the wind runs all around the globe so as to return to the same forests it loves. Or perhaps they mutate with the weather the static stars bring, and that’s another entire study: there are theories that put old maps together with new ones, calculating and layering so as to prove the same zone changed through the years. A difficult thesis to support, and many experts are still debating on the validity of it.

However, Melheim isn’t there to debate the theories surrounding the mapping of the world. He is just content to hear Callan’s curiosity, he can only answer eagerly, “Maybe. If that’s true, all we can do is find it again and study it with the same zeal we are employing now.”

In a way, Melheim can hope that every part of the world mutates with the movements. On one hand, it is simply fascinating from the point of view of his job, but on the other hand, the prospect of sharing diverse experience with Callan adds an enchanted feeling to something so enmeshed in his being as work.

The infinite combinations that it could create, this field green and lush could be frozen over or weight heavy on the ground as sand. And Callan would tell him something else, he would point out that by the first thing they should do on blistering sand is set camp for shelter, rather than record the way the dunes trace lines into the horizon, or how dew collects between the leaves when it’s morning, instead of wondering if the trees they’re under are evergreen or will lose its crown.

There are so many answers he could give Callan, Melheim thinks, after this hurricane of considerations and images in his head. He isn’t good with words, or expressing emotions, vulnerabilities or desires. He has worked, for others, for himself, for humanity whole, and that slowed the need to process sentiments such as these or the necessity to reveal them. Still, change and innovation come from daring, curiosity can only be satisfied by attempting, and why do it if not for someone so deserving of openness?

“There are many theories, it’s not a known fact. It could be,” he starts. He needs to stumble before learning fully, he needs false starts to lose his balance and make the first definitive step. Now it is the time to dare, so his voice doesn’t stop, “But if it is correct, I know we would be together and I trust your intuition to recognize this place.”

For the sake of his emotions, Melheim doesn’t turn around to face Callan and see his face. However, he is aware it is changing just like body shifts and moves behind him, taken by the sudden energy of his words. Was he as filled with contrasting and strong sensations? The same ones that are asking him to take refuge in usual stoicism, while still hoping and waiting for the moment everything will come to light?

He has little time to think about it, though, as Callan simply talks, “For sure, Mel. You have a lot to teach me, you wouldn’t want me to slack off on the job.”

Each syllable plays a lighthearted note, whimsical and without care, as he is used to. Words seem to come easily to Callan, especially those that carry a bit more levity, but Melheim senses the tense work under them in that specific moment. It is almost like offering an out and asking for actual confirmation at the same time, so that Melheim may simply say he wants to work with Callan or state he seeks companionship over simple work relations.

At that, Melheim does turn to face Callan. Still with his loose smile, but with light and clear eyes of someone trying to read the situation. Melheim nods, “Your help is always appreciated, even if it comes at your pace. You’re invaluable.”

“I must be something special if you tell me that.” Callan loses no time in answering, with his hands reaching up and brushing through his hair in a way to diffuse the emotions he is feeling. It took a long time to understand, but there are movements that show Callan to be nervous too, in a way, and Melheim wants to map those out the same as he does with terrains and stars. So that he may read the signs and predict, or interpret, or react to the best of his abilities.

But there is beauty in the search too, Melheim discovered. Not just in finding the same, exact place recorded years ago or perhaps finally completing the project he is working on – those are joys and accomplishments he will never tire of, sure. But even today Callan showed him that there is value in listening and learning something new, that you may give back love not just with words, but also sharing your inner world with the recipient.

It's in the way someone points at the new and shares it because there is intimacy in looking at things the same, but it’s also setting your pride aside so you may listen to something different than what you know. It's right now, with Callan deciding to break the ice by pointing out how the grass parts to show traces left by animals. He looks at the size, the weight to leave on the soil, the shape so he could make suppositions.

But it’s also in the way Melheim does some calculations, based on the knowledge he has now of the area and the places connected to it thanks to the last expedition. Callan listens as he points his pencil towards one of the ways leading away from this secluded valley and says, with some margin of error, how the herd of animals probably followed that direction. It is difficult to estimate the true aim of the animals, in a world that changes so radically, but Callan listens to the explanation, to the hypotheses he draws based on the evidence, and then he says he will give more precise data once they’re back – and he can look again at the notes, at the maps.

Callan says he can’t wait, with a smile. Then he walks soft and slack towards one of the trees, Melheim right behind him. The twirls on his heels, sitting down with surprising flexibility between the roots that poke out of the terrain. A cozy nook, but Melheim looks over and isn’t sure how to react. Usually, he would scold Callan for slacking off and not taking his duties as seriously as he should, but then his companion pats the terrain besides him as an invite.

“Cap’, I know you would love to work more, but you need to reset your mind a bit.” Callan’s hand rests on the ground where he is inviting Melheim to sit, the grass bends under his fingers and springs up between the spaces. He seems content when Melheim does motion the intention to sit down as well, much more calmly and slowly.

He doesn’t put away his notebook, letting it stay open on his legs and the pencil loose between his fingers. Callan playfully complains he will fuse his brain by working so much, as he slips slowly in a more, and more, relaxed position. One leg over the other, bouncing slightly, he grins, “It’s a perfect day out. You will think better if you do it while resting.”

It’s almost like Callan knows Melheim can hardly repose, but he desires to see him treat himself anyway. Perhaps he cannot just close his eyes and wander with the mind, like he does, but Melheim can compromise by sitting under the cool shadow of the tree, with light filtering through the dancing leaves, and elaborate his data search in peace and quiet.

Maybe out of the office.

Melheim looks at Callan from the corner of his eye. He is relaxed, humming just low enough that one could think he was imagining it. Did he plan for Melheim to get work done away from the four walls of those rooms, breathe in some fresh air and see the shining sun above? He could believe it.

And he can appreciate it. He will treasure this time, as Callan relaxes, he will run some numbers. He doesn’t notice when the other man laying almost entirely on the grass turns on his side to look at him focus on his job, head nestled against one of his arms – and eyes softening like the clouds as they stretch with the passing hours upon seeing the passion he so dearly adores.

Callan must have closed his eyes and drifted off at some point. He wakes up when Melheim lightly shakes him awake, with a hint of bashfulness in the flush of his skin, and he tells Callan they should return soon.

Callan looks him over, noticing the signs of the tree pressed on his cheek, somewhat red and marked. He wants to imagine Melheim napped as well, for a few minutes at least, but it may simply be because he rested his head against the tree. The traces left behind would indicate he had his head turned towards Callan.

He feels his grin grow wider, but he decides not to comment on it for now. He gets on his feets with ease, stretches just enough to feel his muscles move again, and then he follows Melheim towards home. He will fill the silence soon enough, but for now he mentally says goodbye to the place who made him glimpse into his captain’s heart a bit more.

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