#disabled folx are part of that
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not that anyone is wondering or has noticed bc no one knows who i am lmao but the reason i’m often interacting with posts in the replies instead of reblogging your posts and putting comments in the tags is because y’all are STILL NOT CAPTIONING OR TRANSCRIBING THE VIDEOS YOU POST and i’m not gonna reblog uncaptioned videos like come on how many times do we have to have this conversation 😭😭😭
#i will never leave you alone about accessibility lol#just like i’ll never leave dnp alone about it#guys come on#i know you’re all leftists and care about marginalised folx#disabled folx are part of that#so do you maybe wanna be inclusive pretty place#dan and phil#dnp#phan#dan howell#daniel howell#amazingphil#danandphilgames#ableism#accessibility#closed captions#deaf/hoh#d&p#dapg#danisnotonfire#phil lester#yeet my deenp#yeet my deet
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Good Omens is queering TV/storytelling - part 1: GAZE
I would argue that part of why Good Omens is so refreshingly queer is because it does not cater to the male gaze (which centers around the preferences - aesthetic, romantic, sexual, visual, logical, emotional, political ... - of mainly white men in positions of power):
no oversexualization of groups or types of people: Women or characters that could be read as female presenting are not overly sexualized. In fact, some of them are shown to be grimy, slimy and not sexual at all. All of them are real characters and not just cardboard-cutout on-screen versions of male misogynistic fantasies. They portray real people with real people problems. They are human, or exempt from our categories when portraying angels or demons. There are no overly sexualized bodies in general (as has so far also often been the case with young gay men, PoC, etc.), no fetishization of power imbalances, and not exclusively youthful depiction of love and desire.
sex or sexual behavior is not shown directly (yet): All imagery and symbolism of sex and sexuality is used not to entice the audience but is very intimately played out between characters, which makes it almost uncomfortable to watch (e.g., Aziraphale being tempted to eat meat, Crowley watching Aziraphale eat, the whole gun imagery).
flaunting heteronormativity: Throughout GO but especially GO2, there is very little depiction of heterosexual/romantic couples; most couples are very diverse and no one is making a fuss about it. There is no fetishization of bodies or identities. Just people (and angels and demons) being their beautiful selves (or trying to).
age: Even though Neil Gaiman explained that Crowley and Aziraphale are middle-aged because the actors are, I think it is also queering the idea of romance, love and desire existing mainly within youthful contexts. Male gaze has taught us that young people falling and being in love is what we have to want to see, and any depiction of love that involves people being not exactly young anymore is either part of a fetishized power imbalance (often with an older dude using his power to prey on younger folx) or presents us with marital problems, loss of desire, etc. – all with undertones of decay and patronizing sympathy. Here, however, we get a beautifully crafted, slow-burn, and somehow super realistic love story that centers around beings older than time and presenting as humans in their 50s figuring out how to deal with love. It makes them both innocent and experienced, in a way that is refreshing and heartbreaking and unusual and real.
does not (exclusively) center around romantic/sexual love: I don’t know if this is a gaze point exactly but I feel like male gaze and resulting expectations of what a love story should look like are heavily responsible for our preoccupation with romantic/sexual love in fiction – the “boy gets girl” type of story. And even though, technically, GO seems to focus on a romantic love story in the end, it is also possible to read this relationship but also the whole show as centering around a kind of love that goes beyond the narrow confines of our conditioned boxed-in thinking. It seems to depict a love of humanity and the world and the universe and just the ineffability of existence as a whole.
disability as beautiful and innate to existence: Disability is represented amongst angels by the extremely cool Saraqael and by diversely disabled unnamed angels in the Job minisode. Representation of disability is obviously super important in its own right, but is also queers what we perceive as aesthetically and ontologically "normal". Male gaze teaches us that youth and (physical and mental) health are the desirable standard and everything else is to be seen as a deviance, a mistake. By including disability among the angels, beings that have existed before time and space, the show clearly states that disability is a beautiful and innate part of existence.
gender is optional/obsolete: Characters like Crowley, Muriel and others really undermine the (visual and aesthetic) boundaries of gender and the black-and-white thinking about gender that informs male gaze. Characters cannot be identfied simply as (binary) men or women anymore just by looking at them or by interpreting their personalities or behaviors. Most characters in GO, and especially the more genderqueer ones, display a balance of feminine and masculine traits as well as indiosyncracies that dissolve the gender binary.
Feel free to add your own thoughts on this in the comments or tags!
#good omens s2#good omens#good omens 2#go2#good omens meta#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#queer#queer TV#male gaze#thank you neil gaiman for cranking up the queer#neil gaiman#thank you neil gaiman
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Hey folx as you probably know today is trans day of remembrance. Today is a day to memorialise those who have lost their lives to transphobic violence. Over 327 Trans people were murdered this year that we know of, reporting in many countries is spotty however and there are more we never hear ofand this does not include the many who took their own lives as a result of transphobia. Murders are the tip of the iceberg in terms of transphobic violence which continues to rise in many places around the world. The graphic below shows some statistics but there are a couple I want to highlight. Firstly, in over 65% of murders the victims were racialised. Secondly, nearly half of all victims were sexworkers.
For me, these statistics highlight some inescapable facts, that we will never have queer liberation without trans liberation, and we will never have any liberation at all without destroying the systems of supremacy and oppression that marginalise PoC, sex workers, disabled people and any other group that is oppressed in society. Everyone's fight is our fight.
Too often people consider their oppression in a vacuum that relates only to them, and in doing so replicate or support the oppression of others.
Part of being an effective ally is to recognise that our own struggle will never end unless we fight for others as well, and this applies to everyone.
I have linked below (in no order of importance) some organisations that you might consider donating to. As ever though the best thing you can do is reach out to the trans people in your life and give them your love, find out what they need and how you can support them personally. Surviving in society, and fighting for your right to exist is long, painful and exhausting work, and is only possible with the love and support of friends, family, and community.
My love to you all and especially to my trans sibs.
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Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 14
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: E for Explicit! 18+ just like this blog
Word Count: 18.1k
Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Pero versus the modern world, reader being an absolute cat mom, discussion of past lives, implications of past lives, wedding talk (I’m not sorry), more dubious Spanish. Vaginal sex, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, public sex, clothed sex,
Summary: Building a modern life with Pero may have ups and downs, but the way he adjusts shows just how glad he is to be with you again.
Notes: This is it, folx! The last chapter of Sassenach and Pero’s love story for the literal ages. Look out for the epilogue next week and then we’ll be moving on to the ✨6th✨ installment of the Soulmate universe!
Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13
Travel has changed. Pero exhales quietly when you stop your car - a different one than you had driven him around in first time. It had been a conversation about renting cars that he vaguely understood but just figured it was like borrowing a horse. The plane taking off had left him white knuckled and shaking and he didn’t know how people acted like it was normal. Although once you were in the air, it had become a smooth experience and he still couldn’t believe that he had traveled so far so quickly.
“Well…this is it. Home sweet home.” The apartment building you’ve been living in for years has looked the same since the day you moved in, and the off-white walls and brick trim are comforting after all these years. “Our apartment is on the fifth floor,” you tell him, pointing up at a set of windows with blue curtains and some plants visible on the inside of the sill. “Beth will be home from work in about a half hour. Which will give you time to meet your new cat roommate.”
It amuses Pero that you have a cat in this time as well. “Binx missed you.” He hums with a smirk on his face. “But she was happy with Wena when I left.” The building is huge, and he cannot imagine living so high, but it will provide a clear view of the surroundings.
“She was the best familiar I could have asked for. I guess I’m just not happy unless I have a mouser in the house.” You pop the trunk of your little car and reach in for the bags but Pero is there before you, lifting both bags easily and shooting you a sour expression for even thinking he would let you do otherwise. After seeing other men do the same at various places and in the airport there had been an explanation of the term ‘chivalry’ and he was appalled that you had not told him that he was expected to behave this way in your time. You had insisted that it wasn’t necessary, but he hadn’t let you lift anything beyond your own purse since.
The compartment on this car was most convenient and Pero slams it shut, shooting you a slightly sheepish look when it was too harsh. Shouldering the bags, he turns towards the building. “It does not have defenses.” He mutters to himself, remembering you say that there is no need for fortifications in your time. “Where is the stable for the horses, the animals?”
“People who have horses keep them separately. It is a luxury now. Almost everyone has a car but keeping horses is mostly for the rich.” The lobby of your building is accessible by a keypad that you punch a code into, and the mailman inside greets you with familiarity. Pete has been the postman for this building longer than you’ve lived here, so you smile reassuringly at Pero and introduce him to the kindly mid-50s man who brings the post every day. “Name on the mailbox will be changing soon,” you tell Pete with pride.
Pero watches the interaction with interest. He’s had to watch you, his own demeanor not very welcoming. He can tell that he cannot be quite so intimidating or threatening in this time.
“Pete’s a nice man.” You press the button for the elevator to bring you upstairs and lean into Pero’s side while you wait. “His wife throws this big Passover Seder every year and a giant Hanukkah party on the first night and they invite people that he knows from work. I used to go with Beth every year so she wouldn’t have to go alone. But I have a feeling she and Will will be throwing the parties now.” Your best friend and her soulmate are definitely those kinds of people - the hosts with the most, as you like to tease them. You won’t be surprised at all when Beth finally announces that she’s moving in with him.
Pero nods, recognizing the holidays from the communities that he had grown up around in Spain. “That sounds like a good thing. There was food and music and laughter every time I went to one.” He only remembers them with the innocence of youth, but it was always fun. His parents were happy and it makes him smile.
“Here we go.” The elevator doors open and you step forward, bringing him with you by the hand. “You flew in an airplane, this should be easy,” you tell him encouragingly. “You just press the floor number that you want to go to, and the elevator will lift or lower us to that floor.”
This is even more amazing than the stairs that moved on their own. His eyes widen and he grunts when the car lurches up and he grabs onto the side of the wall as the sensation of being lifted once again races through his stomach. “It will only take a minute.” The way he’s clutching the wall and your hand makes you smile and squeeze his hand gently in response.
“It is— so…sudden.” Pero huffs slightly, embarrassed that he is so affected by things that seem so normal to you and everyone else. “I will become accustomed to it.”
“And if you don’t like it, we can always take the stairs.” Five floors is a lot, but with so many things to adjust to, you wouldn’t begrudge Pero deciding that there are some that he doesn’t like or isn’t comfortable with.
He glowers at you slightly, taking it as an insult that he would not be man enough to handle this box you have him in. “No.”
“Okay.” All you can really do is nod, knowing the both of you have your stubborn moments like anyone else. Although maybe more often. When you get out of the elevator you show him down the hall, stopping in front of the door marked 5C. “This is it,” You tell him, pulling your key from your pocket. “I already sent the landlord a note asking for a key for you. It should be made for tomorrow. So you can come and go anytime you like.”
Pero looks at the key, frowning in concentration as he watches you use it. He doesn’t understand why a bar on the door is not good enough anymore, but he just considers it a modern thing and nods when the door swings open.
The agonized screaming of an obviously neglected, dramatic-as-hell cat is the very first sound you hear, and both you and Pero smile reflexively. “Hi, Bow-baby!” You laugh when the black and white cat comes trotting into view. “Mama brought you a new friend.”
The first gato had been wary of Pero, watching him with intelligent, wary eyes. This one is the complete opposite. The moment the fat black and white cat spots Pero, it’s like you do not exist. He makes a beeline for Pero, screaming his head off and immediately climbing his leg to get into the Spaniard’s arms. Apparently telling him about every wrong done to him as Pero blinks in bewilderment.
“Oh, I see how it is. Furry little traitor.” You grouse only for comedic effect, loving to see your usually picky cat go straight to your soulmate for attention. “It’s okay, amor. You can pick him up. He’s much cuddlier than Binx was.”
Reaching down, Pero pulls the cat up into his arms, rewarded with immediate head butts and the cat rubbing his scent all over him while purring loud enough to sound like the thundering of hooves. “It seems he likes you.” And it seems Pero returns the affection, or at least doesn’t hate it, from the way he is already scratching under Bowie’s chin and letting the cat inspect him fully.
His time with Binx is so recent in his mind that he doesn’t mind the affectionate cat. “At least you were not alone when you came home, bruja.”
“Not at all.” Leading him through to the back bedroom, you realize what a whirlwind you were in the morning you got the phone call from Sarah at the roadside. There is a mess left behind and you clear your throat slightly, obviously embarrassed. “This is our room…I, erm…I usually keep it neater than this…I was kind of in a hurry to get to you a few days ago…”
“I have lived in your bed before, sí?” Pero reminds you, unconcerned with mussed bedding and clothes thrown around. It does not matter to him, as long as you are here. “Does your ’roommate’ know what has happened? That I am here?”
“Yes.” That had happened immediately. As soon as you had hung up with him and Sarah, you had started texting Beth frantically. “She knows everything. I just don’t know how much she’s told Will — her soulmate.”
Pero hums, wondering if it would seem crazy to a man who had not witnessed your return like your friend had. He has to thank Beth for saving you when you came back through the Stones, getting you a healer.
“I mean, he knows about you,” you clarify quickly. “Beth doesn’t keep anything from him, including what happened to me. I just don’t know if she’s told him yet that you came home with me.” It had taken over a month for Will to stop looking at you like you might have a nervous breakdown at any second, but the discovery of Arwena’s grimoire among your grandmother’s things had been a convincing argument. After that, he had started to come around to the craziness of it all.
He grunts, holding the cat still as he looks around your room. It is all different from the room he had stayed in at the inn, but it must reflect you in your own time. Like your cottage had in his time.
“We’ll make it into both of our space.” For some reason his silence is making you nervous, even though grunts and huffs are practically a second language for Pero. “Or, if you hate it here, we can…we can find something else. I don’t really care as long as you’re happy.”
"Why would I hate it?" Pero asks, turning towards you with a quizzical expression on his face. "This is you." One hand leaves the cat to wave around the room. "All of this. It is – it is like your cottage. Telling me who you are here."
“I don’t know.” You shrug slightly, looking around and avoiding his eyes as you move to make space for his clothes in your dresser. “I just know that everything here is so different and I wouldn’t blame you in the least if you didn’t like it here.” It’s nerves, you tell yourself, trying to steady your own breathing. Bringing him home - to your actual home - is the scariest thing you’ve ever done. Even though he chose to come here, he didn’t really know what he was choosing until after he arrived.
Pero huffs, rolling his eyes at you. "Sí, it is much different, but I don't care." He tells you bluntly. "I want to be where you are, when you are. The only thing that will change that is if you no longer wish me here." You are unsettled and he doesn't like it. He doesn't want you to worry about him.
“Of course I want you here.” The idea that you ever wouldn’t is so unbelievable that you actually can’t even imagine it. “I’m sorry. This is just…I know it’s hard for you. And don’t tell me that it isn’t just to make me feel better, because I’ve also time traveled.” Shaking your head slightly, you come back across the room and take a very indignant Bowie out of his arms so you can situate yourself there instead. “I love you, and I’m happy that you’re here.”
"It is different." Pero hums, not denying that he is out of his element. "But I am warm, I have food in my belly, and you are here." He reminds you. "I am a simple man, maybe too simple in your time, but I am who I am."
“There’s nothing simple about having your needs met. Survival is still very hard for some people.” Holding on to him tightly, you blow out a breath when you hear the front door open and Bowie hiss dramatically from the hallway. “Sounds like Beth is home,” you laugh, knowing that a cursing match between your best friend and grumpy cat is all but assured each and every day. “Would you like to meet her?”
"Will she approve?" He asks, suddenly nervous. You had spoken about this Beth woman and how much she had meant to you. Now he is afraid that he might not live up to her approval.
“You have nothing to worry about.” If anything, Beth is endlessly curious about Pero. She has been hearing about him for months, and you doubt you’ve done any description of him justice.
He would do anything you want, including meeting your friend so he just nods and wipes his hands on his new jeans. The shoes you had bought him, ‘sneakers’, were comfortable and he rocks on them slightly.
“Bethy!” Calling her name out into the hall, you step out of your room with Pero’s hand tangled in yours. “We’re home.”
Pero holds your hand tight, eyes widening slightly when he hears a screeching that is undoubtably excited and hears the pounding of foot steps rushing towards the two of you.
“Wait wait wait wait wait!” But you’re already cackling as your best friend launches herself at you, practically jumping up into your arms excitedly. “I missed you, too,” you laugh, hugging Beth tightly.
It is exuberant, the type of greeting Pero had seen Arwena give you during those last lessons in the cottage before having to flee. He can’t help but grin at the sight as he folds his arms over his chest and tries to smother it so he can look serious.
"Beth." You're both still giggling, but you try to compose yourself long enough to talk. "This," you motion to the man beside you as Beth sets herself on her own two feet again. "Is Pero. Pero, this is my best friend, Beth."
Pero nods to the woman who you call your best friend. It’s shocking to see her, because she looks nothing like he had imagined from your glow descriptions of her. She is pretty, but doesn’t hold a candle to you. “Señorita.” He murmurs.
"The famous Pero Tovar." Beth is practically vibrating with excitement, truly not having thought that this day would ever come. Though she believed your story completely, she never really thought that your soulmate would be able to come through the Stones. When you had texted her a few days ago that he was successful, she had been in a state of near shock all morning. "Welcome to the twenty-first century."
Pero grunts, his lips twisting slightly and there is an amused gleam in his eyes. “Yes, where green and purple hair is now common.” He jokes, having asked you questions about the wild shades he has seen. Beth is sporting bright blue streaks in her black hair.
"Surely you can adjust to multi-colored hair in a world that also has every flavor of ice cream you can imagine." Beth grins. You had told her about Pero's brand new addiction to ice cream, and his unfortunate first encounter with brain freeze as a result.
He huffs, smirking slightly at her sass and nods. “It is more colorful.” He admits, not minding it at all and asking if you liked colors like that.
"Did you get screamed at by her demon child on the way in?" Beth asks, shaking her head on a grin. Bowie has unceremoniously disappeared, probably to his scratching tree in the living room.
“Gato?” Pero asks, sending you a confused look. “The cat is very loving.” He insists when Beth nods. The cat was very greedy for attention and was not happy when you took him away from Pero.
"Bowie and Beth aren't huge fans of each other," you tell him with a grin, seeing the frustrated twist on your best friend's face that your cat has clearly taken to Pero immediately.
"He's a menace!" She insists, throwing up her hands dramatically.
"He's a darling angel and my fluffy little son." You insist, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounds.
“He came right up to me and demanded to be held.” Pero tells her, watching her eyes widen and he can practically see the steam pouring out of her ears.
"Menace," she mutters again, shaking her head. At this point, though, she has somewhat of a sense of humor about it. If she didn’t, she'd have lost her mind at that cat a long time ago.
"So, are we seeing Will tonight?" Turning the topic away from your cat and onto her soulmate always perks her up, and you motion toward the living room to suggest a change of scenery. This way you can all at least be comfortable in the same space together.
“Will…” Pero murmurs the name, a flash of nostalgia for his friend from so long ago. “I knew a man named William once. His bow was—” Pero chuckles. “We had a lot of free drinks showing off his skills.”
"William was your best friend." Beth nods. "She...she told me all about you. You, and Arwena, and Briac. You're practically all she's talked about since she came back."
“That is—” Pero is surprised that you had talked so much about him, but his chest puffs out slightly in pride. “I can’t imagine there is much to have talked about.”
"Are you kidding?" In the living room, Beth kicks off her shoes and takes out her phone as she sits down in the armchair to let you and Pero sit together on the couch. "Adventure after adventure. And fighting monsters on the Great Wall of China? It's incredible." She smiles when her phone buzzes in her pocket, and then again more broadly when she taps the screen to open her text. "Um...so Will is finishing up at work and wants to know if he can bring over take-out to say 'welcome home'."
"It's up to you," you tell Pero honestly. Your internal clocks are five hours ahead of schedule thanks to jetlag and you'll end up crashing earlier than Beth and Will, but you don't want to overwhelm Pero with meeting more people after a full day of modern travel if that is going to exhaust him.
Pero immediately nods. “This is your home and he is your soulmate.” The feeling of being apart from you with the possibility of never seeing you again had made him wish that partners could never be parted. “But— what is ‘take out’?” He asks.
"Take out is ordering food from a restaurant but instead of eating it there, you bring it home with you." Leaning into his side on the couch, you shoot Beth a mischievous grin. "Ask him if Chinese is okay. We can put in an order to the place on the corner if he doesn't mind picking it up for us on his way over."
Pero’s eyes light up. “Chinese?” He demands, nodding quickly. “Yes. That—you told me about it. I want to eat that.” He nearly begs. “And ice cream.”
"There's Häagen-Dazs in the freezer." Beth shoots Pero a grin. "I picked some up as soon as your girl said you fell in love with it." She taps out a quick reply to her own soulmate, smiling all the while, and then opens a different app to order food. "Anything special I should add to our regular order?"
"Yeah..." You grin at Pero. "Spicy noodles and mandarin beef. And an extra order of fried dumplings." Since your 'usual' order is already quite large this should be enough food for lunch again tomorrow, but Pero has a way of making that food supply dwindle that you don't mind. It's not as though food was ever plentiful enough in his life before for him to eat his fill.
“There was this dish.” Pero tell her. “Roasted bird – duck, with a honey sauce on it.” He doesn’t know if they would have it now, but maybe. His mouth waters as he remembers it. “Do they have that too?”
"Peking duck?" Beth nods, mouth watering immediately. "It's my favourite. We're absolutely ordering one." Hell, if she could she'd be adding bottles of plum wine and enough fried ice cream for it not to matter that there's six different flavours of Häagen-Dazs already waiting in the freezer to be consumed.
“Yes. That.” Pero nods, nearly rubbing his hands together as he thinks about the tender and juicy meat. “It was the meal we had when we celebrated defeating the monsters.”
"It might be slightly different than you remember...being a thousand years later and all of that." Beth adds the duck to the order and ignores the growing total, knowing that this meal is a celebration all its own. "I'm glad that there are some things that transcend time, though. Delicious food being one of them."
“Food is food.” Pero huffs. “Some is better washed down with ale to ignore the taste. Some is good with water.”
“Food can be pleasurable.” Beth smirks as she gets up from her chair to grab a drink from the kitchen. “Especially when licked from the correct surface.”
Pero narrows his eyes before he leans over to you. “She is talking about—” He flushes slightly. “That thing that you told me about?”
“It doesn’t have to be chocolate syrup,” you chuckle softly at his reaction, knowing how crass he can be when he wants to. “I just suggested that because you love chocolate.”
“I do love chocolate.” Pero groans, reaching out and pulling you close. “And it would taste sweeter from your skin.”
“I guess you’ll have to make sure you save room for dessert then, won’t you?” The salacious wink you give him is met with a grin and you don’t hesitate to steal a kiss. “It’s a damn good thing we always have chocolate sauce in the fridge.”
He growls quietly and tugs you closer, not happy with such a brief kiss. “Bruja.” He hisses playfully, nipping your lip.
Pulled directly into his lap, you stifle a giggle and do your best to look very, very serious as you drag your knuckles along his jaw. “I thought you like that I’m a bruja?” You tease, knowing very well that he had said the words himself on more than one occasion.
“Never doubt that, mi sol.” Pero murmur, leaning into your touch and his eyes flutter quickly. “It is why you could come to me. His hands squeeze your ass possessively. “And why I am here now.”
“Does that make you a brujo? Is that even a word?” Whether it is or not, you’re just glad Beth hasn’t come back from the kitchen yet since your hips seem to grind down on his automatically at the grip of his large hands.
Pero snorts and shakes his head. “No.” He leans forward and drags his nose along your throat, pressing kisses with his lips along your warm skin. It does, but he is not going to admit that. Preferring to distract you.
“Pero…” He has this way of making your skin tingle everywhere and your eyelashes flutter when he kisses that part of your throat that has you whining in no time - and it’s nearly impossible to remind yourself that there is someone else in the apartment right now. “Estas siendo travieso, mi amor.” You’re being naughty, my love.
“Me gusta ser travieso.” I like being naughty. Pero grins against your skin and leans back to send you a smug wink. “I have not had enough of you.”
“If you’re gonna fuck on the couch, please put a towel down first.” Beth snorts, standing in the doorway with a glass of ginger ale in her hand and a smirk painted across her face.
“I promise,” you huff, cheeks more than a little warm with embarrassment as Pero’s fingers dig a little more into your hips.
Pero grunts and gives Beth a small shrug. “I will fuck her with your towel down then.” He agrees. “We will wait until you are not here.”
“Oh, I don’t care about that, I just don’t want to be watching tv in a pile of dry cum.” She shrugs matter-of-factly and steps back, waving as she goes. “I’ll be in my room until my boyfriend gets here! Have fun!”
Pero smirks as he admires your friend’s teasing, which has you looking as if you want to melt into the floor in embarrassment. “What is ’boyfriend’?” He’s learned that if he doesn’t understand something, it’s best to ask right away. “Is that what you call soulmates now?”
“Sort of?” Still perched in his lap, you turn your full attention back to Pero and shrug off Beth’s teasing. “A boyfriend is a man that you are having a relationship with, but you have not yet agreed to be married. Like when Arwena and Briac used to spend time at the cottage with us, I would have said they were ’boyfriend and girlfriend’ back then.”
Pero scowls slightly and shakes his head. “They have not agreed to wed? Why do they wait? They are soulmates.”
“Some people like to take their time with important life decisions, and some people dive right into them. It’s all personal preference.” Of course, his visa - no matter how legally or illegally it was obtained for you - does put you on a bit of a schedule. But 90 days is nothing for two people who are already married. The modern paperwork is merely a formality.
“There is more freedom in this time.” Pero admits. “For women. I can see that.”
“There is. But we still don’t have all the freedoms that men do.” Gender politics isn’t really top of your list for a discussion right now, though, and you tuck a stray hair behind his ear affectionately. “Honestly? I don’t think they will wait too much longer before they get engaged.”
“What is this William like?” Pero asks, sensing you aren’t enamored with the conversation.
“He’s a good man.” That much you can say without hesitation. “Competitive but caring, loyal, and very helpful. And he makes Beth happy, which is what matters most to me.”
Pero nods and squeezes your ass again. There have been a lot of changes for him, but for you as well. “She likes me, sí?” He asks, suddenly nervous that the reason Beth left was because she did not like him.
“If she didn’t, she would still be here interrogating you like a criminal.” You dip your head, kissing him softly and feeling the heat of just a few minutes ago melt away into sweetness and reassurance. “You have nothing to fear, amor.”
“I feel like a brat.” Pero complains, hating the unsettled way that he feels. He knows it’s because everything is different for him, and that he relies on you to make sure that he navigates this world properly. Still, he feels like he is a boy who knows nothing of the world.
“You have been in this world for only four days, love.” The frown on his face isn’t his usual scowl, but something far more sincere that makes you soften and sit back in his lap with your brows knit together. “I know it’s frustrating. Truly I understand. But you’re doing wonderfully. No one could learn an entirely new life in just four days.”
He sighs, knowing you’ve seen his true meaning. “I know, but I should be able to.” He insists, being stubborn about it. “Perhaps I need to write things down.” You had started his writing and Wena had continued it during the year without you.
“Would you like a notebook for your thoughts?” A journal isn’t a terrible idea at all, actually, and you wonder that you didn’t think of it before. “We can certainly do that for you.”
“Paper is not costly anymore, is it?” He asks, amused at everything they considered luxuries in his time are common objects.
“Not anymore.” You shake your head, still smiling at him softly. You really just can’t help yourself. “And we have pencils now. Instead of ink, you write with something called graphite, which can be erased if you make a mistake.”
“Next you will tell me that scars can be removed.” Pero chuckles, not imagining such a thing to be possible. But then again, he never imagined things like a car or a plane. It makes him wonder about weapons.
“Welll…” The best you can do is shrug sheepishly. “In a way, yes. They can. It is expensive, but there are surgeons - special healers - that can do it.”
He tilts his head, thoughtful as he brushes the apple of your cheek and his thumb caresses the bottom of your scar. “Have you thought of such things?” He asks curiously. He knows scars are different for women than men, but he wants to know if you are trying to hide it here like you first had when he saw you.
“Why would I hide the marks that we share?” Nothing in the world could be less desirable to you, especially when he is here in front of you for you both to see the proof that you belong together.
“I do not see why.” Pero admits, but he leans in and kisses your brow, where the scar causes your hair to not grow. “But I am different from you.” He hums.
“Would you prefer to remove your scars?” It’s a decision that would be entirely up to him, although you have to admit it would surprise you. While Pero is proud, he has never struck you as particularly vain.
“No.” Pero immediately shakes his head. “I have noticed that women in this time are very…adorned.” He murmurs. “They wear a lot of face paint and put a lot of value on their beauty. I do not wish you to be upset because of what that bastard did to you.”
“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” Certainly you’ve gotten more than your fair share of funny looks in the last six months, but it doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it might. Your scar shows you have survived. It’s as simple as that. “As long as you love me, that is all that matters.”
“Siempre.” Pero murmurs, turning his head to kiss you again. Always.
The knock on the door keeps things from getting carried away, and Beth buzzes past in the hallway to let William inside with dinner. She’s practically squeaking with excitement - never one to hide how she feels about anything - and you climb out of Pero’s lap reluctantly to take the heavy bags of take-out from his hands. Dinner sounds great, but you’ll definitely be saving room to have Pero for dessert later on.
The smells take him back. To that large dining hall filled with soldiers. Closing his eyes, he can almost see the wooden tables ladened down with bowls of rice and plates of bread, the fragrant meats and vegetables to be spooned over the top. It was probably the best he had ever eaten as a man until your cottage. He’s taken back to China as he inhales, so when he opens his eyes, they settle on the man who had brought the food and he gasps. “William!”
“Oh! Uh…hello!” Will isn’t sure what the expectation is in this situation, but he puts his hand out automatically to great the odd man in his soulmate’s living room. There probably isn’t a protocol for meeting your soulmate’s roommate’s time traveling soulmate, but he’s just going to be nice and hope that’s enough.
He’s staring, and he knows he’s staring, but he can’t help it. Grabbing the other man’s hand, Pero drags him closer, the sight of him almost too much even though he knows this cannot be his William Garin. He looks exactly like his old friend. Right down to the gold flakes in the blue of his eyes.
“Pero, right?” He knows. He’s heard all about the intense warrior from your stories. But he hadn’t expected to feel so…connected to the man. Especially one that he arguably has nothing in common with. He can’t deny the tug in his gut, though. The one that says he is supposed to know this man.
Pero nods, eyes narrowing and his grip on William’s hand increases in pressure. “Who are your people?” He asks gruffly. “Where do you come from?”
“Chicago.” The question seems strange when this man knows barely anything about America, but William holds the handshake and Pero’s eyes. “We’re Irish, if that’s what you mean? Irish and English.” Is this how medieval people used to greet each other? If it is, it’s weird.
“Irish.” Pero huffs, rolling his eyes and he looks over at you. He knows he looks crazy. “He is the spitting image of the bastard I left in China. The same one I had parted with right before I met you.”
“Really?” That shakes off your concern right away, and the effect is like dominoes. You relax, so Beth does, and Will does as well. “I’m getting really good at ancestry research, maybe we can figure out if Beth’s Will is related to your William?”
“Did you have a rumor of China in your family?” Pero asks Will, finally letting go of his hand. He flexes his hand and huffs out a laugh. “And do you shoot better than anyone else?”
“I was Army before I started my security company, so I’m— yeah, I mean, I was a sniper. You have to be a good shot.” Will follows you and Beth with the bags of food and Pero is at your other side as the four of you file into the dining room. “But China?” He thinks for a second, hands automatically moving when Beth takes things out of the hutch and starts to pass plates and flatware around. “I know my great-grandma loved Chinese stories. Like fairy tales and stuff. But I don’t know if she thought we were Chinese.”
“William— my friend, he stayed in China after we defeated the monsters.” Pero tells him. “He married a General of the Nameless Order.”
William’s head pops up in surprise, and he sets the plate in his hands down much more heavily than he meant to. “The Nameless Order was real?”
“You have heard of it.” Pero nods, sure that this man is somehow related to his friend.
“My great-gran’s stories.” The younger man shakes his head in disbelief. “She would tell us folklore as bedtime stories when she babysat us growing up. Some Gaelic stories, American folktales, but mostly Chinese. I just thought she was really into Chinese history.”
“We went to China in search of black powder.” Pero tells all of you. “It took us nearly a year to get there, we lost all of the men we traveled with, nearly thirty.”
“Thirty?” Beth’s jaw drops a little as she brings cans of soda to the table. “And a whole year? Jesus. Where were you traveling from?”
“We started in Brittany.” Pero smirks slightly. “Although if I had met Sassenach, I would not have gone.” He jokes, knowing he had been a far different man before China. One you wouldn’t have put up with him.
“We would have had a much different meeting.” You can’t even imagine what it would have been like to just run into him in the village or meet him on the road. Your relationship would have been very different right off the bat.
“Yes we would have.” Pero can admit that and he reaches for your hand to pull you into his side. “I much prefer you saving me.”
“I much prefer you surviving your illness as well.” He earns a kiss for saying something so sweet, though, and you urge him to sit down next to you afterward.
“But William was the most annoying Irish bastard that I’ve ever met.” He grumbles, even with a fond smile on his face. “Impossible to kill.”
“We must be related then,” Will jokes, laughing as he and Beth start to open containers and pass dishes around. “My brother’s the most annoying shit in the world. And I never did manage to kill him when we were kids.”
Pero snorts and shakes his head. “He was like my brother. Making me want to kill him. Nearly getting blown up because of him, twice.”
“Sounds like a brother to me.” William laughs. “Blood brothers, brothers in arms, it’s all the same. You love them but you wanna strangle them with your bare hands sometimes.”
“Absolutely.” Pero grunts, relaxing a little bit more now that William understands the bond he shared with the other William.
Plates are filled in just a few minutes’ time and everyone digs into dinner. Bowie’s mournful yowls from the other room are only squelched when the cat wanders in and twists his body up at Pero’s feet, making Beth huff indignantly, and you and William only laugh.
“What?” Pero frowns as he reaches down and slips the cat a bit of the duck and scratches behind his ears until his purrs sound like a loud motor. “He is a good gato.”
“I’m apparently the only person in the world that he doesn’t like,” Beth complains, but there is a smile underneath it. It’s been so long now that it’s almost an affectionate joke.
“Maybe he doesn’t like you because of his past life.” Pero suggests, still scratching his ears.
"What do you mean?" Asks Beth, who obviously was not expecting that answer.
“Cats have lives. Many of them. Just like we do.” He explains. “Maybe your previous life intersected with his.”
"So...Bowie doesn't like me because of something that happened between us in a previous life?" It's as good an explanation as any, Beth decides, and she picks up a piece of duck from her plate to offer to the typically bristly feline. "In case, Bow, I sincerely apologize."
There’s a moment where Pero, probably everyone else in the room too, thinks that Bowie will hiss or swat at the offering. There is the slight sniff from the tuxedo cat, as if to say ’about damn time’, and he stretches away from Pero to take the morsel of duck from Beth’s hand and even brushes his cheek against her skin, marking her with his scent. Seemingly accepting the apology.
"Well I'll be damned." The whole table seemed to hold their breath but when Beth laughs in surprise, everyone exhales in relief. "I guess the war is over?"
Pero smirks slightly when Bowie yowls in agreement and curls up next to her feet, settling down to nap.
******
After the intrigue of that first dinner together, Pero and Will’s friendship blossomed immediately. His social circle grew to include some of Will’s previous gym buddies and friends from work, and though Pero isn’t necessarily social by nature it has helped immensely in getting him settled into his new life. Will had even had Pero into the office a few times in the last month and he was now talking like joining his security firm might be a chosen career path.
Pero comes rushing into the apartment, opening the door and stomping towards your shared bedroom. He hadn’t quite gotten into the habit yet of walking softly when he’s exited much to your downstairs neighbor’s dismay. He throws open the door and pins you with a harsh stare. “When were you going to tell me?” He huffs, feelings obviously hurt.
“Tell you what?” The pair of jeans in your hands crumbles instead of getting folded neatly, and you look at Pero with utter confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“You said that modern marriages are very ‘low key’ things. Basically just signing a piece of paper.” He frowns and shakes his head. “This is not true.”
Shit. You slump a little, feeling caught, and wonder what the guys must have said to him at the gym today. “They can be, amor. There is no law that says we have to have a big, fancy wedding.”
Pero frown grows even deeper, eyes shuttering slightly. “Are you— do you not wish to have a wedding?” He asks quietly, wondering if you are ashamed of him as your soulmate. He has been working hard to adapt, but maybe it is not enough.
“I wish to have a marriage.” You stress the word, laying down the jeans from your hands and coming to put your arms around him. The rate at which he has been adjusting to modern life is fairly astounding, but you see how hard he works every day to do things ‘right’ and how much having friends has helped him. “We have already had a wedding. In Gretna. And it was beautiful. I didn’t think we needed to make a fuss out of the second one. But obviously you feel differently?”
He nods. “You deserve it. Our vows were rushed and while beautiful, you deserve a party for putting up with me.” He smirks slightly at his joke. “What is a bachelor party? William said I must have one and you must have a…a woman’s party.” He cannot remember the term his friend had used, but it sounded like it was necessary to a wedding.
“Will wants to throw you a bachelor party?” That honestly makes you chuckle a little, and you squeeze your arms around his waist in a gentle hug. “It is a party to celebrate a man who is getting married and also mourn the loss of his time as a single man. Usually, the other men of the wedding party take the groom out and get him very drunk, feed him well, and sometimes take him to see women dance with very little clothing on. The version for the bride is mostly the same, but sometimes instead of dancing men, women will go and have their own fun. Dancing or pampering themselves. It all depends on what the bride and groom like.”
Pero frowns slightly and tries to imagine seeing a woman that is not you without her clothes on. “I do not wish to watch some woman who is not you dance.” He huffs, finally figuring out why everyone chuckled when Will had told him that he would take him to the ‘club’.
“Then you don’t have to.” It’s actually quite charming and romantic, how deeply loyal Pero is and how he doesn’t even like to look at models in clothing ads. “You can do anything you like at your bachelor party. You just have to tell Will what you want it don’t want.”
“Yes, I will tell him.” Pero nods and turns the conversation back to you. “Be truthful.” He murmurs. “Would you like to have a wedding here with your friends and family?” He asks. “We had one we think of often with Briac and Arwena, should we not here?”
“Big weddings cost a lot of money.” And the practical part of you says that you’ve already had a wedding - so why bother? But there is also the part of you that wonders what a modern white wedding with Pero would even be like. “We couldn’t do anything too big anyway, since we only have two more months on your visa. But…” The shrug you give him is somewhat sheepish, as you can feel the warmth in your cheeks admitting it. “I wouldn’t mind a celebration. I do want you to meet my family at some point, and a wedding would definitely make that happen.”
“You said we could do what we wanted, sí?” Pero asks. “That would be fun. Tell me what all a modern wedding requires?”
“Well…” Out in the living room, you sit down on the couch together and you pull out your phone to show him some pictures of wedding aesthetic boards and other ‘typical’ American wedding images. “We would rent out a place we think is pretty, hire people to cook and serve our food, have lots of flowers, and have a big cake to serve to everyone for dessert. The reception has lots of dancing and I’m supposed to wear a special white dress. You would have at least one person stand with you and sign our marriage certificate as your witness, and I would have one as well. At the reception people sometimes make speeches, or just wish us well in our married life. And there is a rehearsal dinner the night before where we practice the ceremony so everyone knows what they’re doing. It’s…a lot of work, honestly. But we would have a photographer there to take pictures like these so we can remember our day for the rest of our lives. It’s…like I said, it’s a lot of work, but weddings can be really special and really fun.”
“Do you want to do it?” The last thing that he wants is to make more work for you, but it does sound fun. Especially since he’s found that he loves pictures. To be able to see something to remember it is incredible. And to be able to have pictures of your modern marriage would be very nice.
“What if we did a small version of it?” It’s clear to you, from the concern and small amount of excitement on his face, that Pero likes the idea of a wedding. And god knows your parents would be over the moon about it. It’s no sacrifice at all when you know it will make the people you love happy and you’ll end up enjoying the day very much in the end. “Just my family and our close friends? I’m sure we can find some place that can accommodate us in the next few weeks.”
“How about outside?” Pero asks, finding there is a lot of natural places around your apartment building. “We could go to that place you showed last week.”
“The garden that we had lunch in with Beth and William and Beth’s abuela?” Pero’s affinity for gardens had taken you only slightly by surprise, but it has been fun to show him all the different plants and flowers that thrive in tropical temperatures he had never seen or experienced before. “Amor, that was Beth’s abuela’s house. I—I suppose we could ask her.” It never would have occurred to you, but Beth’s grandmother has literally won prizes for her gardening and her house is beautiful. It might even be a historical landmark, now that you’re thinking about it. “It might be much easier to have a wedding at a house, if she is okay with it. And of course I’ll offer to pay her for the trouble.”
Pero nods. “The abuela needed some work done. I can do it for her as well.” He offers, knowing that he will always try to barter even though it’s not normal now.
“Let’s ask Beth if she thinks her grandmother would be open to it when we see them for dinner tonight.” A week after Pero had returned, Beth and William had very gently announced that they were moving in together, and now the four of you have dinner together a few times a week on top of any girl time you spend with Beth or guy time that Pero spends with Will.
Pero pulls out the notebook he has started carrying. “We should write it down. What we want, sí?” He asks you hopefully, grinning because you are agreeing to have a wedding for him. You had said something about going down to the courthouse and signing some papers and that being it.
“We can absolutely make a list.” It’s very sweet, the way Pero has been carrying his notebook with him everywhere. The pocket-sized moleskin fits in his jeans or jacket and always has a pencil tucked inside it’s pages. Since his written English has improved, he has been very excited to employ it at every turn. “Would you like to have a very traditional wedding, amor? They can be very formal. But lots of younger couples these days do things less formally. It can be whatever we like.”
“I do not know what you mean, but I don’t think we would enjoy it if it was too rigid, amor.” He looks over at you. “William said most women dream of their wedding. What did you dream of?”
“You’ll laugh.” Or at least, most people would. But you roll your eyes at yourself and start looking for reference images for what you’re about to describe to him. “You know that television show I watch sometimes? The noble lady who does not wear shoes?” Your affinity for Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa had come back full force since returning home, and you find you love it even more now for the way it sometimes reminds you of life in the cottage in Brittany. The Barefoot Contessa’s generally French-inspired and ‘earthy’ upscale entertaining reminded you sometimes of the plates of vegetables, fruit, cheese, and cured meats you would put together for you and Pero. Simple dressings and dips and good bread had been something that you could use to make yourself feel particularly fancy. “I always imagined having a wedding like she would throw. In a beautiful garden with simple but really delicious food that goes late into the night because everyone is having so much fun eating and dancing and talking.”
“I will hunt for it.” Pero offers immediately, imagining bringing back game for you, for the wedding. “Roasted rabbit and a deer?” He asks, wondering if it would good. “Open spit? Like how I used to cook when we were traveling. Hunger made everything delicious, but I’ve wondered how it would taste with your herbs.”
“You could tell William that you want to go hunting for your bachelor party,” you offer, knowing that it’s something William and his friends also enjoy and that a weekend hunting trip would be right up all of their alleys. “There has to be a catering company somewhere this part of Florida that will agree to let us supply the meat and they’ll do all the cooking for us.”
“You could do one of those people that you watch on your…phone.” Pero frowns for a moment as he had forgotten the name of the device that seems to do everything for everyone in this time. Everyone is attached to it like it is their swords. “The people that come to you a cook? What was the word?”
“Caterers?” The nod you give him is fully encouraging. “Yes, I think we could find a caterer willing to cook what you hunt.” He writes it down when you speak the word for him and you smile again. “No one would know that your hunting is how you won a first kiss from me, but we will know.”
Pero smirks at the memory and bites his lip, his eyes flashing playfully. “I was showing off.” He admits. “I knew I could do it, but when you told me my prize was a kiss? I had to snare the rabbit.” He chuckles and leans in to steal another kiss. “Best hunt I ever went on.”
“With the longest lasting prize.” You hum into the kiss happily, settling into his side on the sofa. “Now…I know you will be excited about this. Modern weddings have elaborate and delicious cakes for dessert. And the bakery down in the corner that you like makes some beautiful ones.”
Pero groans, his love of food had definitely grown in this time. The sweets available mind blowing to a man who had only ever known honey or fruits as a source of sugar. The trips to the gym with William had been needed so he continued to fit the clothes you had bought him. “We must have that.” He decides, writing it down immediately and circling it for good measure. He’s enjoyed making his journal and re-reading through it when he feels unsure of himself, like training constantly when he was a boy.
“Yes, but what flavour will we have?” For a man who lived most of his life leanly, it has been the height of luxury for Pero to be able to eat whatever he wants at the drop of a hat, and your modern wedding day is no time to squelch that. You want him to have the most enjoyment he possible can.
His eyes lighting up at the prospect, Pero hums and his stomach grumbles on queue. “We will have to try them all and decide.” He announces, imagining going to that bakery and buying all the little cakes to stuff into his mouth happily. Everything in this time was so sweet and he was quickly addicted to it.
“We’ll get a cupcake in every flavour and try them all together.” You promise him, chuckling at how excited he is. “And then we can pick our favourite for our wedding cake. It will be a feast.”
That makes him grin, nodding quickly at that idea. It means that he will have dessert for at least a few days. Or he will make himself sick by eating them all at once. That has happened a few times. “What else do we need for a modern wedding?” He asks, not sure about everything involved.
“We’ll find someone to play music for us, and someone to take pictures for us.” He takes notes as you go and you press a kiss to his cheek with a grin. “You will need someone to be your best man and I will need someone to be my maid of honour. The people who stand next to us while we’re married and will sign our marriage certificate as witnesses.”
“Like Briac and Arwena.” Pero knows that you could have married with just Father Malcolm but both of you wanted the younger couple with you.
“Exactly.” He knows you’ve been missing the younger couple lately - he walked in on you telling Bowie stories of time spent with Arwena about a week ago. “Should we ask Beth and Will?”
Considering it for a moment, Pero nods. “It is a good choice.” There are more things about William that have Pero comparing him to the man he had traveled with to China and he has quickly become as close - although they have not battled together. “I will ask Will tonight.”
“I have a feeling this will be all we talk about at dinner.” And considering how adamant Beth has been about doing something wedding-y, you have a feeling she’ll be thrilled. “I’ll have to go without you to buy my dress. Superstitions say it’s bad luck for you to see my dress before the wedding.”
Pero frowns hard at this, but he eventually sighs when you just stare at him for a moment. “Truly? That is stupid.” He grunts, not having any clue what this dress shopping would include, but seeing a dress is not bad luck.
The way you smirk at him is nearly evil, knowing he’s going to be pouting even harder in just a second. “And we’re not allowed to spend the night together the night before the wedding. That’s bad luck, too.” And something you know your superstitious mother will enforce when she arrives, all in the name of caution and care.
“No.” Shaking his head, Pero’s scowl turns fierce. “Not happening. No way.” He’s adopted the phrase ‘no way’ from Will and it is very true here. “I don’t want to sleep apart from you.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like that.” The way this man love is fierce and doting, and you adore him for it. “We don’t have to sleep apart, amor. It’s just a superstition.”
“If you wanted to adhere to the superstition…I will deal with it.” He sighs with a very pouty huff as he reaches for your hand. “It is one night and I had far more without when you went through the Stones.”
“All the more reason not to waste the time we have now.” Never having been a particularly superstitious person despite being raised by one, you could care less. The reason you want to go dress shopping without him is to surprise him - not because of luck.
“Te amo.” Pero murmurs, unable to stop himself from stealing another kiss. “Flowers? Why do you need flowers? People are bathing regularly.”
"Because they're beautiful." You shrug, as though it were a silly answer. "Flowers are traditional for weddings, and people like to match their flowers to the colors they pick for the day. Make everything look coordinated." It's a lot of fuss, and you never intended to do all of this with him - but on the other hand? Now that you've started to plan, it is a little exciting.
“Colors?” Pero can’t even comprehend what you are meaning by that but he nods and writes it down. “What flowers would you want? Do you have a favorite?”
"Colors are...to make everything look nice, I guess." There's really no better way to describe it. "We can pick a couple of colors that look nice together, like...like green and yellow. Or blue and gray. And we would use those colors throughout the wedding. Like Beth would wear a dress in one of the colors or your suit might be in the other. The cake might be decorated with the colors, too. And I would probably have my flowers include the colors, too." Not that you have ever thought about wedding colors - not beyond thinking that your cousin's orange and pink wedding was a little too garish for your taste.
“Grey.” Pero decides immediately. “I like grey.” Shopping for clothes has introduced him to a plethora of colors but he has several shades of grey.
"Okay, we can work with that." Nodding into his side, you snuggle up again easily. "Grey and silver are pretty easy to work with. And almost any other color works with gray." Smiling, you tilt your head back and raise an eyebrow at him. "How about purple? We can be royalty for a day."
“Don’t you like green?” He asks, raising the question since he’s seen you wear a lot of that color. He will agree to anything you want honestly, but he doesn’t want you to pick colors he likes alone.
"I do." Words you will say to him in completely different context in just a few weeks’ time. "I like green and I also like purple. Actually...all three colors work together. We could have gray, green, and purple together?"
“That would work.” Pero bites his lip and thinks about it. “If you like it, that is what we will have.”
"I like it." And the purple bouquet with lots of greenery tied in a silky gray ribbon is already starting to take shape in your mind. You never really expected flowers to be the thing you fantasized about for your wedding, but here you are. "And I think you would look very handsome in a gray suit."
“Sí?” William had taken him to get a suit for the work that he wanted him to do. Pero found it rather restricting, but you had been very interested in it when he had shown you it to ask your opinion.
“Sí.” You tell him, a grin cracking the solemnity on your face. “A well-tailored suit is a thing of beauty, amor. Just the way you love when I wear a bikini to the beach, I enjoy seeing you in one.”
His expression is wolfish, about to devour you at just the mention of it. “The only thing better is having you naked, amor, and they would not allow that on your beaches.”
“I know another wedding thing you will like quite a lot.” You tease, sitting up in his arms to be nose-to-nose and grinning at him unrepentantly. “The brand new lingerie I will be buying to wear under my wedding dress just for my husband to take off of me that night.”
Pero growls, cock jumping in his pants and he narrows his eyes at you. “First you tell me I cannot sleep beside you, fuck you, the night before our wedding. Now you tease me with knowing something sexy is underneath it?” Sexy is another word he has learned and he uses it often where you are concerned. “I will drag you off over my shoulder once the vows are spoken, bruja.”
“You would not be the first groom to do it, either.” It draws a light laugh from you, and ringing your arms around his shoulders to hug him. “Our honeymoon will be nothing but sex, I can already see it.”
“The last one would have been more sex.” He reminds you, both of you now able to talk about you being so sick without breaking down. The first time you coughed around him after getting here, he had demanded you see a healer.
"I think we've been making up for lost time pretty well, don't you?" Since you have been working from home and Pero is doing some small freelance things for Will's security firm, you have had ample opportunity to fuck on every surface in the apartment. Multiple times.
“We have.” Pero smirks smugly, thinking about how he had woken you up this morning before he had been picked up so he could slide inside you. Both of you had rolled out of bed with a satisfied grin on your face.
"I, um..." Shifting slightly, you sit back on your ankles bite your lip. A thought had occurred to you about a week ago and you're not sure how he might feel about it. "I had a thought. About our honeymoon..."
Pero catches your hesitancy and frowns slightly, but he nods in order to get you to expand on your idea. “You wish to sleep apart? I will not do that. Not when you will be my wife. Never again.”
"Oh no way." You shake your head adamantly, trying to figure out where that idea even came from. "No, no, not at all. I meant I had an idea about where to go, that's all."
“Oh.” The jokes William and the others that he was around had made about Pero having to sleep on the couch after he got married were apparently wrong. The couch was comfortable and he had dozed on it, but he wanted to sleep on the bed where his wife is sleeping. “Where?”
"What if we went back to France?" The memories you have of the place aren't all positive, obviously, but everything involving him is wonderful. "I looked up the village that the cottage was near and...I mean, I'm not saying that I think our cottage would still be standing after a thousand years, but the village is still there. And I thought it might be romantic to go back there in our new life. To...remember."
“Yes.” His answer is immediate, almost forceful and he can see that it startles you slightly. “Sí.” He murmurs, reaching for your hand to hold it gently. “I would like to see it again. Where we found each other. I am certain I can find where the cottage stood.”
"Things will have changed a lot of the centuries, amor. It's okay if we don't find it." All you want is to breathe the air again, to feel those specific sunbeams and be in that place again with nothing but comfort and joy.
He hums, doubting that every natural marker the landscape had was removed. He will find your little cottage that he had shared with you. “We will find it.”
******
Dol-de-Bretagnac has grown since the eleventh century, rising up to swallow the little village you once called home and bringing it through the centuries beautifully. The inn you're staying in for your honeymoon is one of a dozen converted medieval estates in the area, but not a house you recognize from the first time you were in Brittany. It's newer than that, but so is almost everything.
The wedding had gone beautifully, and your family adore Pero, characterizing him as 'intense but charming' and they had just about gone crazy when they found out that the beautiful game meats they were eating for dinner had been the result of his bachelor hunting party. Your mother had practically batted her eyelashes at how masculine it was for him to provide for you like that.
Today is your second day in Brittany - with yesterday being spent either in bed or at a meal - and you had chosen to leave the rental car at the hotel and go for a walk through the narrow streets of town. Being married all over again feels like more of a relief than anything else. Like you're finally back to where you're meant to be.
“It is different.” Pero admits, looking around and huffing. Luckily some key pieces have been constant. The old town Well was preserved and from that, Pero can tell where your cottage was. “This was where I met Briac.” He motions towards a newer shopping center that had replaced the old buildings.
“There is still a bakery in the same place.” Pointing to a different part of what used to be the village center, there is a little boulangerie now standing where the baker’s shop once stood. “I doubt they still have his ovens, but it’s nice that it is accidentally consistent.”
“Yes.” The hands that are not pointing out pieces of your old life are firmly entwined, fingers laced together and you look like two soulmates should in this time. Two tourists, although you have more history in this village than the people here, or at least ancient history. Pero had been nervous about meeting your family and the wedding, but it had been nothing like the immigration interviews. Since he was a soulmate, he was guaranteed a ‘green card’, approval to stay with you, but Pero had taken offense to the man’s attitude and it had nearly made the entire process more difficult. “I wonder if the people now ever think of what came before. Without going to their museums.” He grunts as he remembers the stone church being much smaller than the one that is in its place.
“Oh shit.” You practically snort, giggling at him with wide eyes. “I never even considered that some of our things could be in a museum. What if the people who built where the cottage used to be had found bottles or tools or something?” Or even your cauldron, which would have given you a good giggle.
Pero snorts and shakes his head. He would not be happy about that if he were honest. “Why don’t we go see what is there?” He asks, smirking at you. “Visit your cottage?”
“Our cottage.” It doesn’t matter that you lived there without him for years - it was the first home you shared together and you will always think of it that way.
“You are a generous woman, Sassenach.” His tone is gruff, thick with emotion. A woman independent of a man was rare in his time and you willingly giving him what was rightfully yours even more so. It humbles him more than you ever could know.
The walk from the old village center is still a long hill, but the winding streets of this modern town are lined with shops and restaurants and homes. Businesses and offices have taken up where trees used to be, and the vast fields that lined your walk are filled with schools and more houses of worship. It is very different, and yet not so very hard to imagine what was once here, as you walk the once-worn road that led out of your small village.
“How are you feeling?” He asks, watching the changing landscape and imagining it as it once was. If he had not walked this land one thousand years prior, he would never have known it was the same place.
"Like I ought to be pulling my cart." You admit, holding tight to his hand. The uneven, cobblestone streets give you a little trouble with your lack of depth perception, but he makes sure that you never stumble. "I half expect to see Binx waiting for me at the bottom of the hill."
“She was a good gato.” Pero murmurs, feeling the same way. The opinionated cat had annoyed him at the start, but her loyalty to you and then Arwena had been admirable. “She was a clever thing.”
"She loved you." Both of your cats have adored him, which makes you happier than you can say. Bowie yowled his displeasure when you left for the airport yesterday, refusing to let go of him until Beth had arrived to see you off and check in with her furry charge. The truce between your cat and best friend has held, and she's promised to look after Bowie while you and Pero are on your honeymoon.
“Because I love you.” Pero points out. He had no question that if he had dishonorable intentions, your cat would have attacked him ferociously. “If I was a bastard, she might have tripped me off that roof.” He chuckles quietly, remembering how the cat had watched him patch the roof with the most judgmental expression he has ever seen on a feline.
"Does that mean you already loved me when you decided to fix my roof?" It's just a tease, the way you smirk at him, but the notion of it does make your heart swell a little in your chest.
He huffs at you, rolling his eyes and squeezing your hand. You both know that it wasn’t exactly true, but he had been unsettled by you from the beginning. Who knows? It might have been love. “I didn’t want to freeze.” He grumbles playfully.
"Nah." You grin, swinging his hand in yours playfully as you walk together. "You loved me. You're just a sweet, soft man. But don't worry, I won't tell."
Pero growls but it’s not in annoyance. Maybe a little annoyance that he’s so soft for you. It is such a change from the man he had been before you, but his other option is not to have you and he doesn’t want to ever think of that again.
“Grumpy and blushing.” Your grin turns into a giggle as you lean into his side in the walk. “That’s my man.”
“Bruja.” Pero mutters under his breath, no heat to his words. There are times when he wishes the magic was as strong now as it was back then, he would make you fly up in the air to hear you shriek.
“I miss it,” you admit, turning right with him at the bottom of the hill just like you were headed back to that little stone cottage with your garden and small barn. In this time your potions are only mildly effective and the powerful light or flame you once conjured is barely better than candlelight. “And I wish I could have seen what Wena taught you.”
“You wish to see me curse and throw things in frustration?” Pero had always been careful not to do it in front of the girl, knowing the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her father, but sometimes he had just needed to vent his underlying worry that he would not be able to learn.
“I wish that it could have been something we shared.” Ultimately, you missed out on a year of his life that you should not have had to miss - although if you hadn’t this walk would be very different. You might never have come back to Brittany for the rest of your lives if you had not had to come home.
“Perhaps we should try our magic together.” Pero murmurs softly, aware of how crazy it sounds but he is a man from a thousand years ago, walking on these grounds again because of magic. Surely together it would be stronger.
"Perhaps we should." Linking your fingers through his as you walk, you look up at him with a curious twist of your lips. "What would we try?"
“I— hmmmm.” That is an interesting question. “We will have to think of something, amor. First, let us find our cottage.”
The curve of the lane follows the curve of the old road that you remember so well, but the sight in far different than it once was. Private homes line what used to be the woods in the distance, but there is an enormous tree standing in what looks like a small garden just across the street from where you and Pero now stand. "Hazelnuts," you hum, seeing the clusters of nuts in the branches. "The baker and his wife would trade anything for fresh hazelnuts..."
“I remember you digging for them.” He thinks back to those trips to the woods while you were gathering the last of the herbs before they wilted under the snow and the hazelnuts were always wanted. “The bread was always tasty and fresh.”
"I know it's easier to buy them from the grocery store, but I do miss foraging sometimes." Crossing the street with him, your hand is still in his as you approach the enormous, gnarled tree. "Maybe when we finally buy a house, I'll start another garden."
Pero counts the paces and looks around back up the hill. “This is it.” He murmurs to himself, then squeezes your hand. “This is it, amor. Where our cottage stood.”
"Are you sure?" To be honest you feel a little turned around with how different everything looks, and you're not sure you could pinpoint the land you used to live on if your life depended on it.
“Yes.” He let’s go of your hand to stride forward. “The door was here.” He opens his arms wide to indicate the door. “This must- this is Tree I planted when I was here last.” He murmurs, looking up at the great, towering tree in wonder. It’s a true test of how much time has passed.
"You planted a tree the night we left?" He had never mentioned it, obviously, and you had spent so much time inside with Arwena as you packed up your necessities in the cottage that you wouldn't have ever seen him do it.
“No.” Pero turns back to you with a slightly guilty expression. “I came back on my way to the Stones.” He admits, reaching up and rubbing his neck as he examines the ground. “So if the tree is this large…it should be right around here.”
"What should be?" He is examining the ground carefully and you tilt your head at him in confusion. There is no anger or hurt feelings, just curiosity in your tone. "Amor, you never told me you came back to our home on your way north."
“I know.” Pero nods as he slips the bag he had brought off his back. “I did not know if we would return. Or if I could make it through the Stones.” He admits, kneeling down and unzipping the bag. He had requested these items from the hotel and to his surprise, they had provided them.
“What are you up to?” His mischievous streak has been fostered lately, mostly by Will and their friends, and just two days ago it had resulted in a beautiful wedding present of the necklace you’re currently wearing, but something tells you that this secret of his has nothing to do with jewelry.
“I did not wish to get your hopes up, amor.” He admits as he pulls a compact shovel and a pair of gloves from the bag. “But there is something I am hoping to find here.” The eagerness in his voice spells of it being a good discovery and he looks up at you and sends you a roguish wink.
“Can I help?” You’re immediately beside him with your knees in the dirt, assuming he has buried something when you see the shovel and gloves. “It doesn’t look like anybody owns this land, so hopefully no one will care if we dig.”
“I do not care if they care.” Pero huffs. “This land was ours and what is down here is ours.” He had buried it with the purpose of hopefully coming back to get it, in his time or in yours. With William’s help, there had been a lot of research that you were unaware of before the wedding. “If you wish to help, take the other gloves that I have in the bag.”
It takes time. Even with two of you, a thousand years of erosion and soil movement means that whatever is down here is not in the exact same place he left it - but in time it becomes clear that the roots of the tree he planted have protected his secret. One long, curled root has found its way around a small wooden chest which has been remarkably preserved. As if by magic, you think with a wry smile.
“She said it would work.” Pero huffs as he smirks, his shovel used as as axe to start chopping away at the root to pry the box from its resting place. “It is still here, amor.” He grunts, exhausted but exhilarated by the prospect.
“H—how?” You assume that ‘she’ is Arwena, but you’re too gobsmacked as he pulls the chest out of the ground to ask an intelligent question. “What did you bury?”
Pero brushes the carved lid off and carefully hands it to you. “Open it and see, amor.” He offers, wanting you to see what he had tried to do in order to plan for your future. “I had hoped it would be found by us, and now it has.”
It's remarkable, and the way the chest has survived the centuries almost unscathed. Whatever spell of protection he had placed on it, his magic was clearly much stronger then, than he had ever let on. The hinges creak when you pull at the rusted lock, but the butt of Pero's shovel soon sees it opened. Nestled in a clunky bed of fabric and leather is one of the few rare clear glass jars that you had had - the one that you had treasured for its clarity and stuffed full of beautiful dried rosebuds so you could still see the beautiful colors when it sat on the shelf. "Oooh..." You could cry just from the intimately familiar sight. "Amor, you..." You look up at him with your jaw fallen open. "You saved some of my things?"
“I did.” He nods and stares down at the box with the reminiscent fondness of someone opening a time capsule. “When I left Wena and Briac, I came back here. I needed to see it one last time and make sure that I left something of you- and myself behind if the Stones were going to reunite us.”
"Thank you." The kiss you give him is far more than well earned, but you don't let the moment run away with you just yet. There is a layer of fabric keeping the jar safe, but underneath is a large, thick, leather hide pouch that is unmistakably heavy when you pick it up. "Pero?" His name is a gasp from your lips as you untie the pouch to see a mass of coins gleaming and winking back at you from its depths. "H--how?"
"I earned coin as I made my way here." Pero murmurs. "Everything of value in the cottage was sold so I could bury this here." He wanted to bring it, but he also was not sure where he would end up or if he could go through. Burying it was safer in his mind. "I wanted to make sure you were taken care of in whatever time we ended up in."
“You promised your mamá you would provide for your soulmate…” It is not possible for you to be more in awe of him right now, and you wish you had some better way of expressing it than the shocked expression on your face. “Amor, do you have any idea what these are worth now?”
“William said that if we could find them, you would never have to work again if you did not wish to.” Pero hadn’t understood the amounts the other man had been talking but it was easily more than Pero had hoped to see in his lifetime.
“If we can find someone to buy these? Neither of us will ever have to work.” There are easily twenty gold coins, another dozen silver, and a large handful of copper pennies in the heavy bag, and you shake your head in disbelief. “We could travel all over the world if we wanted to. Never work again.”
“William already assured me he could find buyers if I found them.” Pero smirks at you, watching as you hold the coins as if they are precious. “If you want to quit your job and do something crazy with me.”
“Anything.” He knows you hate your office job, and that you would go or do anything with him that he wanted. Your hobbies are what bring you joy - your hobbies, your friends, and your incredible soulmate.
“I- William. He has found our little home in Valencia.” He explains. “There is- it is for sale.” He had to learn what that meant from Will. Apparently in this time, you had to buy the earth you worked. No rich lord owed all of it and allowed people to live on his lands.
“Oh my god.” Whatever you had expected him to say, that is not it at all. “Is it still a farm? Or is the house in some larger town now?” Moving to Spain is bigger than you had thought he would suggest, but it is not so crazy. And with the money these coins brought, you could hop on a plane and be across the pond to visit Beth and William any time you chose.
“It is still a farm.” Pero had been shocked when he had seen the old house was still standing in the pictures that Will had shown him. It was being used as a barn, but it was the same stones that Wena and Briac had sheltered their family inside. “You never got to see our home, amor.” Pero reaches for your hand. “Would you like to?”
"It will be a sort of adventure all its own, amor. Modern Spain will be very different from where you grew up and neither of us will know exactly what to expect." Still, the tears in your eyes are an obvious answer, especially when you lunge forward to throw your arms around him. "It will be a whole new life for us to start together. And...and I honestly can't wait."
“Or we could stay here.” Pero offers. “Rebuild our cottage.” Everything wouldn’t be exactly the same. He has learned to love indoor plumbing as much as you have. The extra-large tub in your hotel bathroom is a must wherever you live.
"I only care that I'm with you." You promise him, on the verge of having those tears that are building spill over onto your cheeks. "Here or Spain, whichever you dream of. We will sell these coins and build our life like we planned on a thousand years ago." Will you miss seeing Beth and Will every day? Of course. But in a world of video chatting and airplanes, you will have plenty of chances to spend time with your best friends.
“I only want that.” Pero murmurs, looking down at what would give him the fortune he had been chasing all those years ago. The fortune he had never found but had sent him straight into the arms of his soulmate. “All I wish is for the remaining years of my life to be spent with you, Sassenach.”
"How about this?" Hugging him tightly once more, you sit back on your ankles and wipe your eyes. "If your parents' farmhouse is still for sale once we have sold these coins and gotten the money that you saved, then that will be our sign to buy it. If not, we will find out who owns this land and rebuild our cottage beside your hazelnut tree."
“You have a good plan.” Pero holds you close and kisses your forehead. “It would be nice to live there like we planned so many years ago, or rebuilding the first home we had together. Perhaps one day we can do both.”
"I don't think we'll be lacking for funding," you laugh, looking down at the pouch of coins again in disbelief. "I have only one request, amor. If I could?"
“What is it?” You already know that anything you want he will do everything in his power to make sure it happens. “Anything.”
"Whenever we decide to go, can we make sure that there is room for Beth and Will to come visit us?" It almost feels silly asking, but happily starting your life over again with him does not mean that you have to leave everything behind this time. "A guest room in the house. That's all I ask. For our friends, or my family to come and see us."
“Done.” Pero nods immediately. “We will make sure we have room for any and all to come stay.” He doesn’t want to take you away from your family to never see them again. His parents always wanted a large family on the land they lived on and worked.
"I can't believe this." Truly, in your wildest dreams, you never could have thought that anything could have survived the centuries. Let alone a chest of coins, a precious memory of your past, or his family home. That you could possibly have all three is too much to even wrap your head around right now. "Your magic must have been much stronger than you led me to believe, for this to have remained safe all these years."
“As long as it brought me back to you, I did not care how strong it was.” Pero admits, shrugging casually. “But I could raise Cabello into the air.”
"I bet he hated that." You laugh, nearly doubled over at the thought of his enormous warhorse floating above the ground.
“He did.” Pero chuckles, knowing the horse had been well taken care of in his retirement from war. The farrier had been impressed with him and had a gentle touch.
"Let's bring this back to the hotel." The chest is precious and very heavy, but it will fit in his backpack to be stored in your hotel room while you explore the area and enjoy your honeymoon. "If your magic preserved those rosebuds well enough, they will be the first thing I plant in our new garden. Heirloom roses straight from the eleventh century."
“I am having a thought, Sassenach.” Pero hums as he slides the chest into the bag and starts to cover the hole back up. It would do no good to have anyone discover that something had been dug up. “The original house. I would like to restore it as it had been in my time. As a means of showing what it was truly like.” There had been some little tour of what a house would have looked like two hundred years ago, something you had shown him. It had sparked the interest again, reminding him of the conversation you had in his time before plans had changed.
"You miss Valencia, don't you?" It's easy to see, especially in his enthusiasm, and you reach to rub your thumb over the peak of his shoulder. "We should reach out to the people who are selling your family farm. Speak to them about our interest and that your ancestors were the ones who built it. See if they will be willing to wait for us to bring the money together. Then we can restore anything you like." But you shoot him a knowing grin. "Restored, but with indoor plumbing."
“The house we live in should be modeled after it. But larger. All your modern stuffs in it.” He is happy you are so accepting of his idea. It might help him feel more settled here.
"A modern kitchen for me to cook in and a large bathtub for you to relax in." Standing again, you both dust off your knees and take hands again. "It will be the home we intended, when we spoke to Wena and Briac about wanting to stay."
“I only relax in a bath when you join me.” Pero grumbles at you, having complained that the bathtub in the apartment it too small to fit you comfortably. There had been a lot of shower sex though, he did like that.
"You will need a hobby for you, amor. Rich men have hobbies because they don't have to work." Both of you know very well that whatever bathtub you install in your new home will have to be big enough for two, but you do still like teasing him. "Sex with your wife does not count as a hobby."
“It should.” He huffs as he pats the earth down and stands up to lift the heavy bag onto his back. “I will show other rich men how to live simply. It will be popular among the lords of this time.”
"A garden, some travel, and our cat." You chuckle, thinking how much Bowie will enjoy being a mouser on a small farm. Even just in a house with a garden. "We would have space enough for two cats if we wanted to give Bowie a friend. Or even for you to have a horse again, if you wanted."
He had not thought about that and he immediately perks up at the idea. This is the longest he had ever been without a horse since he had become a mercenary. “Would you want another horse? Go for rides again?”
"I think it could be fun." Backtracking the way you had walked a few hours ago, you and Pero start up the hill to return to the old village center hand in hand. "I think you would ride your horse everywhere and entirely avoid cars if you could."
“It would be better.” He immediately agrees, even though he’s learning to drive, he does not enjoy it. “It’s exercise. That metal monstrosity does nothing but shorten my life.”
"I'll do the driving and you'll do the riding, then." Returning to driving is actually something you've enjoyed, but you know he hates it. It has, however, made you a much more cautious driver to have him in the car with you.
“I don’t know if that makes it better, bruja.” He snorts, smirking over at you when you huff, all offended at his words.
"I'll send you back to Scotland to drive around with Sarah and then you'll be glad to be riding with me again." As much as you adore her, Sarah MacLeod is not the best driver in the world, and you know that being in her car as his first automobile experience probably colored Pero's opinion of driving forever.
His face drops instantly and he looks like he’s going to get sick. “Never again, Sassenach.” He groans. “Not while my feet still work.”
That sends you into a fit of giggles, and you grip his hand as you walk up the hill together. "Alright, maybe I won't make you ride with Sarah again. But at least I'm not the worst driver you know."
The huff that comes out of Pero is very reminiscent of when Cabello would snort and blow before stamping his foot impatiently. “You are meaner in this time, Sassenach.” He grumbles even as his grip on your hand tightens.
"You like to be teased." He always has, that was apparent to you from the beginning. "And you know that I would never do anything to make you unhappy, cariño. It's all in good fun."
He rolls his eyes at you and let’s go of your hand to swat at your ass playfully. “You are a pain in my ass, so I will pain yours.” He jokes.
"Te amo mucho, mi amor." You grin, practically sticking your tongue out at him as you walk together. Everything feels as light as air today, and seemingly nothing could cut through the good mood that has settled between you.
“I will pull you over my knee when we get back to our room.” He huffs, knowing you will enjoy it if he does. “But I won’t let you cum.”
"Now who's mean?" You pout at him dramatically, knowing that he would give in and let you have your pleasure eventually no matter what he says, but enjoying the game.
“Born mean, mi amor.” He flashes you a wicked grin and winks at you when it just makes you pout even harder.
"You say so, but I have seen you misty-eyed at not just one but two of our weddings, and caught you having entire conversations with Binx and Bowie and Caballo." This man's many different faces have always fascinated you, but perhaps that is part of being soulmates. The great privilege of having someone close to you that will never tire or bore you. Someone who will challenge, love, encourage, and support you through the best and the worst of life. Someone to complete you - no matter where or when you are.
Pero grumbles under his breath, flushing slightly at your call out of his supposed tender behavior. It flies in the face of the hard facade he had shown the world for nearly his entire life. “Mean.” He huffs, as if he’s trying to convince you.
“Maybe I am.” You shrug, hand still in his. “Maybe you are. But I think we’re the best version of ourselves now that we’re together.”
"I can agree to that." Pero knows that he doesn't want to be without you again, it was too painful for that year once he had entwined his soul with yours. "Now we don't need to be apart." He chuckles quietly. "We will have our modern house and live everyday like we did in the cottage."
“Te amo, mi corazón.” Lifting His hand to your lips, you leave a kiss in his skin and smile. Te amo mucho.”
"Mi vida es tuya." My life is yours. Pero reminds you simply, knowing you feel the same.
“What else would you like to do today, amor?” There had been more to find at the site of your old cottage than you could possibly have anticipated, but you still have an entire evening ahead of you.
"That is up to you." Pero murmurs softly. "We can explore the village or we can see about getting a meal and going back to the cottage to eat there. Under that tree?"
“We could do both?” With both of you softened a little, you lean your head on his shoulder for a moment at the corner of a street waiting for a group of cars to pass so you can keep walking. “We could walk around until we find something good to eat and then walk back down to the cottage to have our meal.”
Pero hums his agreement, finding it to be a good idea. He also has another plan for tonight back at the site of the cottage you and he had shared so many years ago. Biting his lip, he nods. "Perfecto."
******
Once your things are settled back at the inn, the two of you wander town some more. Modern shops mix with historical sites in this place that is so obviously fond of its heritage, and you share a few good laughs about how you would be the town’s most treasured visitors if they only knew about your past. Eventually you wander into the bakery that stands on the same site as the old baker’s shop, and though they aren’t using his same stone oven, they are baking with the same ancient principles in mind. Tartines, a small loaf of seeded bread, and a few pastries are added to your accumulated picnic of wine and cheese, and you’re ready to head back down to the tree Pero planted by your old cottage.
When the chest had been pulled out of the bag, it had been replaced with the throw blanket the hotel had set out on the couch in the small sitting area. Wanting to use it to put down on the ground when you eat. You had told him that in this time picnics were romantic things, rather than just eating during a rest for the horses. Spreading it under the tree, the blanket sits where your bed would have been in cottage and Pero smirks, sitting down and patting the space beside him. "Sit, amor."
You’re careful with the food, seeing everything down gently, and setting down your own bag in the corner of the blanket to sit down beside him. It’s a beautiful, sunny day and warm, so a picnic is just the thing for your dinner.
“This was your safe fortress for a long time.” Pero murmurs, unable to see any of the Stones that had made up the walls of the cottage. Most likely it had been torn down to use for other things. “It was a nice cottage, better with a roof on it.” He teases.
“It’s useless for me to argue that I would have thatched it myself eventually, isn’t it?” You roll your eyes at him to make him laugh and reach for the wine bottle and corkscrew that you bought while you were out. “You kept me warm and safe that winter, amor. And I will always be grateful.”
"It was the most comfortable I had ever been." Pero admits, having taken pride in making sure there was a warm fire in the hearth and meat in your pot. It had felt like the first home he had since leaving his father's.
“And now that honor will go to our farmhouse after it’s built.” There is no need for glasses, the two of you can easily share a bottle of wine without having to be dainty. The box containing your tartines sits open beside the pastry box containing madeleines and macarons, with the baguette and cheese waiting to be devoured just beyond that. A veritable feast.
“The cheese maker’s shop being a what did you call it? A delicatessen? That was ironic.” Pero had groaned happily at the variety of cheeses available now and there are a lot of them in your picnic.
“It was exciting,” you contend, knowing that the cured meats in the cases and windows along with the dozens of varieties of cheese will be calling you back before the week is up. You’ll end up shipping a crate of things home, you can feel it in your bones. “Dig in, love. No reason to wait when it’s just the two of us out here.” A few passersby have been out, some of them with dogs, but no one has bothered you. They apparently know tourists when they see them.
“Remember that first day Briac brought all the supplies to your door? I thought your eyes were going to pop out of your head. They were so wide.” Pero chuckles as he pulls out the pocketknife you gave him to start slicing the cheeses.
“I had no idea you would spend so much on supplies!” Laughing with him, you reach for a piece of tartine and hum at the spicy scent of the mustard holding all the toppings on the fresh, crusty bread. “I was used to saving every single coin I could and trading as much as possible. It was like Christmas come early to me.”
“I was not going all winter without cheese and ale.” Pero hands you a slice of cabrales and takes another for himself. “I love cheese.”
“Almost as much as you love me.” You can’t resist teasing him, batting your eyelashes dramatically so he doesn’t pout about having to choose.
“Almost.” He huffs, popping the cheese into his mouth with a grin and then letting out a filthy moan. It’s creamy and slightly funky and he’s already cutting another piece off of the large wedge.
“That good?” As soon as you ask the question you pop the piece he handed into your own mouth and have a nearly identical reaction that sends you both into a fit of laughter. “Holy shit that’s good.”
“It’s that good.” There’s is a leer in his grin as he leans closer, waggling his brows slightly.
“Are you implying that this cheese is as good as fucking me?” You raise your eyebrows at him imperiously, trying not to snort or giggle at the little game. It is very good cheese, after all.
“This cheese is almost as good as fucking you.” Pero shuffles closer, smirking as he breaks off another bite of the cheese and pops it into his mouth. “But I must compare quickly.”
“Amor…” That combination of predatory gaze and a knowing smirk usually only means one thing, and if you weren’t literally out in the open you would be all for it. “We would be seen.”
Pero scoffs, not caring if he were seen making love to his soulmate - his wife. “We are behind the tree.” He argues, cutting his eyes over. “We will not be seen if you just lay against the trunk.”
“If we’re seen we could be arrested.” The argument isn’t exactly stalwart, not when you’re leaning into him and a mere fraction of an inch away from kissing him.
“Who cares?” Pero has been in a stockade more times than he can count, was chained to a wall in China. A modern slap on the wrist means nothing to him. “You do not want me inside you where we use to fuck so many years ago?” He asks, lifting a brow. “You could ride my cock, your dress would cover us from being seen.”
It’s strangely sentimental at the same time that it is breathtakingly arousing, and you bite your lip hard while considering the pros and cons. When the pros - i.e. sex with Pero - inevitably win out, you nod slightly and push in to capture his lips in a kiss. This might actually outdo the time you wrapped your legs around his waist and let the ocean waves help you ride him one night when the beach was empty.
The growl Pero lets out is feral. Twisting his body and dragging you into his lap so that you are blocked by the tree and his back so that none will see you. He doesn’t mind public sex, his cock is hard and he has every intention of sinking into you, but he is protective of you being on display to others.
“Shhhh.” It’s barely a chastisement as you squirm in his lap and bite back a needy gasp. “We have to be quiet, amor.”
“They will think it an animal and stay away.” Pero huffs, pushing his hands up under your skirt to fumble with his jeans. In this instance, he wishes he were wearing his easier to access breeches, although he’s grateful you are wearing a skirt.
It really is a useless endeavor to wear underwear around Pero, but when his fingers slip inside the slick fabric and tug your panties to the side, you tell yourself it’s your honeymoon and you’re not only allowed to be horny – it’s expected. Raising yourself up just a little is all you need for Pero to shift beneath you, and you bite down on your lip hard to keep from moaning as you sink down on his length.
There is magic in the way your body takes him that is it’s own web of power. Sucking the breath from his lungs and clouding his mind with you, pushing everything else aside. He pulses and twitches in the snug warmth of your walls, hands gripping your hips harshly. “Fuck.” He hisses quietly, already breathing heavily.
“Goddamn.” You hiss in agreement, starting out with just making small circles in his lap. There is barely any rise and fall to your hips yet, but partly because of Pero’s iron grip on that part of your body while he twitches eagerly inside you.
“You- mierda, you feel like heaven.” Pero praises, ducking his head and starting to kiss along your neck and across your collarbone. Ever since he thought of returning here he imagined you like this again, right here. The cottage fully reconstructed in his mind as you grind down on him.
“S-such a bad — fuck — fucking influence.” Careful to keep your lips tight by his ear, just only need to whisper the words for him to hear them. Your hips swivel and rock, taking him as deep as you can and giving you a surge of pleasure every time your walls pulse around him.
He knows his fingers dig into your skin through the fabric, you will have tender spots on your skin that will be loving reminders. The first time he had done that, he had been upset to hurt you, but you like it and Pero groans in agreement. “You and your -your cunt are all that matter right- right now.” He chokes out, trying to roll his hips up.
Kissing him is going to be the only way to keep yourself quiet, and you cling to him in the shadow of the enormous hazelnut tree. The whole rest of the world has dissolved from your mind and it’s only you and Pero - just two soulmates moving together in secluded pleasure. Nothing else exists.
Pero grunts into your mouth, absorbing your whines with pleasure. His hips push up and he tenses when you tighten around him. Loving how uninhibited you are right now, even though the two of you are completely covered.
It’s all about small, subtle movements right now. There is nothing in the world that could stop you at this point, as you rock closer and closer to the point of no return. Your legs tense on either side of him, gripping his thighs with your knees and holding on as tight as you possibly can even as your fingers dig into his shoulders while you try desperately not to cry out.
“Good girl.” He growls into your ear, hand splayed wide across your back and holding you close. “Mi esposa es tan buena para mí.” My wife is so good to me.
“Mi esposo es increible.” My husband is incredible. The shuddering tension in the depth of your belly is as familiar as breathing with Pero is your life, and you chase it with your cunt bearing down in his cock as tightly as a glove.
He can feel that you are close, starting to quicken his pace under you. “Cum for me.” Growling quietly, he presses his lips to yours to muffle the cry he knows is coming.
You hardly need the extra encouragement, but you whimper in agreement and nods eagerly as you pick up the pace just that much more. Discreet as you’re trying to be, you’re certain that anyone who saw you would recognize your movements - but frankly you’re so close to your peak that you don’t even care. Tighter and tighter, the coil in your belly snaps with one particularly well-placed thrust from Pero, sending you over the edge as your forehead drops to his shoulder so you can bite your lip and grip his shoulders as solidly as you need to keep quiet while you come apart on top of him.
His pleasure rumbles through him, like an avalanche as it sweeps over his body. Only allowing him to give into the need once your body bows and arches in pleasure. Curling around his spine and making him shudder, Pero pumps himself deep with a low groan of your name.
Gasping for breath includes a giggle, and you raise your head to press a kiss to Pero’s lips as your body against his. “Te amo, mi corazón. Eres el sol in mi cielo.” I love you, my heart. You are the sun in my sky.
He smirks, reaching up and cupping your cheeks. “Eres la bruja que me ha robado el corazón.” You are the witch who has stolen my heart. Pero teases and kisses the tip of your nose. “And I do not wish to have it back.”
______
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 @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger
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#time travel au#disabled reader
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Today's mobility aid update: apparently, I am now a Full Time Wizard Staff User.
_
Tl;dr: I'm a cane user who needs more support and has shoulder problems, I am beginning a cosplay of a dnd wizard, and turns out that apparently a staff is better for me than a cane.
(still planning to try forearm crutches and would like a powerchair eventually but well, I'll compare all those too. And for now, I have my staff.)
& also, the wizard I'm cosplaying, Raistlin Majere from Dragonlance, is canonically very disabled and uses his staff as a mobility aid.
_
Backstory: https://www.tumblr.com/dyspunktional-revan/717836384898023424, also some follow-up https://www.tumblr.com/dyspunktional-revan/719407235725492224 (I did try two canes and it was *horrible* on my shoulders).
And now I've been planning a cosplay of Raistlin Majere (who, by the way, canonically uses his staff as a mobility aid!! A young mobility aid user (25 in the first book (Dragonlance series), had to use a mobility aid since 21)! A disabled magic-user who is disabled not because he is magic-user (has been disabled all his life, an event that disabled him much more at 21 was related to magic but the disabilities themselves were not magical — his body was just severely weakened and broke down more; and *couldn't be healed* for magical reasons but not from magical afflictions)! And more and more and more I love Raistlin so much).
There had been several things at home that could go for the staff's pole but they all needed work and weren't very handy to walk with. But now I got a new one — a drape runner that wasn't holding in the wall and had to be taken off; and — this particular one was already an appropriate length. And empty inside, and thin and firm enough at the same time thanks to being metal (wrapped in some kind of plastic). I still had to give it some tip to stand on, and it wasn't even cut straight. It's 25mm and the standard cane tip is made for 20mm.
And then my mother had a genius idea. She took an old cane tip, and *shoved it in*. And it holds perfectly.
Now to the mobility aid part!
So, now I have a proto-staff I can actually walk with, and at first I felt like my cane was mostly better. But then I wanted to stand up and my legs hurt really bad, I took my cane at first but then I decided to take the staff instead — it can offer more support, especially if I hold it with both hands.
After a while, I put it down and took my cane — and realized that the staff was actually better. My shoulder instantly felt much worse. Idk about the rest because I just put down the cane and took up the staff again, and had been using it for the rest of the day.
I'll probably still need to use a more conventional mobility aid outside (when not in costume)... For one thing, I don't think anyone's going to offer a bus seat to a guy with a wizard staff rather than a cane or a crutch (eh. Also that applies to when in costume too, thought about that long before I'd thought of actually using the staff as a mobility aid outside of cosplay).
Although perhaps btw I could, like, try to ask, hey I have leg problems, I actually use a cane when not cosplaying, could you please,, Idk.
As I said in tl;dr, I'm still planning to try other mobility aids, planning to buy at least one forearm crutch as soon as I can go out (currently ill). I'll compare that and the staff too, might alternate like folx do alternate their conventional mobility aids? And eventually I would like a powerchair, don't know if it can ever become possible for me.
#leviathan.txt#disabilityposting#disabled#disability#disabled life#mobility aid user#cane user#chronic pain#disabled cosplayer#cosplay life#cosplay wip#dragonlance#raistlin majere#dyspunktional#repetition cw
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Appendix A: An Imagined and Incomplete Conversation about “Consciousness” and “AI,” Across Time
Every so often, I think about the fact of one of the best things my advisor and committee members let me write and include in my actual doctoral dissertation, and I smile a bit, and since I keep wanting to share it out into the world, I figured I should put it somewhere more accessible.
So with all of that said, we now rejoin An Imagined and Incomplete Conversation about “Consciousness” and “AI,” Across Time, already (still, seemingly unendingly) in progress:
René Descartes (1637): The physical and the mental have nothing to do with each other. Mind/soul is the only real part of a person.
Norbert Wiener (1948): I don’t know about that “only real part” business, but the mind is absolutely the seat of the command and control architecture of information and the ability to reflexively reverse entropy based on context, and input/output feedback loops.
Alan Turing (1952): Huh. I wonder if what computing machines do can reasonably be considered thinking?
Wiener: I dunno about “thinking,” but if you mean “pockets of decreasing entropy in a framework in which the larger mass of entropy tends to increase,” then oh for sure, dude.
John Von Neumann (1958): Wow things sure are changing fast in science and technology; we should maybe slow down and think about this before that change hits a point beyond our ability to meaningfully direct and shape it— a singularity, if you will.
Clynes & Klines (1960): You know, it’s funny you should mention how fast things are changing because one day we’re gonna be able to have automatic tech in our bodies that lets us pump ourselves full of chemicals to deal with the rigors of space; btw, have we told you about this new thing we’re working on called “antidepressants?”
Gordon Moore (1965): Right now an integrated circuit has 64 transistors, and they keep getting smaller, so if things keep going the way they’re going, in ten years they’ll have 65 THOUSAND. :-O
Donna Haraway (1991): We’re all already cyborgs bound up in assemblages of the social, biological, and techonological, in relational reinforcing systems with each other. Also do you like dogs?
Ray Kurzweil (1999): Holy Shit, did you hear that?! Because of the pace of technological change, we’re going to have a singularity where digital electronics will be indistinguishable from the very fabric of reality! They’ll be part of our bodies! Our minds will be digitally uploaded immortal cyborg AI Gods!
Tech Bros: Wow, so true, dude; that makes a lot of sense when you think about it; I mean maybe not “Gods” so much as “artificial super intelligences,” but yeah.
90’s TechnoPagans: I mean… Yeah? It’s all just a recapitulation of The Art in multiple technoscientific forms across time. I mean (*takes another hit of salvia*) if you think about the timeless nature of multidimensional spiritual architectures, we’re already—
DARPA: Wait, did that guy just say something about “Uploading” and “Cyborg/AI Gods?” We got anybody working on that?? Well GET TO IT!
Disabled People, Trans Folx, BIPOC Populations, Women: Wait, so our prosthetics, medications, and relational reciprocal entanglements with technosocial systems of this world in order to survive makes us cyborgs?! :-O
[Simultaneously:]
Kurzweil/90’s TechnoPagans/Tech Bros/DARPA: Not like that. Wiener/Clynes & Kline: Yes, exactly.
Haraway: I mean it’s really interesting to consider, right?
Tech Bros: Actually, if you think about the bidirectional nature of time, and the likelihood of simulationism, it’s almost certain that there’s already an Artificial Super Intelligence, and it HATES YOU; you should probably try to build it/never think about it, just in case.
90’s TechnoPagans: …That’s what we JUST SAID.
Philosophers of Religion (To Each Other): …Did they just Pascal’s Wager Anselm’s Ontological Argument, but computers?
Timnit Gebru and other “AI” Ethicists: Hey, y’all? There’s a LOT of really messed up stuff in these models you started building.
Disabled People, Trans Folx, BIPOC Populations, Women: Right?
Anthony Levandowski: I’m gonna make an AI god right now! And a CHURCH!
The General Public: Wait, do you people actually believe this?
Microsoft/Google/IBM/Facebook: …Which answer will make you give us more money?
Timnit Gebru and other “AI” Ethicists: …We’re pretty sure there might be some problems with the design architectures, too…
Some STS Theorists: Honestly this is all a little eugenics-y— like, both the technoscientific and the religious bits; have you all sought out any marginalized people who work on any of this stuff? Like, at all??
Disabled People, Trans Folx, BIPOC Populations, Women: Hahahahah! …Oh you’re serious?
Anthony Levandowski: Wait, no, nevermind about the church.
Some “AI” Engineers: I think the things we’re working on might be conscious, or even have souls.
“AI” Ethicists/Some STS Theorists: Anybody? These prejudices???
Wiener/Tech Bros/DARPA/Microsoft/Google/IBM/Facebook: “Souls?” Pfffft. Look at these whackjobs, over here. “Souls.” We’re talking about the technological singularity, mind uploading into an eternal digital universal superstructure, and the inevitability of timeless artificial super intelligences; who said anything about “Souls?”
René Descartes/90’s TechnoPagans/Philosophers of Religion/Some STS Theorists/Some “AI” Engineers: …
[Scene]
----------- ----------- ----------- -----------
Read Appendix A: An Imagined and Incomplete Conversation about “Consciousness” and “AI,” Across Time at A Future Worth Thinking About
and read more of this kind of thing at: Williams, Damien Patrick. Belief, Values, Bias, and Agency: Development of and Entanglement with "Artificial Intelligence." PhD diss., Virginia Tech, 2022. https://vtechworks.lib.vt.edu/handle/10919/111528.
#ableism#afrofuturism#alan turing#alison kafer#alterity#anselm's ontological argument for the existence of god#artificial intelligence#astrobiology#audio#autonomous created intelligence#autonomous generated intelligence#autonomously creative intelligence#bodies in space#bodyminds#communication#cybernetics#cyborg#cyborg anthropology#cyborg ecology#cyborgs#darpa#decolonization#decolonizing mars#digital#disability#disability studies#distributed machine consciousness#distributed networked intelligence#donna haraway#economics
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[EN] How to Follow Folks On LinkedIn Who Don’t Repeat “Rejection is Redirection.”
Lord give me patience–if I hear one more person telling me that “rejection is redirection” I’m blocking them before Twitter takes away the feature.
… Okay, that may be extreme–but I want to start off this post by asking folks to refrain from that advice. I don’t have to remind other game developers how messed up the job market is, but I can say this much: I know a thing or two about job hunting.
It takes time. Patience–a lot of it. Some studios ghost their applicants, others spend four months debating on who to grant that first interview–without guaranteeing a second or third round. Having been both a recruiter (and currently searching for a writing role) I picked up a few bits of trivia that I wish to share with others.
First: Remote Networking Events:
Discord is going to be your best friend, along with other tools. It’s accessible, and offers a more casual environment than LinkedIn. Before naming a few networking events, here’s a few things to bear in mind:
Always have either a Sticky Note or WordPad that includes your preferred name, pronouns, a brief two to three sentence introduction on who you are and what sets you apart, along with your social media links and portfolio for potential recruiters to reach out to you.
Take a deep breath. I know it can be daunting to put yourself out there, but in a job market full of so much competition, it’s the best way to gain an upper hand.
Set up reminders and be efficient.
Remember that everyone is human. This may sound like a weird one, but you’d be surprised at how often folks place game developers on a pedestal either because of the studio they work in, the awards they have won, etcetera etcetera. The best conversations and connections emerge from just relaxing and having a fun time with folks!
Eventbrite.com Go on www.eventbrite.com and include the “remote” filters and free admission. Add key words such as “game developer meeting” or “game developer networking” for example. If you wish to get more specific, add the title you wish to have and see if you can meet folks who specialize in your field who can offer advice on how to break into the field.
PowerToFly. Here, you can upload your resume and state where in the tech industry you would want to specialize in.
THIS WEEK they will have an event featuring to assist folx with visible and invisible disabilities from August 23, 2023 until August 24, 2023. You can sign up here: https://powertofly.com/events/virtual-job-fair/?utm_campaign=Sunday%20B2C%20Newsletter&utm_medium=email&_hsmi=270953365&_hsenc=p2ANqtz-_HrFZZIbObYArT2rnkBkTW0QMv-gHNY9LDc0LIp0pfCuFHnk01A0sqaz1W7KeYORbvHtSVX7R0gO4XKS_MfGeRqYdpog&utm_content=270926294&utm_source=hs_email
Similarly, there are events hosted by PowerToFly for members of the LGTBQIA+ community, the BIPOC community--all of which are free, the calendar with the dates is on their website.
LinkedIn Audio Events. These are great events to not only meet recruiters and employers from various studios, but also greet other fellow job hunters. The best part about this industry is the camaraderie and support–find someone who could give you a job, or find someone who could give you tips on improving your resume.
List of LinkedIn Creators with Events:
Aida Figuerola (https://www.linkedin.com/in/afiguerola/)
Upcoming Event on August 22, 2023: https://www.linkedin.com/events/gamingbackstage-de-iwithjasmina7097554161021415424/
Justin Williams
Previous Event: (Remember you can rewatch it, and take note of the advice provided by recruiters in AAA studios!) https://www.linkedin.com/in/justinalanwilliams/recent-activity/all/
Amir Satvat (https://www.linkedin.com/in/amirsatvat/)
Amir has the Amir Awards, and often features creators helping the video game industry–additionally, he has an organized spreadsheet with video game job openings AND mentorship opportunities.
Here is a link to the job directory from August 13, 2023. You’ll notice how often he updates it. https://www.linkedin.com/posts/amirsatvat_friends-i-am-pleased-to-present-the-august-activity-7096622772239388672-dCRh?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_desktop
If you are job hunting, you can submit your most recent/updated resume–there are recruiters and employers that observe Amir’s database to find candidates. .
Last but not least, there is a network of mentors willing to help with specialized fields, giving industry advice, resume writing assistance and more–all of the details are on Amir’s page and posts.
Arin Goldsmith (https://www.linkedin.com/in/arin-goldsmith/)
Previous Event: (https://www.linkedin.com/events/7090354190849323009/comments)/
A unique component in the gaming industry is how professionals are encouraged to have their own brands–and Arin provides excellent advice. When searching for a job, it helps having a platform so that whenever someone is looking for a game developer, they know they have to reach you because only you can do a certain thing–and that’s what should be on your portfolio, brand, etc.
Though not a recruiter, Arin also provides excellent advice to folks who have 0 experience in the gaming industry but wish to use their transferable skills in the development of video games.
List of Creators on Twitter With Great Advice:
A brief sidenote: hashtags will be your friend when looking for jobs. Every social media platform has an algorithm that detects what content you interact with the most, so if you constantly like posts from recruiters, or posts that have keywords like your dream job title, department, field of study–those posts will be pushed to your feed more often than others.
Some platforms allow you to follow hashtags and set up alarms–so, follow the hashtags involving your field of study and see a few freelancing opportunities come up!
Okay, now about creators:
Javiera Cordero: An amazing producer, Javiera created a Notion template that has saved my life–and job opportunities.
The link is: https://javieracordero.notion.site/Job-Application-Manager-fce5406854f0475aa21d5fcd9fa5e668
It has several categories including “preparing”, “applied”, and “interviewing.”
Additionally, there are:
Cover Letter samples.
Dozens of job sites.
Websites for marginalized communities.
Possible Interview Questions
And more! (gracias Javiera <3)
Should I post “that”?
“My journey with X has ended.”
“Unfortunately, I have been affected by layoffs.”
“I’ve been trying to keep it together for the past few months, but I need help…”
Posts of this nature have increased exponentially. I’ve had to write some–and I encourage everyone to do the same, and I know it is not easy.
It’s not easy to be vulnerable, especially in front of many professionals.
But some of them may be your future coworkers–if you need help, tell your network. Not to mention, that if you have not come across a job for a while this lets recruiters know why there is a gap on your resume. It was not due to a gap year, it was due to a recession and a million other things.
How do I reach out?
Reach out to folks who are in a role similar to what you are striving towards. As a narrative designer, I often try to connect with other narrative designers–mainly because they have the best dad jokes and D&D campaigns, but I digress.
Apply to as many studios as you can, then head to LinkedIn. Look up the studio, and see if there are any of the following:
Alumni from your alma mater.
Folks in your specialized field.*
Mutual Connections.
First, reach out to mutual connections. See if they are willing to introduce you to someone in the studio you just applied. Or, try and meet up with someone who you went to school with–share stories and inside jokes from the institution, and if the subject of employment comes up, use that as a segue to explain your situation.
Do not cold call people with messages like, “Do you have a job for me?” It’s not a good look–and, again, people are human. They will know when they are being contacted because of their job title–so avoid that.
*Yes, there is a lot of support in the gaming community. But it does not always happen–sometimes, if someone has little to no social media presence, no profile picture it may be for a reason. Understand that there are times where game developers are, unfortunately, treated poorly by gamers and decide to limit what messages they can accept. It’s all about getting a hint, basically–but digitally.
Anyways, be nice! Don’t weird any game developers out and get that job.
#sorry I messed up the bullet points#game development#video game#gaming industry#job hunting#job opportunities#linkedin#networking#narrative design#recruiters#diversity#inclusion#remote#video game jobs#gamedev#designer#producer#gaming#connections#soft skills#communication#accessibility in gaming#accessibility#pc games#videogame#story telling#narrative#story
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TW: mentions of bullying, suicidal ideation, and a toxic fangroup in the SPN fandom
This is all I’ll say about the recent revelations, and forewarning, a lot of swearing ahead:
I have a genuine question. Why is the Supernatural fandom as toxic as it is? Don't get me wrong, there are pockets of joy and wonder, forces for good, and a mobilization for worthy causes I have yet to see in any fandom except maybe that of the Our Flag Means Death fandom (albeit on a slightly smaller scale, and there’s quite a bit of crossover).
Like quite a few of you, I curated my own little chunk of paradise in this fandom in making three amazing, true friends (@anyreiart, @eyesofatragedy67, and @punk-is-notdead), and while I don't actively engage very much with the rest of the fandom, because it overwhelms me, the few times I have, have been generally good experiences. Has it all been sunshine and gay angel rainbows? No.
All of us have experienced negative things in some capacity. A rude comment on art or fanfiction, specifically in mine and Any’s case: a relatively well known fandom persona told people not to read the last chapter of one of our fics, and that was because that person didn't like a section of the last chapter. I’m sure that person justified to themselves that telling other people not to read someone’s work was some sort of, misguided warning, and all because that one person didn't like one part of our fanfiction. But I digress, we have seen the capacity for toxicity, but a lot of the time that has been part of the “ship war” discourse. Again, in our case, it was a brief negative interlude with a mod at the now closed SPN newsletter.
All water under a murky bridge, but the revelations of late are absolutely abhorrent. Fandom to me, as someone who has been involved in several fandoms for the past 22 years, has always been a safe space, especially as a neurodivergent queer person. I started at 17, in the fandom for the wizard boy series I won't say because of the TERF who shall not be named, but it was… not like this.
Now it's very possible that I didn't see as much (hell, I had no idea about any of this SHACgate garbage until this week because I don't really interact with folx much), but unlike now, during the wizard boy series time, I was very active, accepted into elite LiveJournal communities and while I was never a “BNF”, I got to share spaces with some incredibly talented people. And I do not ever remember the sort of discourse I have seen in the Supernatural fandom. Not even whispers of it. Ship wars have been and sadly probably always will be a thing, but this infighting, vicious, manipulative, cult-like shit? Nah, man, at least not as far as I saw.
A majority of us recently found out in the SPN fandom, and specifically among the Destiel shippers, multiple adults in some elite discord server, got involved in multiple bullying campaigns over the years and toxic, (and let's be honest) evil fucking behavior all over the simplest, or even pettiest fucking things. And what kills me, is a good majority of the orchestrators and primary toxicity peddlers, say they are neurodivergent, and/or queer, and/or disabled. That means, statistically, they themselves have probably been bullied at some point in their lives.
Yet they still chose to harass, block and ignore, “mean girls” burn-book fellow fandom folx, supposedly even their friends, all because "so and so told me to" or because they felt justified in doing so for whatever seemingly honorable reason. Many people who have come forward about their previous or prior involvement state their participation or silence in these campaigns was for fear of retribution or cancellation. Which to a degree is perfectly understandable, but in chasing the divine, these participants compromised their own values, and just because they used their fame for good a lot, doesn't really balance out how they used their fame for evil, too. Personally, I don't think it works like that.
But I'm not here to soapbox about the morality and ethics of their choices. Either they know they did bad things and are working toward undoing the damage and darkness, or they're going to continue to blame others and refuse accountability by releasing disingenuous apologies that essentially equate to, "He only gets mean when he drinks." Either way, that's between them, their friends and family, and their flying spaghetti monster.
No, what I’m genuinely confused about is why the toxicity in the SPN fandom seems so particularly… PG&E in Erin Brockovich about things. I mean, come on. Seriously? A bunch of grown ass adults bullying people, sending death threats, doxxing, harassing, pulling some high school bullshit, block and ignore tactics to dehumanize and traumatize people, some even to the point of suicidal ideation? I'm sorry, that’s fucking gross and this whole goddamn thing is fucking ridiculous. Especially if these perpetrators were bullied themselves at some point in their lives.
And don't get me wrong, with a history of loving problematic ships, I absolutely live for redemption arcs for villains, but the reality is, there needs to be a glimmer of goodness inside for that to work, and how any adult can think that sort of behavior is okay, or justified … I don't know. Some of the perpetrators may be past a redemption arc. Too far gone. In Ted Lasso (spoiler obvs) everybody got a redemption arc except for Rupert, and that was because he was irredeemable.
This behavior should be irredeemable, but that’s my personal opinion, and everyone is allowed their own. But I will admit, even my own opinion can waver. There needs to be a sense of sincerity in the first step, which is accepting responsibility and apologizing, hence why I don’t think every single person who participated is irredeemable.
I applaud the victims, those who were hurt, in finding the ability to forgive their bullies, and I also applaud those who have drawn strict boundaries. At the end of the day, the perpetrators are the ones who will have to live with the fact they chose to commit these acts and ruin fandom entirely for someone.
I don't care if it was all orchestrated by some mastermind lone wolf evil caricature of a Destiel shipper, or a select few wannabe Legion of Doom motherfuckers, your decisions are your own. Your choices were made, and when a friend told you that so and so was mean/bad/wrong, you attacked without a second thought, and why? Up until this past week, you were reaping the benefits of your elite status and living your best lives, enjoying your fandom experience. Maybe you felt safe and content with your ingroup, maybe you didn’t, but you were probably enjoying yourself. Now, how would you feel if someone did to you what you have documentedly done to others? Chased you off of social media, doxxed you, harassed you, made you feel unsafe when you unlock your phone? I won’t deny, to some extent, some of you probably have had tastes of those attacks from outsiders, but never from within, because you had the protection of your BNF cohorts. And luckily, for you, the majority of us don’t believe in bullying, so you’re never going to have to truly find out what that feels like, but I hope you think about it.
You know what happened when someone was mean to one of my friends? I stood up for said friend, while remaining calm and collected, then proceeded to block and be done with it. I didn’t reply or engage when their response turned vicious. The entire exchange was out in the open, on a public thread, and name-calling and gaslighting only ever came from one side, and it wasn't mine. I get the urge to be protective, I do, but did it just not ever occur that you can be protective of people you care about without resorting to bullying tactics? And if you have to commit these acts for fear you'll lose your fame, your place in a server, your "friend", then you've proven you don't care about people outside of what they can do for you.
A demon some of these perpetrators will need to exorcise if they truly want to learn and grow from this.
Anyway, I don't understand how or why that sickness of bullying to such a horrific extent thrived for so long in this fandom. And continues to thrive in other pockets of the fandom. Why? Why the fuck are so many adults in this fandom such childish bullies? And it's not even like we can blame it on the younger, newer fans, because they’re the ones that end up being the victim half the time from the looks of things. A bunch of quarter-life approaching middle-age folx caused this and proved that a little bit of fame in the wrong hands turns people into monsters.
For the perpetrators, I hope no one does to you what you have done to countless people in this fandom. And even more, I hope no one does to you what you did to your victims who left the fandom entirely. May you never understand that pain.
For all of their victims, I hope you find peace and I'm glad you came forward to put a stop to this madness. It was scary, and how many friends and followers the perpetrators have, this could have gone the other direction, and ended very badly. Thankfully it didn't, and hell, you got someone who never really participates or engages in fandom discourse to write a TLDR freakin’ Tumblr post about it. I am sorry for everything you experienced.
As for the rest of us? We’ve got a helluva lot of work ahead if we want to turn the Supernatural fandom into a true, safe fandom space. But I think this could be a good place to start.
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mildly interesting how “folk(s)” (or, heaven forbid, folx) has become a word that people used to denote which groups they consider progressive. i see posts that contrast two groups, and they’ll assign the one they agree with “[x] folk” and simply pluralize the one they disagree with (”Jewish folk(s)”/”Nazis” or “disabled folk(s)”/”ableists”). what makes it interesting is how consistent and intentional it must be; many of the people using language this way clearly did not have ‘folk(s)’ as part of their normal, everyday vocabulary prior to their teenage/adult lives (and use it in pretty unnatural ways because of that). so some kind of choice is being made, and there are some kind of rules dictating who’s “folks” and who isn’t.
i already said that they use it for groups they consider progressive, but i don’t just mean in the sense of “these are groups supposedly consisting of progressive people.” i mean it also in the sense of “these are groups of people that it makes me look progressive to defend.” so another dimension is at play here, and i think that part of it is to describe groups that they view as having lessened agency. weird how making us sound down-home is now part of a strange, sort of politically charged narrative. again, it’s only mildly interesting; i just like to go through posts and see where people use the term and who it describes.
#probably nobody else cares i'm just watching it all unfold#also funny when people kinda wanna sound country but clearly don't want to be considered it#also it's interesting that this usage strips any sense of familiarity from it
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Time for another Ableism In America (US) rant inspired by Daredevil 🎉
Such a random thing, but I stuck a little moment in my fic where someone tries to give Matt a 'tech'd-out' billy club he doesn't want and he points out the little recorder inside (just for a fun comics ref) and the person was like 'hey you're a lawyer aren't you all about evidence?' and Matt shoots them down by explaining how NY is a one-party state but that means even if it's legal to record someone without their knowledge that's only the case if you are party to the conversation yourself, and if not the recording would not only be inadmissable in a court of law but having made it could make you subject to criminal charges.
Do I know shit about the law? Nope. But as great as the ADA (americans with disabilities act) is, a lot of 'day-to-day' violations never get followed up on without the person whose civil rights are being violated doing a lot of the so-called legwork. That often means collecting documentation of the violation yourself - often multiple times over time to show that this isn't just a matter of 'oh they stuck that display in that aisle while in the process of moving it' sort of thing - which you then include in the complaint you file with the DOJ. And even then the odds of the DOJ doing something with it are...dishearteningly low. Usually, your best bet at seeing the ADA enforced in a lot of instances is to bring a suit against the entity (generally, a business) yourself. Which of course costs money many disabled people don't have and...you get the picture.**
Where voice recording can become helpful particularly is when dealing with the ACAA (air carrier access act), which is a tricky motherfucker. A lot of airline workers are NOT as trained up on the ACAA as they should be - as they're legally required to be. If an individual files a complaint with the DOT the general rule of thumb is for the DOT to require the airline to do an internal investiagtion of the incident/staffer, and oh, wonder of wonders, they usually go back to the DOT to say they didn't find sufficient evidence of a violation for which the airline would be fined if they did >.>
(this is the part where normally I'd get into a rant about how common it is for airlines to damage wheelchairs, even injure disabled passengers, but this rant is already long enough lol)
SO of course one of the better ways to keep this from happening is to have evidence that yes, this violation occured. For example: did you know that US-based airlines can't make you stow a wheelchair in cargo that would otherwise fit in the wheelchair closet or an overhead compartment? If there isn't room, they are required to strap down your chair to a seat or seats, even if that means bumping someone from the flight. But it's very often the case that they won't do this, and a lot of the time it's because the airline workers involved don't even KNOW about that aspect of the ACAA (this is very much not a down-on-airline-workers post just FYI).
You can then inform them of the requirement, but a lot of the time that's not gonna help, and generally having to fight the airline every time you fly makes it pretty much impossible for a lot of folx to fly - myself included - because the very disability that warrants a wheelchair makes expending that kind of energy ON TOP OF all the other stressors and difficulties of flying while disabled just too much to handle. And, as is often the case with civil rights violations, the threat of legal action - particularly when you can show you'll have evidence of it, e.g. overtly making a record - is your best bet at having those rights respected (at least in the US - can't speak for elsewhere).
An easy way to do this is make an audio recording of these conversations, accompanied by video or not. But the STATE you are in at the time matters - if it's two party (which requires both parties in the conversation being aware of the recording) or one party, and while the obvious answer may seem like 'then just tell them and maybe that'll get them to back down anyway' a lot of people...really, really do not like getting called out on their ableism. Especially when they don't think they're being ableist, but that's a whole other thing. It has bad optics - a big aspect of ableism is objectification of disabled people, particularly of the infantilization and inspiration porn varieties. No one wants to be the asshole who shouted down that poor, pitiful person in the wheelchair (*pause for eyeroll*).
So you'd think that'd make em back down, wouldn't you? Unfortunately, a lot of people will end up getting more agressive instead. Violent, even. And, in this particular instance, marked as being disruptive and getting kicked off your flight. Getting the airline in trouble after the fact doesn't change the fact that you ended up stranded somewhere, or couldn't get where you needed to, or (etc etc).
ANYWAY this is why I'm aware of a number of laws like this one, and as someone who is both disabled and A Really Good Lawyer I hc that Matt would be 100 percent on top of that, hence why I felt this weirdly-niche need to bring it up in a few lines of a super long fic lol.
**Addendum for those it could help: if the violation is perpetrated by a big corportation, like part of a franchise - e.g. Starbucks, Target, what-have-you - these companies often have a person or department that is dedicated to ensuring accessibility, and making a complaint to them can often be easiest AND be more likely to get the issue fixed. This is because the DOJ generally is more likely to go after big companies like that, and they know it, so they'd rather have a representative who will offer and apology then get that particular grocery store/restaurant/whatever to clear the aisles their displays are always blocking or stop using the accessible bathroom as storage or whatever it is.
(PS - my info on all this could be a little out of date so if anyone reading this sees a mistake here or something I left out please feel free to add!)
#daredevil#accessibility#disability#matt murdock#cripple punk icon matt murdock#ADA#ACAA#civil rights#riker.talks#meta sort of
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About Me
I go by Mundus Artis, which translates to Art of the World. My pronouns are it/she. I am what can best be described as a polymath, having dedicated my life towards becoming an expert in a wide number of topics.
I am an artist. I paint, I write, I make music, I am obsessed with decay, and soil science, I know three languages, I am a former NPR broadcast engineer, I was once an event organizer, an activist, and I love zymology and food preservation. I have an actual play werewolf the apocalypse podcast that focuses on wolf-born garou. I love nature more than anything and love recording source audio in the wilderness.
My body no longer works as it once did, and I am disabled. I spend a lot of my time in the woods. I cannot walk far, but when I get out in the deep wilderness in my vehicle I like to just think, and exist in nature. I also can be considered an academic on the topic of Werewolf: the Apocalypse. I am a Storyteller of 25 years, having played every edition of the game, read nearly every book, and have been holding space for marginalized folx at my table since the 90s.
My first exposure to World of Darkness is one where I was, as a young player, abused, bullied, and left traumatized by a Vampire LARP group so poorly managed it made the news.
I cut my teeth using that as my lesson in just how out-of-hand a game session can possibly go, and worked backwards from there to arrive where we are now. Even when I do run tables in other games, my primary vehicle of Storytelling will always be horror, enough so I developed my own methodology and English terms for horror writing.
After a lifetime of keeping the keys to my queer-inclusive horror table, I have decided to pass on the keys to the kingdom to the next generation of Storytellers, and have come out of my offline gaming world to share my expertise with younger queer horror fans.
I am a mother, both to my own (they're nonbinary, how cool is that?), and other wayward queer folx that like me, have had to sort out their identities without the support of a greater community.
I am a queer, transgender, demisexual, poly lesbian, and extremely private about it. I will however shitpost about it on my other blog. I will however happily hold space and will eat you if you dunk on other people for existing.
I'm a big fan of empiricism, in that there is a tangible, physical reality around us that can be measured and quantified. I also believe that this is an existentialist outlook, in that it's entirely on the individual to derive the meaning of existence through what empirical reality gives them. This isn't to say that there's no room for spirituality, but that one must make that space in order to have it. If you throw shit at the universe, it'll throw shit right back.
I adhere to the belief of social contract, that society functions within a community of cooperation, or at least should, where everyone is sorta trying to exist in a life that is frankly complicated, and that it's each person's duty to help eachother towards the betterment of the community. I also believe that there needs to be some kind of equalizer within a society to bring equity to those who otherwise wouldn't have it.
My belief in an existenial life bound by social contract makes me a student of virtue ethics. I am someone that tries to live by the belief that ethics and morality should act as a custodian for existence. We are a self-aware chemical reaction that is quite literally the universe looking back at itself. How fucking amazing is that? Existence is a privilege, even for all the suffering, and we should not rob others the right to also be a part of that universe looking back at itself. In that light I consider myself one with an animist perspective, viewing all things as ones with their own spirit, a shared existence.
Per the social contract, if someone stomps on that, you stomp right the fuck back. Black Lives Matter. Trans Rights Are Human Rights. They were children.
50.581926053331706, -102.65677106245843
#queer pride#lgbtq pride#disabled#disability pride#disabled artist#autistic artist#trans artist#queer writers#disabled writer#lesbian writer#wlw#werewolf#werewolves#werewolf the apocalypse
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𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑.
Arcana / Angel / ᐋᓐᔐᓃ • 23 • Mixed Native / Indigenous & Ashkenazi Jewish • Two Spirit • Genderfluid • Intersex • Bi/Omni Vincian/Lesbian/Enbian • Romance & Sex Ambivalent Aspec • Ambiamorous • Disabled & Neurodivergent • Chimera Multigenic HC-DID System
POINTS OF INTEREST:
THRONE WISHLIST | KO-FI
𝐁𝐘𝐅 . . .
• Main blog is l*d*i*********m.
• This space is closely monitored by protectors of our system.
• I will usually be the one posting on this blog, but other adult members of the system may post here too; our littles & middles are forbidden to post here.
• Commissions for NSFW ASMR & erotic literature pieces are available. Don’t ask for pics, I don’t share NSFW content for free unless we’re partners.
• Absolutely no discourse, bigotry nor fakeclaiming of any kind is tolerated here, nor are any debates. This is my personal space. Do not waste my time.
• Top Leaning Switch. I’m mostly in a dom mood & I only sub for people I trust, which in my case for numerous reasons usually takes quite a long time to establish. When in domspace, my titles are Mistren or Goddexx. When I am subspace, I go by Princex. I'm interested romantically & sexually in any & all genders although I have a slight preference for women & nonbinary folx. While it’s not necessarily always going to be my cup of coffee nor my main focus, if all parties are consenting, I’m open to entertaining couples as long as all boundaries and consent are discussed between all parties involved beforehand. I will never do physical meetups unless I've known you for literal years & a strong bond is already pre-established beforehand, otherwise, don’t even ask, because it’s not happening. I’m an experimentalist & am kink/BDSM friendly. Open to asks & occasional DMs, may not always answer, keep this in mind, fantasies & whatnot are fine but I’m not gonna sext, don’t automatically DM me if you’re gonna ask me to dom/sub for you. Unsolicited pics, pressuring me to sext, ignoring my hard limits, & any general disrespect are an instant block, & furthermore, don’t expect me to sext you in general. Consent & mutual respect is everything. I don’t like being hit on out the gate, I may be ambiamorous but I’m also on the aromantic & asexual spectrums, please respect this.
• Anon asks are free. If you message me here & we aren't mutuals, I won't respond unless you pay me or you get me a gift on my wishlist. My time is precious & I'm not wasting it on random strangers. I’m open to either financial payments or gifts from my wishlist as compensation; it’s a part of self care & it helps a multiply disabled person get by & I love to be spoiled. If you're going to pay us cash, leave it blank.
Kinks: praise, oral, edging/teasing, primal, dirty talk, “heats”, collars, gentle to moderate femdom, femled relationships, findom, god/goddess/goddex worship, jerkoff instruction/JOI, pegging, dick/pussy worship, outercourse, sumata, frictation/tribadism, scissoring, cockwarming/pussywarming, lapdancing/airdancing/frictiondancing, handjob/fingering, loving ownership, light bondage, light spanking, orgasm control/denial ( on the sub ), light forced masturbation, public play, & certain types of roleplay like experimentation kink & fantasy kink.
Soft Limits: blood, light choking / breathplay, kidnapping, bratting, loving degradation.
Hard Limits: bad manners, poor hygiene, bullies, thieves, arrogance, gossip, haters/jealousy, cheaters, backstabbers, liars, noshows, ageplay, DDLG, incest, rape, pedophilia, petplay, homophobia, transphobia, biphobia, detrans/misgendering kink, abdl, bestiality/zeta/zoo, snuff/gore, hard breathplay, dehumanization, feederism, guns, fat fetishism, s/h fetishism, ed fetishism, heavy burns / branding, misogyny/patriarchy, orientation play, any unsanitary kink, raceplay, slavery, breeding / pregnancy / birthing, abandonment, sub/sub competition, any degradation / humiliation, & my genderfluidity & intersexuality not being respected, on some days I’m a man, others I’m a woman, other times I’m both & sometimes I’m neither or anywhere outside of the Western binary, although I usually present androgynously, I’m fine with all pronouns as long as you don’t strictly refer to me as she/her. I, personally, hate being degraded, it reminds me too much of my trauma & I’d rather not deal with it. I don’t want to be called stupid or dumb or treated like I’m worthless, been there.
𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝐈𝐅 . . .
Minors, cishetallo men & women, queerphobes, anti-kink, & TERFs/SWERFs, as well as sex repulsed individuals, system littles, system middles, & age regressors tread at your own risk & keep yourselves safe; this is not a safe place for you.
#navigation.#desires.#duaric.#achillean.#sapphic.#diamoric.#arcana.lustposts#arcana.erotica#seductrex.#mistren.#goddexx.#music.#child of aphrodite.#child of dionysus.#psa.#resources.#do not reblog.#princex.#heaux#pro heaux#baby heaux#bd/sm community#k!nk community
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🥺 i am make a new post cus i dont wann make the other one too long but, omg ty for the tag @mellyoraa i am honoured <3
nickname: i think the main nickname i get online is "ari", cus theres Generally a toss up between if people prefer to call me that or "princess" and thats a full name not a nickname lol. i Occasonally get "princess tokyo" tho, thats deffo a nickname. i dont tend to share my birthname with folx, so i cant really share the variety of nicknames ive had based on That, but i DO also have "fizz"/"fizzy pop" from my mum, cus of random baby talk from my sister when we were smol.
sign:
i dont tell people when my bday is, (not even my gf knows) and i Refuse to give Clues, sorry yall
height: around 5'4/5'5
last thing i googled: it was a local food place that me and my mum discovered existed the other week (but that had closed down during covid) that delivers roast dinners to your home. their website said they reopened today (or Technically yesterday by the time i post this lol), so i wanted to see what was up.
amount of sleep: hee hoo peanut, Varies, but i need a Minimum of 10 hours to feel Ok, so i Try to keep that as my average. somedays i get less, somedays i get a LOT more.
dream job: a performer. i love performing so damn much it hurts. its a part of my dna practically. but im shite at auditions, and i hate the industry, so even if i WASNT disabled in a way that makes that dream exceptionally hard for me, then its a dream thatll Probably forever go unfulfilled, and thats ok
wearing: harley quinn tshirt i bleached, and boxers uwu
media that summarises me: OOOO THIS IS A FUN QUESTION I HAVE TO THINK ABOUT THIS..... (sorry boys thisll probably get Long, this is kinda what i look for a Lot in media)
The "Life is Strange" games - particularly the first one - feel particularly relevant
Little Talks - Of Monsters and Men
Wired Wrong, Hold Me, Lyin' Awake - Steam Powered Giraffe
oooo Actually i think "Infinity Train" is a good show for me too
What's Wrong With Me? - Julia Stone
i would be an Idiot to not mention "It's Such a Beautiful Day", that film is an Intrisic part of my psyche BECAUSE of how much it resonates with me
Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.
I'm not dead - Boyinaband
Unbreakable - Gilmore Girls
it also feels ridiculous to not include "A Series of Unfortunate Events" (ill take both the books and the netflix, but the movie can go FUCK ITSELF), that series has been a key point in my brain for as long as I can remember.
Superman, I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (and the New Lyrics version too) - Sandi Thom
the one who gave up, you wanted to look for help, i wanted to sit and wait to be rescued, action scene, when we met, hands, - flatsound (honestly Everything flatsound is a Vibe tho)
I Am My Own Disease - 4th Point
Am I?, F.R.E.A.K.S. - Victor and The Bully
Take Me Away - Avril Lavigne
SHIT, That Funny Feeling - Bo Burnham (and honestly the Whole of "Inside")
OOO THAT REMINDS ME absoLUTELY "The Midnight Gospel" that shit hits SO right
I Need Sleep - Balduin & Offbeat (and Offbeats general vibes too)
....oHHH IVE BEEN WORKIN ON THIS ONE QUESTION FOR TWO AND A HALF HOURS IOK I THINK THATS ENOUGH YALL GET THE IDEA AT THIS POINT im so sorry i cant help it, i Love finding myself in media
(if your noticing themes of being unwell, sad, and full of Longing, no youre not shhhh)
favourite songs: i Refuse to take as long answering this as i did the previous question gjdfhg
my current FAV fav song is Hotel California - Eagles
but ill also give honourary mentions to
En ång av rosor - Darin
That's Not How The Story Goes (S3 version) - Netflix Unfortunate Events
Touch of Life - VA†EM Oliver
Countdown - Epithet Erased
instruments: i am currently TRYIN to learn guitar, and though i am WILDLY out of practice i am technically a trained singer, and really want to start practicing again at some point, cus i REALLY miss the huge range i used to have t-t
aesthetic: i.... am honestly not sure how to answer this? i vibe with so many aesthetics, and i dont think id Ever wanna tie myself down to One. as a teenager, i was sorta "all in" on steampunk, but even then i had interest in others. and now my brain is kinda a Clusterfuck lol
favourite author: i think i HAVE to go with either Lemony Snicket, or Shakespeare
random fun fact: i love dice, i own so so many dice at this point, i have Literally zero use of them, theyre just Pretty and i Want Them, i have spent a Stupid amount of money on dice, and i Physically have to restrain myself from lookin at them so so much because i would have No money, Only Dice, if i kept lookin
some favourite mutuals to tag: no pressure to play at all, but @nsfwitchy, @rouge-the-bat, @megalo-station, @aprilbrowines
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Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 10
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 for graphic violence
Word Count: 8.8k
Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Mentions of sexual assault, domestic abuse, graphic depictions of violence, fire/burning, swordplay, death. Sickness, fear, time travel. Technically this could be marked Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, but frankly the doves in question have it coming.
Summary: Something has gone very wrong on the morning after the double wedding, and a certain group of traveling assholes arrives in Gretna at an extremely inopportune moment.
Notes: This week is sort of a doozy folx. Practice a little kindness with yourselves if reading the heavy stuff weighs on you.
Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9
It’s the light that wakes you the next morning - seemingly brighter and more blinding than you ever remember the Scottish sun being, but maybe this room faces East? Ugh. No. That’s not it. Instantly upon half-opening one eye you are hit with the sensation of a pounding headache and whimper. Must be a hangover, you think, though you can’t remember having enough mead to cause such a severe one. The bottle on your tray had been relatively small and you had shared it with Pero evenly. But when your stomach rolls after five minutes of lying in bed with the blanket pulled up over your eyes, you figure that must be it. While it’s annoying, it’s also manageable. You’ll just have to dip into your herbs to make a portion for yourself, no big deal.
A groan makes Pero’s eyes open, sleepily finding you as he turns his head. You sound slightly pained and he wonders if he had gone too hard on you last night after so long without being intimate and having to sit on a horse. “Amor?” He rasps out, sitting up and reaching over to touch the lump of furs and sheets that should be his wife. “Did I ride you too hard last night?” He asks playfully.
“No, cariño,” your voice is just a mumble under the covers, but you reach behind you to find him and grasp his hip in what you hope is a reassuring gesture. “I think it has been too long since I had that much to drink. That’s all.” That’s all, what a stupid thing to say when you feel like you’re going to throw up.
He frowns and climbs out of the bed to where the water jug is sitting. “You did not drink much mead.” He reminds you, knowing there wasn’t enough to make you feel as if hammers are pounding at your skull. He pours you a large cup and brings it over to you. “Drink.”
“I am sorry to make you play nursemaid on our first morning as man and wife.” It’s downright embarrassing, if you’re honest, but you take the cup from him and sip gingerly. The water makes your stomach heave all over again and the light makes you wince. “I can treat myself,” you murmur. Even the sound of your own voice hurts. “Do the windows have shutters? Curtains? Anything to keep the light out?”
Pero frowns, knowing how much you enjoy having as much light as you can. “You do not look well, Sassenach.” Reaching over, he cups your cheeks and huffs. “You are burning up.”
“I can treat myself,” you insist again, though it’s much less convincing than the first time when so much as speaking makes you dry heave.
You are warm, too warm, and even though he tries not to show it, he’s worried. He’s never seen someone become so ill so fast without a wound that is rotten. “Drink your water.” He gruffs at you.
“My herbs.” It comes out rough, sounding like a demand rather than a request, and you shiver without realizing. The damn room is freezing this morning, a deep contrast to how warm it had been last night.
Pero moves towards your bag, easily pulling out the satchel you carried everywhere that is filled with dried herbs. “What do you need, amor? Do you want me to get the girl to help you?”
“Don’t b-bother Wena.” The thought of interrupting her and Briac hurts worse than your head pounding. It’s their first day as a married couple. They should be allowed to indulge and enjoy, not be forced to fret over their hungover friend. “Feverfew…” you breathe deeply, trying to stave off the nausea. “Mint. Chamomile.” Fuck you wish you had ginger. Why couldn’t that have been a random thing he still had in his pack from China? You squeeze your eyes shut and exhale deeply again, wishing it was nighttime so the sun would be gone.
“Sassenach….” Pero roots around in the pack for the herbs you are calling out. Having spent a lot of time watching you and learning beyond his own knowledge. Instead of arguing with you, he brings the herbs over to you and hands them to you. “Do you want me to cover the window?”
“Please.” You can barely nod; it’s starting to make your head spin. “This will pass.” Once you can control the nausea, you can treat yourself with your own magic and move on from this embarrassing incident. Hopefully Pero will one day entirely forget that his wife woke up ill the day after the wedding.
“I will do it.” He leans over and kisses your forehead gently. You had taken care of him when he was ill, and he will do the same for you.
Your instructions are halting, having to pause because speaking hurts your head, but Pero gets the necessary ingredients in the cup of water and sets it by the fire to heat. “M’ sorry…” You manage to mumble, looking sheepish as you bury your face in the pillow you had slept on. How utterly embarrassing for a healer to get sick.
“Don’t be stupid.” The comment comes out harsher than he meant as he looks over his shoulder. He stands and walks over to you, his hand caressing the back of your head. “We take care of each other. Even if you shit yourself, I’ll bathe you and change the sheets. You would do it for me.”
Laughing is the last thing you expected to do this morning, but he has a way of making you feel more relaxed through being blunt that is much appreciated this morning. “I’ll try not to,” you promise.
He’s worried about you. The way your eyes droop and look heavy, a completely different aura than you had hours ago. “Are you sure I cannot get Arwena?”
“It’s just a hangover, amor.” It would do nothing but worry her if Pero knocked on the door across the hall, and there is no need for that. You can be embarrassed in front of just your husband and that is fine with you. “I will nap after I drink my brew.”
He doubts you are hung over, but he nods, stroking your hair once more before he moves back over to the fire that he had lit this morning. “You will get to drink the foul brew.” He jokes, rolling his eyes and grinning at you.
“Yes.” Groaning a little, you settle down under the blankets again and shut your eyes. “Wake me when ‘s ready.”
Pero grunts, looking over at you every few minutes while the drink is heating up. You are shivering and he decides that if the drink doesn’t make you feel better, he will get Arwena whether you like it or not.
******
Nearly two hours of napping later, you awake feeling worse than before but still strong enough to bicker with Pero about getting Arwena before he slips out into the hall to knock on the younger couple’s door. While you have to admit now that this feels like more than a hangover, it can’t be any worse than a flu or a stomach bug. Twenty-four to forty-eight hours and you’ll be good as new, you promise.
Pero knocks on the door insistently, not caring too much that he is interrupting their small little honeymoon. He knows Arwena would want to know. There’s shuffling from behind the door, and it’s yanked open and Briac peers out in annoyance turned concern. Before he can even open his mouth, Pero is talking. “Sassenach is sick.”
“What kind of sick?” Arwena’s voice comes from beyond the door, and Pero can hear rustling and creaking as she rises from the bed and grabs at clothing for some semblance of modesty.
“The light hurts her and she is burning with fever.” Pero calls out, his mind racing to remember details. “Feels like she is going to empty her belly but isn’t throwing up. Head hurts.”
"I would not have thought her to be weak to mead," Briac comments, stepping away from the door to find his breeches and let Arwena sweep past him in her tunic. "She is not." Arwena tells him, looking from her husband and into Pero's concerned face. "She has a strong tolerance, usually. It is more than just drink, isn't it? Otherwise you would not have come to get me."
“I do not know what it is.” Pero admits. “She had gotten ill fast. Quicker than anything I have seen.” He swallows. “She is moaning in her sleep.”
"Has she taken anything yet?" Arwena knows you would insist on healing yourself if you were at all able, but she is already pushing across the hall with the men in her wake to get to you.
“She had me brew her some herbs. Mint and chamomile with feverfew.” He nods, not liking the way Arwena is frowning. He knows he should have insisted on you letting her come over sooner.
"And did it help even momentarily?" Kneeling beside the bed, Arwena puts one hand to your cheek and her frown deepens measurably.
“No.” Pero answers so you don’t try to deny it. “She slept for a couple of hours after, but she was restless and moaning.”
"'M fine," you manage a murmur through the haze and roil of sickness, embarrassed that Pero had interrupted Wena and Briac's day.
"You are not fine," Arwena informs you, shaking her head in dismay before turning to Briac. "Husband, fetch my book?" She asks, chewing on her lip in worry. The grimoire has all of the knowledge that you have imparted to her so far, and she hopes desperately that there will be something inside to help you.
“What is wrong with her?” Pero demands, nearly beside himself with worry. He moves over to the pitcher of water that has been placed in the room for bathing and wets a piece of cloth.
"I do not yet know." And Arwena would never claim to figure it out that quickly, either. "But I will do my best to find out." It is a promise she does not make in vain, and when Briac comes back into the room with the grimoire that you made for her she starts to scour the pages immediately.
Pero bathes your forehead with the wet, cool cloth even though you are shivering. “Relax, Sassenach, your Wena will fix you.” It’s more for himself than you if he were honest. “Briac, can you ask them for more water?”
"Aye." Without another word Briac is gone, bound for the kitchens for water and to ask Father Malcolm for a prayer to your safety. Witch or otherwise, you are still God's child and Briac cannot believe that Heavenly Father would abandon you in a time of need.
The urge to tell Arwena to hurry up is nearly overwhelming and he has to bite his lip. Instead, he concentrates on wiping your forehead and your neck with the cool cloth.
There are things in the grimoire that are not magic, but deductive. How to discern the cause of an illness if you cannot immediately identify it. Arwena’s eyes speed over the words, looking around the room for clues but knowing that anything here would have affected Pero as well. “Did she do anything without you last night?” The girl asks, chewing on her lip as she tries to think things through. “Go outside? Take a gift from someone? Eat something you did not?”
Dread washes over Pero and he nods. “The dried berries.” He whispers, looking back down at you. “She – there was a bowl of berries that she said reminded her of—of things she used to eat and I let her have them all.”
There is guilt clear as day even in the dim room, and Arwena conjures a small ball of light to better look Pero in the eyes. “If you had not, then you might be lying here beside her and we would never have known you were ill,” she tells him honestly. Though only a girl by any rights, Arwena’s calm in this moment makes her the equal of anyone with professed maturity, and she grasps Pero’s hand tightly. “You must go to the kitchens and find whatever you can about those berries. What they are, where they came from, what they were stored in. If you can bring any back to me, so much the better.”
Pero nods, immediately standing and moving over to the clothes so he can put a shirt and his shoes on.
Briac comes sprinting back into the room with a large jug full of water and some clean cloths, chewing on his lips with nerves. “Father Malcolm was downstairs,” he reports, seeing the jug on the floor beside Arwena and the cloths beside that. “He asked if he could do anything to help.”
“He can.” Arwena nods, pouring out water into a cup and beginning to add herbs and powders from your stores to it carefully but quickly. “I need to know if anyone else in the village has been sick recently. Or—” she looks up at her husband, a note of fear betraying her behind her eyes. “Or died.”
Briac’s eyes widen and he glances towards the door where Pero has already disappeared downstairs. “He can’t lose her.” He tells his wife the obvious. “Not now.”
“I know.” When Arwena nods it is solemn, and she does not take her eyes off you as you shiver and sweat in bed. “That is why we must know what made her sick.”
Instead of coming back with information, Pero has the woman who had brought the meal upstairs in tow when he opens the door. “Here.” He tells Arwena. “Ask her.”
“Mistress,” Arwena’s ball of light disappears instantly and she moves to pull the blankets up on your body a little more, but she does not leave your side as the woman enters the room. “My sister has taken gravely ill, as you can see, and I must know what it was that you gave food to us this last night. She was not ill before she ate.”
“I-it was nothing different than I serve any of the guests.” Her eyes widen slightly, and she looks between everyone in concern. “Stew and bread, cheese and mead.” She insists, “there was only enough berries for one tray though. I’m not sure which room it was left at.”
“What were the berries?” Arwena asks, her voice hard to disguise her fear. “Where did they come from? Has anyone else been ill after consuming them?”
“They are local.” Her brow furrows in confusion. “Bilberries. I picked them myself.” She frowns. “Old man Tuner passed this fall and so did little Ernak but it was a sweating fever that took them.”
“No one else has been ill?” An old man and a young boy dying of sweating sickness does not help Arwena, and she must work very hard not to look panicked.
“There has been an illness of the stomach, but the berries were sparse this year.” She gives a small shrug. “I had to feed most of them to the animals because they turned before I could dry them.”
“Can you tell me how you dried them? Were they left outside in the sun? Did you leave them by fire?” She’s increasingly desperate with every question, trying to find anything that could lead her to an answer of what has made you sick.
“Like I always do.” She frowns, slightly insulted by the questions. “They are laid out and dried in the sun. What the birds don’t pick and take away.”
“Thank you, mistress…” It doesn’t give an answer, not to Arwena, but it’s clear that this woman will not be able to provide any. “If you would be kind enough to send up a bucket of boiled water and some clean cloths for my sister, we would be grateful.”
“At once.” She nods quickly, eager to get out of this room and she hustles out the door quickly. Calling out for her other servers to help her get the supplies required quickly.
“I will do everything I can.” Arwena promises Pero, knowing that he does not doubt her dedicating to helping you but wanting him to know that healing you is now her entire focus.
“Whatever it takes.” Pero demands, the white of his eyes showing as he stares at you. “Anything you need, I will get it for you.”
“For now, I think moving her would not be wise.” At least, since she is not sure how to do So safely, it is not something she wants to think about.
Pero nods, keeping the rag moving over your face and trying to cool you down. “You will save her.”
Arwena swallows, looking between Pero and you as you shiver in the bed. "I will do everything in my power."
******
Hours go by and Pero’s patience starts to wane. Not because you are sick and he is ill tempered, but because you are getting worse. Your fever continues to climb, your skin burning to the touch as your teeth chatter together so hard he put a cloth between them so they couldn’t break. He’s helpless and he hates feeling this way as Arwena pours over the book. “I will go see Father Malcolm.” He decides, desperate for any kind of miracle.
“I will stay by her side,” Arwena promises, still pouring through the book you wrote for her. If only she had had more time to study. If she had started sooner. She might know how to cure you on her own.
“I will go with you.” Briac volunteers, knowing that Pero is about to come unglued and he is hoping he can help the mercenary in some small way.
Father Malcolm spends less time inside his church than other priests he has known, but not out of neglect. His vows include charity, and he takes them very seriously. So when he hears his name called out across the village square on his way back from visiting a birthing bed, he is not surprised. That it is the voice of the young man he married yesterday does surprise him, as that same young man had reported to him this morning that you were taken ill.
Pero quickens his steps towards the priest, trying to make his face look something other than wrathful. Aware of what you had called resting asshole face, which apparently he is cursed with. It worked when he was a mercenary, but he does not need the Father to fear him. “Father, we are in need of you.” He rushes out.
“I am at your disposal, señor.” The young priest nods toward the church. “Is the conversation a private one?”
Starting to shake his head, he pauses, wondering how close to you he had been. Instead of answering, he asks a question of his own. “Do you know where Sassenach comes from?”
Malcolm squints at the pair of men for a moment before releasing the latch on the church door and waving them inside. “I know enough,” he tells Pero honestly. “To know that this is not a conversation that should be had near prying ears.”
Pero turns to Briac, grabbing the boy’s shoulder. “Do not be wary of her after this.” He tells him. “There are things you do not understand.”
Briac can only nod, too confused by the secrecy that Pero and the priest seem to consider necessary. You are from another land - he knows that - what could possibly be so mysterious? “I was not wary of her after learning she has magic,” he reminds Pero in a low voice as the priest pulls the door of the church shut and bars it. “I shall not be now, either.”
“This is magic of a differing kind.” Pero turns to the priest. “The Stones. How far away are they?” He demands, not exactly sure how far they are from Inverness. “Where she came through.”
“Craigh na Dun is two days hard riding in summer sun. This time of year it will certainly take longer.” Father Malcolm swallows harshly, undisguised confusion written in his features. “But surely she cannot wish to return? You have only just been wed.”
“I fear that our herbs and her remedies are not enough.” Pero gives voice to the fear that has clenched his heart since you first woke up from your nap worse than you were when you fell asleep.
“I see.” Malcolm sighs deeply, wiping one hand over his face. “You think her home will have healers that can help her.” It is not so unbelievable. You had spoken of brilliant and potent medicine when you healed him, and of the things from your home which made your home - your time - so remarkable. Soon enough you had learned not to speak of such things, but at his bedside you had spoken of wonders.
“Yes.” Pero tongue feels heavy, and his heart drops but he nods. “If she does not break the fever soon, she will die.” He watched his own mother die of fever and it terrifies him.
“You have little time, then.” The young priest leans on the windowsill and looks out into the square, frowning slightly to himself as a group of well-dressed travelers approaches the village. “If you do not know the way, I must journey with you. Craigh na Dun is not easy to find, and your wife will be unable to guide you.”
Reaching out, Pero clasps the Father on the shoulder gratefully. “You will be protected, and I will give the Church whatever you desire.”
“We will remain.” Briac offers, still unsure what exactly is going on, but knowing he can be of service in this small way. “Care-take your church and animals. For however long your journey lasts.”
“You are good men, and she is lucky to have your devotion.” Father Malcolm returns Pero’s gesture with a solemn nod. “Go and make her ready. I gather food and ready our horses. It will be good to see my family lands again. Even for such a dower reason.”
Pero nods, turning and striding towards the doors of the church. It was just by happenstance that he glances out and he comes to a dead stop, Briac running into him in surprise. “Shit.” He hisses, unwilling to deal with the headache that just rode into town.
“What is it?” The priest had turned away already, bound for his own chambers behind the chapel, when he hears the Spaniard curse and turns around.
“Arwena’s father and I’m assuming his bastard friends just dismounted their horses.” Pero growls, his hand twitching as he recognizes the men from the descriptions that both you and the girl have given him.
“What?” Briac is at the door in an instant, hand straying to his sword belt as he stares in horror. “God a mercy. They found us…” His only solace in this moment, this moment of truly poor timing, is that the wedding has already passed. “They are a day too late. Thanks to you, Father.”
Pero watches for a moment, gauging their abilities and while he finds them lacking, he does not want to waste a moment dealing with them. “Briac, go to the stables and ready the horses.” He orders the younger man. “Keep your face hidden.”
“Should I not warn Wena?” The youngest of the three men had put long, hard hours into his sword work, but that does not mean he has any desire to fight his wife’s father. The drunkard watchman Dergen, however? Him, he will fight.
“Father?” Pero turns towards the priest. “Can you get me into the inn and distract them? I do not wish to run them through in front of a man of God, but I will kill every one of them without thought if they try to keep me from getting Sassenach to the Stones.”
“My destiny was not always the cloth, amigo.” Malcolm nods to Pero, unsure of exactly what he is putting himself in the middle of, but knowing that he owes you. You saved his life, and now God is giving him the chance to repay that enormous debt. “Briac, go through the chambers at the back of the church and out the back door to find your horses in the church stables. All of their dressage is there with them, and my horse as well. And you, Pero? There is a basket and my spare cloak in the same chamber. You will look like any other clergyman while carrying the basket to the inn, as long as you keep the hood raised.”
Pero nods, finding the hasty plan better than just trying to kill all of them. If he gets hurt, it means delaying your trip back to your time, maybe even your life, and he’s not willing to risk that. “I will get Wena.” He promises the younger man, knowing he will worry about his wife.
“God bless us all and forgive us this deception.” Father Malcolm makes the sign of the cross in the air between all of them, as though it will guard them from any evil still to come.
Pero makes his way back to the priest’s chambers and dons the garments, waiting for God to strike him down as he pulls the hood up and takes the basket in hand. Briac slips out the door towards the stables and Pero follows, making for the inn as inconspicuously as possible.
“God give you good morrow gentlemen.” As soon as Father Malcolm steps out of the front of the church and into the square, he can feel the icy cold of evil men before him. It is his sixth sense, and one that does not betray him now as he watches the men step forward. “Have you traveled far?”
Padrig sniffs, never caring for men of the cloth particularly, especially when they expected money from him as tithes or attend church as his duty as town magistrate. “Searching for my kidnapped daughter.” He lies easily, adopting a worried countenance. “I am hoping that someone in this town has recently seen a group traveling?”
“We see many travelers on the road from England,” Malcolm smooths his face into a placid expression and steps forward toward the men once more. “But I do not recall seeing anyone in distress.”
“She’s under the spell of a witch.” Padrig hisses, spitting on the ground just to the left of the father’s feet. “A bitch I’ve ever intention of seeing drawn and quartered for her crimes.”
“I see.” Inside the sleeves of his robes, Malcolm’s hands twitch, hating to hear you maligned when he knows you to be kind and loving. “There have been no enchanted visitors to our village, sir. I am sorry to say that I do not think your daughter has traveled through here.”
Franbar lets out a burp and shakes his head, dark eyes watching a girl of about fourteen as she draws water from the well. “Might need to rest here a night.” He huffs, smirking to himself as he hooks his finger on his dagger and works his jaw in contemplation. “See for ourselves.”
“For your own safety, sir, I would seek the tavern in the next village.” The advice is twofold, though Malcolm can hardly say that the man’s life is also in danger by Pero’s blade. “There is sickness here. A fever at the inn that may turn deadly.”
Durgen lurches back, as if the priest himself carries a sickness on his person. “I’m getting tired of chasing this bitch down.” He growls. “She should be on her knees for me right now, at home, where she belongs.”
“Is your soulmate amongst the party you seek?” Any question that he can ask will give Pero and Briac more time to ready for travel, and he already likes these men quite intensely, so he will come up with as many questions as he can.
Durgen glowers at the priest and rolls his eyes. “Soulmates are made, Father.” He huffs, pissed that she still doesn’t bear any of his marks despite taking her maidenhead.
“Are they so?” It takes all of Malcolm’s composure not to flinch at this, but he remains entirely calm on the outside. “Then no doubt God gifts them to us when we are ready to do the most good for them.”
Padrig snorts and brings the priests attention back to him. “All they are going for is breeding our children according to God.”
“A life in God’s light is a blessing.” Father Malcolm is more glad than ever that he was the priest to meet and marry the young couple yesterday, seeing how Arwena must have been treated at her father’s hands. While many men believe complete submission to be a woman’s most glorious duty, Malcolm had been raised by a woman made of sterner and more stubborn stuff. He had been taught that all of God’s creatures deserve respect, and he preached as much at his pulpit. “But gentlemen I must insist. There is sickness in our village and it would not do for prominent men such as yourselves to fall to it.”
“Maybe we should leave.” Dergen shuffles again, casting a worried glance towards the inn. “I do not want to get sick from some foreign disease.”
“Don’t see why we should die for a disloyal wrench.” Eon agrees, not moving down from his horse for even a moment.
Padrig sighs, nodding once. “We will sleep outside of town.” He tells them, hating being denied a hot meal, a warm bed, and a warmer cunt.
******
It has been an aching, wrenching morn. Watching you writhe with fever in a borrowed bed in what should be such a happy day has Arwena beside herself with tears, but she holds your hand with one of her own as the other dramatically flips through pages of your shared grimoire looking for answers. She has managed, with her magic, to keep your fever from progressing any further and for now that has to be enough - though she isn’t sure how much longer the enchantment will hold.
The door opens and Pero slips into the room. The urgency in his steps carries him over to the bed so he can set eyes on his soulmate. “Pack yours and Briac’s things.” He tells Arwena. “We are leaving. Your father and his bastards are here.”
“We can’t leave!” The look in her face is fearful rather than surprised, knowing that her father would catch up to them eventually. He was nothing if not relentless. “Her fever is no longer rising but she is not safe to travel.”
“She has to.” Pero has already decided, knowing that you have not regained consciousness and it reinforces the idea that he’s doing the right thing. “I am sending her back to her time.”
“Her—?” The tilt in Arwena’s head and the confusion on her face makes it clear that she has no idea what Pero could mean by such a declaration, and she reaches to hold your hand as you shuffle in your sleep under the blankets. “I will heal her,” the girl promises desperately. “I just need more time.”
“Wena….” Pero murmurs her name quietly. He sighs, feeling like his heart is being torn in two. “Go get ready. We don’t have more time.”
“What do you mean her time?” Arwena insists, clutching your hand tighter. It’s as if she is now fearful to leave you alone with him, although she could never be afraid of Pero. “It is not yet her time. I will not let her die.”
Pero grabs the bags he had brought into the room and starts to shove your possessions into them. “Sassenach isn’t from our time, Arwena.” He explains. “She is from— a time where this sickness could be easily cured. Where she will be safe.”
“A time?” Even with months of studying magic behind her, Arwena cannot seem to wrap her mind around the concept of a person traveling through time. “It is impossible.”
“I know it is hard to grasp, but Sassenach is from another time.” He ties off the bag and moves over towards the bed, needing to wrap you up to keep you as warm as possible. He’s even taking the bedding with him. “We need to get her to the Stones.”
“What Stones?” Arwena’s distress is different than Pero’s, her fear building with every passing moment, but she shows it in a stubbornness that he does not. One that reminds him of you and therefore does not make the situation any easier. “Pero, I do not und—”
“Beth?” The sound of your voice from the bed brings her back to your side instantly, reaching for your hand while you murmur from deep within your own sleep. “I don’t want to get up…” You squirm in bed and whine, eyes still shut and sweat beading your brow. “The grocery store’s gonna be mobbed and turkey tastes like napkins…”
He watches as her brow furrows in confusion, not understanding your words. They are unusual and foreign to her as they had been to him until you had explained your world over the course of several snowy nights laying wrapped up in each other after sex. Coming over, he lays his hand on your forehead, swallowing at how hot your skin is. "Sassenach?" He murmurs softly, hoping to rouse you. You don't respond to him, and he says your real name just a bit louder.
Arwena watches as you flinch and then lean into Pero's touch, saying more things that she does not understand with words like car, laser pointer, and teevee. Mere moments ago she had been begging God to wake you from your slumber but now she fears that this may be even worse.
After another minute of incoherent rambling, Pero shakes his head and looks over at Wena almost desperately. “Help me get her ready to move.”
"You will explain everything to me when we rest." It is not a request, and while Arwena rarely makes demands of people she needs a full explanation of what is happening. But she is not fool enough to think that there is time now. Not when she remembers that he had said that her father had arrived. For this moment she springs into action, keeping you wrapped tightly in layers that will insulate you from the winter cold as you ride. Once she has you wrapped up and Pero has your things packed, she flees to her room across the hall to find Briac there with their things nearly finished packing.
Pero is strong, ruthlessly so from the life that he has led, but you are heavy. Dead weight in his arms and that worries him more than anything. You've never been helpless around him like you are right now. Your body limp and he can barely keep your head from hitting against things. The cat is on your chest, buried under her own bundle and he listens to her meow in her own worry. "Just— gotta get to the horse, gato." He grunts, knees threatening to buckle on the stairs.
Arwena and Briac are quickly on his heels, because while Arwena is still wary in her fear, Briac believes in your unorthodox origins entirely. That, for now, has to be enough for her. Down the stairs and out the back door of the inn, the group stops short when four men on horseback force them to pause - and the short, pungent smelling, red nosed Dergen looks down to scoff at the peasants. Instead of scoffing, however, his eyes widen and he growls Arwena's name in angry disbelief.
Pero hisses, he cannot set you down in the wet and cold mud, so his sword is rendered useless. His eyes narrow on the group and he squares his shoulders to look as intimidating as possible. "Briac..." He growls, warning the boy to keep his head about him. "You have no purpose here." He states clearly to the men. "The boy and girl have been married by a priest and their vows consummated in an inn full of witnesses."
"You have no stake in this, foreigner." Dergen barks, pulling his horse to a stop in such a way that it separates the younger couple from the rest of the group. "The bitch is my property, given by her father."
"Arwena!" Padrig's hoarse shout rings out through the square as he and Dergen dismount their horses, and the magistrate's round face is redder than fire as his anger at being disobeyed quickly boils. "For shame child!"
“Remember what I taught you boy.” Pero barks at Briac, looking around for somewhere to safely put you down so it would not be one on four.
Father Malcolm could never be accused of being a stupid man, and seeing that the time for words may have passed, he rushes to Pero's side to provide whatever help he can. "Give her to me," he insists, also reaching for the Spaniard's possessions. "I will take her to the horses. Be ready to travel when you are finished here."
In this moment, Pero is grateful that the Father showed up. Carefully transferring your unconscious form to the priest while keeping his eyes on the four men. “Gracias.” He mutters quietly, his hand caressing your face before he grips his sword. “Leave now and we will not kill you.” He growls, itching to run his sword through the bastard who had taken the sight in one eye from you.
“Why would I be afraid of you?” Padrig’s personal victories are pissing contests compared to the battles that Pero Tovar has fought, but he does not know that. It seems he has an inclining, though, as his hand shakes slightly on the hilt of his sword. After all - this foreigner has the devil for a soulmate. “Unhand my daughter and I shall not run you through for kidnapping her.”
“Kidnap?” Pero sneers and his eyes flick from man to man, assessing them and a small grin twists his lips. “Keeping her safe from rape and beatings is kidnapping? Aye, then I kidnapped her.” He senses Briac’s shifting beside him, feeling the anger and unrestrained hatred pouring off the boy for the pot-bellied, beady eyed swine to Padrig’s left. “Come and try, amigo. You will feel my hot breath on your face the moment you leave this earth and take your place in Hell.”
"No one kidnapped me." Arwena's voice is surer than she expected when she opens her mouth, stepping forward to come between the two men who have done so much to defend her. Her treasured friend and her beloved husband would do anything for her - but this is her fight. "Go home, father. I have married my soulmate and I will never return with you. There is nothing for you here."
“You will still come with me when your little cobbler’s son is rotting in the ground.” Padrig promises. “Dergen is the one who will breed you, bring you to heel and teach you how to be a proper wife.”
"That will be difficult to achieve when I am on the other side of the world with my husband's babe already growing inside me." The anger she feels toward her father is more justified than anyone knows - and the hate she feels toward Dergen more violent than anyone beside you could possibly comprehend. Her hands flex at her sides, fire sparking underneath the skin of her fingertips as Pero and Briac itch to draw their swords.
“That’s what it means to be a man to you?” Pero chuckles darkly. “Terrorizing women who are younger and weaker? Your cock is shriveled without beating or forcing a woman?” He scoffs. “It’s a good thing I plan on cutting it from your putrid body and shoving it down your throat.”
“Who even are you?” Padrig spits, drawing his sword and pointing it directly at Pero’s chest. His outstretched arm is a weakness that a skilled fighter could exploit, the locked joint making his reaction time slower. If he had ever fought a day in his life, he would know that. “What gives you stake in my family doings, foreigner?”
“Pero Tovar.” Pero smirks, eyeing the stance and knowing that the bastard will die within a few moments if he wanted it. “You tried to rape my soulmate. And when you couldn’t, you took her sight and branded her a witch.” He motions to his scar and decides to pull his sword from the scabbard. “And I am a man who has killed far better men than you.”
“A witch bound by for eternity to a murderer?” The man laughs with booming bravado to distract from the tight way his throat has run dry. A murderer. When he has hurt himself with his blade more times than any other man. “God surely has a fucking sense of humour.”
“A mercenary.” Pero corrects him, twirling his sword easily in his hand and pulling his dagger. “Perhaps her guard, her savage predator to slay her enemies while the witch performs her magic.” He chuckles and smirks. “I know my soul is bound for hell because of my deeds, but I will send you there first.”
“Pero…” Arwena says his name firmly, shaking her head to tell him no without mistake. “Lower your blade, brother.” Calling him anything remotely resembling family in front of her father is a deeply intentional insult, and she holds her father’s gaze while she says it. “You will not cut my father down.”
Padrig smirks, thinking that his daughter has decided that she has come to her feeble senses. "For that, I will not beat you before you are married to Dergen." He promises, barely glancing in her direction since she is of no real importance. "Although the boy has to die since you have defied me and wed him."
“My husband will do no such thing.” Arwena’s step forward is measured and deliberate, her breathing even despite her heart hammering and fingers sparking. “And I will never betray him by being married to another,” she declares, just as evenly. Her father has barely spared her a glance, but she is looking nowhere else. “If you wish to see the havoc a witch can wreak, father, then look no further.” The flames that ignite from her fingertips are sudden and tall, bursting to life like the legendary Greek fire that warriors of old fought battles over - all powerful and never ending, with a fury that could never be satiated. “It will be the last sight he sees, after all.” Arwena’s eyes reflect the blazing fire, seeming to surround her as the four men who came to steal her shriek and cower in fear. “You will never hurt anyone again, father. I promise you that.”
“Cursed witch!” Dergen cries out, tearing back in horror from the fire that has suddenly appeared.
“Arwena!” Briac cries out, looking around in fear for his wife, not wanting the townspeople to turn on her or create a mob if any were to see.
“They have earned nothing less.” There is no doubt in her movements, no hesitation or second thought. The fire erupting from her hands is flung directly at the two men who had sought to ruin her life - to destroy her and own her and grind her down into dust beneath their boots. She is none of that now - that scared girl who had not dared to speak for herself - and that is due entirely to the men at her back and to you. Briac who loves her, Pero who encourages her to stand tall, and you who gave her the courage to see herself as a whole woman despite what evils had been visited upon her. She would be nothing without the love of the three of you. She would have flung herself into the sea or drank poison because of her father’s hate. But not anymore.
“Bitch!” Padrig leaps out of the way, but Dergen is engulfed by the flames, screaming in agony as fire licks up his body and burns him, smoke lapping at his nostrils and already burning in his lungs.
“Better a bitch than dead from a beating or from bearing that drunken bastard’s child,” she bites back, throwing another flash of flame in his direction. Let the villagers see. Let the world see. No doubt her father’s two cowardly henchmen scampering onto their horses to flee will tell everyone they can.
Another scream comes from the man who is trying to beat the flames off the fabric of his clothes. Padrig scurries out of the way of the next fireball, like the rat he is. Cursing the witch that taught his daughter such things. Now he would have to make sure that the little bitch had the witchcraft beaten out of her. Sidestepping the flame, he steps towards the Spaniard without realizing it.
“Pero!” Though satisfied that Dergen’s trousers are flaming right where it will cause him the most agony and hurt pride (though how he could have pride in such a tiny, useless cock is another matter) Arwena is not finished with her father. Another arc of flames shoots from her hands toward the man who raised her, and he dodges it again with the scuttles of a sewer rat. This time, however, it lands him not only near Pero, but at the point of his sword.
Pero's chuckle is dark at the wide eyes of his target, a dark patch blooming in his breeches as Pero lifts the blade of his razor-sharp sword slight to stretch his chin up. "Did you just piss yourself?" He asks, glancing down at the man's crotch in disgust.
“You and your bitch wench will pay for what you did to my daughter!” Padrig spits, though he’s careful to keep his distance. Half a step forward and the foreigner’s blade would pierce his throat.
Pero's grimace turns wicked, flicking his wrist and dropping the sword to slice into the man's thigh, filleting it open neatly. "I think not, cabrón." Pero sneers. "I will take you apart, one limb at a time."
Briac is to his left, his eyes on Dergen as Arwena watches her father. "I am going to kill him." Her husband promises her.
“I would let him burn,” she admits, looking to her soulmate and husband - her partner - with fire reflected in her eyes. “The flames will not end until I command them so. Death by your blade will be a mercy. More than he deserves.”
It takes a lot of restraint, but eventually after looking at his wife and admiring her power, her sense of self, he nods. Sheathing his blade and coming to take her hand and kiss the back of it gently. "As you wish, my love."
"Let this be the last thing you see, then." Arwena looks to Dergen with certainty. There is no mercy in her, not for a man who would have ruined her life - and if not hers, then another young girl's who had no mind to fight back. She reaches for Briac as she raises her open and upturned palm, intensifying the flames singeing his skin as she kisses her husband. It is not a lewd act, not a lustful kiss, but a vision of something that Dergen will never have just before he takes his last, smoke-filled breath.
Padrig’s cry of pain is immensely satisfying, although it is not enough. You had told him about losing your sight, the scar on your face and the terror and rage that had filled you while you had been fighting him. Now he was not fighting, apparently a spineless coward when there is a bigger bully. He gasps his leg and hisses a curse. “I will kill you.” He swears, reaching for his own weapon and making Pero laugh.
“You could not.” Arwena tells him, advancing with Briac beside her now that Dergen has fallen. “You are a worm. And my mother and sister will rejoice to be rid of you.”
His eyes narrow and a sneer crosses over his face but it’s not nearly as confident as it had been when his men were still standing beside him. The smoldering remains of Dergen are on the ground behind Arwena and he glances at her briefly before looking back at Pero. “Come to kill me then, you bitch? With your Devil’s magic and cursed breath? I should have drowned you when you slipped from your mother’s cunt. Worthless, just like she is.”
“If anyone should be the one to kill you, it is Sassenach.” Arwena tells him, her gaze flickering between her father and Pero. “But since she is not here, her soulmate will have the honor in her name.” She ignores the insult about her own mother, and about her, no longer having any mind for the words he tries to hurl at her.
Another flick of his wrist and the sword that is in Padrig’s hand falls to the ground with another cry, a splash of blood with it to stain the ground. “Worthless shit.” Pero huffs. “It is almost not worth it to kill you.”
A small sigh comes from the young woman to his right, and flames lick at her fingertips once more. “I will do it if you will not,” she tells Pero. “The hurt he will continue to do is more sin than killing him.”
Pero huffs, slightly insulted that the girl would think he would let this putrid dog live. “He will die.” He smirks, his sword coming up between the man’s legs and making him scream, a high pitched, pained yowl of agony as he collapses to his knees in front of his daughter.
Arwena nods, not even flinching at the sound but grasping Briac’s hands tightly in her own. “May he rot in hell,” she intones, barely glancing at her father on the ground. As deserved as this revenge is - for all of their party for different reasons - it needs to be done so that they can take you to safety. Obviously Gretna can no longer be home.
Pero takes advantage of distraction of Padrig having his cock severed from his body to step forward, sword discarded and his dagger in his hand. “For Sassenach.” He vows, neatly digging the dagger into the man’s forehead and splitting the skin as he drags it down, piercing his eye as he holds the former magistrates dirty hair and imposing the same wound as he had on Pero’s soulmate.
He gives him a moment, allowing the pain to register through the shock as the man’s whimpers of pain and fear to seep into the moment. The moment he realizes that all his blustering and bullying wasn’t going to save his life. He was going to die here today. The clear liquid of his ruined eye mixes with blood under his fingers as he cups the wound and he croaks out a gasp, maybe a plea that is too little too late.
“And this is for your wife, your daughter, and for my wrath.” The clean, deep cut to the neck is more than the man deserves, nearly severing the man’s head. Pero watches as the lone eye widens and the gurgle of a man trying to take his last breath fills the air. Lifting his boot, Pero shoves him over onto the ground and leans down to wipe his blades clean on his coat and relieve him of his coin purse while he is still in his death throes.
“Leave the coins,” Arwena places a hand on Pero’s arm, dragging his gaze away from the corpse on the ground. “In apology for what we have done here. And to pay to dispose of the bodies.” It is the least they can do, when the day has seen so much blood and fear so early.
They were hers to keep so Pero nods and tosses the bag down on the ground beside the still thrashing body. “We must leave now.” He grunts. “Get Sassenach to her Stones.”
“Aye.” Briac nods, taking Arwena’s hand in his and urging her toward the stable behind the church. “The Father will be waiting, and we have hard riding ahead.”
Now that he is certain they will not have to deal with any chasing them, Pero races towards the stables, ready to make sure you have not slipped from this world in the ten minutes he has not held you. Now he just has to get you to the stones and back to where you belong.
______
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#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#time travel au#disabled reader#violence#revenge#death
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Part of my upcoming Black Girl Buffy series! Because us black folx love fantasy and horror too. Growing up and now I've always loved the real of the imagined. For years, I've written fanfics...lol which I'll be posting here, no worries 😘
However, growing up there were not a lot of mythical people that looked like me on TV, in books (check out Octavia Butler btw if you like Sci fi fantasy), nor were we really in anime.
***Please donate and support the writer of this dope article, yours truly, that highlights anime for disabled, black and queer folx posted below***
So get ready for some fanficcies. Want to be inserted into your own story let me know! I do commissions based on length of story, number of OCs and maturity rating (because it's quite daunting coming up with words beside turgid member 🤣, all the puns intended). Want stories edited, baseline commission is 20 dollars per 2000 words, which in reality ain't all that bad.
#anime#disability#living with lupus#fanfiction#lemons#lgbtqia#writing#fanfic#fantasy#scififantasy#horror#ghostwriter#art commisions#commisions open
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5 nursery rhymes with ableist lyrics
row row row your boat- wanna know how the nursery rhyme goes? it goes, "row row row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily, life is but a dream!" but how is the song ableist, you ask? well, IT IS ABLEIST BECAUSE IT IS INSENSITIVE TOWARDS DISABLED AND NEURODIVERGENT FOLX WHO MAY STRUGGLE WITH BOATS!!! IT ALSO PRESSURES THEM TO DO SOMETHING AS HARD AS RIDING A BOAT!!!
humpty dumpty- the nursery rhyme goes, "humpty dumpty sat on a wall, humpty dumpty had a great fall, all the king's horses and all the king's men, couldn't put humpty together again!" well, this is ableist and patriarchal at the same time! why? BECAUSE IT MOCKS NEURODIVERGENT FOLX WHO MAY STIM ON WALLS!!! IT ALSO MAKES FUN OF INJURY AND DESCRIBES HUMPTY DUMPTY'S INJURIES AS GREAT? HOW IS THE INJURY GREAT??? ALSO, THE LYRICS ARE PATRIARCHAL BECAUSE IT USES "KING'S MEN!" WHY NOT "KING'S PEOPLE" OR SOMETHING?
it's raining, it's pouring- well, the song you might have been thinking about during your childhood whenever it was raining, surprisingly has ableist lyrics! well, take a look at the lyrics! it goes, "it's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring, went to bed and bumped his head, and couldn't get up in the morning!" THOSE LYRICS ARE ABLEIST!!! THEY MOCK PARALYSIS!!! THIS IS JUST CLASSIC ABLEISM!!!
sleeping bunnies- your parents might have tried to wake you up with this nursery rhyme, right? what if i told you this nursery rhyme IS SO ABLEIST??? anyway, it roughly goes, "see the bunnies sleeping till it’s nearly noon, shall we wake them with a merry tune? they're so still, are they ill? wake up little bunnies! hop little bunnies, hop, hop, hop!" how is it ableist, you may ask? BECAUSE FIRST OF ALL, THE "ARE THEY ILL" PART IS ABLEIST!!! AND SECOND, IT PRESSURES THE CHILD TO WAKE UP AND JUMP!!! SOME NEURODIVERGENT FOLX PREFER TO SLEEP FOR LONG!!! ALSO, SOME DISABLED FOLX CANNOT JUMP BECAUSE OF THEIR CERTAIN DISABILITIES!!!
the hokey pokey- everyone knows the lyrics! everybody knows this! but the reality is that it actually is ableist! why? BECAUSE IT BASICALLY IS ABA!!! ABA IS HARMFUL TOWARDS NEURODIVERGENT FOLX, PARTICULARLY AUTISTIC FOLX BECAUSE IT CAN BE TRAUMATIC FOR THEM AND PLUS, IT DOES NOT CONSIDER THE WELLBEING OF NEURODIVERGENT FOLX!!! "YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT HAND IN, YOU PUT YOUR RIGHT HAND OUT" SCREAMS ABLEISM NO DOUBT!!!
OVERALL, BOYCOTT THOSE NURSERY RHYMES!!! THEY ARE ABLEIST!!! TRY SOME BETTER ALTERNATIVES WHICH ARE NOT PROBLEMATIC, LET ALONE ABLEIST!!!
#tw ableism#tw ableist language#ableism#ableism in media#ableism in music#nursery rhymes#nursery rhyme#nursery rhymes for kids#songs for kids#neurodivergent#neurodiversity#actually neurodivergent#actually autistic#autism#adhd#satire
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