#forever and ever. and understand that you carry interactions with you like a quilt and the goal is to become a massive fucking heirloom
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nona the ninth has helped me to romanticize the impermanent which is equally healing and horrific
#its really fascinating because ive had such a vast history with losing people + moving around ive become quite desensitized#like what really was the point of me making friends in university if i leave in 3 years#and then it hit me like damn... thats life isnt it. no matter how long or short these interactions will stick with you forever#even less than a minute in a body where your souls meld you have affected each other forever. so short but the effects are until death#you can fear someone departing from you but you can never take the love away and trying to avoid it to relieve yourself of the pain-#-you might as well not live. theres no connection that is guaranteed permanent and forever. you just have to hold that moment in your heart#forever and ever. and understand that you carry interactions with you like a quilt and the goal is to become a massive fucking heirloom#chat#nona the ninth
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Since you’re rereading tosf, what are your favourites parts from that fic? 💗
The Oceans Shall Freeze
Must I choose? Can’t I say I adore the entire fic?
BUT here are a few parts that I genuinely love:
Even pulling his fur over Isak’s head and protecting him from all the sounds on the boat the night he was taken. (”Isak started to cry at the sound and he tried to muffle it with his hands but Even heard. Through his cloak, he covered Isak’s ears with his hands.“)
Even saving Isak from the bear trap and Isak being scared of Even taking the quilt from him and clenching it tightly and Even had to uncurl his fingers from it!!! The cutest, sweetest thing, this Isak was so so soft. (”When Even reached out to grab his hand, Isak jumped, thinking he meant to rip his small comfort away. Even only gently uncurled one shaking hand from the cloth before pulling it to his chest and wrapping it in gauze.”)
“Isak clung to him, ashamedly taking comfort from his captor once again. Dully, he noted that he had never heard Even plead for anything before. But he had pleaded for Isak not to cry.” - Stab me in the chest and rip my heart out, why don’t you? I don’t know why, but when a character pleads for their partner to please not cry, it makes my heart clench. It’s such a specific thing that I adore in fics but it’s one of my faves.
Even associating Sol with Isak while teaching him to read. My God sir, you are one romantic fuck and I love you. (”The second letter of your name. The sun melts the iciness of it,” Even told him. “That is why your hair is so golden.”)
The event at the tavern. It was very dark, but Even protecting Isak, and while all these crude words were spoken to him he was whispering about how he’ll protect him and kill anyone that even looks at him the wrong way. (“I would like to hear him whimpering...” “I would cut off his ears if he tried.”; “...Besides, a thrall like this simply needs bending over and fucking.“ “If anybody touches you I will chop their hands off.”)
The comfort after the tavern, particularly the hug. I just.... The sweetest, most precious thing ever. (”The words broke Isak; he moved forward, his arms circling around Even’s waist, his head pressed into his chest.“)
The entire scene after Isak escapes and the men leave him outside of Even’s hut. Literally all of it. Even cutting the ropes. Isak calling the place his home. Even comforting him and holding him close. Yes, yes, yes. (”“You are safe,” he told Isak again, though the boy did not stir. The only sound between them was Isak’s fractured breaths and the crackle of the fire beside them.”)
Even calling Isak Lille Sol for the first time, and every other time he did it. *chefs kiss* (““Come on, Lille Sol. ” Isak did not know why Even was calling him that, but he turned around at the moniker. “)
THE FIRST KISS!!! Holy fuck, that moment. Wow. Even gripping his chin??? Isak thinking that he doesn’t want him but then Even grips his thighs and picks him up?? Isak closing his lips cause he didn’t want to appear too eager??? Both of them being hard and grinding against each other?? Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Yes. (”He waited to see if Even would strike him; he shuddered with something like fear when he saw Even raise his hand, but he simply gripped at his jaw and tilted Isak’s head higher.”)
This sentence, that’s it: “Every inch of skin Isak allowed Even to touch was a privilege, no patch taken for granted. If Isak decided that he did not want Even’s hands on him anymore, Even would only say, “Thank you.” for all the times he had.”
And this sentence, wow: “If Isak chose to slit his throat, Even would probably hold still so he could get a clean cut.“
Honestly, the entire scene of this shaving thing. It was so hot, and so fucking good, and then the end made me real sad but let’s ignore that. (”He held Isak’s hips in both hands and grinded upwards. When the head of his cock caught on Isak’s hole he heard Isak cry out and he felt his hips stutter.”)
Isak thinking he’s not experienced enough for Even. I don’t know why. I just love it. (”“I believe he thinks I am beautiful but maybe it is not enough. Maybe he desires someone who… who understands how to please him.”“)
The hug after Even agreed to go to Jolablot. So precious. (”“It was for you,” Even admitted, his voice deep but soft in the quiet of the homestead. Isak’s heart in his chest threatened to overpower Even’s voice when he said, “It is always for you.””)
Honestly, the entire thing after Jolablot. Elias grabbing Isak and Even killing him, Even picking Isak up and carrying him home. Taking care of him and washing him. It was beautifully written and I adore it. I’m a whore for hurt/comfort, and this fic delivered. (”“Calm, Lille Sol. I am right here. You are safe,” Even soothed, wiping his wet cheeks, and then kissing them as he forced out apologies through tears. Although Isak was sure the rest of his body needed scrubbing more than his face, Even insistently wiped at Isak’s face, catching all the tears until Isak stilled again, limp.”)
Isak taking hot baths after what happened and Even trying to get him to stop, but particularly this moment, purely because it makes my heart clench: “If Isak had been in a right frame of mind he would have yelled back like he usually did but with his heart delicate from Even’s absence, he had not been able to stop himself from bursting into tears.“
The first sex scene. I’m a whore for smut, and this was beautiful. Sweet, hot, intimate, oh and did I mention hot? (”“I think I’ll keep you like this forever,” Even sad breathlessly, like it was a secret between the two of them, “You’ll stay in my bed and you’ll never wear clothes because you’ll always be full of me. I’ll keep you happy every day and fuck you every night, I swear to the Gods.””)
Isak being there for Even when he’s depressed. So sweet. (”“Well,” Isak floundered for a moment, “You are a great warrior and deserve to go to Valhalla but I am not. And I wish to be with you forever so Helgafjell will have to do.””)
Even comforting Isak after he tells him his mom killed herself. (“”Oh Min Sol,” Even said as he pulled Isak into his arms. “It was not your fault, none of it was your fault.””)
The whole scene where Jonas and Isak talk about God. We stan two idiot friends. (”“I’m not young ,” Isak spat out the word like a slur. “And that’s foolish. Is your God going to fuck you on his cock? Or allow you to fuck him? Will your God hold you at night? Only a person can do that.””)
Honestly.... Kind of the entire argument before Isak falls through the ice. I like things that make my heart hurt and make me cry, it was so good. And the comfort afterwards, Even saving him and taking care of him. (”Even’s body next to him felt more familiar than his own. He pushed back against it, wrapped the strong arms around his chest, murmured never let go. But he was not fully conscious, did not know if he was saying it or only thinking it.”)
Even saying this and making me cry: “But you are better than any God, because you are here. I can see you, and feel you. I can taste you. And that makes you more remarkable than brave Tyr or blind Höðr or any of the other faceless men that we are told as children to believe in.”
Even and Isak watching the Northern Lights!!! Yes!! It’s fun and sweet and I love their interactions together. And them having sex in the snow!! Wow, amazing. (”Isak felt a rush of blood to his cock and he grabbed Even’s furs, pulling him on top of him. “If you are scared of the lights, watch my face only as you thrust into me,” he told Even. Even’s face twisted in pleasure, and he leaned down to kiss him.”)
And can I just say, from the draft that they posted, Isak and Even having sex and Even making sure that Isak moans loudly so that Chris hears it and gets jealous. When Even sees Chris watching he starts talking about how he’s going to eat Isak out when they get home. Just.... Yes. Yes. I love it, I wish we got that, I wish we did. Amazing, showstopping, incredible.
And every other word that was written in this fic.
I genuinely don’t know how to show enough love and appreciation for this incredible fanfic. I wish I got the chance to tell the authors how much I love it while they were writing it, but I didn’t. So now all I can do is constantly talk about it until I become a stan account just for this fic. It was a gift, it really was. And so where the authors that wrote it, they were both so incredibly talented and I am grateful that we got to witness them create this work of art. I am so happy that I have had the privilege to read it and revel in the beauty of it.
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He'd been accosted as he dug through the icebox. "Wilson, you certainly don't look like you need a mandrake..."
At least it was only Ms. Wickerbottom. "It's not for me, I'm shocked Willow hasn't spread the news." He deadpanned, then followed with the actual info. "I found Max. He isn't able to speak at the moment, so I thought maybe mandrake tea would heal his throat up."
There was a hum of understanding, and he was about to continue on before she spoke up. "While I think it's a valiant cause, I can't help but wonder if it's worth it." Wilson freezes and Wickerbottom sighs. "He's going to die again with this aliment. You can't hold it off forever. You do know the full extent of damage it can do to the body, correct?"
"Well, considering it was never covered in any of my medical texts, I probably don't." Wilson sighed and closed the icebox door. He certainly didn't, thinking of Max's ashen face and that flower in the man's hands.
"Flowers typically start to sprout through and destroy organs, the heart and lungs in particular. The lucky ones choke to death before that happens." She sighed again. "It's not something you can just treat the symptoms of. And Wilson?" There's a pause, silence between them, her voice quiet, even though they're not around anyone else. "Don't let your own feelings cause you to get sick as well."
He blinks, a tinge of fear that everyone knows, and to be fair, maybe his pacing was a little obvious... "It's not like that." He manages, voice a little strained. "I'd do this if someone else was sick like this too." And well, that's... mostly true. He's trying not to pine, at the very least. And he would help, if someone like Wigfrid or Willow was this sick... well... maybe not quite so personally. Please, don't let the whole camp have this figured out, and stars forbid that Maxwell already knew.
There's a curious look on her face as she glances over him. "Well, the point still stands, don't let yourself ever get to the point our dear Maxwell has. Don't let your heart get you sick." There's a glance at the mandrake too. "Maybe try wildflower first, before you go and use a mandrake on him. But get some sleep afterwards." Wickerbottom smiled and turned to leave, and Wilson couldn't make a real smile back, but he tried, even with worry burrowing into his stomach.
He stuffed the mandrake back into the ice chest and took just the honey. There were dried petals in a chest near their water-pot, which just needed a fire underneath to be lit, and Wilson found the makeshift infuser, strips from twigs woven into a netted basket.
Once the water boiled, he took the chipped cup and filled it with hot water, honey and a filled infuser and headed to the tents. There was almost no activity, but to be fair, in this weather, everyone would probably want to go to bed if they didn't have watch. Wickerbottom is probably taking a shift as always, but she'll even go curl up in a tent to warm up and read after someone else wakes up for their watch shift.
Poor Willow. He'd forgotten that he was supposed to have a shift tonight, fueling the fire and keeping an ear out for hounds or a giant, but he'd found Max, and that felt far more important then remembering to get back in time for watch. Even if the man's presence felt a bit draining due to the dark petals, Wilson was far more settled knowing where he was, he couldn't help the petals. Maxwell surprisingly had it far worse then they did.
Max being laid low so easily by coughing up dark petals was... strange to see. While most certainly not as physically durable as the rest of them, Maxwell weathered plenty of things that mentally took it out on the rest of them.
Wilson hummed, glad for the warmth in his hands as he eyed the one tent that didn't have much snow brushed away from the entrance and opened the flap. Maxwell blinked in surprise and Wilson offered a weak smile, noticing the smear of blood on the other's mouth, before offering the cup. "It's wildflower, and if it doesn't help, I'll make you some mandrake tea in the morning."
It was taken with a tiny nod, and Wilson couldn't help lingering for a few seconds. Irrational, Maxwell's pride would never let him ask for help, or much of anything. Oh, he complained about meaningless things, but complaints weren't requests. It left Wilson feeling like he was clumsily hovering, and with one more glance, Maxwell gently blowing on the hot tea, not even looking at him, Wilson managed an awkward "Good night," and left.
He sighed once he reached the entrance to his own tent. He was rather transparent, wasn't he? Though, he should be thankful no one else has brought it up, at least to his face.
At least the tent was reasonably warm, he considered, settling down and pulling out a razor. It'd be a hit to conserving warmth, but they were out of the supplies for a new effigy and he was not about to try and get close enough to the rock bottom of his sanity to find beardlings. He'd just have to carry extra fire supplies and keep better track of his thermal stone.
It was cold the moment Wilson had a pile of hair at the side and a clean-shaven face. He rubs at a tiny cut on his face in irritation and looks at the flint razor. Needed to be sharpened again, there were nicks in the knapped edge. Still, the job was done and Wilson grabbed the quilt stuffed with beefalo and rabbit fur and bundled up.
Sleep would take a while to come, as exhausted as he was, Wilson figured. Worry always nestled deep and kept him up. Worry about what he was doing with his life, worry about not managing to make anything out of his degree, out of his passion.
Now it was worry regarding how utterly transparent he must be.
How stupid. Everything in his life was an absolute failure anyway. Wilson sighed and turned over. The eldest of his siblings, and most certainly the failure in his parents eyes. They'd hated his over-enthusiastic pursuit of science, they'd pushed him into medicine because at least that was useful. Instead of becoming a doctor or a surgeon though, he'd stayed in academia for a while. Then, before he finished that pursuit, only one degree under his belt, he'd left to do research on his own. He'd been exhausted of doing other people's research for them. And he was a failure of a scientist, really, after studying so hard, and for so long. The temptation of maybe, just maybe, learning something that would benefit not just him, but everyone, was too much.
This is where that had landed him. A sad, stupid scientist, pinning over a sad, stupid magician who'd been the one to land him in this mess. It was pinning. He'd just have to be honest with himself. A fondness he couldn't eradicate. Oh, he'd been fond of people before, men and women alike, but it faded with time or new knowledge. Maxwell was... an odd case. An outlier in some ways. He'd hated him for a while. He'd tricked him, damn it.
Granted, he doubted Maxwell had fully been in control on the Throne, but at the time, it was all on Maxwell.
Minus the impatience at the end... Maxwell had managed to make himself quite the companion the first portal they built. Encouragement, praise, swapping stories and jokes. A comforting, enjoyable voice on the radio. Then it was gone.
Instead, the once warm voice was cold and he was in this hell. A broken, bitter heart, Maxwell was a devil, an asshole, and a right pain in the ass.
The second portal they built, their every interaction was strained. He could remember the manic energy between them though, excitement at an attempt at leaving. The thrill of learning. Not much, sadly as much as Maxwell was willing to teach him what was needed, he didn't have hands on time with the codex alone. A few strained jokes but mostly work and arguments and they'd been so close to what was hopefully success before Ms. Charlie intervened.
It was still a good result. Instead of the two of them arguing alone for eternity, it'd been other people, other lonely survivors. A gift in itself, even if he'd never been the kind of person who was overtly social, the time he'd spent alone here had made him crave company even more then his self imposed isolation in the woods.
Not that Maxwell wasn't company. Even at the end of that whole project, things were starting to mend, but it was better to not always handle that bundle of emotions that came with Maxwell. Though, he had, frequently. Forever prickly, sharp barbs and a ego that was out of check just enough now-days to get under anyone's skin who wasn't used to it. Maxwell was more often his companion on excursions then not.
It wasn't always bad. Sometimes it was absolutely insufferable, that had been early on, but now he'd just ramble about thoughts and plans, or what he found interesting and frankly, it was mostly because it never seemed like Maxwell was listening, considering the fact that there never was a 'would you shut up, Higgsbury' that he had been expecting. Max didn't care, and so it gave him the space to just talk things out to himself, Then, one day Maxwell chipped in with, "Hm, I'd never considered that."
He'd frozen in his spot and after a few moments of realizing that Maxwell had been listening, either for once, or he always had been, it branched into a discussion. He didn't always chime in, but Maxwell was listening, and yet didn't deride him for the overenthusiastic chatter. It was nice. More then nice, it was flattering that he actually paid attention. Wilson figured Maxwell zoned out most of the time.
Oh, why was he thinking over all of this now. Wilson sighed, cheeks red and turned over in the blanket. Why couldn't he just forget the little things and go back to hating the man instead of worrying over him and worrying about the fact that he might be considerably obvious about his feelings towards Maxwell? He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and closed his eyes, mentally chastising himself for focusing on this so much. Maxwell was always just going to be a companion, and he was going to help him out because he wanted to see him better.
And that was that.
-
He'd figured Wilson left immediately, but apparently not. He would have said it back, but his throat was a barrier there. He'd nodded, but it seemed like Wilson hadn't seen. No matter. Wilson was probably far more exhausted, he'd fought off shadows and still hadn't slept. The man needed the sleep.
The tea was warm against his cooling hands, and Maxwell sighed, gently spinning the cup to make the infuser swirl slightly. It smelled comforting, vaguely flowery. Herbal teas had never been his favorites back when he had a choice, but he was not going to complain about that now. There were so many flavours that were faintly in his memories that he missed, it was pointless to think about them, though black tea always came to mind when having tea. Still, he took a tiny sip, the liquid still too hot really, but there was the slight sweetness of the honey, and while not perfect it did seem to help. Breathing didn't hurt quite so much.
A few more moments, and the heat was more in his hands then in the cup. The drink was wonderfully warm though, and that was pleasant. Max noticed he was a bit hungry, now that the drink had slightly soother the painful ache in his throat but that could be handled later. Even though he was hungry, he winced at the idea of swallowing much more then the tea.
Oh well. An empty cup, and he tried to murmur out something, but instead all he felt was something tear and the pain was far, far worse as he started to cough.
So much for keeping blood off his bedding. Another full plant, flesh stuck to the roots , and besides intense pain, any attempt at talking was just breath.
All he could taste was copper, and he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, a huge smear of blood along it, and he barely could manage a huff as he looked at how vibrant the blood was to anything else. Food, or mushrooms, weren’t going to be an option right then. He needed to sleep, though Max really doubted he would manage to sleep through the pain, he was never great with sleep anyway. Last night had been rare, exhaustion sleep wasn’t fully refreshing, but he’d slept harder then he had in a while.
God. He wouldn't be surprised if he died in the night, really. As grim as it was, he almost would rather choking to death instead right now. He wondered if there were more of those in his throat, as he pitched the flower to the side. It was smaller then the last, but the roots were long. Probably were, considering his luck.
He flipped the roll over, to the side that wasn’t bloody, and settled in, ignoring the blood on his hand, he didn’t have time, and he was not in any shape to handle another bout of shadows, not to mention the mere idea of the rest of camp having to fare with that, he already wasn’t a welcome member of the group.
Still, it was nicer to hear people around, even while he was in pain, as Maxwell closed his eyes and tried to rest.
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