pawnedprince

[pawnedprince]

ugh tomorrow is a recording day ... and my birthday the day after. i will endeavor to still be here as much as possible cause i really just wanna stay home

[pawnedprince]

buzz buzz you beautiful idiot | credit

[pawnedprince]

it's a paltry sum, the evening's catch; not for lack of trying, nor absence of skill, but the air hangs oppressively here. it has for the entire journey. hazy blues scrutinize the pitiful meal — it would be amusingly ironic just how symbolic it felt to the longstanding absence of results he'd begun to notice ... were he not the one it was happening to. " when you say town, do you actually mean town or are you just being generous ? " his attempts at humor to ease his own stress are still no less genuine. the young lord looks up from the pickings of his dinner, a quizzical brow paired with half a smile in the flickering firelight. " don't get me wrong, some of these little hamlets have their charms. but i'd just about eat my own boots for a hot bath at this point. " as much as he enjoyed the freedom of wilderness, the creature comforts of civilization wouldn't go amiss.

i’ll be honest with you. i don’t have a better idea. / @pawnedprince, prompt.

fire crackles in the epicenter of their camp, providing a warmth against the relentless autumnal winds. though adrian can feel the sensation against his flesh, it does nothing to heighten the temperature of his body. the small clearing within a consuming forest is well enough for the night's camp; secluded enough to be out of danger, adrian has already elected himself to keep watch of an inevitably-sleepless night. “ nor do i. not now, at least; even this is a risk. we'll have to make do with what we have. ” his words are spoken low, just audible enough to be heard above the rhythmic rustling of leaves and undergrowth. “ the next town over will have supplies; we'll restock there in the morning. for now, eat... rest. we did not hunt that squirrel for simply nothing, ” the dhampir murmurs, just coy enough to be considered amicable, breaking through the tension of the atmosphere around them. “ that, and we'll need you at your most alert, coming the approach of dawn. ”

[pawnedprince]

me still not having finished my second playthrough... me waking up and wanting to start my replay, but also wanting to do drafts and the indecision causing me to do neither sgfdjks

[pawnedprince]

Hansry gif collab 2025 -> week 2: Hansry + faceless

[pawnedprince]

Do you realize…

Maurice 1987 dir. James Ivory

[pawnedprince]

ah yes, my favorite game

[pawnedprince]

all the grace in the world couldn't help him now, steadying his own two feet without further help from a hand to hold. at what point did he start swimming up stream? hans gets the sense that henry would agree, this idyllic little moment was worth staying in for the rest of all time. the piano keys trill once more and he'd almost lift right off his feet. henry's excitement, hans pushing himself up to his toes ... the small voice of reason within him reminds him how ridiculous he must seem and, rather than withdraw as he might have before, hans can't help but laugh, quickly catching the breath in his throat to lower his voice as he does.

" always so reckless, " he chastises, barely getting the words out through the breathy grin. henry's tripping over his words, much the same he feels his own two feet might do to him, all fluster and boyish enthusiasm; it fortifies his heart to see the flushing crest beneath his cheeks. oh he has known want, all his life; kept close to him like some foul phantom he couldn't escape. but the feeling of being wanted? pure elation.

his eyes trail down the terrace and to the path on offer across the grounds, lips parted with a breathless anticipation before he can even answer. the question is not whether he would fancy such a thing — that is not where the risk of it lies. he could've walked home before dinner had been served and no one, excluding present company, would have noticed, let alone cared. but their golden boy? he they would start to miss. his pulse pounding against his ear drums, hans clasps his hands around the one fumbling at his collar. he's never felt more alive. " nothing, i assure you, that you have not done to me in turn. " guiding the hands he holds, he works loose the button of his collar as he leans in to steal a kiss of his own. he has to force himself away, knowing very well they can't continue to stand on the terrace like this. but he's barely pulled back before he speaks again: " come find me ... " and slips out into the grass.

Henry's never been one for dancing. The girls at home had tried all the same, of course, to carouse him silly by the flowers at the maypole; however, bumbling in circles isn't really quite dancing. But Hans knew. Dancing. Finesse. And endless charm, too. Hell, he even tripped all light in battle, pirouetting like some swan before aiming down his sights. He's wrenched the breath from out his body, puncturing his back's scar where he'd cloven up his heart, and Henry makes a sound like surrender in his gullet. A dying. A collapse, his torture, all Tchaikovsky pas de deux.

God. It's only when Hans answers that his body relaxes.

Maybe -- as Lord Hans sighs, as he carefully and attentively chases those vowels -- Henry's victory on that summit was the start of an ending. Goodness, he wagers he'd been losing long before then when every aching in his body was an aching he had nursed. It made him feel positively beastly, some perverted little sinner who had strayed from the word, but the warmth off that body and the wine in his flavor? So be it. He was... "Hans." Lost and wayward and long since gone. Here, Henry slips his hand about his waist, emboldened by the runching of that bright, pressed wool. bright wool dragging. This close, he can count Hans' lashes and measure wonder struck petunia in those cheeks. Is he now a wretched man to find a fellow pretty? Hans smiles. Hans pulls back, stars in his eyes like deep, deep lakes.

"Then let them!" Excited. Blue-eyes wide and Hans' wine on his lips. Addicted. He almost bites his lips as Siegfried straightens his coat. "I mean, well, it's late anyway, Sir. That's all. And between you and me, I've already let the conversation inside bleed through my ears as to get the goodwives staring." Of course. Silly, peasant Henry with not the glean for graces, huh? He's blushing. Someone brings in third coarse, and he misses the nosing, the little gasps of seconds past. Almost woozy, he wants to anchor to Hans' wrists. "Why don't we..." Is he too hopeful? "I don't know, go to them gardens down there? Loosen that collar of yours up a little bit -- that is, if you fancy that sort of thing." He'd noticed. He thumbs the button there, nerves fluttering wickedly. "I doubt I'll be present if we go back." Then: "What are you doing to me?"

[pawnedprince]

Archery lesson

[pawnedprince]

got hit with the double whammy of period pains and a stomach that completely rejected dinner so i'm gonna take it easy for the rest of the night or until i'm suffering less. come find me on discord!

[pawnedprince]

important question, are you reading along with hans in bed??

[pawnedprince]

❛ that's not exactly inspiring confidence!! ❜ he won't fault himself the crack in his voice, restringing his bow as quickly as he can. last thing he needs is to be left behind ... again.

“ gods are stubborn, but so am i. ”

↬ @pawnedprince liked for a starter!

[pawnedprince]

pinching the bridge of his nose, brow furrowed, the creases of seasons long gone wane weary: the look of a man who doesn't get enough sleep and will not for the rest of his days. the desk is a well maintained catastrophe — quite a window of insight, littered amongst the stacks of parchment and empty pots of ink. two decades worth of fires left to put out, and there simply aren't enough hours in the day. he leans into the touch like a soft place to land. finally, somewhere to put down the weight. " and what about the day when you don't ... ? what then ? " pulled along with him, hans looks upwards to the man at his side. " henry ... it's always war. "

a long exhale escapes him, like he's reminding himself to stop and breathe, and he takes the hand into his own, pressing the knuckles to his lips for a silent few seconds. he wasn't intent on changing the subject, but the weariness can't help but soften. " he would love that. it wouldn't even matter what it was, so long as it came from you. "

@pawnedprince asked: ' what's the point of living without you? '

Henry frowns. "Now, don't you start saying that, Hans. Sure, you were boozing come sun down before we met, whoring until what, eight summers ago now?, but you've about everything now with the way I look at it. And that's saying nothing of your son, neither."

So he says. Shoulder to the window, Henry eyes him as his lord mourning darkly at that desk. God, so much has changed of the world, it seems to him like, foregoing his boyhood and hammering in some wisdom in that noble, golden brow. It's been an age since they've hunted, laughing till they heaved out Rattay's quaint shadows, and as the clopping of war crept slowly past the hillocks... It feels fragile. Eveything. Them. Hal's place by his side. Again, Zizka's asked for his anger as the horrors of Sigismund yet gnaw at Hal's mind. The way that the candle umbers Hans' face... Henry moves. Hand outstretched, he thumbs his chin. "Don't be so dramatic. I always come back, don't I? It's just a talk. Maybe an errand or two. It's not war." Who says? "And I'll bring something for Heinrich while I'm at it."

[pawnedprince]

try as he might have — and he most certainly did try — to ignore the shape and depth of the cavity carved out of him, she can't help but slot impeccably into it. his arms wrapped around her, cut perfectly to fit; and not all at once. slowly, over time, like a stone weathered smooth by passing waters. it hurts to become: the growing pains are neither swift nor gentle, but nothing worth keeping ever comes easy. and nothing about this had ever been easy. ' you were put on this earth to torment me ' he had told her once, and that had never been disproven; only now the insolent irking had become a deep - pitted sorrow, thick and viscous and clogging the lungs. and she had always been so afraid of being difficult to love. and he in turn was no different. and it was so much easier to give into that belief until they both started to push away.

she releases him from this torment with those simple words; stops his tears and fortifies his heart once more. he exhales and it's as if the world has been lifted from his sagging shoulders. the thought of starting over feels like a godsend — all grief extinguished between them and fresh ground left to tread; and so he smiles. ❛ and what a sight to behold you are. ❜ he's never known her to be anything but. tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear, he cups the hand at her jaw and pulls the other around her waist. quite like a dream she was, appearing out of thin air and just when he needed her most. just a cruel ghost at first, he figured, a specter of the hunger and delirium . . . until he felt her hands upon him.

❛ however can i repay you? ❜ even behind the exhaustion, the familiarity of mischief is still there. oh, he has ideas. he has half a mind to kiss her senseless until their legs give out beneath them; but, there would be time for that later. there's a certain gravity owed to this moment: the weight of absolution released from burden, and he's content enough just to hold her.

had you asked her when exactly all of this had blossomed , vex'ahlia would be hard-pressed to name a day. perhaps that meant it wasn't born from one singular act. or hour. or event. but all of them playing one after the other like a slow turn of pages in a well-beloved and worn storybook. rarely does one spark light a fire. it takes many tries. multiple little embers and a controlled gust of wind. one minute they're hunting together. the next they leap from rushing falls into a mossy-ringed pool. the next he throws up a shield to block a hit meant for her. then she's flying down from the heavens to grab his arm and haul him up to her broom. he's sliding a protective ring on her finger. they’re the last two awake in the tavern , flushed and breathless with drunken laughter in the firelight. they're gasping against each other's lustrous flesh. he calls for her. she screams for him. they're screaming at each other ── voices hoarse and eyes glassy.

and suddenly. he's walking away. just like that.

" stop it. enough of that. " not the kisses. gods , never stop kissing her. she could die with his mouth on hers and never know the cold of it. but the weight behind it ── his need to be punished , the guilt sitting like a stone on his back , she doesn’t want it. not between them. there's nothing to forgive. not from her. but she knows he needs to hear it anyway. he reacted the way she would've , she thinks. with a frigid cold enough to war against their worst winters. how could she judge him for that ?? even when it had all ended in a crumbling mess that left her here and now simply wanting to start the process of digging through the rubble and attempting to build something together again. and that would only start with an " i forgive you , " breathed into the space between them not because he earned it , not because he asked for it. because loving him had come from her without conditions. " if that's what you must hear , then i forgive you. " not just for the walking away. for all of it that he considered sin. for the quaking fury before it. for the cold silence after it. for the ache that never stopped blooming even when he was gone. " let's start over , hm ?? " her head twists to the side. its her turn to kiss his palm. " i've just stormed in and saved you from that cell. . . " now the other one , ". . .quite HEROICALLY [ . . . ] i may add. "

[pawnedprince]

important question, are you reading along with hans in bed??

[pawnedprince]

no matter how casual the relationship or blasé the encounter, hans is always going to want to cuddle after sex. just give him five minutes, at the very least. in fact, if he gets up immediately after and goes to do something else, he might actually hate you.

[pawnedprince]

" no, they certainly haven't. " index finger holding ground at the paragraph he was reading, the book closes, and his eyes lift up and across the room. what a pleasant sight, even already half plastered, his favorite peasant and most beloved page standing in his doorway; hans's expression had already warmed in the presence of him before either had yet to offer a greeting. " and what would i do without you? " the sentiment sounds a tease, volleyed back at the besotted fool; but he has always offered such truths playfully. " i'd still be heading in the wrong direction, i think. " turned around he most certainly was. his smile softens, hanging onto henry's last words as he watches him before finally setting the book aside. " well, as much as i'd like to sit here and look at you, are you going to stand there all night or you going to come in? "

"...Sir Hans, anyone ever tell you how things start making sense around you?"

Huh? How could they? After all, his consequence on sense often ventured toward the opposite. But then, as he's leant to on occasion, the dear and foolish thing, Henry, their darling hero, must be all too soused. Shuffling, the peasant-boozing must've throttled him, racketing his brain like a game of farkle. Yet, whatever he'd surrendered in his wits, evidently, he'd more than up for in a rush of clumsy sentiments. But he was right. After Skalitz, if it wasn't tied to killing, he'd neither path not reason... But as he waits by Hans's doorframe, he knows Hans steers. "You got me running in circles, you brat. Up to my...my eyeballs in it. But it's for you, isn't it? So. It's like the most natural feeling in the world somehow. I need that." / @pawnedprince liked for a starter.