#based this one very heavily on a craft like this I did back in first grade

[queer-in-a-cornfield]

@ace-of-garlic-breads drawcember: Crafts

You just know these are some of Donald’s most treasured ornaments… even Dewey’s

[themareverine]

Toy Soldiers | part one | worst!wolverine x namelessfem!OC

synopsis: He was just a one of those fast food kid’s meal toys from 1993—key word, was. now he’s Hugh Jackman incarnate, standing in the master bedroom of her midwestern apartment, lost in time and infinity. she’s gotta get him back to his world, where he’s the worst Wolverine, where he belongs—or, maybe not?

warnings: Indian in the Cupboard themes (iykyk), fluff, AU, not entirely sure what else at this point, nameless!femOC with blue eyes could be interpreted as reader, mentions of a best friend named Rose, etc, literally based on this silly little toy I rescued and now have crafted extensive lore for.

a/n: i didn't ask for this to become a multi-chapter thing. i really didn't, ok? this got away from me, but i really love these two so much already. this was fun to write, and she's a fun character to develop. worst!wolverine is just occupying too much brain space.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

Dreaming in color is a pro, when you weigh it against the cons—usually.

She’d been dreaming in movie-like quality since she was a kid, could pinpoint almost to the exact timespace when she first realized her dreams were akin to Hollywood flicks roving about her brain like Spielberg classics.

She’d been six, maybe seven. A hopeless crush on Wednesday night’s Steve Irwin had somehow twisted the innocent power of her brain—the only, almost divine dreamstate visit to Australia she’d ever taken. Still she can taste the hot air, thick with sweat and arid desert, from the back of an obscure Land Rover, jostled and bouncing along forgotten roads and who-knows trails. Eyeballing open sky and endless outback sands, the Crocodile Hunter and his darling wife, Terri, vivid imaginations to a childhood fantasy yet, mostly, unlived. 

And ever since this God-granted, she’d always assumed it was a gift and thus titled it so, she’d been dreaming vividly most of the last twenty four years. Forgetting her dreams was the exception, black and white—unheard of. Tasting, speaking, reading, touch was wrapped up in REM and weighted blankets, vicarious life she’d never, really, lived in her waking moments—everything from the supernatural to gut-wrenching. Martial bliss and familial tragedy. Combat she could only ever hope wasn’t accurate. Fame and fortune. R rated filmstrips that left her stomach light and fluttery every morning, promptly, at 4:45—alarm shrieking in her ear, viscerally ripping her back to the land of the living with frothing teeth, the Greatest Showman custom alarm all but a slap in the face.  

It’s, as usual, dark when the numbers on her phone roll over to 4:45—sucked out of a dream like the vacuum of space itself lays claim to her soul, her eyes flutter open heavily to stare at the alarm. Hugh Jackman would never be so unwelcome as he is now, blaring from little iPhone speakers—she manages to lift a noodle-esque arm to slap at the noise hanging out in the darkness around the vicinity of her nightstand. 

Fingers locate the smooth screen, swipe away the prompt for snooze. Roll over. Hand over her eyes—it’s Saturday The day after Friday, her first day alone all week. World beyond is closed away behind walls and empty schedules, priorities otherwise left-fielded for such days as this.  

Warmth simmers beneath heavy weighted covers, trapped against her body. Clawing up through her mattress, threatening to pull her back into oblivion. Pharaoh’s hadn’t been so mummified, entombed as she is now, but that’s the beauty of a queen mattress left unshared—solidarity. Armies only wish they held such control over real estate as she did these sheets, this bed frame—very little could remove her from the ecstasy that is this Eden, the one place that did not require compliance, performance, untenable perfection.

Here she could rot for hours, engage in adventure that the earth would never understand—that man would jeer. 

Heaving a sigh melts her deeper into her astronaut-designed mattress, stomach suddenly flatter than it’s ever been as gently fingers tease at the strip of skin exposed. Back arching, stirring nearly-paralyzed muscle. Toes skip over warm satin sheets as she navigates to her side, arm tucking beneath her pillow. Drawing blankets to her chin, another deep breath closes her eyes, shuts off her brain—all but ready to return to dreamstate, the screen on her phone illuminates again—diiiiing.

Light explodes, lighting up the area of her nightstand just enough to give purpose to her surroundings. 

Nose scrunching in an effort to unhear and forget the notification, her eyes slowly pull open as she considers the phone. It’s her best friend, she knows it is—Rose is up early. All the time. Taking care of her little family at the base of the Teton mountains, as if this is Little House on the Prairie and such things were the norm.

Her inability to ignore anything from Rose props her up on an elbow, has her reaching for her phone—thumbs the passcodes. Opens the text, eyes scanning the message from last night. 

It’s a photo message. She’d sent it last night, proudly showing off the latest addition to her childhood nostalgia collection—a thrift store find, the little McDonald’s toy is hardly noteworthy. Scuffed and worn, it had seen adventures, surely, in its pre-her-possession life. Surprise had knocked her between the eyes like a stone when she’d managed to spy 1993 printed on the little action hero’s foot, in barely-there legalese. 

At thirty-one years old, one may have expected the little five-cent made-in-Taiwan to end up in the landfill, rotting alongside near-radioactive diapers or kill-the-turtles plastic straws.

Nope, not this one—Marvel’s very own little Wolverine. Dolled up in a cute little sci-fi bronze suit, ready for a fight. Retractable claws, the hardly-scuffed cowl, a proud encircled X in all its glory—wrapped up in a little sandwich baggie marked down at the thrift. She’d almost felt sorry for him in that cute aggressive way. 

And almost giddy at the fluke cocktail of age and condition, she’d pocketed the little guy. A pleased smile, her very own little Wolvie nestled in the leathers of her jacket, then the bottom of her purse. He’d adventured to work with her accidentally on Friday, plastic eyes watching her pass the time at the office from his little perch beside her keyboard and Starbucks. Almost had forgotten him, poor thing—he’d landed on her nightstand among the other needs-put-away items for the weekend, proudly standing in his posed little battle stance.

All he needed was matching Sabretooth, maybe Magneto, and he’d be good to go. 

Looky who came home with *me*, shot over to Rose with a little thrill, a Snapchat-like photo of him perched alongside her night cream and phone charger. More of a proud sentinel guarding her bedside table than anything, she’d regarded him playfully, like a child—had told him to close his eyes when she’d undressed. Had asked him about a movie to watch in bed as she managed hip-opening exercises, relaxing breathing techniques. All but kissed him goodnight, promising to get him settled among her other collectable childhood wonders in the morning.

After coffee and cardio, wouldn’t Hugh be proud. 

Rose’s LOL text all but smiles back at her, and she’s a little cross-eyed from the brightness of her phone. It improves when her eyes skate away from the phone, to the little Wolverine—wait.

Brow furrowing, his absence from the nightstand sparks more panic than she’d be willing to admit in therapy—she bends over the side of her bed, fingertips skating the floor in search of her little plastic wonder. Nothing but plush carpet, abandoned laundry she’d failed to relocate to her drawers—her phone slips from her hand as she hauls herself over the bedside, to peer beneath.

It’s dark, duh, and she fumbles upside-down with the flashlight on her phone. Sun levels of intense light, she makes arching passes beneath her bed, but no dice. Nada. Zilch–zippo on the Wolverine toy. 

“Well this is just a little ridiculous,” her mumble rolls off a dry tongue, from messy hair as she works herself back up from hanging over the bedside. 

Forcing off her weighted blankets has never felt more urgent, importance spiking her blood with ill-placed adrenaline she doesn’t understand—why she cares so much about a little three-decade-old McDonald’s toy she’ll never understand, but the thought of him lost in the abyss of her house is more unsettling, again, than she’d admit in therapy.

Legs swinging over the bed, she plucks her glasses from the tray on her nightstand, grabbing for the light robe dragging the floor from one of the nightstand’s knobs. 

Wrestling a steer would’ve been easier than un-inside-outing the garment, still hazy and half-asleep and wholly uncaffeinated, but she manages. Another scout under her bed reveals that, no, little Wolvie isn’t among the dust bunnies and lint of her carpeted under-bed floor.

Brow furrowing, her glasses slip down her nose as she hauls herself back to her feet, sleep-stiff muscles protesting as she massages the back of her neck. 

Hands on her hips, she reaches for her phone. “Had I known you had teleportation powers, little Lo, I’d have sold you off to NASA—come on,” Triggering the flashlight on her phone again, she dives to check between the headboard and mattress, to see if her Logan lookalike decided to magically dive headfirst into the almost-abyss—

“—you make a habit of talkin’ to open air, girlie?” 

Two things happen immediately in her body. 

First. Alarm jumps up in her chest like a devil, deep claws sinking into the meat of her chest only to rip away any sense of safety taking up residence behind her ribs, in her bones. Heart forgetting to throb, blood all but stands still in her veins, asystole in her arteries—she can feel the lining of her stomach twist into a viper-like coil so cold, she fears frostbite has set into her organs.

Fear knocks hard on the door of her sternum, ripping the wind from her lungs. Terror opens up her vocal cords and bludgeons a song from her throat, but it’s so dry in her apartment that the fleshy membranes of her mouth have all but become cragged Sahara sands. Tongue swelling to the size of her fist, she fears she’ll choke on it. Forces it against the back of her bottom teeth, jaw clenching with enough force to break open the world. 

Legs somehow managing to propel her up onto her mattress, across the bed, to the farthest corner of the space. Cold sweat raises to a dance across her skin, satin sleeping pants clinging to the flesh of her thighs as sapphire eyes attack the figure cutting through the threshold of her door—hands low and open, in placating surrender.

Brow furrowed with canyon deep lines, dark eyes flick over her frame as she takes a step back for each of the ones he cautiously makes into the room. Invading her privacy, an unwelcome intruder. 

“Easy, sweetheart,” early morning gravels his words, which hang low in baritones not at all unfamiliar, “‘m not gonna hurt you. You breathin’ ok?” Genuine concern passes through his eyes, deep and alive, but—not in a bright way. The corner of his lip tips up, “Don’t mean to scare ya, pretty.” 

Pretty? Sweetheart? Who the hell is this—?

Any familiarity his face holds is lost to the bite of adrenaline, slavering teeth trenching into the back of her brain. Seeming to lap at the spinal fluid all but bubbling down the length of her back. Chest heaving with effort, she fears her ribs might break. Cardiac muscle behind her chest bones all but explodes with every heavy heartbeat, reminding her to stay alive. That she, still, is living. 

Stomach sour, twisting like corded steel, she lunges for the foot of her bed—snatched the first thing she can retrieve. Face all but a blazing inferno of heat, nails all but pike into the soft plush of a stuffed animal. Her favorite. Or, rather, was—now little more than a weapon, it stands between her and the invasion like a fortress. 

“What the hell are you doing here,”she challenges, taking a half step back. Memories of kickboxing classes, somewhere in her youth, escape through the fingers of memories in the back of her head. More boxing posture than anything, she lifts her arms to chin level. Fingers tear into the stuffie like it’s a lifeline, like it’s protection. And for now, it is. 

Not giving him the chance to answer, his mouth hangs open in muted response, “This is my apartment—you can either leave or I’ll–I’ll forcibly remove you.” It would take a 911 call—it would mean grabbing her phone from the nightstand, punching the emergency button, and staying away from him during response time. All unlikely, given proximity. The size of the apartment. How he blocks the only damn exit with his huge-ass frame. 

Jaw snapping closed, a thick brow pops up. He chuckles. He think this is funny, “Whoa, take it easy, bub—” 

“—shut up! Stop talking!” Pointing a strong finger at him, she shuffles back on light feet. Bobbing as best she can, trying to appear light. Prepared. But everything in every manual in the world wouldn’t have prepared her for home invasion—all those home defense classes. The hours shooting clays and targets with her father. Worthless. 

I am so going to die. 

Another step into her sanctuary, holy of holies. “Quit moving, damnit!” 

The stranger stops mid-stride, brows arched in surprise at her tone of voice. Squinched nose, and tightly shut eyes add to what must be a comical look on her face. Coupled with crimson cheeks and the shake setting into her hands, she surely looks—well. A sight, if little else.

Realizing nothing short of an eternity has lapsed in the cool peace and blissfully ignorant darkness of closed eyes, hers pop open. She watches has near-pawlike hands, mapped with raised veins and pronounced callous, drop to his sides for all of a minute. Her heart cuts against her ribs like an ax laid to roots, willing to break something loose—he chuckles. Laughs. Some faraway light catches the darkness of his eyes, brightens his face in a way that only ever seemed so Hollywood, but is now real. 

And he laughs with his entire body for all of a few seconds, wrinkles at either side of his eyes deepening into canyons that seem to fill with his amusement, at her expense.Mind short circuiting, her toes curl into the carpet, calluses on her heels catching frayed fibers as she does her best, again, to stay light on her feet. Nothing about her is light, certainly, and she attempts to calculate distance, how many seconds it would take her launch her body forward, toward the door. Past him, into the corridor, out the front door.

 HIs hand extends, palm up. Waving her forward, as if she were some thing to beckon—

—until her stuffie chucks directly at his face, a blur of hot-pink fur and fluff. 

The moment she arched her arm and sent Mr. Hearts on his first-ever attempt of flight, her feet springboard off the carpet, launching her forward at a speed she never thought possible. Adrenaline jumpstarts every one of her cells, lacing through her veins like rocket fuel—and the world spins by in a blur of color, her chest racked with pain as her heart racehorses behind bones that are no less than temperatures akin to magma. 

Tunnel vision blocks out the world, save the nearly sparkling promise of the room’s exit. Tears bubble up on her lash line, hot and intruders on any clarity of brainspace she’s trying to will forward. Hot, breathy fear closes her throat, nothing but blood rivers through her ears—nothing except the ache of her throbbing heart, the painful push and pull of her lungs expanding and retracting. 

They say hearing is the last thing to go when your soul begins to fade into death, but it’s a lie—she can’t hear a damn thing. And she’s more than alive.

Missing completely the soft snikt!, the what-would-usually-be unmissable split of skin, there’s a muffled tearing of fabric as once beloved Mr. Hearts suddenly becomes two halves of himself. Puffy stuffing explodes into the air, faintly she can feel her beloved stuffed animal hit the floor mutedly. In some back door of her brain she knows what’s happened, but survival carries her feet—pumps her arms. Zeroes her gaze on the door, blocks out anything other than the gut instinct to run, run, run hard. 

Finger reach to grab the doorway, hurl herself around the corner—but it’s too late. Electric movement snaps through the air, a microsecond passes before a thick, heavy arm catches her around her waist. Hauls her backward, sucks her from the door like something from  Star Wars, the world spinning by in a Picasso of color and tears as she’s manhandled, forced back. Kicking her feet into the air, she wills him to break, throwing her body mass back, against him. Arches her back. Wrangles and claws at the hair on his arm, the muscle that is taught against her rebellion.  

Throat splitting with a shriek, she’s silenced when his enormous palm claps hard over her mouth. It feels like centuries have passed, but in reality, it’s been seconds. Breaths and heartbeats. Tears trailblaze hot down her face, her throat all but reverberating with sobs. Body heat wraps around her, butter down her spine as the arm around her middle pulls her tighter. Closer. Keep your enemies close—

And he’s tall, legs anchored behind her. Like a brick house. Snot begins to empty her sinuses in a slick, sticky mess. Her mouth attempts to open behind the palm of his hand,all saliva and spit. Doesn’t seem to do much. Digging her heels into the floor, her foot skims the floor. Looks for one of his. Finding it, she slams her heel against would-be soft bones, and he hisses. Grunts like an animal.

“Knock it off,” his baritone rumbles, a dangerous growl over her ear, “not here to hurt you, darlin’.” A lie. She doesn’t believe him, digs her heels farther into the soft flesh of his feet. Buries her nails into his muscle, the soft flesh of that tender spot under the wrist. Veins, lots of blood there. 

Something obscene slips past his lips. Fighting back more stinging tears, his fingers curl around her wrist bruisingly, and with herculean strength, he whips her about-face, suddenly chest-to-chest with her as his fingers fist in her hair. Pulls sharply, “fuckin’ hell—calm the fuck down,” his fingers fall from her hair, instead grab her chin with an almost bruising grip, “stop bawlin’, for Christssake,” 

Her nails milk as they dig into his wrist, deep red lines canyon the hand holding her face with a patience lost to most members of his sex. Hard, dark eyes hold hers with a fierceness that numbs her intestinal tract. For a moment, an arctic swirl is born and dies in his gaze, resurrected instead a hint of grief and—empathy, maybe. A lostness she can’t describe. Confusion punches lines between his knitted brows, etching deep into ruddy, masculine features a kind of unwordly handsome, had he not been sent to kill her. 

Oh God, please—Shaking, her eyes pinch closed again, unwilling to let him see any more of her soul. More snot and tears, saliva pearls between the seam of her lips as she tries, and fails, not to blubber. Knees buckle. Hangs there, full weight of her body supported on her chin between his fingers, jaw suddenly alive with inferno pain. It lasts seconds before he lets her go, and she sinks to the floor, slackdoll and sobbing. Staring across the floor, her cheek burns against the harsh fibers of the floor. 

Her belt. Abandoned, on the floor last night after a work dinner. It’s the only thing, and her brain conjures images of just exactly how she’d use it, suddenly Jackie Chan or GI Jane or some shit she’s seen a thousand times on film, has never executed. Hiccuping in short breaths between sniffles and sobs, tears leak into the carpet off her cheek. Her heart pumps blood that may as well pool into her chest, leak between the cracks in her confidence. 

Stepping back, he looks at her. A cocktail of surprise and irritated, he sinks to a crouch. Shakes off red marks that still linger on his arm, wipe her snot and saliva on his-–are those yellow?-–pants. No time to notice, to care—her nails catch against the fibers of the carpet. Begin to push her bodyweight up, on an elbow. 

Unburdening a sigh, his hand scrubs his face as hers darts across floorspace. Snatching the belt with a speed she’s never fostered, he doesn’t even have time to put two and two together before the leather snaps like a whip, thick silvers from a rodeo buckle landing fully on the bone of his jaw. Cuts a deep line that flashes scarlet, rips open flesh like a fillet knife. 

“Fuck!” it’s harsh, bestial.

Reeling back, she finds time to scramble to her feet like a clumsy foal, looping the belt around her fist once as he pops tall. Backpedaling away from arm’s length, she pistons towards the door, on fire and pumping adrenaline like a sieve. 

And she flies. Out of the bedroom. Down the corridor. Somehow she manages to find her keys on the kitchen table as his heavy, earthshaking feet pump down the hall. Fumbles over her own feet at the front door, slams into it hard, bounces off. Fingers suddenly unable to communicate coherently with her brain, the chain lock on her apartment door is all but burning as she tries, and fails, to work it just so. 

“Come on, come on! Work, you piece of shit—” she’s never sworn more in her life than she has now, and it’s sour, like bile splashing up on her back teeth. But it rips from her throat all the same, bitter and hot, as she mutters fuck, fuck, fuck me! under short, airy breaths that do nothing to put oxygen back into her body. May as well be a drowning soul, the way she sucks in air. Gasps for breath. Drowning or an emphysemic. 

Ignoring the hard breathing behind her is impossible. Whirling around on the ball of her foot, he’s close enough to lock her against the door. Her head falls back hard enough to knock against the door, rattle her teeth. And as her vision begins to settle from the bouncing in her cranium, she sees the three blades bury to the knuckle—the knuckle?—in her heavy, pristine oak front door. Rattles the wall, splits the sheetrock. 

Pupils blown wide, she can feel all the blood leave her body. Terror locks her spine between slavering, hungry teeth. Gaze welded to the blood pearling from fresh wounds between white knuckles, the hinge of her jaw fails. Her mouth opens mutedly, enough for him to count her teeth if he so desired. 

And maybe he does. “Goin’ somewhere, honey,” it isn’t a question. That grin is animalistic. “Stay awhile, huh?” 

He closes in. Her head snaps forward to find him. Nose to nose, he sneers at her, and her eyes think to move to the fillet of open flesh her attack has left on his jawline—or, had. No evidence of even so much as a mark on the sharp line of his jaw, just dark facial hair and sweat that’s bubbling up on his skin, angry red that fans up his neck. Swearing to God she can see the vein in his temple throb with blood, her grip on the leather belt tightens before reality sets in. 

Ohmygod, ”You’re—” her stomach resurrects up her throat. ”—Jesus,” and it isn’t so much a curse as it is a prayer, a hope. A lifeline—grasping at straws, praying something sticks.

Reality begins to fall away, through boneless fingers. Feeling the belt slip from her control, her throat suddenly constricts to the point of oxygen deprivation. Gaping like a fish, her tongue swells to a thick cotton she can no longer feel. 

Numb—everything buzzes with that painful, white-noise needling. 

And she does the only thing her body can manage. Shoves past him just enough to upset a chair—

—-and throws up. 

still working on my taglist but: @thevoicefromanotherworld @sidkneeeee @misscrissfemmefatale @eternallyfrustratedwriter and those who showed interest: @ayamenimthiriel @pandapetals @theoreticalfreak @definitely-not-chill @ghostytoasty17 @werewolfpilar

[teyums]

Babyboy ✽ Lo’ak Sully

a/n: based off this request! I feel like lo’ak would just be the clingiest little thing when he misses you :( he’s so adorable

wc: 2k

pairing: lo’ak x fem! na’vi reader

warnings: none, just fluff and lo’ak being a big baby

Your body jolted slightly from the feeling of Lo’ak’s finger playfully jabbing at your side for the fifth time in the last ten minutes, choking back a laugh at the ticklish sensation he knew he was giving you. Shaking your head to yourself and breathing deeply, you continued acting out Neytiri’s instructions and ignored the cheeky grin you noticed from him out the corner of your eye.

Another one. And this time you squealed, quickly covering your mouth and grateful Neytiri’s back was turned to the both of you while she gathered more ingredients. “Lo’ak!” You whisper shouted under your breath, shooting him a quick glance to tell him to ease up. He only rolled his eyes, retracting his finger when his mom took a seat beside you. Kissing his teeth while a smile fought hard to peek through his faux aggravated expression.

The older woman sat on your right side, hands hovering over yours while she briefly explained how to make a newly concocted healing paste. The raids were increasing in frequency and the war-party now required a faster recovery time, which meant a new recipe was needed.

Lo’ak sat cross-legged off to your left, chin propped in his bent hand and ears flicking impatiently while he watched you and his mother work. Boredom biting at him like an annoying mosquito as he occasionally peered out the door and at the sun’s position in the dimming sky. He smacked a hand to his forehead and dragged it down the rest of his face, groaning lowly. Only thirty minutes elapsed since the lesson started, and you still had over an hour to go. By the time you were finished, eclipse surely would have passed.

Today you were supposed to follow him out to the forest, the two of you to spend time together like you promised. You told him you would watch as he demonstrated his new target technique, a method he figured out all on his own that he seemed to be extremely proud of.

But even though his mother’s adamant request for you in her hut came late, the both of you knew that she held seniority. Healing practice with Tsahik was not something you could simply put a raincheck on. He agreed that you go, but on one condition. That he could come with you.

You made him swear he would sit there and watch, quietly. Leaving you to focus on your work out of respect for his mother’s time. He agreed without giving it much thought, wanting to be in your company in any way possible and not at all registering how long training usually took for you.

But alas, Lo’ak was not one to follow directions. He was trying to be patient but he had no idea the lesson would run this late and he was beginning to grow antsy. It seemed like lately everyone but him had your attention. You were either helping Kiri pick herbs and pretty flowers, or participating in crafting time with Tuk after she got you to agree by begging you nonstop for hours with her high-pitched whining.

If it wasn’t that, you were shadowing Neytiri during her duties or tending to Neteyam’s wounds. You were an exceptional healer, very close to the family and heavily trusted by them. Lo’ak tried not to be jealous, but he couldn’t help it.

Even if your touches on his brother’s body were more than innocent, the gentle caressing over the grazed skin upon his shoulder blades lacking any ulterior motive, it didn’t mean he had to like it. He found himself wanting to fall injured somehow just to earn your full, undivided attention for what felt like the first time in weeks.

He felt out of place. Neteyam being next up for the throne, Jake and Neytiri running successful raids while he sat as watch— remembering how they said he couldn’t be trusted on the field. Tuk being the beloved youngest child no matter what she did and his sister having such a deep connection with nature that she was praised everywhere she went in the clan.

What was his purpose? Was he even important? He didn’t feel like it.

You were the only one who cared to rid him of that feeling. You were always there to remind him of his importance. Of his relevance in your life, even if others found it unnecessary to reassure the young boy, you knew how much he longed for it.

You would tell him how much you loved him as many times as he needed to hear it. Telling him how he could brighten your day with a corny joke or a rambunctious adventure you agreed to go on with him last minute. How strong he was, both in mind and soul. Often making comments on how toned his biceps were starting to look from his training just to see his glum face brighten with blush.

But lately it felt like you were farther from him than ever. Every time he came up with a plan for a date or something fun to do, someone was there to steal you away, grabbing your attention and leaving him reaching. It was frustrating him just thinking about it, and you could hear it in the shortness of his hasty, incessant sighing.

His tail flicked impetuously as he watched your hands grow skilled after little direction from his mother. The fluff of his tail lightly brushing a long stripe on the outer shell of your thigh, when he leaned forward to get a better look. “Wow, you’re really good at this.” He smiled to himself, his face so close to yours that your cheeks flushed a deep hue almost instantly.

It was so easy for him to cloud your mind, and you started to wonder if letting him come along was the best idea after all. Neytiri watched your hands falter when Lo’ak came into close proximity, and how a jut of your wrist caused a bit of the mixture to spill out of the bowl when his hand gently rested on your protruding knee.

“Lo’ak!” She hissed, head snapping up at him in aggravation while she flicked a hand at him, signaling him to move away. “Sit here in silence or leave, you are distracting her! Go!”

You winced at her tone, eyes darting over to Lo’ak to shoot him an apologetic look as he groaned and threw his hands up in rebuttal, wordlessly implying that he didn’t know what he was doing wrong.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” You said softly, nodding your head at him and frowning when you saw his ears hanging low. He scooted away until his back was against the wall, putting ample distance between the two of you much to his mother’s approval.

He sat with his arms crossed over his chest for the rest of the session, eyes boring straight ahead and at the opposing wall of the hut while Neytiri continued instructing you. He didn’t dare to look over, much too annoyed at the scolding he received to even turn his eyes in your direction again in fear of being told off. All he wanted was to be close to you, just like everyone else had for the past few weeks. Yet here he was, getting in trouble for it like he did with everything else, as if you weren’t his girlfriend.

Neytiri wrapped things up shortly after, the brooding presence of her sulking son irritating her to the point where she settled on letting you leave early, just so she wouldn’t have to look at his scrunched up expression any longer.

You rose to your feet slowly, trying not to look as eager to leave as you felt. Unlike Lo’ak who was already at the door. With a raise of two fingers to your forehead, you brought them back down and bid a thank you to your elder. You turned to the boy behind you, rolling your eyes when you watched big amber globes quickly dart away from your back, as if he didn’t want you to see him ogling.

You grabbed his wrist, pushing the flap forward and dragging him along the same path you were taking. He stomped behind you with heavy feet, making it look like you were tugging along an unwilling child to a well deserved time out.

You entered your hut with a sigh, his unusual silence bothering you. It was a great variation from his usual outspokenness. He walked in and took a seat on the hammock, idly twiddling with his fingers. Looking hesitant to speak, as if he were fearful he’d do something to upset you like he had with his mother.

Tender eyes made their way up you stature as you neared the somber boy, taking his face in your hands and lifting it so he were looking at you. His chin grazing the skin of your stomach while he waited for you to speak, gazing up at you with big puppy-like eyes.

“What is the matter, sayrip?” (handsome)

He shrugged meekly, arms laying limp between his long, spread legs. “Nothing.” He mumbled, barely annunciating when he spoke.

“The truth, please?” You pushed, tilting your head to the side and delicately brushing at his star speckled cheeks with your thumbs. They gleamed under your wake, so reactive to your touch and effectively giving away the root of his distant behavior, despite his resistance to admit it. You took note of his timidity, stepping between his legs so you were closer to him. “You know I love you, right?”

He nodded silently, circling his arms just below your bottom, his forearms resting on the backs of your thighs.

“So what is upsetting you, Lo’?” Your voice was quiet.

“I just…” He sighed, looking away from you for a split second, before returning. You were to pretty for his eyes to shun. “I just miss you. That’s all.” He pulled you down onto his lap, arms fully encasing your frame as they wrapped around you.

You took a seat in his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs as you ribboned your arms over his shoulders. “You miss me? But I’m right here, babyboy.” You cooed, scooting further into his lap when he pulled you in closer. If he tightened his grip any more, your bodies would probably fuse together.

“I know,” He huffed, resting his head on your chest and nuzzling his cheek against the light netting that clothed your bosom. Taking in your scent and relaxing against you, as if not being able to have you in his arms for only two hours had taken a physical toll on him. “But I want you all to myself.” He said, voice muffled from your skin when he used his lips to place a light kiss against it. You hummed empathetically, watching him become increasingly more clingy with each second passed.

You brought a hand up to the back of his head and threaded your fingers through his braids. Allowing the pads of your fingers to glide over the side he kept shaved, feeling over the newly approaching stubble. “Don’t you think that’s a bit selfish, Lo’ak?” You teased, an underlying giggle weaving through your tone, which he quickly picked up on.

“Maybe,” A smirk danced along his lips and you squealed when he quickly flipped you so you were on your back. Climbing up between your legs and laying on top of you, all his weight included. ���But you’re mine. So I’m allowed to be.” He purred.

“Lo’ak, you’re heavy!” You laughed breathlessly, stretching your back and trying to move from under him to no avail. You sighed out in defeat, encasing your limbs around him and accepting your fate while you used a hand to rub his striped back. “So this is your great, master plan? To trap me under you so I can’t leave?” You jested.

“Yup.” He grumbled, snuggling into your hold and exhaling in satisfaction.

“What if I have to pee?”

“Hold it.” He quipped, letting his eyes close and basking in the content feeling of your warmth.

a/n: Likes + Reblogs + Comments are much appreciated! 💗

[isa-ghost]

Oouuu h h .. u wanna talk about your hcs for early years Phil… ooh …(expanding from The Beginning if you want ! What you think the continuation could be, anything before, etc :) )

Oh god oh fuck I have so many thoughts and not enough braincells to put them into words, uhhh

Phil headcanons masterlist

His start, as we know it, is just a humble tinkerer and explorer with big dreams and even bigger ambitions.

I mean we been knew but HE IS A FUCKING GENIUS AND JUST DOWNPLAYS HIMSELF TO HELL AND BACK. He is SO SMART, sketching and studying and calculating things. He's SO PERCEPTIVE and GREAT at adapting, much like the birds he admires so deeply!! He NEEDS his brain busy. He can CRAFT, and a lot goes into that!!

Actually, his downplaying, lack of self-confidence, and inability to see his true skills and worth might come from all his failures trying to fly. He fucked up so many times, nearly killing himself a few and falling harder and harder each new time he failed. Every one of those failures just reinforced the thinking. And he had no one there to beat the doubt out of him and keep him going. Loneliness is a good way to get too deep into your own head.

His skills were and perhaps still are mostly (subjectively) smaller scale things such as the wings. It's once he found the builds of the deities that things kicked up a few notches. The structures were already built to the scale he thinks he can't pull off himself, all he had to do was restore, repair, and improve them. This is what eventually got him on Rose's radar. Even so, even doing little things on those monumental builds helped boost the size of which he can create things. His love slowly changed from tinkering to architecture.

A part of him fears (or perhaps knows deep down) that he is doomed to always eventually lose his wings.

But luckily, Kristin made them very resilient when she gave them to him. Based off what we know from observation, (and biology of birds maybe?) they heal and repair themselves over time.

And when they're severely damaged, he has Rose. After all, she chooses to be a sort of guardian for him similarly to Kristin. When he needs it, she can restore them each time he returns to Hardcore, the same way he restored her creations. It's how she shows her gratitude. All he needs to do is be in the right world. She can't do it across realms.

If there's anything to remember from the animatic, it's that Phil never quits. It takes A LOT to make him do so, and even then there's a chance that some period of time from the moment he decides to throw in the towel, he'll get back to it with fresh eyes and renewed determination. He's stubborn in more ways than one.

To this day, he wonders why crows seemed so heavily present around him in the first place. Of course he loves them, they fascinate him with their looks and symbolism and intelligence and adaptability. But... why did they one day just become so present? He's ""too fuckin dumb"" to think of why, so he doesn't bother. He just enjoys them.

Which brings me to another point. Oh my god is this man allergic to willingly sitting down and confronting huge potentially life-changing shit, especially stressful and negative big shit. Look what he did with the possession. He pretends he does not see it until it's too late, which backfires often.

His interest, if you can call it that, in [not super high stakes] combat developed once he met Techno. As he honed those skills, he applied his agility and the knowledge he had of movement from all his flying to it. He is a Very flexible, graceful fighter.

In general, he's very attuned to his body, both because of what he's had to learn in order to fly, as well as being careful in Hardcore. His self-control is fantastic.

In one of the first few headcanon sets I made, I said Phil fears lacking control of himself. That not only goes for autonomy, but physical control of himself too. It originates from all his falling and being grounded against his will. It's another reason that Ender King not only possessing him, but taking away his wings in the end is such a brutal blow to him.

Kind of a given, but between being an explorer, and once he picked up that interest in crows and desperation to fly and stay airborne, he spent way more time outside than in. We crows see it present day, he really only goes in to sleep and to store things.

Kristin gave him boons, so to speak, such as his wings, when they initially met. She's also the reason he can understand the crows and actually speak to them. He built Brian because Brian makes it even easier for us to communicate with him, but generally speaking, he can still understand us even without Brian's aid.

[coinandcandle]

Hello, I'm the anon who asked about reading recs! I did respond back right away, but since you just asked for asks, I get the feeling Tumblr ate my ass 😄. In case it did, here it is again:

I'm trying to get my footing into witchcraft in general. I'd really like to start practicing, especially anything nature related, but I truly know nothing more than what you'd get scrolling through the tumblr tag. So I'm supposed I'm looking for a good starting place to learn my history around the practice (I know "the practice" is an incredibly broad way to describe it. But I don't know enough to be specific. I suppose anything that could give me a foundation to build from?) and something(s) that could help me dip my toes in for the first time. I've been watching everyone else swim in the pool for years, but I've never even touched the waters.

To simply put it, I'm trying to figure out the very beginning steps of witchery. I know I described everything broad and vague, but I don't really know enough to be more specific 😅

(if Tumblr didn't eat my ask and you haven't responded to my ask for any other reasons, no worries! I'm certainly in no rush)

Omg hello! No tumblr didn't eat you but I was waiting on some responses from friends who I asked for reading recs and my draft box DID eat your ask lol. Thank you for following up with my ADHD-addled ass!! <3

The good news is to start you just kinda jump in. I'm not saying throw yourself into the deep in but you can get your feet wet pretty easily.

Unfortunately during my beginner years most of the published books available were heavily soaked in Wiccan ideology which is absolutely not my vibe and not something I think people should start out with since there's a twisted history to it that you have to unwind but I see why people are attracted to it--it's structured in a way that solitary practice isn't.

I found my start online, honestly, then followed my gut to see where it took me next. All that said;

Here are some recs from me and my buddies:

Magic in the Middle Ages by Richard Kieckhefer (History)

Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits by Emma Wilby (History)

Popular Magic by Owen Davies (History)

Grimoires: A history of magic books by Owen Davies (History)

Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World by John G. Gager (History)

The Crooked Path by Kelden (Traditional Witchcraft)

13 pathways by Daniel Schulke (Occult Herbalism)

A Deed Without a Name by Lee Morgan (Witchcraft)

Of Witchcraft and Whimsy by Rose Orriculum (Witchcraft)

Grovedaughter Witchery by Bree NicGarran (Witchcraft)

Queering Your Craft by Cassandra Snow* (Witchcraft + queer)

Condensed Chaos by Phil Hine* (Chaos magic)

Outside the Charmed Circle by Misha Magdalene* (Witchcraft)

Sacred Gender by Ariana Serpentine (Witchcraft + queer)

Kitchen Table Magic by Melissa Cynova* (Witchcraft)

*Queering Your Craft and Kitchen Table Magic are that they both feel more basic, Condensed Chaos is more of a "102" type book for chaos magic specifically, and Outside the Charmed Circle is strongly Wiccan in influence but brings up some very interesting topics and ideas. (Note from Jasper)

Make sure to keep an open mind and take no one's word as law when it comes to witchcraft and magic. Take in the information and come up with your own conclusions based on your experiences! :>

Thanks to @windvexer , @stagkingswife, @jasper-pagan-witch, and @rose-colored-tarot for help with the recommendations!

Feel free to comment or reblog with your own suggestions!

[dungeonmalcontent]

So, I'd like to showcase a few things that I've put on DMsGuild because there's a whole lot more now.

I want to start off with Grimdark & Dangerous. Follower turnover is pretty high on Tumblr, and people go inactive pretty quick. So many people that see this will not be familiar with G&D. It was a huge project for me and I am very proud of it.

Grimdark & Dangerous is a 5e d&d homebrew book available for purchase on DMsGuild for $19.99. It comes as a PDF (for now) and is 159 pages of content geared towards gritty aesthetics. You can follow this link to see my full post on the book or the DMsGuild page here. It has a lot of content and is more than worth the price tag.

While G&D is my biggest item on DMsGuild, I have a nice handful of middle sized docs as well. These are mostly pay what you want (PWYW) titles and quite old. They are also more prone to errors and unintelligible text (where I just started writing and went into a stupor and created something I no longer fully understand).

+ Ancient Artifice Primer for Modern Practitioners (PWYW) - A magic item crafting system which can allow players to create magic items with some degree of value based balancing. It doesn't cover as much as it should in my opinion and is one of those unintelligible texts. However, I do still appreciate my very limited world-building of early runic magic and early graphic design work.

+ Better Backgrounds: 5e Character Building Alternative (PWYW) - A short book on how players can build characters without relying on race based ability score increases. I built on this premise in Grimdark & Dangerous and I'm still quite proud of how I did it in Better Backgrounds. This is a much rougher document than G&D and the writing has a handful of errors, but still decent.

+ The Inheritor: An Artifact and Exploration Class (PWYW) - A homebrew class option. I always say that if you want to play in a game and have a strong connection to the setting, run vestiges (Critical Role), or have a complex backstory this is the class for you. Inheritor characters come with a prebuilt artifact which functions as a growing magic item. You get to customize the item and there is a lot of variability to what your item can do (also includes a modular builder if you aren't very creative). Still pretty proud of this.

+ Mystic Revised (PWYW) - A full remake of the mystic UA class using my own opinions of what it should be. It's based, roughly, on the Nen system in Hunter x Hunter. It's a pretty fun class, but is not very mystic/psionic-y.

+ An Outcast's Notes on the Plane of Pensos - A Planar Adventure Setting for 5e (PWYW) - Don't pay money for this one unless you really genuinely love it. It's an outline and not worth much (IMO). Technically, it can't really even be sold on DMsGuild because it constitutes a homebrew setting (which they don't allow). I created it because I ran (and still do run) this setting and figured it could be a fun thing to share.

+ Plague Pestilence Parasite (PWYW) - A disease book that introduces new mechanics for how contagious diseases spread and how they can be integrated into 5e adventure settings. It also includes a handful of new diseases of varying danger (not all of which are actually threats to player characters). Still a decent book, though I now recognize it lacks some clear writing and has a handful of errors (I may come back and redo this book at some point).

+ Plague Pestilence Parasite: Avolakia Overrun (PWYW) - I don't think I'm really fit to write actual adventure modules, and this book is why. It is an adventure module written to use the rules in Plague Pestilence Parasite. It is still technically an open beta test. It's not unplayable, but I don't think it represents an adventure that players would latch on to (feel free to prove me wrong).

+ The Emissary: An Extraplanar Class (PWYW) - One of my first docs. It's a homebrew class heavily inspired by the Fate/Stay series (has nothing to do with any of the core themes/tropes/abilities of any Fate title) and is actually way more fun than it may sound. The premise: you get a little pocket dimension to store things in and it gives you a variety of powers (the ability to make a little nature preserve, become an auto-crafter, or be Gilgamesh in UBW and launch items at people).

Then there are smaller docs. These are moderately more expensive than most of my short docs (will list those later) but have a significant amount more content than my short docs. These are more recent docs and I generally have higher opinions of them because I was more skilled when I made them.

+ Grimdark Puzzles ($5) - An extension of the themes present in Grimdark & Dangerous. This document contains three (technically 5-6 depending on how you think about it) puzzles that present unique puzzles with dark aesthetics. I really like this doc.

+ From the Dwarven Vault ($1.50) - An item collection themed for dwarven cultures. This does rely a lot on dwarven stereotypes in fantasy, but I did get to bring in some fun things (like burial armor and the DUBA) that I think most people would really appreciate having in their games for lore and aesthetics. Also includes some content for rune carving.

+ From the Elven Vault ($1.50) - Like FTDV, this is a collection of items themed for elves. However, this one is a bit different. While Dwarves are smiths and warriors, elves are crafters. Not just of metal, but most mediums and particularly with mediums that take a great deal of time. If you like crafting in campaigns (if artificer is your favorite class), you want to take a look here because I added in crystal singing and there are three new sets of artisan's tools.

+ Lich Minions: A Lair Building Guide ($2.50) - I really liked making this doc and I am very happy with it. This is a guide for making lairs when your BBEG is a lich. It includes a variety of undead themed minions and how they fit into a lich's minion hierarchy. Each minion has some unique difference from their generic variety or are outright unique, they all have stat blocks. This is a really good resource if you want to do a short dungeon run campaign or a siege campaign. I plan on making more docs like this and I really enjoy this format.

Finally, I have my short docs (there's a lot of these). For simplicity I'll break these into two sub-categories: "Encounter With" and "Subclass".

The “encounter with” docs are short docs that include information on a unique or updated monster, a specific NPC, or a type of NPC. Each is given a stat block, has an outline of what kind of hazards are in the same area as this creature, and lists what kind of loot you might be able to gather from encountering this monster. These encounters include:

+ Archchancellor Ensiid

+ Dracolich Gollryn

+ The Athach

+ The Beholdra

+ The Boom Goblin

+ The Chaos Beast

+ The Destrachan

+ The Drow Paleweaver

+ The Introspective Terror

+ The Lifeblood Magus

+ The Musclemancer

+ The Non-Phaneron Beast (note the cover of this doc is intentional, as the beast does not have a visible form)

+ The Pale Widow

+ The Silkscale Coiler

+ The Soliptic Nightmare

+ The Sunken Effigy

+ The Venomous Plesiodrake

+ The Werewolf Lord

(I feel like I'm missing one...). All encounters have a $0.50 or $0.75 price tag depending on if the encounter features an original or converted stat block.

The subclasses are just that, subclass docs. I really love making subclasses and I try not to burn out on them because I have so many subclass WIPs I want to do. These subclasses include:

+ Druid: Circle of the Grove (Plant druid. Why doesn't this exist already?)

+ Druid: Circle of Witchcraft (Discworld witches, love this one)

+ Fighter: Blade Drifter (I just want to link a song from the Sonic Riders franchise here, but they're all so corny)

+ Ranger: Hell Skulker (nine hells/abyss ranger, also really like this one)

+ Warlock: The Greatwyrm (DRAGON PATRON! Why doesn't this exist already?)

These subclasses all have a $0.75 price tag. I will probably be making a lot more of these, they just take a bit longer than the encounter docs.

[eggcompany]

Heart to Heart and Back Again Part 1

Count Julian Pankratz, a chronically ill man who has more love than he knows what to do with with his short life. That was until he met his new nursemaid, a mysterious new man in town, Geralt. They grow to love each other, each thriving off each other, each learning to love, to live, to truly feel alive because of each other. Geralt had been around for so long he didn't even know he could love. Julian had been convinced no one would ever love him. Soulmates, they were crafted for each other at their very cores.

But unfortunately destiny had other plans. Julian gets sick, he grows weaker and weaker, and he leaves Geralt. The white haired man doesn't know what to do with his empty heart, empty hands, and wish only to bring his one love back.

There was only one person for him in life. Julian. And he was dead.

Or is he...? One stranger's trek up a mountain a few hundred years later might just change Geralt's mind.

“I can stand, good first impressions.” Julian said as he leaned heavily on his cane. He waited for the door to open for the new nursemaid. He shooed the maid away once she dropped off some food, she laughed at him and made her way through the side doors. He was leaning on his cane trying to get other the pain that was dragging at the base of his back. 

The door did open and he was shaking, straining, heart starting to speed up. 

“Hello, welcome, hurry up and shake my hand before I pass out. Thank you” he said quickly and grabbed the man’s huge hand in his own and then sat back down in his wheelchair. He started getting some big breaths in trying to get his heart to slow back down. 

He then took in the man’s looks. He was large, strong looking, had silver nearly white hair, golden eyes, and his clothes were dirty. He was extremely handsome where his hair hung over his forehead and was held back by a small black tie. 

“It’s an honor to serve you count.” He said and bowed which Julian shushed and waved his hand at. 

“Oh pish posh, now come sit down with me. I had Lizzy bring up some really good stuff. She's a witch in the kitchen, literally but also she cooks so well I’ve cried. I personally have a sweet tooth but also I love eggs scrambled or omelets, those are French. Do you eat eggs?” Julians asked and wheeled himself over to his breakfast table, only one other chair at the table. 

Geralt was confused but followed him awkwardly standing by the table before Julian leaned over and patted the seat and removed the cloches from their plates. There were two plates of scrambled eggs, some pan fried meat, small loaves of bread, and a cup of something melted and spiced looking. 

“Do you not eat eggs? We have a large coop and a lot of livestock on the estate, feel free to explore as you please. I personally would love to get back there to see the sheep, I’ve always loved them.” Julian said as he picked up a fluffy spiced egg and popped it into his mouth smiling at Geralt. He hoped the man would stay, he felt some kind of… change in himself at just the sight of the man. Something ws changing in his heart. 

Geralt, who sat down, remained confused. There’s a plate set in front of him but… why? What? He’d heard of the “Flower” of the rich estate family but… the weak shaky young man wasn’t what he’d imagined. He’d been around for a very long time and he’d yet to meet someone like Julian. 

Julian stared at him waiting but then shook his head and looked down. Soft smile on his lips and kindness running pure in his eyes. 

“Dig in my friend, I’m a lonely man, I treat my servants well. I don’t expect you to stay for the rest of my life, I don’t expect you to feel loyalty to me. I only request you be kind. So in return for your kindness, you have free rein of the estate. Choose a room for yourself, no matter where, make food to your taste, slaughter what you please, grow what you please, just include me please.” Julian said in a sad voice that hurt Geralt's heart. He was just a boy, a kid wanting someone to play with him. 

He’d never met a count as… souled as Julian. He thought he’d be a chamber maid to some priss, to clean and be quiet. He’d never met someone so… honest and full of humanity's best quality, compassion and companionship, friendship and love. 

Geralt should have known Julian would be good. The other servants seemed happy, like a community. All chatting as they worked, some laughing and others humming tunes as they did their business leisurely. 

He was confused, though. Why? 

“Count-” He started just for Julian to groan and shake his head. 

“Julian, please.” The boy said and took another bite of food. He hated being called ‘ count’ ; it made him feel old. 

“Julian, why? Why share your wealth?” Geralt asked and watched the boy drink from a cup it looked like... milk? What wealthy person didn't drink wine with their meals?

"My father brought home a sickness, when I was younger. He gave it to my entire family, my mother, my sisters, me. They all slowly died around me. And I survived. Why? My father was one of the wealthiest counts in this entire land. My sisters were more beautiful than precious gems, my mother had acres and acres of land. I was the youngest, and most uninterested in growing our wealth and taking on more land. Why did I survive if not to share? One day I will die, I can't produce an heir, who will take care of me? Who will make sure I am happy in my final days? Who will take over this home? I'm a creature of society, Geralt, dear, I surround myself with good company. I surround myself with friends . I think you're supposed to be nice and share with your friends." Julian said and leaned forward against the table, smiling, and Geralt was shaking his head. Astonished. He was just a kid, poetic words made from a luxury life. 

"Are you quick to befriend someone like me? You have no idea where I've been, where I'm from, what I've done. Why do you welcome me like a long lost friend?" Geralt asked and Julian was huffed and laughed as his eyes glittered. He looked right at Geralt’s face, cheeks chubby and joy coursing through him. Geralt felt a bit younger himself, his boulders lifting slightly from his shoulders just meeting the kid. 

"You are my long lost friend. I can feel it here in my heart. We are meant to be together, our destinies entwined. Like soup!” Julian said and broke out in a big smile, hands coming to grab Geralt’s across the table. Geralt didn’t pull his hands back but he was nervous until Julian squeezed their hands together. Julian looked right in his eyes, solidifying how serious he was. 

“Now!" The boy said and dropped his silverware and clapped his hands together. Geralt watched him curiously. Julian rubbed his hands together excitedly. 

"Have you ever had a honey cake baked with pork fat instead of butter?" Julian asked and lifted the glass cloche off the small cake that had been sitting to the side. His bottom lip was caught in his smile, a hunger filling his eyes that Geralt only ever seen in brothels. 

"Pork fat instead of butter?" Geralt asked and Julian was quick to cut him a large piece and put it on a separate plate, handing it to him before getting a big piece for himself. 

"Yes! It'll make you cream your trousers, I've never had anything better. Now, you're being rude by not eating so dig in before I start crying." Julian said and shoved a big bite into his mouth. Geralt thought he was funny, the way the boy’s cheeks puffed out and crumbs stuck to his soft looking lips. 

Geralt lifted it up and sniffed it before taking a bite. He moaned and chewed, looking at the boy’s smug look.  It was… incredible. Sweet and indulgent and fattening oily and rich. Something Geralt hadn’t tasted since his days of stealing from royals as a young man. 

"I told you!" the boy said and they ate in silence. Until Julian leaned back in his chair, rubbing his belly, he wasn’t very round just kinda… plush. Like a feather pillow or fresh baked buns. 

He watched Geralt eat like a man starved, looking a bit starved. He hated seeing hungry people. That’s why when he went into town he made sure to fill his pockets with sweets for the kids. He liked Geralt, the way he shoved food into his mouth and flashed his eyes around like a feral dog. He had nice hair and big hands and looked strong under his tattered clothes. 

"It's a nice day out today. My last nurse, she would put me out on the balcony usually. She wasn't a considerably strong woman, usually she'd call the yard boy, Edwin, to carry me down the stairs if I needed to be on the floor of the estate. I do miss being able to be around the animals. I rather like them." Julian said and laughed and shook his head. He hadn't been able to see the animals in years since his last nurse couldn't really wheel him out in the dirt. When he was a child he liked to go run around in the sheep pens, petting them and feeding them and feeling their soft noses. He did miss it terribly… 

Geralt swallowed the large bit of egg and bread that was in his mouth and wiped his face with his sleeve. He didn’t much care about manners. He had them, just didn’t use them. 

"I could take you, easily. Even if I had to pick your chair up, it wouldn't be very hard." He said and was almost blinded by how bright Julian’s smile was. 

"Oh that would be wonderful. Not today though, today I think you need a tour and to get a good wash up and perhaps we can find you some clothes that fit you better. Perhaps we wear the same!" Julian said giddily. He loved sharing, clothes, food, anything. But it would be so fun to dress Geralt up, maybe do his hair, polish his nails, all the things that Julian loved to do. All the pampering things. 

Geralt nodded, blush burning under his skin. He couldn't imagine how... dirty he must seem. He’d not been able to buy new clothes since his own had been stolen. He didn’t think to try and scrub the stains from his clothes before coming, assuming he’d just be put to work without meeting the head of the house. 

"I apologize for my appearance I-" Geralt started to apologize, nerves ebbing into his voice. He knew most wealthy people hated the look of dirty clothes in such a pristine home. Julian just waved him off, thin hand pale, nails shiny. 

"Nonsense, If I could I'd be rolling in the mud half my days. I love the outdoors, the fresh air, I’d adore just one more walk through the orchard... but we all live life as we can. We have a large bath downstairs or you are welcome to pick a room and we can manage a bath in there for you. Though downstairs I hear is the best for baths." Julian said and smiled, he would love to go downstairs and see everyone. 

Most of the people who worked never really made it up to Julian room. Usually leaving the young count to himself and his nurse and even then she was usually preparing his medicine and his bed and such. Sometimes they’d come by to show him something or ask if they could do something with the house. Bringing him fresh fruit from the orchard or asking to repaint the lattice. He’d like it more if he could actually go see them all and talk with them, be a part of their day to day, but… well he was okay with how things were. 

Geralt nodded and stood up, dusting the crumbs off himself. 

"Do you want to give me a tour?" Geralt asked, and Julian was glad to be pushed about, cane held between his knees. He wasn't strong enough to walk but he stood for a moment a few times. He liked being able to see the house, he told stories from when his sister painted on the walls and how he once climbed onto the roof to scare his mother but instead fell and landed on her. 

Geralt smiled and listened intently, helping Julian to sit back down when he started to tremble. He enjoyed the flowery and detailed way Julian described everything, as if he was writing a poem as he spoke. Each detail being told like it held the whole story together, words mixing like perfume in the air. Geralt liked it. 

----

Geralt liked living beside the Count. He easily found a place in the home, the room next to Julian’s own. He found a schedule and stepped easily to it. He found out that most clothes Julian wore he could fit into also, though a bit snug on the shoulders. 

It was easy day to day. 

He would wake up with the sun, wash his face, comb his hair, go down to the kitchen and find something to eat, usually eating some dried meat from a very old dusty box in the pantry. He’d get dressed in a nice outfit, a coat, shined shoes, clothes too rich for someone like him. He’d go wake up Julian by knocking lightly on the door, and going to the large cushy bed and finding one of Julian’s fragile hands. 

Julian warned him that he slept heavy and that he also bruised easily so a good shake to a shoulder would… not be the best option. So Geralt would find a pale hand and give it a good squeeze and some gentle rubs and Julian would be yawning and blinking awake. 

“Oh good morning, dear, how did you sleep?”

“Good morning Geralt, dear, have you eaten?”

“Mornin’ Grlt, I feel a bit drunk still, are you hungry?”

“Good morning, dear” 

Julian always had to welcome Geralt to the day. Always had something to grumble out first thing, always started the day with words. And each day Geralt felt closer and closer, he started sitting on the edge of the boy’s bed to hold his hand before waking him up. 

Each day Julian would marvel at Geralt, telling him that somehow just seeing his ‘pretty golden eyes’ made him feel better. Julian would tell Geralt about the books he’d read, play his harp or his lute when he could, sometimes he’d ask Geralt to bring him things. Sometimes it was puzzles, or chess. Geralt found Julian was a very very good chess player but he preferred checkers. 

And his dolls. Julian had a mountain of beautifully crafted dolls. Some were wood, others glass, others porcelaine. Julian had a story for each one, where it was from, who got it for him, when he got it, everything. Julian loved his dolls, he had a few that had on simpler outfits that he occasionally liked to carry around with him when he was feeling especially bad. He liked to brush their hair and put different outfits on them. He knew all their names, Amice, Joy, and Helewis being his favorites. Those three sat by his bed and often in his bed and were often moved around and carried. 

Geralt never really had toys but when a fever delusional Julian placed a doll in his lap and told him to take care of her, well damn it he was going to figure it out. Geralt learned that you have to be careful when combing their hair and how you have to dress them so they don’t break and how to clean them when you drop a cup of tea on them. He learned how to keep them nice but also love them. 

Each day Geralt spent with the boy, each day he heard the rumbly good morning, each day he ate three meals with him, each day he helped the boy into the warm tub, each day Geralt felt like he had never before. Warm and happy and his heart… his heart felt full . And it was all because of Julian. 

----

"Geralt? Would you please get me something to eat? I'm feeling oddly hungry." Julian said as he sat down from where he had been standing against the rail of the balcony. Somehow he felt... better today. He yelled hello to Edwin who was working in the garden and had been able to walk from his bed to the balcony. He had been feeling better each day it seemed these last few months. He’d been up more that was for sure. Geralt often told him that the sun would help him but also that the balcony was boring. So he was down, being rolled through the gardens or being pushed to the end of the driveway, laughing at the way the rocks bounced him around, or he was being carried down the stairs and sat at the large dining table to socialize with the servants. 

Geralt really did help him.

Julian wasn’t usually embarrassed but he felt more comfortable asking for help with certain things. He no longer struggled to wash himself, simply asking Geralt to wash his back or help rinse the soap off his skin, he didn’t feel shy asking for the bedpan or hurrying to the bathroom, Geralt would simply put him there. He felt easy saying that he didn’t want to wear pants to bed or that it was warm and he didn't want to wear a shirt in the bedroom. 

He was just… content and happy with Geralt. The stoic man’s short comments and quiet nature. It was comfortable. 

"Do you want me to make you some eggs?” Geralt offered from where he was sipping tea in the sun, opposite from where Julian sat at the small table. The boy smiled and looked over at his friend. 

“That sounds perfect, dear” Julian answered and Geralt was slow to finish his tea and stand up, walking away only to turn back. 

“Come on, I’m taking you with me.” He said and soon Julian was in his chair being carried down the stairs. 

He felt… alive. Warm, welcomed, happy, alive. 

-----

"Geralt here gives me strength. Now, let me pour you all a drink. Do not help me." Julian ordered as he stood up from the head of the table. He left his cane behind, instead picking up a quite heavy brass pitcher. Eleven people. He just had to pour eleven drinks. 

He’d been feeling better and better, each day he saw Geralt, each day that he saw everyone and got to do something fun, he just felt stronger. 

Geralt had been bundling him up and taking him out into the snow, or at least getting him out into the patio. Julian had even made a little snowman, and Geralt had never felt happier sneaking out at night to make a whole group of snowmen, right under the balcony so Julian could see them. He had even given them little leaf hats made from old cabbage. 

Geralt was the fuel that kept Julian trying. Kept the boy from wasting away in bed. Even on the worse days Geralt would at least bring him the little dolls and keep busy nearby. 

Everyone knew it too. That’s why when Julian proposed they all have a nice big winter feast together, they all knew Geralt would be picking at them all. ‘ Be on time’ ‘Show up’ ‘Don’t help him’, That was the oddest thing. Geralt went around telling everyone not to help Julian at all. 

Now they knew why. The count wanted to show his strength and independence. 

A few of them held their cups up to the spout to make it a bit easier as he shaked heavily with each pour. His arms were aching by the time he got to the other end of the table. Geralt held his cup up for Julian who let the pitcher rest heavily against its rim, knowing Geralt wouldn’t let the pitcher fall. 

Finally as he fell back into his chair, pitcher set hastily against the table, tears streamed down his face, he smiled and nodded, fixing his posture. 

"Goodness me, Geralt's cured me hasn't he." Julian joked as his body shook and hurt horrible and tears streamed down his face from both pain and joy. Everyone clapped and raised their glasses to him. It was a good thing, to see the count so happy, so active. It was a good thing to see. 

Even as he tried to pick up his cup only to have it drop from his hand and splash over the rim a bit. 

"To my friends, who share their strength with me, who's companionship gives me life." Julian said, voice shaking. He smiled and they all raised their glasses, cheering a bit before digging into the feast laid across the table. 

The dinner went on for hours, stories shared freely about travels and chance meetings. Some stories about even the darkest of margics, Julian was enthralled. He laughed and ate and drank and enjoyed the warmth of family around him. A warmth that he had only felt the barest of with his actual family now burn warm and white around him. He stayed until everyone else retired to their rooms, except Geralt who cleaned up. 

The alcohol sparked enough confidence in himself that he started to walk to his own room, he made it halfway to the stairs before Geralt had an arm around his waist. 

“Come on, princess. Up to bed with you.” Geralt rumbled, he was dead on his feet and Julian had run off on him. Julian was happy to be picked up and carried against Geralt’s chest, a much more intimate pose than how Geralt usually carried him in his chair. 

Julian giggled and hugged onto Geralt’s strong broad shoulders. 

“Are you the dashing prince that’s come to save me? I didn’t know I was so lucky.” Julian giggled as Geralt carried him up the stairs. The boy was dead asleep by the time he was being laid gently onto his bed. Geralt just watched him, his soft face relaxed, his chest rising and falling slowly. 

Geralt let himself indulge and petted through the soft chestnut hair that fell across the boy’s face. Geralt let himself enjoy the moment for just a second longer before gently stripping Julian of his day clothes and pulling on his thick winter pajamas and tucking him in under the thick blankets. 

“Gerlt? Geralt, are you here?” Julian asked sleepily as he heard the fire being built up for the night. Geralt hummed. 

“Yes, Julian?” He said softly, in a way that had Julian smiling into the darkness. The boy snuggled back into his bed, warm and full and a little drunk. 

“Nothing, just wanted to say thank you. Goodnight dear, I love you.” Julian said before rolling onto his side and falling fast asleep. 

Geralt was a statue. I love you . Geralt felt struck by lightning. Because… well…

“I love you too, Julian.” 

----

“Geralt are you- have you- have you ever-” Julian tried to ask one night as he read through one of his more dirty novels, it was french, of course. 

Geralt was scrubbing the wine out of some shirts, it was a hot day out and Julian had knocked over the whole pitcher. Geralt was shirtless, sitting by the wash basin in nothing but a pair of light pants. Julian just… well he didn’t really know. He was feeling… a certain way. 

“What was that?” Geralt asked as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked over at Julian who was under the simple musin sheet, book held up so only his eyes were visible.

“Have you ever… are you a virgin?” Julian finally asked, voice turning squeaky. Geralt raised a brow at him and huffed a laugh. 

“I am not. I haven’t been for a long time. Why?” Geralt responded and went back to scrubbing, knowing Julian was a bit… timid when it came to anything sexual. He’d once said he’d been betrothed to a young countess when he was born but she’d left him when his family passed. And that he hadn’t had a girlfriend since. 

“I was um… I was just wondering. Um cause, oh you know, um… because I am.” Julian said, eyes just peaking over the top of his book. Geralt nodded, not looking at him. 

“I know.” Is all Geralt responded with. He was curious, of course, but he knew Julian was sensitive about his sexuality, or rather his lack thereof.  

“Is it… did you have sex w…with a girl?” Julian asked, hoping he wasn’t chasing Geralt away. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping; he just… he wanted to know. 

“I’ve had sex with girls, yes.” Geralt answered, his back was facing the boy now. Geralt grinned, it was just like talking to his younger brothers. Julian was just a young man, not really a count, just a teenager who wanted to know about sex. 

“Oh… have you… um… just girls?” Julian asked quietly, face burning up. He waited, staring at Geralt’s strong back, spattered with odd scars and marks. Geralt was so… fetching to look at. Strong and solid and confident and… handsome. All over handsome. Julian would bet his cock was handsome, too. 

Julian shook his head, getting that thought away from him when Geralt turned around. Now facing him, Geralt let a small smile grace his lips as he shook his head with a sigh. 

“No, not just girls. Why? Do girls not… interest you?” Geralt phrased carefully. Julian swallowed and shook his head from where he still hid behind his book. Geralt nodded with a hum and kept his eyes on Julian. He let his head cocked to the side, giving the boy a look. 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to like girls. Do you like anyone ?” Geralt asked, head tilted like a curious cat. He tried not to smile at the way Julian’s eyes flitted around the room from where they peaked over the book. 

“I um… I might.” Julian said, trying to sound confident in himself like Geralt did. He failed miserably though, ending up squeaking like a bad hinge. Geralt nodded and went back to scrubbing shirts. 

“Good.” Is all Geralt said before they fell back into a compioned silence. Julian went back to his book not really reading the kissing scene anymore, rather thought about Geralt… oh Geralt. 

------

“Geralt, do you…. Can I sit with you?” Julian asked as he made his way out to the balcony. He was leaning on his cane waiting. Geralt was confused, Julian never asked to sit in his own chair at his own table on his own balcony. 

“Go ahead?” Geralt said in a confused way but was soon letting out an exacerbated chuckle. Julian flopped down in his lap, legs thrown over the arm of the chair. He wasn’t a very heavy boy, not even half of Geralt's own weight. 

“Hmm, so much more comfortable.” Julian hummed and laid his head against Geralt’s shoulder, he loved the springtime. 

He loved how the sun was warm and the breeze was cool and how nice his heavy pants felt when they got warm from the sun but his light shirt kept him nice and cool. He loved how Geralt would pick him flowers and how the bees and butterflies were coming back slowly. He loved how in that moment spring meant that Geralt would sit on the balcony and read and had an open lap to sit on. 

Geralt set his book on the table, letting his arms wrap around the boy. He let his head fall to the side, laying against the top of Julian’s. It was… nice. 

“You’re heavy.” He said and Julian giggled and let his hand rest against Geralt’s chest, feeling the strong muscle hidden under his shirt. 

“You’re warm.” Julian said and snuggled deeper into Geralt, taking in big deep breaths of his smell, Geralt smelled a bit like horse but he always did and he smelled like dirt and blood and sweat and well… Julian liked it. Geralt smelled like living life and journey, it was nice. 

They sat there like that, basking in the warm sun, enjoying the company of each other, in silence. They each enjoyed it, both enjoying the feeling of another person pressed against them, both feeling calm companionship calming them both down to their bones. The breeze in the treetops, the birds chirping happily, quiet noise, the only small buzz of nature being the only sound around them. 

Silence though, was never Julian’s thing. At least not after his legs had fallen asleep and his heart hurt and his eyes watered. He sniffed but held still, still against Geralt’s strong body, eyes dancing across the horizon as the sun sank beyond the mountains. 

“You know Geralt… I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Here, now, right here with you, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” Julian said as tears flooded from his eyes. He turned and hid his face in the soft dark fabric of Geralt’s shirt, hand clutching where it had laid. 

Geralt just hugged him, holding him against his chest, hands rubbing up and down his trembling back. Julian was so emotional, always saying flowery things and crying and laughing and… having such big emotions. Feelings always upfront. So unlike Geralt. 

“I’m happy here, with you, too.” Geralt said, truth heavy in his voice. Julian huffed a laugh and wiggled so he was sitting up looking right into Geralt’s eyes. Julian’s blue eyes glimmered like diamonds, eyes rimmed red from crying. He flung his legs around so he was straddling Geralt as a serious look painted his face. 

“You’re happy here with me?” He asked, hands coming up to rub at his face but his eyes kept on Geralt’s. Geralt let his hands rest on Julian’s hips, causing the boy to gasp and buck back away from him before relaxing. Julian’s mouth was hung open, breaths thin and faster than usual. Geralt looked him up and down and hoped he wasn’t reading the boy wrong. 

“I’m very happy here Julian. I’m very happy being with you. You make me happy, Julian.” He said quietly, barely above a whisper. He didn’t want to risk leaning the few inches forward it would take to press his lips to Julian’s own. But he craved to just get a little taste, a tiny kiss, just to get the smallest. 

Julian smiled and put his hands on the sides of Geralt’s face. Squishing his cheeks. 

“Do you mean it?” Julian asked and stared into Geralt’s golden eyes, like he could see the truth if he just looked hard enough. Geralt moved his hands to pull Julians away from his face and held them in his own. 

“Julian?” Geralt said softly and let his hands warm the thin cold ones within them. Julian swallowed and looked down at his lips before looking back into his eyes. 

“Yeah?” Julian breathed out, his heart racing in his chest when he realized how they were sitting. They were…. So close. 

Geralt leaned in, tilting his head to the side just a bit, warm breath cascading over Julian’s lips and cheeks. Geralt let his eyes fall closed and his nose rub against Julian’s. He opened his eyes after only a moment, lids heavy as his body became warmer with want. 

“‘M gonna kiss you now” He warned and Julian was nodding needily. He pressed his lips gently, so so carefully against Julian’s own. 

Julian was… not a bad kisser. Eager, pushy, but… soft and tender. Lips staying shut, just easy pushes and movements. Geralt’s hands fell down to his hips, only to squeeze gently and run up and down Julian’s soft sides. Julians own hands found their way to Geralt’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. 

His eyes were tightly squeezed shut when they pulled back. Lips kissed red and plump where he was breathing shakily. He was panting from chaste, closed mouth kisses?

Cute, Geralt thought. 

Julian opened his eyes, rimmed with tears, and grasped Geralt’s jaw. He looked into Geralt’s eyes, glowing like fire in the sunset’s light. He felt like his heart was beating out of his chest and his head was getting light but he wanted to kiss Geralt more. He felt like he could cry with how happy he was, he was nearly crying with how much love he felt. 

“I’m gonna faint. But I wanna, wanna… will you put me to bed?” Julian said as his eyes started getting a bit fuzzy. Geralt was calm and gentle as he just stared at Julian’s bright blushed face. The boy just looked sleepy and rested his head against Geralt’s shoulder, hands falling into his lap. 

“I’ll put you to bed, Julek, little bird, come on.” Geralt whispered more to himself than the unconscious boy as he carried him back into the house, back to bed. 

Geralt busied himself around. Making a small fire, sweeping the floors, lighting the candles, bringing up fresh water to make tea, and he sat and watched Julian sleep, snuggled up under the covers. 

----

They shared more kisses, Julian falling into Geralt’s lap asking for a few sweet kisses or to just sit and eat together or he’d just nap in Geralt’s lap. 

Geralt was always grateful to have the other man near, chatting incessantly about anything from music to animals to pictures he’s seen of the far east. He liked to hear the boy explain how a new poet was rising a few townships over and that he was as senseless as headless chicken, or how there’s a new author and his books are written so well it’s like you’re actually standing amongst the jungles, hearing the monkeys, swimming under the waterfalls. 

Julian would go on and on, sitting on Geralt’s lap, sometimes a blanket thrown over them. Sometimes they would sit on the balcony in a large wicker chair that Geralt had brought up from the library downstairs. Sometimes Geralt would help Julian out to the garden and they’d sit on the grass together, cuddled in the sun. Other times Julian would be so weak that they simply sat very close next to each other, feet touching or hands holding. 

And each morning Geralt would make sure to clean his mouth and chew some mint before Julian was awake. Because each morning Geralt would sit on the edge of the bed, rub Julian’s hand in his own, and tell the boy it was time to start the day. And each morning Julian would pull Geralt down, usually by a hand on his jaw, and press a kiss to his lips. 

“Good morning dear, you look lovely.”

“Good morning, darling”

“‘Morning, lovely, please close the curtains”

Every morning Julian would give him a kiss and welcome Geralt to the day. Each morning Julian opened his eyes and pressed a kiss to him, Geralt was more than just awake, he was alive. Each morning Julian brought him back to life, restarted his heart, brought breath into his lungs. 

----

"Geralt? Will you come here to me?" Julian asked as he laid in bed, body aching and heavy. Ever since Julian's fall, Geralt would stay in the room until Julian was asleep. 

The boy had gotten up after he’d said his goodnights to Geralt. He’d been feeling well, very well, so he thought he might just go downstairs and find a cookie or two and head right back to bed, right back to bed!

However after a day of playing checkers and playing his harp and going down to play the piano while the servants cleaned and worked, he was not as strong as he had been that day. 

He fell in the hallway, nearly falling down the stairs. His ankle had swollen up and he had terrible black bruises. Geralt had lectured him, marching back and forth in the room while Julian wept in bed, saying he was sorry and that he wouldn’t do it again. Geralt also brought a cookie jar up and set it on the mantle. 

But he also refused to go to his own room until Julian was asleep. So when Julian bathed and was ready for bed, Geralt bathed and got ready for bed. It was warm in the home now, no need to make fires at night, so Geralt would simply sit by the window, single candle light lit by the door, and wait until he could hear Julian’s soft snores. 

But tonight… Julian felt… something felt heavy in his chest. Perhaps it had something to do with the book he was reading or maybe it was that his one act of independence had landed him with a swollen ankle and a bruised backside. 

Geralt came over and knelt by the bed, holding Julian’s outstretched hand. Julian smiled at him, his eyes looked tired and he was pale. 

Today had been a very hot humid day, the hours taking their toll on everyone. Even the housemaid had left behind some layers, all citing that Julian would be just fine seeing their bare feet or their hair not under a cap. Julian had spent most of the day laying atop the sheets in bed in nothing but a pair of light linen pants. Now he was tucked under the sheets, pants traded for his nighty. 

Now he just looked… tired. The moonlight only working to make him look paler, his under eyes darker, his skin cooler. Geralt held his hand, the smooth soft skin feeling softer than air. 

"Come lay under the covers with me." The boy asked and Geralt looked into his eyes in surprise. Julian’s bed? It was… the boy barely kept his few dolls on his bed, yet he wanted something like Geralt to marr its appearance? 

"In your bed?" Geralt asked, bringing the soft hand up to rub his cheek against, eyes watching Julian’s as he rolled them and sighed dramatically. Such a dramatic boy. 

"Well? I'm cold and I feel weak and I want to feel close. Come lay under my blankets, come lay with me." Julian begged, eyes brimming with tears. Geralt kissed his hand and warmed it between his own. He shook his head a bit and slipped his shoes off his feet

"Okay, only because I don't want you to cry." He said and pulled his dark shirt off and folded it, leaving it behind in his chair when he climbed behind Julian in bed. 

The boy was staring. Geralt was… beautiful. Such pale skin, scars spattered across his body, muscles like the statues carved from marble. He looked like a character from one of Julian’s dirty novels, a real Adonis, all edges and strength and- 

“What’s wrong, love? Am I… I can go sleep in my own bed. I can take another bath.” Geralt offered before he touched the bed, noticing Julian staring so hard he could feel himself shrinking. Julian just blinked at him, big bright eyes filled with something… light. 

“You never told me you were the fairest flower in all the fields, that I might gp blind merely from a glance at you.” Julian muttered, pushing himself to sit up to get a better look at the scars that whipped across his abdomen and chest. He felt a bit dizzy with how his blood grew hot and swirled in his gut. Geralt was… unfair. So pretty, so perfect, how dare he ever wear clothes. 

Geralt huffed and looked away, a light flush finding its way to his face. Julian… always with flowery words and and… compliments. 

“Julian, go to bed.” Geralt said and climbed in behind the boy who rolled over to face the man. He was biting his bottom lip, hands brought up curiously but halted to wait a mere inch from Geralt’s chest. 

“Can I touch you? I’ve never seen you… bare.” Julian said, looking at Geralt with a kind of… wonder. Wonder of how another man would feel under his hands, how Geralt’s skin would feel, would his scars feel soft or are they tender still, how would Geralt react if he just snuggled close. 

Geralt sighed and nodded, looking away as his face burned up. Julian made a happy noise and let his hands gently lay on the other’s chest. Julian was taken aback, shocked. 

Geralt was so warm, and he felt so solid, and he was so… everything. Julian let his hands press and feel and explore across the miles of pale skin, fingers tracing across scars, feeling Geralt’s heartbeat in his chest. Julian laid there, staring where his hand pressed into Geralt’s chest, feeling each heartbeat as if it was his own. 

“I love you Geralt.” Julian whispered, he could barely tear his eyes away to look into the nearly glowing gold ones. Geralt smiled and let his own larger hand fall over Julian’s. 

“It’s late, it’s dark, it’s time for bed. Go to sleep, Julian.” Geralt whispered so sweetly and Julian was nodding along. He was so sleepy and Geralt was so warm and in his bed and it was… it was perfect. 

He cuddled in close, hiding himself away in Geralt’s chest, throwing an arm and leg over him. He let his eyes fall shut as he felt Geralt’s arm wrap around him, hand rubbing up and down his back. 

“You’re not allowed to wear clothes anymore, by the way.” Julian muttered into the soft skin of Geralt’s collarbone. Geralt huffed and gave Julian a squeeze. 

“Go to sleep, little bird.” Geralt said and soon Julian was drooling asleep, snores lulling Geralt into his own deep restful sleep. 

-----

"Geralt let me, let me walk. I can make it. I've been working on my stamina." Julian said as he stood up from his chair in the hallway. He gave his love a wink and got his cane under him. Geralt shook his head and allowed Julian to walk in front of him. 

Ever since they started sleeping in the same bed, they had both been getting much more sleep. Which meant Julian wanted to do everything together. They got up, got clean and fresh, dressed, and made their way down to eat with the rest of the household. Which meant going down the stairs. Which usually meant Geralt carrying Julian like a princess, or over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and then Julian sometimes walking in through the dining room doors. 

However today Julian had decided he would walk to breakfast. Well… walk to the stairs that is. He had been walking more, getting stronger, and he was feeling especially confident. 

"Sure thing, Julek, put your big girl panties on this morning?" Geralt teased and Julian blushed and didn't look at him. Geralt’s joking had grown from grunts to actual comments. And the nickname… It made Julian feel all soft and melty. 

Geralt was a Slov, Julian had learned, and he'd begun calling Julian ‘Julek’, others called him Jewel, and an older lady who came to the house on Geralt's call to see Julian's progress called him Jaskier but she also only spoke polish. But Julek , hearing Geralt’s gruff voice say the name, it made Julian feel like a new person, a new thing, something just created. 

“I sure did! And they fit me just fine!” Julian responded and took a steeling breath. 

Julian started walking down the hall finding it was easier than the last time he'd tried. Each step steady until nearly to the stairwell. His legs began to shake as he grabbed onto the railing, his heart was racing in his chest and his head felt a bit light. He was trying to take big deep breaths, but he felt like his chest was squeezing. 

Geralt was quick to put an arm around his waist, supporting him enough so he could catch his breath before scooping him up. Geralt gave him a I-told-you-so look and started walking down the stairs. 

"Yeah, eat shit, I still made it." Julian teased as Geralt grinned as they made it down to the dining room. 

-----

Loving was easy between them. Life was easy between them. 

They spent days sitting together in the sun. Geralt once set Julian out in the rain, giggling like a kid until he began to shiver a bit and then Geralt had a warm fire and a blanket to wrap around him. 

The summer was Julian’s favorite time of year. He loved the feeling of a sun warmed blanket and the scent of the gardens in full bloom. Geralt was there to bring him flowers and sit with him to watch the birds. 

Geralt didn’t care about the weather. He just loved seeing Julian so happy. He loved to tuck a flower behind his ear, he loved to trade him fresh apples and berries for kisses, he loved to go out in the rain to bring Julian a hydrangea bloom just to shake it over his head to give the boy a shower. 

Most of all he loved the way Julian laughed. Full and hearty like he had heard the funniest thing every time. He loved the way Julian smiled, bright and wonderful. He loved the way even when he was weak and sick Julian still gave Geralt shit and was a brat and gave sass. 

He loved Julian more than anything. 

And everyday Geralt was happy. Julian was happy. It was… good. Geralt had lived for a very long time and yet he’d never been so happy. 

They more often than not shared a bed, Julian cradled against Geralt's chest. During the warmer months Geralt would strip them both down to their sleep clothes. Julian sleeping in nearly see-through linen nighties and Geralt in a pair of soft pants and no underclothes. In the colder months Geralt would sleep in heavy wool pants but never had the heart to put a shirt on, knowing Julian found comfort in skin-to-skin. Julian would wrap up in his heavy nighty and a pair of thick socks. 

They both grew into their new schedule, they just fit together, like an easy rhythm. 

----

Julian got stronger, he ate more, in the nearly two years since Geralt had arrived, he'd grown able to make it down the stairs, stay awake all during the day, and even ride into town and see the people, often only needing his cane. He could pour the whole table glasses of wine with just a slight tremble. He was so happy with life, he was so happy with everything. Even on his sickest days he felt everything was okay. Because Geralt was there and Geralt was… Geralt was strong enough for the both of them. 

--

One night, he felt... viral . He felt alive and hot in belly for the first time in so long. 

He was laying in bed, just under a sheet, waiting for Geralt to get done cleaning up after their baths. They’d begun bathing together, hualing the big tub up from the first floor up so they could sit front to back in the tub. Geralt claiming he didn’t have much shame, and Julian agreeing cause wow… Geralt had let Julian touch him, sort of. He never let him touch his cock but let the boy press their bodies together, half hard cock rub against his plush ass. 

Julian had liked that feeling but they never had that… sensual atmosphere in their baths. But that night… he had a hot melty feeling in his groin and his cock ached. His head was full of images of Geralt, his body, the way he looked soaked from the rain, short hair flopping over his face, water dropping running down his chiseled muscles. The way he grunts when he has to haul something heavy around, the weak little huffs he makes when he has a bad dream, the sighs he lets out when he lays down after a long day. 

He let his hand creep down to himself, under his chemise. He was hard. Goodness... that hadn't happened in years. He could barely remember the last time he was hard and awake. He’d woken up with a wet nighty many times but never woke up… hard. Nor had he worked up to a hardon while he was awake for so long. 

"Geralt!" Julian called and heard the thundering quick steps of Geralt running to the room. Julian had his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Hand cradling the burning flesh of his cock. 

"What? You scared me, you prick." Geralt said as he saw the boy was fine in bed. He took a calming breath and put his hands on his hips. Julian had an odd look on his face and he had his arms weird across his body… Geralt just stared at him and slowly walked up to the bed. 

"My prick indeed." Julian said and pulled his hand away from himself after a quick squeeze.

"What're you on about?" Geralt asked. He was tired and just wanted to go to bed. Julian looked away from him, face turning a cherry red. 

"Geralt... can we do something together?" The count asked nervously and brought his knees together under the thin sheet. He wanted Geralt so much, just seeing the other man standing there in his thin pants and light shirt, the feeling of getting down to Geralt’s skin, to feel his warmth. 

Geralt looked down at the boy, his eyes blown big, cheeks cherry red and creeping down his chest. He wanted to pick the sheet up to see underneath, see what the boy was hiding. He felt the pull, the warmth in his own belly, he wasn’t a very sexual man but Julian was so soft. So sweet smelling and warm with the plushest body and the kindest hands. 

"What do you wanna do, Julek?" Geralt asked, letting his fingers graze atop the covers beside Julian’s arm. He gave the boy a look, golden eyes warm and open, lips practically begging for a kiss. 

"I um... not to be so forward but will you lay under the cover with me and well... l-lay with me?" Julian asked, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Geralt grinned, pointy teeth on display and crawled up on the bed, throwing a leg over Julian’s thighs, causing his legs to lay flat. 

Julian had a nervous look on his face that was soon being washed away by biting tongue filled kisses. Geralt let himself go, hips grinding down onto Julian’s, savoring the feeling of a hard cock rubbing up against his own. He got washed away in the feeling of Julian yanking his shirt off and untying his trousers. 

“You’re stunning, my dear, so pretty” Julian said and let his hands wander, rubbing across Geralt’s broad shoulders, down to squeeze his hips, back up to cup his muscular pec. 

“Do you really want this, Julian? Do you want me to… to do this to you?” Geralt asked from where he had started sucking and nipping down the boy’s neck. Julian grabbed two fistfulls of his hair and yanked him up to face him, determination plain on his face. 

Geralt sucked in a breath and dared not move from where Julian had an iron grip in his hair, the pain of it sparking something he rather not look into. He stared down at the boy, he wanted, gods he wanted , but… he couldn’t do anything until Julian said okay. 

“Geralt, man who’s stolen my heart, man who’s the only one I’ve ever loved, if you don’t touch my cock in the next moment I’m going to cry. I can’t do much else but I’ll cry.” Julian threatened and tears already welled up in his eyes. He felt good and Geratl was so pretty and it was so so good and so so new. 

Geralt shook his head and Julian let go of his hair. He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to Julian’s lips. Julian sniffs as tears roll down his face, breaths hiccuping as Geralt ground down again. 

“I thought you wouldn’t cry.” Geralt said and leaned back to pull the sheet away and look down at where Julian’s cock was standing up against his belly, nighty rucked up to his sternum. He looked down and gave it a few light strokes. 

Julian moaned and bucked up, hands scrambling down to grab at Geralt’s wrists. He cried out and looked up at Geralt who had a look on his face, like a starved animal. 

“You gotta hold still for me, for just a minute, baby, just hold still, Julek” Geralt panted out and leaned back yanking his pants down, struggling just to get them down. 

“Geralt, what- what’re you going to do? I don’t… you know I don’t know how this works. Not with… not with two boys” Julian said in a panic as he yanked Geralt’s pants off his feet and flung them away. Geralt was back on him, straddling his waist, huge heavy cock covering Julian’s own. 

Julian just stared down at it… it was nearly the size of his forearm and it felt like fire on his skin. Geralt was so fucking perfect and… Julian felt so nervous, his belly twisting in a bad way. 

That was until Geralt was rubbing his hands up and down Julian’s sides, shushing him. 

“Just hold on, little bird, you just have to hold on for a second.” Geralt said and looked at Julian’s small bedside… oil. They needed some for this activity. 

He thought about it just for a moment before remembering something he’d seen in Julian’s harp case. He leaned down and kissed the boy again, sucking on his tongue for a moment when he pulled back. 

“Do you have that… that polishing oil with your harp still?” Geralt asked as he leaned back from kissing him. Julian was breathless, tears rolling down the sides of his face as he nodded, eyes unfocused and lips kissed red and puffy. 

“Yeah, it’s- it’s in the drawer” Julian answered after a moment to process what Geralt had said. He watched the larger man move to climb off the bed and dig through the drawer in the corner that held all Julian’s instrument’s tools and such. 

Gorgeous. That’s all Julian could think as he witnessed Geralt standing in the moonlight. One side of him, pale skin glowing in the light of the full moon, the other warmed by the candles. His hair was longer than it had been when he first arrived, now catching the light and casting the most stunning shadows across the man’s angular face. 

“ Julian ~” The boy finally heard as he came back into his mind, noticing Geralt was speaking. He looked at him, all tall and strong and hot and his cock and body and…

“‘M a bit dizzy” Julian said and Geralt soon returned, laying Julian back down flat, wiping tears away from his face, shushing him. 

“It’s alright. Do you still want to do this? It’s okay if you-” Geralt said and leaned down to wipe Julian’s eyes clean and looked down at him. He was cute. Plush and snuggly, adorable in his frilly nighty and his little socks. He was hard still, cock hard against his belly, dripping with need. 

“Please, I want you to do it. I wanna do it with you. I wanna lose… it … to you. Please.” Julian begged, staring up at Geralt’s amber eyes. He didn’t wanna be a virgin a moment longer; he wanted Geralt more than anything else. 

Geralt smiled down at him letting his hand go from wiping away tears to push the hair off Julian’s face. He crawled back up on the bed, straddling the boy once more, hands faced on his chest as he ground his ass over the boy’s hard cock. 

Julian let out a long moan and grabbed Geralt’s hips, thick muscular hips. 

“Be good, little bird, have patience.” Geralt whispered as he sat up straight, uncorking the bottle of oil. He looked down at Julian as he covered his fingers with the slick. Julian watched and looked confused. 

That was until Geralt was letting his fingers rub and slip into his hole. 

“I put my cock there? In you there? Won’t it hurt?” The boy asked as he watched Geralt’s hands move, one fingering himself open, the other holding the base of his cock, occasionally giving it a few tight strokes. 

Geralt was efficient with stretching himself out a bit, Julian wasn’t really that big. He huffed a laugh at the boy’s questioning and pulling his fingers away, stroking Julian’s cock a few times getting the extra oil off on him. 

Julian watched him, hands gripping the sheet below him. He stared down at where Geralt was kneeling over him, where Geralt was holding his cock to stand up. 

“It’s not gonna hurt me, sweetheart, this is just how… how boys do it.” Geralt said, breathless as he guided Julian’s cock to press against his wet hole. Julian just made sorry little huffing sounds until Geralt was easing down onto him. Both then letting out long moans until Geralt was sat on Julian’s hips. 

“You did it. ‘M not a virgin. Fucking gods, you feel amazing” Julian moaned, throwing his head back against the pillow under him, overwhelmed with the feeling. The feeling of being connected, of Geralt’s tight warm body, the feeling of them being together, matching and fitting together like puzzle pieces. They did match perfectly together. 

And they could both feel it. 

“I did, I took you. You’re mine, Julek, mine only. Promise me, promise your mine.” Geralt panted out and took Jlian’s hand, holding it to his heaving chest. Julian nodded, automatically agreeing. 

“Yes, yes my dear heart, my love, I’m all yours. All yours. Now have me, please.” Julian said, desperation creeping into his voice at the end. Geralt stayed for a breath longer, feeling how his heart felt sparked alive. 

And then the love melted away and the lust won over. He rose up on his knees till only the tip was still inside him and then he was letting himself fall back down, careful not to hurt the boy’s legs. Well as careful as he could be when Julian was clawing at his hips and moaning like he was putting a show on at a brothel. 

Julian was quick to cum, as expected, and was nearly passed out when Geralt guided his hand to wrap around his own cock. He was stroking himself more than Julian was, but that was okay, it was better than okay when he came and a single drop reached up to Julian’s chin and the boy licked it off. 

“That’s nasty, why do people swallow that stuff?” The boy said and made a face when the drop of cum hit his tongue. Geralt laughed, really laughed, as he sat beside the boy, feeling the cum drip from his hole. 

He reached back and grabbed the water from the bedside and guided Julian to drink some. The boy drank some and laid back, eyes slipping close as his hands rested against his clothed chest. 

He felt no shame laying in his bed with his wet cock out and his belly and nighty covered in another man’s cum. He only felt happy, and content, and tired, and wow… wow. 

“I love you Geralt. Do you want to get another bath?” The boy asked without opening his eyes. He missed the way Geralt looked down at him, eyes full of love and devotion. He didn’t know what was touching him either before he was being lifted up and carried down to the stairs. 

He didn’t open his eyes to see Geralt’s tears rolling down his face, or his smile, or his trembling lip. He was already asleep as Geralt filled a tub and held him close to his chest and wept as he cleaned them both. 

“môj vtáčik, môj, zostaň tu, zostaň so mnou” ( my little bird, mine, stay here, stay with me ) He whispered quietly as he tucked them both back into bed, holding and cuddling close to Julian who only sighed and wrapped his arms around the warm body open to him. 

It was perfect. So perfect. Warm and cozy and they both slept so well that night. Love was so thick in the air you could nearly see it. It was more than just perfect. It was nice. Geralt learned that nice was… so much better. So much better than being alive, than seeing, than hearing, than anything else. Nice was lovely. Nice was… alive. 

However nothing nice ever lasts.  

Julian got sick. 

So, so sick. 

He was pale, he barely ate, he was always cold, he had nose bleeds and his eyes went fuzzy and he was...

He was dying. 

Geralt tried everything to help him, gave him meds, asked the mages, asked the warlocks, he tried everything but Julian would smile and kiss and tell him it would be okay. 

"You knew this would happen when you came here. I'm sorry, Geralt. I'm so sorry I'm hurting you." The boy cried and held the man’s face in his trembling hands. He felt so terrible, not for himself, but for seeing Geralt be so worried. He could see the pain in Geralt's eyes each day when he wasn’t any better or when he struggled to breath or when he hacked up blood. He felt so terrible for hurting his beloved man. 

"No Julek, you're not hurting me. I never knew I could love before you. I love you, Julian, I love you." Geralt said as tears slid down his face, hands holding onto Julian’s thin wrists. He smiled at the pale skeleton that was once his plush pudgy love. 

He still loved him.

He’d love him a thousand times and a million times over. He’d give anything for him. He’d give him life, his heart, his body, anything. He just wanted Julian… to stay with him. 

"I love you too, my gem, my handsome man. Don't weep, my love, don't cry. You've given me more in the past few years than anyone else has my entire life. I'm so grateful for you. Please don't forget how much you gave me, I can never repay you." Julian said and wiped Geralt’s tears away with his thumbs. He was happy, he supposed. He was happy to have ever had Geralt for a moment. To have ever met him, to have ever even seen him. He could never repay the gods, destiny, or whoever brought the man to his home. He was happy to have had the man in his life. It hurt his heart to know he was hurting the strong man who wept before him. 

"You could stay. You could stay with me forever. Never leave me, please, please stay with me. I don't have anyone else." Geralt begged and begged. He’d do anything for Julian to stay. Anything. Julian only smiled and used his sleeve to pat away Geralt’s big tears. He shushed the bigger man and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and his lips. 

"I'll stay. You're mine, I'm yours. We’re meant to be with each other. Our destinies are intertwined, our lives are melted together. Like soup." Julian said, remembering the first conversation they ever had, the feeling he had. Geralt huffed a sad laugh and nodded. 

"Like soup." He agreed and laid Julian back down. He could rest for a bit before Geralt brought their dinner up, even knowing Julian wasn’t going to eat, he’d still sit the boy at the table and sit with him. 

They went to bed, Geralt putting a nice clean nighty and socks onto Julian, and disrobing himself down to a pair of thick pants and socks. The seasons were changing and it was a bitter night. He made sure to cover Julian up, making sure he was warm. 

“Goodnight, my love, try to get some sleep, you’ve been restless for so long now.” Julian said to him with a soft kiss before rolling over to be spooned and snuggled. 

“I love you, Julek, my heart is yours.” Geralt confessed and pressed as close as he could to the boy and let exhaustion take over him. 

When Geralt woke up Julian was gone. 

He dressed him, put him in the middle of the bed, and made him look like a king. He got a cloth and washed him, ran a brush through his soft hair, and made sure he looked neat and noble. 

Not a tear rolling down his face. He needed to go away, he needed to leave before the successor came. He needed to make sure Julian was treated properly and then he needed to leave. 

He cleaned the room, face stone cold. 

He was in shock really, his chest hurt. He walked down and called everyone into the dining room and they all already knew. 

Geralt went into the town and informed them. 

A cousin would be taking the estate and the power. 

Geralt dug his grave and buried him the way he wanted to be, with his music notes and his childhood harp. He had cried over the boy when he was tasked with covering him in soil. He sobbed and sobbed, letting out the most pained sounds half the town had ever heard. He howled and cried out like an animal being shredded by wolves. 

He slept there in the dirt over the boy, refusing to leave him until the leaves covered the grave. He carved a J out of a strong branch of wood and placed it over where Julian was. 

Geralt was darker than night as he moved through the house, he would come at night and leave at dawn. Things were moved and changed, no one caring though. No one was going to question him and his grief. 

He was told Julian had given him a house in the mountains and that was the last anyone ever seen of Geralt, Servant of The Flower of Lettenhoven. Lover of the Great Count Julian Of Lettenhoven. 

No one knew where he went, assuming he had left just as he had arrived, in the darkness of night in silence. The house in the mountains had been destroyed by an avalanche years ago, no one went looking for trouble anyway.

Next Chapter ->

[lackenthusiasm]

Lord help us, I'm theory-crafting through late night analysis again. Under read more because it is long and also very potentially disturbing to read. TW for mentions of cannibalism, death, child death, animal death, and pregnancy.

Okay so. In one of the more horrific realizations I think I may have stumbled onto tonight… I did notice that the first time Norm goes into Vault 32 in episode 1, where he finds a corpse that appears to be missing a leg and then he runs back out with the realization that the real 32s are dead and the ones at the wedding party must be imposters… He was walking into 32's nursery wing, filled with baby cradles. I don't recall seeing any baby or child corpses among the dead which could be either comforting (maybe there weren't any kids within this crop of 32s yet) or incredibly sick and fucked up (maybe…the 32s ate their young in desperation to survive, like dysfunctional lab rats would…)

Dervin, one of the raiders captured and imprisoned by the 33ers, eventually tells Norm that he doesn't know what was going on in Vault 32, but the dwellers there were anything but innocent, pointing to the secret that Norm will soon dig into uncovering throughout the next several episodes.

Upon re-entering 32 later on, this time with Chet in tow, Norm examines a dead dweller's Pip-Boy, which indicates that the last bio-sign detected was over 2 years prior. Everyone in the vault has been dead for at least that long. As Chet and Norm explore, they stumble upon a television set in one of the living quarters with a corpse who had evidently been electrocuted to death. The TV plays a section of holotape describing the Rat Utopia experiment conducted by ethologist John B. Calhoun between the years 1958 and 1962. In this experiment, 4 groups of Norway rats were given unlimited access to food and water, enabling major population growth of their species over a period of 4 years.

In the original papers, educational films, and consequently the theory presented in the context of the TV series, the described experiment is heavily anthropomorphized and applies human characteristics to the animals such as greed and dominance. However, dominance theory, as a way of describing animal behavior, was based on a heavily flawed study conducted by Rudolph Schenkel in 1947 on captive wolves. The scarcity of resources such as food and breeding partners in captivity made the wolves feel anxious that they would lose whatever they had to another wolf if they didn’t act aggressively to ward off the potential threats. Humans saw this and we collectively decided, for some reason, that this must mean animals operate on a theory of alpha males and that they must dominate other animals.

Consequently, the Dominance Theory study was conducted in 1971 by behaviorist David Mech, who examined the behavior of wolves in the wild. A much more natural setting for them than a concrete cage. Influenced by the preceding study Mech based his work off of, he observed that wolf packs consisted of an alpha male and a female mate, and that they ruled over all of the other wolves in the pack, who were submissive to them.

In reality, what Mech was seeing was a pack that consisted of two parents known as breeders and their offspring. By the time Mech published his original study, he realized he had made a serious error in his observations and has since spent his entire career trying to correct that mistake. His original study is described as outmoded by many ethologistics in our present-day.

So the reality of Rat/Mouse Utopia is less about rodents gaining an insatiable bloodlust because every society throughout history is built on violence, and a lot more like this:

Due to the rat’s short gestation period and ability to raise multiple litters in quick succession, overpopulation can occur very rapidly and resources such as food, water, and breeding rights become more scarce because there are more rats to divide them between. This decrease in available resources causes the rats to become more anxious that they will not be able to sustain themselves or the new generation of rats they are meant to raise, often causing them to react with aggression toward other rats, whom they see increasingly as threats to their survival. If there is a lack of resources, or if the primary source is seen as inaccessible by the rats, they may resort to cannibalism, eating other rats to survive.

This phenomena came to be known as a behavioral sink, a collapse in species-typical behavior that can result from overpopulation.

Humans don’t have nearly as quick a turnaround rate on reproduction as rats or mice, but sustaining a pregnant human and then providing food for the resulting children through to adulthood does put more strain on available resources in the same way as with rats. Or any mammal, really.

We know that the people of Vault 32 discovered the truth about what was in 31, because they left behind messages written in blood that say “WE KNOW THE TRUTH” “DEATH TO MANAGEMENT” and “WE KNOW WHAT'S IN THERE” regarding Vault 31. They successfully started a revolt and they were able to overthrow the Overseer. But ultimately, that revolt ended in failure with everyone dying off. While some of the bodies seen clearly killed each other, it looks like others may have died by their own hand instead, or have at least been made to look as if they did. No matter what the real answer is behind why this happened in 32, but not 33, these are conditions that replicate the results achieved by the Rat Utopia experiments in a human population.

[kiealer]

For the 'be honest' meme: 4, 7, and 12!

the be honest meme. 

4) How do you explain rp to someone in the real world?

I have actually had to do this -- explaining RP to my fiancée was a trip. I explained it as basically crafting a makeshift book together; we take two (or more) characters, and write out a back-and-forth based on an interaction or overall story concept. I'm trying to write out something with the ankian boys funnily enough with her. she doesn't entirely understand yet, but I'm hoping that it makes more sense in practice for her.

7) What’s your opinion on call out posts?

I'm... hmm. I don't really know. I haven't seen one in a long while on this platform in particular. It... depends, I suppose? These can be used for smear campaigns just because someone is hurt over something so minor, but they can also be used to inform and educate others on someone who may be potentially very dangerous/has outrageous behavior. That said, people are capable of change if they wish to do so, and so to some degree I feel callout posts CAN be unfair or unjustified. Like, unless the matter is serious, keep it private, see if you can work it out among yourselves first.

12) Have you been involved in drama? Do you regret it?

uh. gonna throw this one under a read-more--

it's been a few years since then, so a good number of people don't know about this (while those who have been Around Awhile may remember) -- I had something of an altercation with someone on this platform who I thought I was close friends with for a few months to a year.

to call it 'drama' honestly feels undermining, because it was very real to me, to the point it triggered PTSD reactions in me and made me realize I had PTSD in the first place. tl;dr, as I remember it, there was one day I spent with others instead of this person, and that resulted in a total meltdown from this person. I asked for space because I was heavily triggered by the onslaught of demeaning insults and demands that I apologize. I was DM'd, I was called (on my phone, through my phone number), I was sent items like gifts and food to my house (for some context, I had housed this person for about a week to help them get out of a situation, so they knew of my address already), I learned awhile after that this person had gone to other people in order to get to me. I stepped away from tumblr for a little while. In that time, my friends were harassed, as was I. Eventually, I had a call with this person, to try and clear things up and maybe try to fix any problems, and they were just... unreasonable. That was the last time I ever contacted them, but not the last I'd heard of them. They proceeded to launch a smear campaign of me on this site, to luckily no avail.

I was fine if they decided they wanted to keep writing here. I didn't mind that. I encouraged people to still write with them, I wanted them to have interactions, as long as we stayed separated. I haven't heard anything of them in at least 2 years, I think.

As for regret, I... well, of course I regret it, to some extent. I wish it hadn't blown up as big as it did. I wish it hadn't happened at all. But, part of me also fears for if it didn't happen, and what state I'd be in now if that didn't happen. I don't think about this as often as I used to, but every once in awhile, it still crosses my mind and makes me incredibly sad.

[marsbar17]

Request from anon that I once again accidentally got rid of:

(may i request a fusehound oneshot of them being very tender, affectionate and intimate together? lots of sappy pet names in icelandic, admiring and teasing eachother, starts off sfw into nsfw? thank you. 💕)

I loved this request and I had a lot of fun with it! It took a while tho cuz I got sick hfbdjsjsk sorry

This is heavily based off of and includes a quote from this

https://twitter.com/PlayApex/status/1704894090825916881?t=2KjqrG5pNU0aiK4DD-jhsw&s=19

comic that Apex Legends tweeted, go check out the artist babes :)

Contains: amab bloodhound, they got a penis and a prostate, anal sex, blow jobs, hand jobs, no aftercare cuz it was getting pretty long, lots of praise and appreciation

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Bloodhound huffed as they placed the last cardboard box down on their living room floor, breathing heavy from the exertion of lifting heavy boxes for the past half hour. They stretched out their sore back and arms and looked around.

    Fuse's stuff was finally all in the house, a small cabin-in-the-woods type of house that felt cozy and isolated from the world. He had asked to move in together a few weeks ago, and finally it was done. Bloodhound sighed, just remembering all the memories they made with Fuse in the past year. All they could think about when they saw Fuse was safety, a warmth in the cold of their life.

    Speak of the devil, arms wrapped around Bloodhound's waist, one rigid and metal while the other was warm and soft.

    "Whatcha thinkin' about, Houndy?" Fuse's mustache tickled their exposed neck as he whispered in their ear, making them shiver.

    "You, mitt Walter." Bloodhound turned around in Fuse's arms and cupped his face in their hands, rubbing a thumb along the scar over his eye. "Our time together is engraved in my mind. I think about it often."

    Hound pressed a light kiss to Fuse's lips before backing out of his arms and turning back to the mess of boxes and random trinkets hung on the wall. Skulls mounted on plaques, herbs drying from the ceiling, even Fuse's signature 30-30 repeater. They were already making it feel like home. The first home either of them had in a while. And it felt even more like home with eachother.

    "You should begin unpacking, elskan. I will be in the bedroom organizing the clothing." Hound kissed the other's cheek one last time before leaving the room, a smile hidden under the respirator covering their face.

    They had been planning something, crafting something, ever since Fuse had smashed his old guitar. A new guitar, a killer one. It was sort of an anniversary gift, and they added elements of themself into it. The fact that it could be wielded like an axe, the sharp blade at the top. A symbol of the hunter's connection to their lover. They had incorporated some pieces of the old guitar too, to show Fuse that his past didn't need to be erased for him to be himself.

    All that was left to do was tune it, but Hound had no experience with instruments, and didn't know how. So they sat on the bed, mindlessly plucking strings in an off-tune melody. They could hear Fuse's footsteps walking around the main room of the house, before starting to approach the bedroom. He opened the door, looking confused at why he was hearing a guitar.

    "What's that?" Fuse questioned, pointing to the guitar on Bloodhound's lap. "When did you get that?"

   "Well, it isn't very good, and I don't know how to tune it, but it is a present for you, mitt Walter." Bloodhound explained without looking at the other before presenting the guitar to him.

  "You... you made this?" Fuse took the gift from Hound's hands and turned it over a couple times, admiring the details.

    "Yes, using pieces from your old guitar. I wanted it to represent our relationship, and our pasts." They stood from the bed, pointing out small details of the piece.

   "Your past is not something to be denied or erased. You need not be afraid of it. It is what brought us together. For me, for us, there is nothing you must be, except who you are.

   The man I love."

   Fuse didn't speak. The act was so touching, and Hound had such a way with words. It hit him hard. Plus he was just in awe at how cool his new guitar was. He just stood in silence, gawking.

   "Do you... like it, kæri?" Bloodhound spoke hesitantly after a few moments, afraid they had upset the other.

    "Do I like it? Houndy, it's gorgeous! And looks bloody sick too!" Fuse just held it out in front of him to see it all at once, his jaw dropped. "You're amazing!"

    "I am glad. I know it's a bit early for an anniversary gift, but I could not wait, ástin mín." Bloodhound stood with their hands clasped behind their back, waiting for Fuse to finish ogling his new guitar. After a few moments, Fuse put the guitar down, leaning against the wall, and pulled them into a hug.

    "I cant wait to spend our lives together, Houndy." He whispered in their ear, sounding oddly soft for a moment.

    "I cannot wait either, elskan."

   Fuse pulled away but kept his hands on the other's shoulders, just looking at them. He loved their eyes, deep in color and down-turned. He loved their cheeks, soft with freckles scattered, but also scarred from their lifetime of hardships. He loved their lips, pale peach and scarred from the cold. He loved them, so fucking much.

   "You're so perfect Houndy, God I could kiss ya right now."

   "Then do it." Hound reached behind their head and unclasped their respirator, letting it drop into their other hand before resting it on the bed beside them.

    As soon as they had it out of their hands, Fuse grabbed their face and kissed them. It was harsh, passionate, just like the man himself. Bloodhound whined into the kiss and wrapped their hands around Fuse's shoulders, tangling fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. After they pulled apart, but stayed in each other's arms, both were panting slightly.

   "You're so bloody irresistible, love." Fuse kept one hand on Hound's jaw, gliding his calloused thumb across their bottom lip. They just let their mouth fall open, panting and staring into Fuse's eyes. "And incredibly sexy too." Hound let out a huff at that, smiling.

   "I am not tha-"

    "Oi." Fuse interrupted them, "You better not be sayin' anything self depreciatin', that's my partner you're talkin' 'bout."

   "Walter..." Hound's voice trailed off, leaving the word sounding like a whine. They just wanted Fuse to admire them, to love them and tell them they were beautiful.

    "What would you like, love?"

   "Please, kiss me again."

    Fuse didn't need any more, he connected their lips again. This time he was softer, but more sensual. He grabbed Bloodhound's hips and pulled them to meet his own, making the other gasp and giving him the opening to slip his tongue in. He explored their mouth hungrily, practically grinding against the other with how much his was grabbing at them and pulling them closer.

    "Elskaður, slow down." Hound whined, breathing heavy and grasping desperately at Fuse's shirt.

   "I need to appreciate ya, need you to know yer perfect, Houndy." Fuse muttered against the skin of Bloodhound's neck, moving to leave open mouth kisses along it. "Will you let me?"

   "Of course, Walter." They barely whispered it, too caught up in the way that he was sucking and nipping at that one spot that made their eyes roll back. "You may do whatever you'd like to me."

    While he continued to kiss their neck, Fuse walked Bloodhound backwards until their calves hit the bed frame and they had to sit in order to not fall over. They were eye level with his crotch and reached their hands up to start undoing his belt but Fuse swatted their hands away before kneeling on the ground before them. Hound was confused, usually he loved letting them please him to get him ready, but they didn't complain as Fuse reached for their own belt.

   "This time," He smirked up at the other, undoing their belt and slipping it from the loops. "I want this to be all about you, pup. I'll give ya all the attention you deserve."

    Bloodhound couldn't do anything but lift their hips up as Fuse tugged their pants and boxers off of their body and placed them on the floor. It had all gone so fast, so they weren't yet fully hard, but Fuse didn't mind. He just reached into a small box nearby labeled 'bedroom' and pulled out a bottle of lube, putting a small bit on his fingers before wrapping them around their length.

   They gasped at the cold liquid, before moaning softly as Fuse started off with gentle strokes, focusing on the tip of their cock. Hound grew hard very quickly, it's hard not to when those skilled hands were bringing all the sinful noises out of their mouth.

   "Ah~ fokk, Walter." They tangled a hand into Fuse's hair and subconsciously pulled his head closer. Fuse laughed under his breath and pressed a light kiss right under the head of Hound's cock, making them whine.

    Fuse took them into his mouth, sucking on the tip while he continued to stroke the rest of their length.

    "Skítur! So.. gott~" Bloodhound desperately pushed his head further down, and whined when Fuse just pulled back, chuckling.

    "So bloody needy, aye pup? Just be patient, you'll get what ye need." He then took them back into his mouth and as far as he could down his throat, making them throw their head back and let out a string of curses in Icelandic.

   Fuse continued to go slowly, stroking them while kitten licking the tip, and then occasionally deep throating them without warning. It was when Bloodhound started getting quiet and breathing sharper that the other stopped everything and just sat back, rubbing his hands along their thighs and watching as a bead of precum leaked from the head of their length.

    "Walter." Hound protested after they had caught their breath again. "You tease me, why?"

    "Wouldn't be fun without it, pup." Fuse just smirked before standing up and undoing his own belt. "Strip completely while I do this, would ya?"

    They immediately complied, undoing the buttons and buckles on their coat and tossing it off their shoulders before dragging their shirt up over their head and dropping both items on the floor by their other clothes. Now sitting completely naked, they shivered at the cool air and waited for Fuse to finish taking his clothes off and join them. They couldn't help but stare as he lifted his shirt slowly, revealing the hair that ran from his navel to under the waistband of his pants. Arguably one of their favorite parts of his body.

   Fuse finished stripping and Bloodhound had to stop themself from licking their lips at the sight of his length. He wasn't too huge, more girth than length, but Hound loved it. Pretty much eerytime they sat him naked they tried to initiate something, just to be able to suck him off.

    "I can practically hear your thoughts, Houndy. May I remind you that I'm supposed to be pleasing you today?" Fuse walked up to the bed and made Bloodhound look his in the eyes by lifting their chin up. They whined in protest but Fuse just chuckled and parted their lips with his thumb. "As much as I would love to watch you drool around my dick with these pretty lips of yours, I wanna fuck you even more. Face down ass up, pup."

   Again, they obeyed. They turned around and presented themself to their lover, chin against the mattress as they arched their back to show off their body. And hopefully tempt the other to let them cum quickly.

    "So bloody beautiful." Fuse muttered as he poured more lube onto his hand, warming it up between his hands before pressing one one finger to Hound's puckering hole and using the other to stroke himself a couple times. "You're practically quivering, love."

    Bloodhound just whined, feeling Fuse circle their hole and trying to shove their hips back so he would finally let them feel the stretch they craved. As much as he wanted to tease his lover, Fuse relented and slipped a finger in, thrusting slowly to let them adjust.

    "More, ástin mín, please more." It was barely a minute before Bloodhound was rocking back onto Fuse's finger and begging. The same happened with two fingers, and even three.

   "You sure you're ready? Usually takes a while longer." Fuse curled his fingers inside them, trying to find that special spot inside them. When he finally pressed against it, the moan Bloodhound let out was whorish.

   "Just fuck me Walter- Fokk it's been so long I need it svo mikið~" Hearing Bloodhound whimpering and desperately fucking themself against his fingers, Fuse realized it really had been a while since they'd last been intimate. Moving had taken that out of their minds, he guessed.

    "Alright, love. It's okay I'll take care of ya." He comforted them, slipping his fingers out and kneeling on the bed behind them. He lined himself up, rubbing against them to make sure the lube hadn't dried too much, and then groaned as the head of his cock was sucked into their hole. Bloodhound panted, adjusting to the girth of him inside them, before once again rocking their hips back.

     Slowly, inch by inch, Fuse sheathed his whole length inside them. Once at the base, Fuse paused to let Bloodhound adjust and rubbed along their back and ass.

   "So good, pup. Takin' me so well." He spoke in a comforting tone, brushing some of their long hair away from their face and smiling at how relaxed they looked. Fully submitting and ready for anything Fuse would do to them.

   After admiring them for a few moments, Fuse dragged his hips back at an excruciatingly slow pace. He wanted to make sure Hound felt every inch of him leave their hole before thrusting sharply, slapping his hips against their ass. The whimper they let out was music to his ears, and he couldn't help himself from continuing to thrust hard and deep. They definitely weren't complaining about it though.

   "Já, já, já~ Meira, meira, Walter~" Bloodhound kept muttering under their breath along with whimpers and whines. Fuse could tell they were really enjoying it, their mouth hung open and their eyes rolled back. He grabbed their thigh and spread them just a bit further before gripping their hips and fucking them even deeper now.

   "Touch yourself for me, pup. And don't stop, even if it's too much." Fuse enjoyed watching Bloodhound weakly reach down to take their length in their hand. They started pathetically twisting their wrist, stroking along only the tips on their cock. The sound of their own slick being spread over their length was a new type of lewd and some of it even dripped onto the sheets, but they didn't care. They were too addicted to the feeling of being pounded over and over and the sound of sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin.

   Fuse took a second to adjust his position and suddenly was directly hitting Bloodhound's prostate with ever thrust. Their whimpers turned into cries and the overwhelming amount of pleasure made them tear up. Their strokes grew more frantic as they started chasing orgasm, crying into the sheets.

    "Elskan, gonna- hah~ cum!"

    "Cum for me, pup. Wanna feel you milk me dry." Fuse was panting, approaching his own orgasm. All he needed was the addition of Bloodhound squeezing around him to push himself over the edge. And god damn, they came hard.

    Bloodhound sobbed as they came, tensing their muscles and clenching around Fuse, making him groan. Their cum painted their hand and the sheets and they dropped their hand from their twitching length. Fuse wasn't done yet though, and the overstimulation made Bloodhound raise their head out of the mattress, tears running down their cheeks.

    "Walter it's too much-"

    "Take it for me, love. I'm almost there you can do it."

   After a few more moments Fuse's hips stuttered and he bottomed out, pressing their hips together as he came as deep as he could inside the other. Breathing hard, he pulled out, making them whine in discomfort and emptiness. He sat back, spreading them wide and watching as his cum slowly dripped out of their hole.

    "Bloody beautiful, just like the rest of ya, Houndy."

    Bloodhound didn't have the energy to deny it, so they just hummed and smiled, basking in the afterglow of their orgasm and the love of their boyfriend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[mylifeisruined69420]

Banger duo him and his reaper throw Uldren in Aberration hell love it there

Jolyon look at that funny little blue area oh nevermind that blue area look at that red one we should totally go down there we should swim in that pink water over there

And then he vomits his lungs out and dies before he can reach the water that wouldve also lead to a very horrible death

Uldren just belongs there aberration is his home he can have a little base on those cliff platforms he can just glide around the map with his rock drake and hed have an army of ravagers for absolutely no reason i know you cant tame nameless but hes got one and its just the leader of the army he gets all of his shoulder pets killed because yeah i dont really have a reason for that either it just happens

He spawned in and the first thing he did is wrestle a sheep and mount it like a horse

I already mentioned Jolyon so Jolyons here now too hes his tribemate hed just be like wtf is this guy doing while Uldrens off doing whatever and Jolyons just tryna make them weapons and clothes and stuff then Uldren leads a spino or something over to Jolyon and they both die for the 100th time until they finally actually manage to get shit done and they finally come to have that cliff base and everything

About the shoulder pets theyre all Jolyons shoulder pets he has a lot of them he really loves them and hes all happy. Up until you find out your tribemate got half of them killed and now hes suddenly pregnant with a reaper and Jolyon is like "your what." And hes freaking out and absolutely horrified as is Uldren and they just try to figure shit out then like timeskip one day Jolyon just hears the most painful disgusting gut wrenching scream hes ever heard come from Uldren and then he rushes over to him and Uldrens stomach is just ripped open blood spilling all over the place while this little alien abomination crawls out of him and starts running all over the fucking place and then it charges Jolyon and starts eating his face or something. After all of that Jolyons just like fuck this shit I cant do this anymore and Uldrens just out here struggling to care for this abomination of a child he has but he pulls through hes a little traumatized but he cares about his kid and when he grows up they go on little adventures Jolyon just absolutely wants nothing to do with the reaper tho he got ptsd from seeing all that even tho Uldren is literally the one that birthed it

Dragging Jolyon over to the surface and they both get burned alive the moment they step on it

Uldren and Jolyon have both spent days making a trap and a ballista turret and they knock out tame a karkinos and once its up he convinces Jolyon to mount it with him and then Uldren just fucking murders anything thats near the river just pouding the poor dino on the ground and Jolyon looks heavily concerned about Uldren the whole time he doesnt say anything tho

they can chill and hang out at their base just sitting on a balcony enjoying the view id imagine their base is somewhere where the blue zone is visible because that area is so pretty and yeah they just hang out and sit down and take in the view maybe Jolyons crafting something and Uldrens just talking with him and its peaceful as hell they also prolly hang around those massive trees in the blue zone that just like pop out of the ceiling and into the ground they hang out at the top of em they set up camp start a fire they sit down cook some meat while they lean back onto their rock drake Jolyon could decide to bring his bulbdog and you know lil guys hungry and goes over and eats the hell out of Uldrens meat skewer

[lightsiided]

to a third party: ❝  don’t you dare touch her.  ❞ 😌

* jealousy prompts | accepting

     her face does something she isn't particularly proud of. rey feels her cheeks warm where her head is ducked, in the senseless hope that the hood of her cloak and her hair would be enough to keep her undetected on batuu. a smile plays at her lips as thor's protectiveness zips through her, sudden and SWEET.

their relationship is still sort of new. there hasn't been much time for anything beyond KISSING and CHATTING -- getting to know each other as deeply as they can while they travel and pick up missions for the resistance. rey's not sure what the parameters of it are or even what they're supposed to be. if thor is her boyfriend, he's her first. all she knows is that she likes having him beside her very much, and that this reaction is an added layer to the sense of safety his presence brings, a warmth that lets her know he's someone who would fight for her if only she said the word.

but really, they should be trying to avoid that -- at least for today. with a blink, she forces herself to focus. they're here for a reason, and that reason is reconnaissance. unfortunately, people in the cantina have started to take notice of them. it's not IDEAL, especially when rey considers that the both of them have yet to meet the contact leia said would provide the intel they need over drinks.

in an effort to deescalate the situation, rey rests a comforting hand on thor's arm, trying to pull her other wrist away from the stranger who's identified her at the same time. she avoids their gaze as she politely starts, "i'm SURE you're mistaken --"

there's a warning tug in the back of her mind just SECONDS before she sees them: four or five stormtroopers at the front entrance of the bar, heavily armed. abandoning the pretense, rey forcefully yanks her arm away, then lifts a hand to wave her fingers before the stranger's face. "you never saw us."

she turns to thor as inconspicuously as she possibly can. "we need to leave." fortunately, batuu is familiar to her -- the cantina even more so. her hand slips into his and laces their fingers together. "COME ON."

slowly, they make their way to the back entrance, doing their best to avoid drawing any further attention. the stomping of boots on the floor seems distant in her ears, but rey keeps her head down anyway. they're almost outside when she hears the word she's been dreading, tinny and modulated through the helmet's filter: "STOP!"

"this way," rey directs, pulling thor outside and down an alley that will circumvent the market. she passes her blaster to him as they start to run. "can you --?"

it isn't until much later, when they've made it to the satellite base and radioed leia, washed off and changed, that rey remembers what'd happened. that same pink-cheeked feeling of sweetness returns, making her stomach flutter. she lifts her head to look at thor, who's making up the bed for them -- only one, like on the falcon. it's a struggle to find words to articulate herself that aren't STUPID; no amount of effort can craft an intelligent translation for i liked it when you did that thing earlier.

instead she just smiles, and when she crawls into bed beside him, it's with the knowledge that she has someone, now, who wants to take care of her. who can keep her safe -- not because she CAN'T, but because it's important to him.

rey is important to him. beneath the sheets, her hand finds his and holds on tight.

@othunderous

[ladysternchen]

Headcanon explained/character study- Elu Thingol, part 1

Alright, MY elf at last (this is going to be long. Very long). First things first though, I know that he’s considered a controversial character, and many don’t like him, which is fine, I’m not trying to convince anyone to change their mind. I always read him the way I’ll describe/base my headcanon/fics on, knowing that many disagree. I neither can nor want to judge who’s right. I’m just saying that I do not agree with fanon here, I don’t see him as a racist, prideful idiot who mistakes possessiveness for love and who’s ultimate downfall is his greed and his not listening to his wife. (Just no. So if that’s your opinion of him, this post is not for you. It’ll just annoy you and I do NOT want to annoy anyone.) Oh, and maybe second things second, I’ll probably answer the question of why Elu is my elf, why I identify more with him than with any other fictional (or real) character (in any book I’ve ever read, or movie I’ve ever watched): I just know that feeling so well of trying to do it right, and still failing in the worst possible way. I can relate to one’s mistakes somehow always weighing more heavily than others’. I can also relate to not belonging anywhere, and -frankly- to change being one’s arch-enemy. He is my brother at heart, the to whom I flee in my imagination when reality is just too freaking much. Am I mad? Hm, yeah, perhaps. That doesn’t bother me one bit, though. But enough waffling, on to the headcanon. Elwë was born by the waters of Cuiviénen as the last prince of the Nelyar that was descended in the firstborn-son-to-firstborn-son-line from Enel and Enelyë (though nobody knew it then, obviously. Tata’s line was broken with Maedhros dying childless, Imin’s probably still continues, but certainly did until Ingwion). He was a quiet, shy child, but once he warmed up a bit, he would eagerly join the games of the other children, would sing and dance just like everyone else, so his being rather withdrawn bothered nobody, and once Olwë was born and he the big brother, that shyness vanished entirely. From birth on, his cousin Nowë (I headcanon Círdan’s father to be the brother of Elwë’s mother, though canon of course does not specify ‘close kin’) was his friend and his protector -Nowë took great pleasure in being the older and wiser one and have his little cousin toddle after him and look up at him in utter admiration. Their friendship would persist throughout times, as would their roles in it. To Elwë, Círdan would always be the advisor, and to Círdan, Elwë would ever somehow remain the little elfling that sat beside him by the water’s edge, trying to catch the stars that were reflected in the smooth surface of the lake instead of the boats crafted from bark and leaves that Nowë had made for his amusement. Nowë was mildly annoyed by that back then, but he did get his eager disciple when Olwë was born, while Elwë had by then befriended Finwë as well. Those two soon became inseparable and -frankly- unstoppable. Finwë’s and Elwë’s relationship might be worth a post of its own, so I won’t go too deeply into this now, but they were each other’s perfect counterparts. Where Finwë was reckless and too quick to judge, Elwë was the more considerate, the one to reserve judgement until he could truly assess the situation. And where Elwë was unwilling to move even a quarter of an inch out of his comfort-zone and would keep to himself rather than face his insecurities and engage with others, Finwë encouraged him and kindled his curiosity. They often lay, hands firmly entwined, and swore that they would never abandon the other, that they would always stay together. Where you go, I go. They were both perfectionists to a fault, Finwë in his crafting, Elwë in living up to responsibilities, but soon, and for reasons truly known to nobody, those two had built themselves up a following consisting of all the children of the Tatyar and the Nelyar, or at least those that didn’t prefer to join Nowë and Olwë in their exploring of boat-crafting. They would get themselves into all sorts of adventures, and be loved and admired by the younger children. There was only one incident during the year of his childhood that Elwë did not particularly like to be reminded of (and still ironically was constantly reminded of, at least for the rest of his life in Middle-Earth), and that was his infamous fall into the lake, that had resulted in his uncle -Nowë’s father- to fish him out and, chuckling, wrap him up in his cloak. Tall and lanky as Elwë had always been, he still was very much a child then, and the mantle covered him head to toe (which he was quite glad about then, because the hood hid the tears of humiliation that ran down his face), which lead to Nowë calling him teasingly ‘Greycloak’- a name that stuck with him, and that, in the course of the following millennia, he came to love and hate in equal measure.

[macgyvertape]

D2 Season of the Seraph thoughts

Gameplay:

Was not expecting a second hive focused season this expansion

Really glad for the autofire option being a setting now. Topical that I injured my mousehand this week, but also I notice my fingers & wrists start to hurt if I play for hours with high fire rate weapons

I enjoy the Battlegrounds challenge at +5 at first but I quickly started to hate blueberries who don’t bring champ mods or refuse to run for the laser core. The best runs were with people I like or making a LFG post for Legend where I could vet people were bringing mods.

I enjoy seeing Mars back again as a battleground and that the Braytech facilities on Europa are finally getting used as a map

I finally got everything together and made some 100 resilience loadouts, and it's a night and day difference with survivability. 

Revision 0 quest: it was enjoyable to go in with no guide right up until the floor tile puzzle. I was thinking its a shame we only get 1 season with this mission so looking forward to the exotic mission rotator. 

There are a lot of server problems this season, the Christmas server problems were an unintentional API bug, but sucks for my friends who did a master activity then got a server error and no credit. I have a new years resolution to play more games that aren’t D2, and so that was the perfect time. 

The robo-dog is so cute, I appreciate a friend describing helping me get the orbs as “taking me to the pound to get a puppy”

Once again busy during the Dawning I didn’t finish the last challenge of sit in gambit or crucible matches. I’d never bother to gild it, get 2k kills with a dawning weapon, lmao what a waste of time

GM power level reduction is great, the grind to get to power level so you can do GMs when they come out is a huge burnout factor for me and others. 

Very glad Bungie enabled all the mods and literally made me more interested in playing the next month. It was gatekeeping for no reason to make players buy mods a few at a time that were sold on random days, some mods I had been trying to get for more than a year. It’s basically playing a different game if you have a current meta build that relies heavily on one or two specific mods. 

I got a good lorely splendor roll and it really is easy mode with Titan

Fucking finally got Touch of Malice after 55 Oryx clears

Grateful to everyone loss farming in IB so much bungie buffed the xp gained for the second week.

Glad they buffed drop rate from wellspring, wish it had been like this the whole time since I had 0 wellspring weapons crafted. The poor red border droprate, and the seasonal challenges meant I was always busy doing something else

I’m glad Bungie made a lot of announcements about when the final seasonal event would be, and it wasn’t during the last week. I also appreciate that they said they will go back to being more public about seasonal info. 

I really enjoyed the difficulty of the last mission, it felt like the right amount of challenge.

However the legend system that scales based on fireteam size means it's awful to run the finale or Seraph Shield with 3 people; numerically a person is better off running it solo especially with the solo operator mod. I ran the missions a few times to help someone out, and the increased health and limited revives made a 2 person team feel punishing in a way that doesn't encourage helping casual or less skilled players.

Finishing the season needing to craft a lot of the guns, once again the red boarder and seasonal playlist loop is a grind way past the point of enjoyment. It's better with a partial knockout system but drops for finished patterns still happen way too often and the seasonal activity gives such low energy vs how much is needed to focus and time spent. I finished the season without crafting the ikelos shotgun or the linear fusion, and I’m so burnt out on the loop that I just don’t care. 

The crucible rep changes are fucking awful if you place low in comp like me (Bronze tier). On bonus weeks its changed from 2x to 1.5x, and so the strategy seems to reward players for playing every week and more rewards for being good, so if you’re on the wrong end of the cycle where you only play crucible on bonus weeks because you don’t enjoy it or are bad then the slow rank ups just mean I want to play it even less. It was a shorter time doing a full reset of a gambit rank than half a crucible reset, especially because if you don’t get enough kills in a match the game gives you 0 credit. 

The crucible rep changes are a shame because with the matchmaking changes I really enjoy the 3v3 comp. I feel like I’m playing others at my level and its the most enjoyable Destiny 2 pvp I’ve ever played

I tried doing some solo dungeons with current meta loadouts, and there's a noticeable difficulty change between Duality & Spire vs the older ones. What I realized is I don't enjoy soloing dungeons; jumping puzzles are a lot more punishing, some bosses take noticably more DPS phases, overall it's an exercise of patience I'm bad at.

Week 1:

For real I thought the braytech security frames were going to shoot me in the back in the intro mission. I wasn’t expecting Xivu Arath to the antagonist this season since we already had a Hive season

Osiris’ grandiose personal introduction to counter Clovis’ ego, him and Clovis butting heads all season is going to be fun to see 

Mara’s back in her D1 pirate clothes? She and Crow are the only one who gets clothes change in this game

That the scorn were exhumed locally, nice to know every major battleground is a zombie surge waiting to happen

Lots of sad feelings that Eramis’ former house are being raised as scorn as punishment

I’ve been hoping to get Mara as a character with a storyline that isn’t about her and Uldren/Crow, looking forward to her being a supporting character and tying into the Bray storyline

The Archimedes mission was nice, playing it solo felt challenging

I just didn’t play all weekend when DiM and the companion app were down. Really shows how heavily the community relies on these third party services, and the dedication and work the people running them do is laudable 

Other Weeks:

So glad to Elsie back and interacting with Ana. its just Bray family drama this season I love it. Osiris pseudo counts considering Felwinter was his mentor

Clovis thinking its a magnanimous offer in his private guard answerable only to him. Just like how Calus wanted to possess us as a shadow. 

I hope that if he does pull the heavily implied doublecross that its not because of Darkness corruption or the Witness but just because he’s a shithead trillionaire

In-universe if my guardian passed Ana’s former spot on Mars and it still had piles of guns I would take some with me

Revision 0 quest: we “surrender” to Eramis, there's so much untapped potential there for Eramis fans. Also wow Eramis sounds so depressed and its understandable, all those of her house that we killed being brought back as scorn.

I love that they reused areas from DSC, it makes sense storywise Bray facilites used the same design and I’m sure helped with developing such an elaborate quest. Going up to space and seeing Earth and the Trsveler was really special

Think its cool Fenchurch (agent of the Hidden) gives us the weapon and not Clovis. We’ve seen more of the Hidden this year than before, I’d love to see a season of the Hidden and see Aunor ingame 

Cutscene: based of Bungie to include MLK as part of things Ana taught Rasputin, especially since they usually shy away from recent historical people

Clovis has the anime villian glasses glare, he did fucked up science to his daughter(s) and assuredly unethical animal experimentation to the dog. Clovis is Shou Tucker.

Ana says “why didn’t you ever tell me you studied under Fellwinter” when it’s like a well known fact, IN UNIVERSE. Cool to get more of Osiris reflecting on himself as a novice and his relationship with the Iron Lords. 

Aww there are some Cabal dogs there. Meme of Saladin running Old Friend’s Senior Dog Sanctuary complete with the infamous last post. Shame it won’t let me climb to the top

Fun Clovis cutscene, once again recontextualize that legend of “rasputin shot the traveler” 

So Clovis is just now on Europa?? As the verison in the exomind was a copy-dublicate vs a copy-cut, then wasn’t he vulnerable to Xivu-Arath the whole time? Also in a way Ana did kill her grandfather, if you consider the copy to be a separate version since if might have different memories

The dialogue in battlegrounds is top notch where it has just a bit of friction between different parties. Then there’s the direct personal attack lines of “Clovis Bray. Your progeny have surpassed you. Your services are no longer required. We appreciate your understanding”. Rasputin responding with corpo speak

Mara is back in her Queen clothes, dev bias that shes the only one who gets 2 outfits in a season /s

The new choral sounding music in the HELM is great, apparently a warmind track remix

The Rasputin and Osiris radio message was fun, in absence of Saladin being pissed at Rasputin for killing Felwinter we get Osiris being pissed when Raputin speaks with Felwinter’s memories

Mixed feelings on week 7 story where they started foreshadowing Rasputin’s death heavily, in week 7 its a question of “are we doomed to repeat the past” but it somehow becomes “humanity destiny 2 main story has no need for a warmind, Rasputin is too dangerous to live we gotta put him down like Old Yeller”

the ending cutscene was a lot of nice looking CGI and yet again the Tower view of the Traveler changes before a new expansion. Great to see all the different characters and the tower feels weird now without the Traveler. 

My more cynical take a week later and after thinking about how it was 2+ years between a Rasputin and Ana storyline, Rasputin’s death felt more like they were trying to trim the cast of characters than a killing a character to raise the stakes. Clovis Bray can copy himself and be fine after being deleted, and Rasputin has all these extra data cores he doesn’t feel fully dead, just “dead” enough for some angst but not so dead he can’t be brought back as the plot demands.

Do agree with the post that for a season where the grand finale is Rasputin sacrificing himself, this wasn’t really his season in that so many other characters got a lot of screentime, focus, and build up 

Anyway finally Eramis has crossed the line into poor little meow meow 

I like how Eramis has been talking to us personal a lot this season. Her lines on Seraph Station where she considered it a rematch of the Beyond Light fight, her lines in the battlegrounds where she says “polish your finest armor. I’ll see you again” and the other lines she has talks about trust and despair

Kind of a shame how at the end of the season Clovis kind of faded out of the story with no real resolution.

Dungeon:

45 second revive timers in a jumping puzzle fucking suck

Ah the rasputin classical music I love it

Eramis on the collectables? Once again we’re just too late to see her. “We have no need of gods” interesting how much effort Eramis spends trying to get us to hate the Traveler

Osiris: “maybe this will restore Ikora’s faith in me” plz Osiris just talk to Ikora she’s concerned that you have no ghost and there are 0 OSHA safety regs here

I like the trace the wire mechanic a LOT more than nightmare zone bell mechanic

The super low Cowboy hat dungeon drop percentage is bullshit if it was done intentionally. It's disrespectful to players' time to make the Hunter one more rare than the other classes. I finished the season with 0 hats.

The dungeon especially in the last boss feels like its meant to be played with 100 resilience.

[fmp1rorymitchell]

FMP Evaluation.

My FMP was inspired by occultism, Aleister Crowley and Lovecraftian stories and props. I looked at prop making for movies in general such as how to age paper, graphic props that were used in Harry Potter and how to make fake money and IDs for movies and the problems that movie companies have had because very realistic props may be used off set which is illegal. I like working with my hands and creating things that develop, when I do this, ideas start to come easily. I would really like to become a movie prop maker so this inspired me to create props for my FMP.

I planned to only make one knife (the ram’s horn) but I had a stick that I was using as a tool to push wood through the cutter for safety then I took it to the small belt sander and put in a handle and shaped it to work with both hands. I looked at what I had created (hunter’s knife) and thought that this would make a really cool straight edged knife and so I decided to keep working on it and add it to my original ram’s horn knife.

I planned the ram’s horn knife on paper before I started working to help guide me in making it. The hunter’s knife was not planned it just evolved. I think it is better to plan beforehand but sometimes you create something from sometimes else that you didn’t plan but I am pleased with the result.

I found the research aspect difficult at times because I preferred working in the workshop. However, when I did carry out the research and upload it to the blog, I could see an idea forming as the project carried on as a whole and start to underpin what I had created in the workshop in relation to creating a background, story and scene for the knives.

I enjoyed looking at lots of different knife designs online trying to find something that would be representative of what I wanted to create and be the foundation of the research to then fuel the rest of my project whilst continuing to build upon the hunter’s knife inspired by Aleister Crowley.

Aleister Crowley has been the catalyst for my entire project. He is the rocket fuel to my idea bank. Because he was recommended to me by my teacher, at first, I was a bit sceptical at first but after reading about this occultist lifestyle in his lifetime (1875-1947). He was an amazingly crazy character who did things that were heavily frowned upon even today. He took part in mass drug parties and went against anything godly. He was involved in sacrifices and occultish rituals. He was very controversial in his life.

The reason why I chose a weapon for my FMP was because I wanted to base the project on Aleister Crowley and I considered weapons as a reflection of his life through refinement to occultism. The refinement refers to the hunter’s knife, as Aleister hunted around the world in Africa and India searching for big game and high rewards to fuel his ego, ambition and arrogance.

I enjoyed creating the knives in the workshop, but I did have to overcome and solve problems. For example, the metal band which was supposed to wrap around the hunter knife blade to the top of the knife to create a metal guard look, but this didn’t work because I had to hammer it out on an anvil and I got the wrong angle and it started to curve and it was too thin and not straight enough and was not clean enough to suit the style of the knife. So, I decided to change my plan and moved on to creating the metal grip. I also had some issues with this in that I was not able to bend the metal into the correct shape and took a lot of time to solve, I had to use a right angle press twice but when I did the second press the distance between the two right angles made it difficult to get it out of the press because it bent into the press so I had to bend it back out to then wiggle it out and bend/shape it back into my desired shape.

There was an issue with fitting the handle of the hunter’s knife because I used MDF as my base to build of and whilst MDF is a grate crafting material, but it simply doesn’t have the strength to resist being drilled into or any moderate amount of heat can burn this material these are things that I also had to deal with. If I was to do this again I would stronger wood to avoid these issues in the future.

There was also an issue with the ram’s horn knife, it cracked because the MDF expanded in the oven due to heat which made the super sculpey stretch, when the MDF cooled it shrank back but the super sculpey was set so the collapsed section had to PVA glued over so it could be filled and then painted. This worked well and looks like it was part of the design, so I consider it a happy accident.

I put red paint on one side of the ram’s horn blade to resemble the look of blood. When I looked at the blade with the red paint on I felt it ruined the look so I wiped most off but some parts did not come off. If I was to do this again, I would test the paint on scrap metal first or use a different mix of paint or another type of stain or ink instead of acrylic.

I love how the ram’s horn looks. I feel it has depth and character and that it is well made. It looks the way I envisaged it. I like the way I have blended the acrylic, the light and dark colours and also the way it shines in the light. I like super sculpey, but it can also be difficult to manipulate the material in a way in which suits your needs. I think that more practice with the material would be beneficial to see how the material reacts. Temperature is also important with super sculpey, it is harder to manipulate when cold or too warm. It can also crack in the cooling process. If you over cook it becomes brittle, crumble and harder to paint.

If I did the project again I definitely would not use MDF with metal for more rigid builds. I was use a very hard solid wood that could resist drilling and heat.

Overall, I am pretty happy with the FMP outcomes, there could obviously be some improvements but on the whole I feel that I achieved what I set out to do.

(1145 words)

[skeletondeerart]

May We Meet in the Next Life My Beloved

Aloy x Fem Reader | Word Count: 2978 Words

Warmth was the first thing I felt as the Sun reared its head over the mountainside, yet it wasn’t the Sun’s rays that stirred me from my slumber, no, for it was my red-headed lover whose arms where circled around my torso holding me in place. Even if her eyes where shut she knew I had awoken, a tell-tale being her pulling me tighter to her chest and pulling the covers over our heads. At that moment is when she decided to open her emerald eyes. Even in the darkness of the covers I saw the pure adoration reflected in her irises as she cups my cheek and runs her thumb over my cheek bone.

“I was thinking of doing something different for breakfast this morning, care to join me?” Aloy spoke softly. I simply smiled and nodded my head as I pulled the both of us out of the darkness and began to put on some loose-fitting clothes and brushing through my hair. I could hear the rummaging of Aloy going through her stash as she also changed, I couldn’t resist to subtly turn my head to peek at her bare back.

“Hey, don’t think I don’t see you~” Aloy jested as she slipped on her shirt. I whipped my head straight again, my features burning as hot as an open flame.

We both headed into the main living area once we were fully dressed, yet it seemed that everyone was still asleep in their quarters even if most of the group were early risers. To be honest I kind of preferred a quiet morning to just Aloy and I. Sometimes Erend’s ‘morning heavy metal sessions’ were a little too much.

Aloy grabbed a satchel from one of the shelves pre-stocked with various foods such as bread rolls and fruits and took hold of my hand taking me out of the base and up the mountainside.

“What about the Sunwings? Isn’t their nest up at the peak?” I questioned looking at Aloy’s profile.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, I’ve already cleared them out yesterday.” Aloy spoke confidently a small smirk evident as she glances at me out of the corner of her eye. Even after all this time we have been together Aloy always found a way to fluster me, it was comical of how many times my face would flush a vibrant crimson when I was with her. I feel like a young teenager basking in their first romantic encounter, I knew deep down inside me that she was going to be my forever; I hope she thinks the same about me.

As my mind ran wild, we reached the peak, the crisp snow untouched by another soul and the Sun peaked over the crest of the mountain side with orange and red tones. Dawn was such a beautiful time of day. Aloy didn’t let go of my hand as she guided me to the overhang. Her ginger hair glowing in the morning rays, she seemingly glowed as if she was not of this world, like a goddess…

Aloy turned her head and looked towards me over her shoulder, and I never thought that I could fall in love with her all over again. She was ethereal, she cast me a lopsided smile as I stand there like a stunned machine. By the time I had been released from the clutches of adoration Aloy had already laid out the picnic. The blanket embroidered with glowing blue machine wires and crafted out of the softest of pelts, even though Aloy was more function over aesthetic it seemed she had put in the effort of making the platter of food look irresistible, laying out the various assortments in very visually appealing way.

She leaned heavily on one of her arms and looked at me, as if to silently ask me to sit down, and I do just that. Taking my place beside her I rest my side into hers as my eyes move to the sunrise once more. Aloy’s eyes shift to the sunrise as well and she lightly exhales. My eyes drift back to her as my eyebrows furrow in worry.

“Are you alright my love?” I ask tentatively as my hand slips in hers to prompt her to tell me what’s wrong. As I spoke Aloy meekly looked at me, that was quite worrying as Aloy always exudes a confidence in everything she did, having her look at me this way was quite unusual. Aloy just looked at me solemnly like she already anticipated my reaction.

“We need two essential components to build vital equipment for storming the Zeniths… that being an Apex Thunderjaw and Tremourtusk heart, there is a site where they were both spotted.” She states in a straightforward manner. “If we don’t retrieve these parts our sacrifices will be for nothing, and humanity will lose, we cannot afford that. I’m heading out tomorrow and that’s final.”

“Al-…”

“No” Aloy spoke sharply, yet she did not break eye contact. She was completely serious.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I forbid you. You will be looking after the rest of the team at the base. You will not be coming with me this time, it’s just too dangerous.” There was a bite in her words, not from anger but from fear. I knew that she was scared at the prospect of fighting two massive Apex machines at the same time. I suspect she thinks that I will get myself killed if I tag along.

“… I know Varl’s death has scared you… of losing anyone else you love. We all hurt with his absence, but you must understand that this isn’t the way to approach this. These machines are dangerous, and it’s almost impossible to take them down single handed.” I spoke gently trying to soothe Aloy.

“Don’t you see that I’m trying to protect you!?!” Aloy’s voice was beginning to rise. I sat there shocked, my limbs suddenly became as heavy as lead and my tongue felt like it had swollen and began to suffocate me. I turn my head down in shame and stare at the apples that lay by my tightly woven hands, fingernails pressing into my flesh as I try to quell oncoming tears. The atmosphere around us had turned sour like acid. Aloy finally looked at me and her speech ceased immediately upon seeing my face. I didn’t have the strength to pull my head up again, all I could do was glance at her through my lashes. Her expression was now stained into the back of my eyelids for the rest of my life.

Regret.

Her eyes were dull and glassy, hidden within a whirlpool of self-hatred and loathing. Her eyebrows furrowed in agony as her supple cheeks flush with the appearance of her unshed tears, her lips parted in unspoken words as she grappled for anything to say to me. Her hands gripped at her tense thighs, fingers bunching into the furs of her pants.

I simply couldn’t take it anymore and my limbs suddenly gained their ability to move once more. I fell into Aloy’s arms as I let out visceral sobs into her hair as I bury my tear sodden cheeks into the crook of her neck. Aloy sat there stunned for a moment before wrapping her arms around me and began slowly rocking me back and forth as she didn’t know what else to do.

We stayed there for what felt like a moment but by the time I lifted my head from her shoulder the sun was so longer there, replaced with rainclouds that consumed the once crystal sky. Rain showered down from the Heavens on our sorrowful souls. Yet it was not unwelcomed, quite the opposite actually.

The beginnings of a smile adorned my tear-stricken face as I hold out my palm to feel the water droplets make contact my searing skin. I leaned back from Aloy who had not moved from the embrace from when I initiated it, she meekly rose her head to meet my eyes as I held out my hand for her.

“I forgive you Aloy; I understand you’re just worried for me, and I thank you for that. The past is the past and I think we should make the most of the time we have with each other in this moment. Don’t you think so too?” I spoke with a smile.

Aloy smiled back at me and took my hand in a firm grip, I haul her to her feet, and she lets out a giggle as she stands up right. That only made me smile wider. I hated it when Aloy would begin to break under the title of ‘saviour’, and I tried my best to take care of her, just like I promised her when I married her.

The rain had picked up and soaked us to the bone, yet in that moment we didn’t have a care in the world.

It was just us.

Aloy and I.

Two wayward souls intertwined by events out of our control, for better and for worse we would be there for each other. That day two lovers danced in the rain like they were the only people on earth.

It was truly beautiful.

As dusk approached, we both made our way down the mountain hands intertwined and slighting swinging in the brittle breeze of the frozen mountains. Changing into warmer sleep wear we laid down in our shared bed and tucked the thick blankets tight to our forms. Even in the confines of the base the chilling air seemed to seep through the steel. Muttering sweet words until Aloy had succumbed sleep.

I commit Aloy’s features to memory, the tiny scar above her right eyebrow from a stone, the freckles that spotted her forehead, cheeks, and nose. The way her eyelashes fluttered slightly with her dreams and the way her red hair settled on her brow as strands from her intricate braid came loose in her slumber. I couldn’t help but shed tears as my mind reeled back to what was to become of tomorrow. I was terrified that she would die, I knew this was a silly thought considering all that my love has been through in her almost twenty years on this Earth, yet I couldn’t help but worry, it’s what lovers do for their other half. I was scared I would end up in the same situation as poor Zo.

At that though I gingerly pressed a kiss to Aloy’s forehead as I watched her brows furrow at the sensation. The corner of my lips turned up in a fragile smile as I press my front into Aloy and close my eyes falling into the warm and welcome arms of sleep, as my mind fades from consciousness I feel the subtle embrace of Aloy pulling me just that bit tighter.

It was the dawn of the following day, I could sense Aloy shifting me delicately out of her arms as she placed blankets in place of her. I kept my eyes shut as my ears hear her pull her armour off her stand and sheath her arrows in her quiver, the faint clinging of metal against metal as she moved carefully around me. Once she had gathered all her supplies I felt her kneel down on the bed and press a delicate kiss on my temple and at that she left.

I kept still for a while to ensure she wouldn’t sense I was following her, and once I felt like I was in the clear I sat up in bed and placed my focus on my temple. I prepare my acid gear as I knew what machines I would face, and I headed out.

Kotallo and Erend were playing machine strike in the living quarters when I exited our shared room. Erend looked like he wanted to say something, but he quickly banished the thought when he saw the look on my face. He only pointed to the West exit with his thumb and moved another piece on the board looking back to the match. Kotallo only gave me a curious quirk of the brow as I sped walked out the door.

The frigid air seemed even more suffocating than the day before, yet I pushed on and activated my focus, I could see Aloy’s tracks head through Tenakth territory I sighed seeing the long trek I would have to take to catch up with her. I place my fingers into my mouth and let out a whistle; a Sunwing quickly flew above me and picked me up in its claws. I mount quickly and gain altitude as to ensure if I catch up with Aloy I wouldn’t be spotted.

Flying over the sands on Scalding Spear we enter the forests of the Lowlands, the suffocating humidity of the forest caught in my lungs like adhesive, flying as close to the trees as I could I lost sight of Aloy’s trail, with a huff I jumped off the back of the Sunwing and pulled out my shieldwing. With grace I didn’t know I had I lightly made contact the ground. Once again activating my focus I regain sight of her trail. Following the tracks I come to a tunnel in a mountain, cautiously walking inside it exits into a basin, walls encasing machines and people alike.

That’s when I saw it. I flush of red hair laying unmoving in the stealth grass. I wouldn’t have spotted her if not for her shining helmet.

“ALOY!” My voice had betrayed me as the Thunderjaw and Tremourtusk’s heads snapped in my direction. I hastily nocked an acid arrow and fired it towards the Thunderjaw’s cannons to distract it away from Aloy’s body. I didn’t notice Aloy wearily lifting her head from the grass and her eyes widening in shock.

“(Y/N)! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” I hear Aloy scream as she tried to pull herself up. “LEAVE ME, I CAN’T WATCH YOU DIE BECAUSE OF ME!” Her screams morphed in coughing as blood caught in her lungs. I can’t afford to spare her a look as I launch acid shredders at the Thunderjaw and spring explosive tripwires in the path of the Tremourtusk. I knew I didn’t have a change in surviving if both attacked me at once. Groaning as I let loose tear arrows trying desperately to dislodge the Thunderjaw’s cannons. That’s when the Thunderjaw charged… towards the patch of grass where Aloy lay helpless. A pained scream leapt from my throat rivalling a Longleg screech as I dove for Aloy and shoving her out of the way of the sweeping tail of the Thunderjaw.

That’s when it happened.

My body flung across the field and landed with a sickening crack and my vision went black for a moment. My hearing was cloudy like my ears where stuffed with cotton as my body rolled to a stop. My skin torn from and bruised from the blunt force of the Thunderjaw’s sweep appendage and skidding across stone and steel.

I hear Aloy screaming for me as I turn my head to face her, her desperately dragging her broken body across the field to lay to rest beside my form. Even though Aloy’s legs where practically obliterated she came back to me… I’m so lucky to call her my Wife. My eyes can’t seem to focus on anything anymore, my vision dotting around the edges as my head simply rolls around in shock. My body felt weak, so weak I couldn’t even focus of the features of my beloved. Yet I managed to crack a love drunk, dopey smile as tears cascade down her cheeks as she rips her own armour to attempt in staunching the blood pouring out of my torso. She pulls me into her lap even as she bits down on her cheek as she jostles her shattered bones.

We knew deep down we wouldn’t make it out alive, yet that didn’t stop Aloy to desperately clutching onto the hope that I would survive. Blood painted her lips as she continued to cough blood and wheeze, I had a feeling her ribs had punctured her lungs at some point. I could feel my ribs pierced through the skin of my torso and I knew I was running out of time.

I gathered all my strength and gently took hold of Aloy’s hands that press into my wound, with delicate movements I bring her hand up to my bloodied mouth and kissed her now purple fingers.

“Its’s ok my love…” I simple state, my voice warped and almost unrecognisable.

With a sigh and a grief-stricken expression Aloy gingerly lays down beside me, grasping desperately onto each other as eternal sleep waited with open arms. Our broken bodies continuing to bleed out into the grass, staining the once vibrant greens of ones of striking crimson. The world had long since faded from focus as it was just us once again.

Two wayward souls intertwined by events out of our control.

I wasn’t scared of the prospect of death; all things must die sometime and if I have my love beside me, I knew I would be ok. With a final look into each other eyes I whisper cupping her cheek with my blood sodden hand.

“Let’s fall in love again in the next life my love…”

“… that sounds just wonderful…”.

Finally, we let out our final breaths and hold each other in our arms. My eyes glazed over as I eventually succumb to the waiting hands of the reaper. Yet Aloy did not cry, for she smiles gently as she closes her eyes as well, walking beside me… even in the afterlife.

May We Meet in the Next Life My Beloved.