#wall graphic ireland

[qualitysigns]

was looking up a store in Dublin on google maps to get a better look at the sign and this gay bar was right next door. so i just HAD to post some pictures lol

[caffeinatedkris]

(via St. Patrick's Day Design Graphic T-Shirt by kristalcurt)

[elk96]

A Battle of Ideals Epilogue

Part 6

Pairing: Chris O' Doyle( Free Fire) x female OC

Warnings: graphic description of blood, wounds, some violence, swearing cause that's all they did in that movie, enemies to lovers kinda?, h/c, English is not my first language.

Two months later

"How much"?, Chris asked fumbling with the pack of his cigarettes.

"It will be 25.3 pesos sir", the old seller mumbled, giving him his fruits.

Chris sighed drumming his fingers on the bench. The weather was terrible that day-some more of that goddamned heat, and he'd have to cut his hair. He shoved the change down his pocket and run to their house.

He still didn't feel safe enough to walk around Cuba during daylight-the american prison was too close. Besides, after a long day at the fields, his feet lead him eagerly to the shoreline.

As the sun began to set, he saw Amara swimming alone in the shallow, making bubbles at the water, throwing droplets high in front of her as if it was raining.

"For fuck's sake woman"!, he shouted at her, dropping the paper bags on the ground. "Can't you just stay in your fucking bed"?

"I got warm, I thought I'd go for a swim. Nothing dangerous in that"!

"Why can't you just wait a little longer?! What if it becomes infected"?

"What if you die from those fucking cigs you smoke all the time"?, she answered as she walked to him.

She had taken the bandage off two weeks ago, an ugly scar marking the left side of her abdomen.

He was marked with scars everywhere, memories too hard to forget.

"We've got rice from yesterday, and I caught some fish too", she murmured, hugging him.

"I thought you were busy with that boy that broke it's leg".

"He'll be fine. I've treated worse wounds. -Oh, and remember that lady that gave birth to twins"?

"The woman you saved from certain death"?, Chris laughed. "Her husband thinks you're the Messiah or something".

"That's why they brought us some of the best cigs they make".

Chris's eyes lit up with childish joy as he headed inside the house.

His hands flew across the kitchen table, searching for the package. A large coconut rolled to the floor, dragging two mangos with it.

Amara winced at the sudden noise as she hugged him from behind. She was careful with his ribs as a reflex, even though he was now fit enough to work at the sugarcane fields.

"Where did you put them"?, he mumbled softly, trying to seduce her. He knew she loved his deep voice, but Amara stood her ground.

"I gave them back. I get my salary at the hospital, there's no need for extra rewards. Especially if said rewards harm your health".

"Oh will you stop with that woman…I've been through hell only to be denied a cig"!

"There's better things waiting for you inside", she smiled, dragging him to the bedroom.

It was a small house, the one they had. Poor, and not too steady. But it was homely, unlike either of them had had for a long time. They had made hanging decorations with seashells and stones they'd found by the shore, they had painted the walls a faint, joyful blue.

Their bedsheets were clean, and fresh, the fan on the ceiling keeping the temperature somewhat low.

Chris caressed her body with his fingertips, shoulder, to ribs, to her stomach, letting his warmth spread to her recently healed side.

She had her eyes closed, but he knew she wasn't sleeping. He helped her onto him, so she would be close.

Somehow it was worse than before, the stillness and the calm. Everything was at bay, so he didn't know what to watch out for. He needed her close, to know she was safe.

"How long do you think"?, she mumbled sleepily. "Until we leave".

"I don't know. It's not bad here. A slow life, simple. Safe".

"I heard you whisper in your dream yesterday Chris", she scolded him. "Apologizing to Aidan and Mike…"

"It's okay, it's just dreams", he rushed to reassure her. "But I wouldn't mind going back to Ireland. At some point".

Amara held her breath, trying to navigate that weird feeling inside of her.

In the past two months, they had kept a watchful eye of the news in America, Britain and Ireland. The MI6' plan to debilitate the IRA had worked just fine without Chris' information-7 of their members were down, another gun deal had been prevented.

She looked him in the eyes, noticing her reflection back on his. They were bluer than the morning sea. Amara saw it clearer than ever: love, in that weird form that could be proven powerful, destructive.

"I don't care where we are. Or what we do. As long as I am with you".

Chris cupped her face bringing their lips together.

"Then girl", he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, "I think we'll just wait. Trouble finds you even in the most peaceful places".

"The future is uncertain but the end is always near", she smiled, hand resting on his temple.

[corkcitylibraries]

Goad Plans of Cork City!

The dedicated Cork City Libraries Local History website, Cork Past and Present, has recently had an interesting addition made in the shape of Insurance plans for the commercial heart of the City. The wide selection of maps details the changing landscape and businesses that filled the city centre from 1897 to 1961!

Cork City Libraries hold copies of seventeen editions of the Goad plans for Cork City, from 1897 to 1961. These are held in five bindings in our Local Studies and Learning Department. The ‘key plan’ on the first sheet of each edition provides a graphic outline of areas represented in more detail on maps 2-16 of each edition. Under the key plan (in PDF form in these webpages), a selective index of streets, buildings, and firms is included. The scale of the detailed plans is one inch to forty feet (1:480) on the original paper copies. Fire insurance plans were first drawn up in the late eighteenth century to provide risk information to fire insurance underwriters.

Charles Edward Goad, born in Surrey in 1848, moved to Canada in 1869, where he became a renowned cartographer and railway engineer. The firm of Charles E. Goad was established in Montreal in 1875 and became the leading producer of fire insurance plans for 1,300 places in Canada, before he returned to Britain in 1885 to produce insurance plans for the commercial sections of more than 100 towns in Britain and Ireland, along with surveying places in other countries.

Fire insurance companies had an interest in preventing fires to insured properties, and firefighters (often private) needed detailed information regarding access to water, routes to building, room arrangements, locations of doors & windows, thickness of walls, information on construction materials, type of roof, locations of combustible materials, water-works system, etc. Charles Goad died in Toronto in 1910. Goad insurance plans now provide an excellent information source for historians, geographers, architects, environmentalists and genealogists.

[middlegradeeveryday]

Wolfwalkers: The Graphic Novel by Sam Sattin

Summary:

In a time of superstition and magic, a young apprentice hunter, Robyn Goodfellowe, journeys to Ireland with her father whose job it is to wipe out the last wolf pack. Robyn, unable to hunt with her father and sick of being confined, sneaks out to explore the forbidden lands outside the city walls. There, Robyn befriends a free-spirited girl, Mebh, a member of a mysterious tribe of WOLFWALKERS rumored to have the ability to transform into wolves by night.

After learning that WOLFWALKERS aren't to be feared, Robyn decides she must protect Mebh and her pack from the hunters. As the girls search for Mebh’s missing mother, Robyn uncovers a secret that draws her further into the enchanted world of the WOLFWALKERS and risks turning her into the very thing her father is tasked to destroy.

Genre: Folktale

Book Type: Graphic Novel

[tsasocial]

UFabrik textiles showcase commitment to innovation and sustainability with EFI at FESPA24

UFabrik: Continuing its endorsement of UFabrik textiles for the display, exhibitions, and events sectors, Electronics for Imaging, Inc. (EFI), a global leader in customer digital printing innovation, has once again specified UFabrik Soft Blackback Textile as an essential part of its stand design for FESPA24.

Output on an EFI VUTEk FabriVU 340i dye sublimation printer, UFabrik Soft Blackback Textile was used to produce all walls of the EFI’s stand (1 D70) at the RAI in Amsterdam. Developed to be the ultimate blackback for direct and transfer dye-sublimation applications, this 100% knitted material has a bright white print surface with anti-scratch black backing and offers the perfect balance between stretch and softness.

The EFI Pro 33r UV LED roll printer, unveiled for the first time at FESPA, will be using UFabrik UV Blackback and UFabrik Backlit for all its live demonstrations, highlighting these textiles as the premier choice to emphasize the new cutting-edge capabilities. Furthermore, these products will also be used for demonstrations on the EFI Q3R dedicated roll-to-roll printer, also featured on the stand.

“We value our partnership with UFabrik, as the quality of the textiles paired with our technology delivers optimum results, enhancing fabric appearance and vibrancy,” said Tom Lynch, EFI Sr. Applications and Event Logistics Specialist.

UFabrik UV Blackback is a high-quality 100% knitted polyester-based textile that has a bright white print surface, and a blackout-coated reverse. Developed with a high-performing anti-scratch coating that allows direct print with UV and Latex technology. Fire-rated, this material is the perfect solution for expo walls, frame wraps, and high-quality backdrops for retail exhibitions, and events.

UFabrik Backlit textile is a woven polyester suitable for the production of frontlit and backlit graphics, and compatible with UV and Latex inks. It is crease and wrinkle-free on tension with no bruising or marking when folded, making it a premium material for all backlit applications in retail, events, and exhibition graphics. Fire-rated, it is available in widths of 914mm, 1600mm, 3200mm, and 5050mm.

UFabrik has worked with EFI to ensure that its installed customer base achieves immediate out-of-the-box success with printed textiles. All UFabrik color profiles are available on the Fiery XF RIP and can be accessed directly from the Fiery Profiles Updater. UFabrik has now created profiles for Caldera users, with ONYX and Rasterlink RIPS to follow for all leading global wide-format UV, Latex, and dye sublimation technologies.

The UFabrik range offers solutions for 95% of all applications required for the display, exhibitions, and events sectors, and is exclusively distributed by CMYUK in the UK and Ireland.

[svgoceandesigns1]

McCleary Ireland Crest Vintage SVG - Irish Patrick's Day SVG PNG, Cricut File

McCleary Ireland Crest Vintage SVG, Irish Patrick's Day SVG PNG EPS DXF PDF, Cricut File, Instant Download File, Cricut File Silhouette Art, Logo Design, Designs For Shirts. ♥ Welcome to SVG OCEAN DESIGNS Store! ♥ ► PLEASE NOTE: – Since this item is digital, no physical product will be sent to you. – Your files will be ready to download immediately after your purchase. Once payment has been completed, SVG Ocean Designs will send you an email letting you know your File is ready for Download. You may also check your Order/Purchase History on SVG Ocean Designs website and it should be available for download there as well. – Please make sure you have the right software required and knowledge to use this graphic before making your purchase. – Due to monitor differences and your printer settings, the actual colors of your printed product may vary slightly. – Due to the digital nature of this listing, there are “no refunds or exchanges”. – If you have a specific Design you would like made, just message me! I will be more than glad to create a Custom Oder for you. ► YOU RECEIVE: This listing includes a zip file with the following formats: – SVG File (check your software to confirm it is compatible with your machine): Includes wording in both white and black (SVG only). Other files are black wording. – PNG File: PNG High Resolution 300 dpi Clipart (transparent background – resize smaller and slightly larger without loss of quality). – DXF: high resolution, perfect for print and many more. – EPS: high resolution, perfect for print, Design and many more. ► USAGE: – Can be used with Cricut Design Space, Silhouette Cameo, Silhouette Studio, Adobe Illustrator, ...and any other software or machines that work with SVG/PNG files. Please make sure your machiMone and software are compatible before purchasing. – You can edit, resize and change colors in any vector or cutting software like Inkscape, Adobe illustrator, Cricut design space, etc. SVG cut files are perfect for all your DIY projects or handmade business Product. You can use them for T-shirts, scrapbooks, wall vinyls, stickers, invitations cards, web and more!!! Perfect for T-shirts, iron-ons, mugs, printables, card making, scrapbooking, etc. ►TERMS OF USE: – NO refunds on digital products. Please contact me if you experience any problems with the purchase. – Watermark and wood background won’t be shown in the downloaded files. – Please DO NOT resell, distribute, share, copy, or reproduce my designs. – Customer service and satisfaction is our top priority. If you have any questions before placing orders, please contact with us via email "support@svgoceandesigns.com". – New products and latest trends =>> Click Here . Thank you so much for visiting our store! SVG OCEAN DESIGNS Read the full article

[infiinitys]

SAOIRSE RONAN. SHE/THEY / have you ever heard of GIBSON GIRL by ethel cain, well, it describes DEIRDRE “DEE” GALLAGHER to a tee! the twenty-eight year old, and HOUSEKEEPER @ HAWTHORNE HOUSE was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE/THEY is/are more guarded or more ENTERTAINING instead? anyway, they remind me of being too used to being the family basket case, walking through life with no destination, pink hair dye staining graphic t-shirts, and a sharp tongue born from protection, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 :

 ⸻  𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

Dee was born into wealth the older of the Gallagher twins in Dublin, Ireland by two minutes. The Gallagher family was wealthier than anyone could possibly imagine, something that showed in both their lifestyle and attitude.

Jacob and Elaine Gallagher each had their own successful careers in their own right, Jacob being a successful Irish politician and her mother being a flashy white-collar attorney, making the world completely accessible to their two twin daughters.

When one tries to imagine Dee's childhood -- they would see a summer home in Lake Como, designer clothes being chump change and debutante balls being part of the inevitable.

Sounds like quite the stereo-typically perfect life, right? Right? Wrong. Dee found little room to actually explore their dreams as a child -- more artistic than academic. This is completely the opposite of Dee's twin, who seemed to believe otherwise of their parents.

Dee began to rebel at fifteen. While her parents tried to paint her out to be a part of "the wrong crowd," tainting their picture perfect image -- Dee was simply looking for a support system.

The more she hung out with her friends, the more they began to notice just how separated she and her sister truly were. Even still, Dee loved her all the same. She was their sister.

By eighteen, they couldn't take it anymore. She began planning their escape, and their new life. Dee ended up deciding the location for their next chapter by essentially pointing to a place on a globe. Notting Hill.

They couch surfed for a while, making sure that she had cut all contact with their family.

It was a lonely life they were living for a while, sleeping on couches to those who took pity on them. They worked several retail jobs to keep themselves afloat -- sometimes multiple at the same time.

When they finally arrived in Notting Hill, it didn't take long before they started working at Hawthorne House, where they have remained for the past eight years. While at first it was a monotonous, the life she was living was finally hers.

When she finally began making friends, that was when things really began to pick up. She found comfort in these people, and was reassured that they had made the right decision.

A couple years ago, they relocated from a motel room to their first apartment on her own and they've really individualized the place.

However, things changed once more when her sister, who broke through their wall of silence when Dee was twenty-three. Dee made her promise that she wouldn't force her to get in contact with their parents. Recently, Dee's sister was proposed to by her boyfriend.

Dee's sister, they would come to learn, has become everything that their parents wanted. A woman of the corporate world, she makes just as much money as their parents do.

What will happen when Dee makes the decision to let their sister back in their life? Will this enlist in a chain reaction that forces her parents back in too, or will they be able to avoid the fate they so deeply feared?

⸻  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

Dyed her hair pink when she was twenty-two for the very first time, and the look hasn't changed ever since. As a child, she was as blonde as could be and has done anything she can to separate herself from that life.

Some wonder why Dee made the decision to give up the life being a Gallagher offered them and decided to clean rooms at Hawthorne instead. To them, she wasn't really living if she didn't have a choice.

When they aren't working at Hawthorne, you can often find Dee adorned in an assortment of baggy clothes clinging to their frame. Baggy sweaters, baggy t-shirts, baggy jeans -- many of them ripped. All accompanied by the same well-loved pair of Chuck Taylors.

more to come.

⸻ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

TBA

[questsystems]

Solution For Digital Signage: Characteristics And Advantages

Nowadays, Digital Signage and Information displays are becoming a real trend in every sector. It is a form of electrical display that displays video, graphics, animation, RSS and many more audio-visual elements to grab viewer's attention and to have a direct influence on them.

These Information Displays can be found in public and private sectors including health, educational, transport, retail, government and corporate sectors.

Digital Signage runs with the help of Digital Signage Solution which is intuitive software that makes these Information Displays media rich. Moreover, these provide viewers a new and innovative medium to stay informed and connected at conventions, seminars and all types of public gatherings.

No doubt, that Digital Signage Solution can add 'Life' into Information Displays. Some of the outstanding features and benefits of using Digital Signage Solution are as follows:-

• STAY CONNECTED AND INFORMED

It helps every viewer to stay connected and informed with its 'New' and 'Innovative' approach over static displays. In retail stores, LCD Display Signage can attract customer's attention and have a direct influence on their buying behavior and in-store experience.

• EASY TO SET UP

Signage Solution is intuitive software that allows users to generate professional digital displays without the need for a programming specialist. Moreover, its intuitive designing offers flexibility and ease to set up by both experienced and novice users.

• UNLIMITED STORAGE SPACE

Astoundingly, Digital Signage Solution places no limit on online storage space as it offers unlimited storage space to store videos, animations, graphics, RSS and all kind of audio-visual elements in it. It is undoubtedly, a significant solution for those who choose to freshen up their signage content frequently.

• EASY TO ACCESS FROM REMOTE LOCATIONS

The best part is that, a Digital Signage Solution allows uploading, updating, scheduling, start up, storing, monitoring, and even rebooting Digital Signage from any remote location. The display media can be transferred to any number of information displays simply by copying its folder and files including run time content editor.

• COST EFFECTIVE AND INTERACTIVE

Both Digital Signage and Signage Solution are extremely cost effective solutions. The display content can be easily managed and changed from any convenient central point, keeping the promotions up to date and without spending extra money on printing. Besides these benefits, these signs can adapt to the context and audience, even interactively.

Genee Wall Talk is one such Signage Solution that helps distributing content and managing signage system easily and affordably.

In a corporate environment, it can be used to communicate latest campaigns, promote company products, brands and services, display real time sales and updates, showcase announcements and display instructions along with development initiatives for the corporate staff.

Whereas, in an educational environment, this incredible Signage Solution can be used to display exam timetables and news articles, achievements and notifications to students, communicate messages to teachers, lecturers or tutors, display photographs and images as slide shows and showcase important health and safety tips.

For More Info :-

Digital Signage Ireland

[whatsonmedia]

As it happened, the World Welcomed the Year 2023

Despite the war in Europe and the ongoing coronavirus pandemic, New Year's Eve is a time of hope, and nations all around the world are partying in anticipation of a better year. Why is it going to be New Year on January 1st in 2023? Knowing history, significance, and traditions is essential. New Year's Day is January 1 in the year 2023. Around the world, people commemorate the occasion by gathering with friends and family to celebrate on New Year's Eve (December 31) and in the early hours of January 1. Discover the day's history, meaning, customs, and the reasons it is called New Year's Day. Just a few days remain till 2023. On January 1, the world will wave farewell to 2022 and ring in the New Year with the prospect of a more promising future. Around the world, January 1 is observed as the start of a new year. On December 31, people gather with their friends and families to celebrate the festive occasion with gifts, sumptuous feasts, parties, and other activities. A new year's beginning represents joy, rekindled vigor, and optimism for the future. Learn more about the origins, importance, customs, and significance of January 1 as the start of the New Year. Thousands of people crowded into Times Square in New York despite the terrible weather. It's Time Square's first large New Year's celebration without limitations. As the clock struck midnight, revelers saw the famed ball drop. Since Mexico also celebrated the New Year, 2023 has officially begun in North America. For the North American Leaders' Summit in less than a week, Mexican President Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador will host US President Joe Biden and Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau in Mexico. The Caribbean entered the year 2023. Antigua and Barbuda, Barbados, Dominica, Dominican Republic, Grenada, and Haiti are welcoming in the New Year. Joe Biden, the president of the United States, is likewise celebrating 2023 one year sooner than the rest of his country. London welcomed the New Year with a 12-minute firework display Huge firework displays welcomed the New Year in the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland in London, Manchester, Cardiff, and Edinburgh, where the yearly Hogmanay celebration is in full gear. Around 16,000 people attended Dublin's show at North Wall Quay. UK Prime Minister Rishi Sunak acknowledged in his statement for the New Year that the nation had a difficult year due to political and economic difficulties and that its issues would not "go away" in 2023. However, he thought that King Charles III's coronation in May would help unite the kingdom. Best Locations in Dhaka to Celebrate New Year's Eve 2023? On December 31, 2022, Dhaka is bustling with activity. There are many things to do in Dhaka, such as board one of the opulent dinner cruises to view the midnight fireworks or attend a hotel gala with champagne and live music. Before the New Year. These wonderful locations in Dhaka are throwing events and celebrations on New Year's Eve this year: - On New Year's Eve 2023, InterContinental Dhaka will host the event. - At Satori Meditations, a jazz night is held on New Year's Eve. - GET UP Happy New Year, then? Is held at Khilkhet, Dhaka's Le Meridian 5-Star Hotel. - Le Méridien Dhaka and TNR Present There is a New Odyssey at - Le Méridien Dhaka and TNR Present LE MERIDIEN DHAKA is the host hotel for A New Odyssey. - The Westin Dhaka is the venue for the NYE BOLLYWOOD Bonanza. - At Splash - The Westin Dhaka, THE WESTIN PRESENTS INTO THE FUTURE 2023 is presented. - At the EMK Center, basic graphic design classes are held. - On December 31, 2022, Nu Disco All Night Long at R-Bar will be held at Renaissance Dhaka Gulshan Hotel. - The Ocean Blend hosts 30 first-and-new-year events. - At this location, Raisa hosts the Joss Party. Where Can I Go in Dhaka to Celebrate New Year's Eve 2023? With festive parties, banquets, and the chance to attend one of the biggest New Year's Eve parties of all time, Dhaka is a traditional location for New Year's Eve celebrations. There are a ton of things to do in Dhaka on New Year's Eve, whether you want a big celebration, a romantic meal, or a change of scenery. The following are some fantastic Dhaka venues where festivities and celebrations will take place this New Year's Eve: The Westin Bangladesh, Le Meridian Dhaka, a five-star hotel, is located in Khilkhet. Its amenities include Splash - The Westin Dhaka, EMK Center, InterContinental Dhaka, Jatra Biroti Ocean Blend, and Satori Meditations. Hotel Renaissance Dhaka Gulshan Read the full article

[digitallivingdublin-blog]

[almuredondo]

WOLFWALKERS - Concept Art and Color Script Worked with directors Tomm More and Ross Stewart as Scene Illustration Artist, Location Designer, Color Script Artist and Background Painter for their feature film "Wolfwalkers" from the 5 times Oscar's Academy nominated studio Cartoon Saloon. ------ Some years ago I packed my brushes and headed to the green rolling hills of Ireland to join an incredible team of people to work in this precious gem. At first I joined the Scene Illustration, o Concept team, where I helped define the look of the forest and design the locations inside of it, as well as help define the style, and traditional pencil and watercolor technique with the team lead by Tomm and Ross. Later in production I designed Sequence Colour Scripts and Key Colour Backgrounds to establish the look and the methodology for the Background Colour Team. Here you can see a selection of some of the concepts I developed. ------ ROBYN RUNNING - Inspired by the Dark Hedges from a trip to the north of Ireland, we were still trying to define the look of the forest, the graphic light and autumny colors while keeping the green wet feeling of Ireland. (which proved to be a challenge for all of us!) We were also exploring the characters in action and how to strike a graphic look moving in 3d space and this pose helped with that. I just loved drawing Robyn, inspired by the character poses of Sandra and the character team concepts. ------ WATERFALL. Helping define the look of the waterfall was one of my favourite things in the film. Working with Maria and Ross from a physical maquette Ross had built, we dove to define the looser, wilder and more organic section of the film, the Wolfwalkers waterfall den, where watercolors are at their rawest and washes of color blend. Was a very iterative process where I let the watercolor do what it wanted, blending colors and shapes in beautiful ways that I would later on use on the final image. In this concept I also explored the characters and proposed the final wolf look for Robyn which made it into the film, as before she had a slightly different look. The whole film was a greatly collaborative effort where we were all exploring and proposing ideas! ------ LOCATION DESIGN RAVINE - First sketches I did when I joined the Wolfwalkers concept team, or scene illustration. I set out to explore the forest as Robyn gets deeper into it. Her feelings and the scenery change and develop as we go further from the farmlands forest tamed by humans. I was trying to figure out how to make the forest feel older and more secret as you get deeper into it, as the areas untouched by humans were wilder, stronger and purer, with more and more ancient ruins from old wolfwalkers civilizations that had not been seen for centuries! ------ Some tree trunks and branches studies I did to define the lush and magical aspect of the ravine. Inspired by a plein air painting trip to Wistman’s Wood in Dartmoor ------ TRIPTYCH - At this time we were trying to find a graphic light to balance the very simple characters and BGs, with a very simple lighting on them, just enough to tell the story we needed in each shot. This image was conceived as a triptych illustration, established in a great storyboard panel by Iker Maidagan and Ariel Ries , with characters by Tomm More and some help from Ross Stewart. I often used small value studies like these to figure out the lighting structure to tell the story, in this case using the Hitchcock bar of light on them to have the girls “see without being seen”. I also did a concept close up to define the look of the magic ivy wall, exploring the FX look and progression and lighting. ------ LOCATION DESIGN - Nearing production we settled to make some specific location designs for the Ravine, the innermost secret den of the Wolfwalker people. We tried to find landmarks that we could repeat in different scenes to get a feel of the evolution of the story. Ludo Gavillet and I designed maps, did sketches and color roughs and had a blast dreaming camera possibilities to craft the otherworldly and mystical side of these people, inspired by the art of Andy Goldsworthy. (I discovered this artist with the best family name ever thanks to Ross during production, don't miss the documentary about his art and life!). ------ SEQUENCE COLOR SCRIPTS - Later in production, I helped out with some sequence color scripts to flesh out, from the rough color keys from Alice and Lily, the final approach the BGs will have in a specific sequence. ------ All artwork copyright by Cartoon Saloon & Melusine Productions.

[tropes-and-tales]

When Spring Comes

CW:  Light angst, then fluff, then smut (loss of virginity; PiV, unprotected; the faintest implication of pregnancy, but only assumed - nothing graphic described), 18+ only.

Word Count:  7468

Requested by: the lovely @cannedsoupsucks​ commissioned this and asked that it be shared with Tumblr  🌻

When the beasts at the Great Wall were defeated, and when the defenders were done celebrating their victory, the Europeans were allowed to turn westward and go home.  William Garin from Ireland, Pero Tovar from Castille.

And you.

For the entirety of his journey—first into the far east in search of the black powder, then in the battle against the beasts at the Great Wall—Pero had tried not to speak to you.  Tried not to think of you.  Refused to say your name, and only grunted at you, called out “you, there” if he had to address you at all.  

He had tried to not touch you at all, and he hadn’t, beyond a few moments of necessity, like when he yanked you backwards out of the path of certain death in the jaws of the beasts.

It offended him, that a woman could be a mercenary.  That a woman could go against the natural order of things.  That a woman could wield a sword and a spear as well as a man, and Pero was vocal about you joining their band of mercenaries.  His complaints tapered off a bit as the others in their group died, one by one, leaving only you and him and William.  

His complaints were silenced altogether when he saw the women warriors at the Great Wall, but still—something about you irritated him to the core of his being.  

-----

It took a month to get across the dry plains beyond the wall, and it was slow going.  The sun baked down on the trio of Europeans, and they spent the noon hour in whatever scant shade they could find in the few scrubby trees.  They only traveled when it was cool in the morning, or in the few cool hours before sunset, but then they had to make camp quickly.  As warm as it was during the day, it was cold at night.

They reached the end of the plains, dusty and saddle-sore, and found themselves in a village.  In the near distance were mountains.  They rested a few days before they made plans to cross them.

The Chinese defenders of the wall had refused to share the secret of their black powder, but they had paid the Europeans handsomely for their help in defeating the beasts.  Which meant nothing to you, apparently: while William and Pero paid for comfortable beds at the local inn, you saved your gold and bedded down in the stables with your horse.

“You’re more miserly than a parish parson,” William declared with a grin as the three of you ate at the tavern.  Pero only scowled into his stew of root vegetables.

“Best to save my coin than waste it on a night’s sleep.  I’m going to give up the wandering life once I get back west,” you retorted.  “Buy a little plot of land and hang up my sword forever.”

Good, Pero thought sourly.  He had toyed with the idea of giving up the mercenary life too, but once you were settled somewhere, he could move on and never see you again.  Your face and your voice would fade out of his memory soon enough, and eventually he’d forget you entirely.

-----

It took a few days to get supplies for the next stage of the journey home.  The horses were re-shoed, provisions were bought.  Pero and William stayed in the inn, and you continued to sleep in the stables that were open on one side to the weather and the wind.

At the tavern, over dinner, the man who served them overheard their plans to travel over the nearby mountain pass.  The man hesitated, then turned back to talk to them in a rusty Latin dialect that was mostly understandable.

“You have to make sure you’re across the mountain pass soon,” he told them.  “Because the winter snows melt and make it impassible otherwise.  If you don’t leave soon, you’ll have to wait until spring comes again.”

“Almost an entire year,” William said with a low whistle of appreciation.  “We need to leave tomorrow.”

“We have everything we need.  We’ll leave at first light,” Pero agreed, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see you nodding too.

As if to remind the three of you of the perils of dismissing the weather, a cold rain blew up that night.  As it pattered against the roof of the inn, Pero spared a thought for you in your meager bedding.  He almost went out to fetch you, to drag you by the meat of your upper arm and force you to be reasonable about where you slept.  

Instead, he rolled over in his warm bed and fell back asleep.

*****

You had grown up poor in the shadow of the Dalmatian city-states.  Always in fear of war from the Venetians or the Croatians or the pirates that haunted the coast.  Always hungry.

Fighting wasn’t new to you.  The youngest child of your family, you had grown up fighting for the scraps of scraps.  Your father had been fond of you, his most fierce child, and he had taught you how to defend yourself with a sharp little knife from the time you were small.

Hard living was nothing new to you either.  William teased you, but it was fine to sleep in the stables.  Your horse kept you warm, and it saved you coin, and the little plot of land seemed almost within your grasp.

When you woke early to prepare to leave, you found yourself chilled in a way you hadn’t felt before.  Ever.  You were always healthy, free of the usual complaints of the time.  The sweating sickness had passed through your village every summer when you were a child, and it had never once touched you, for example.

Now you felt sick.  Hot in one moment, cold in the next, and weak throughout your limbs.

You gritted you teeth and pushed through it.  William and Pero had been adamant about leaving, and you had to agree.  You missed home, and if you had been fierce as a child, you had also been stubborn—and that stubbornness had stayed with you well into adulthood.

*****

Pero tried to never look at you, but even with an askance look, he could see that something was wrong with you.  You looked glassy-eyed, and your hands trembled as you saddled your horse.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, his voice a harsh growl.  

William’s head turned to study you too.  “You look peaked,” he added.  His voice was more uncertain, and he glanced over at Pero, who shrugged irritably.

“I’m fine,” you said, but you didn’t sound like yourself.  Not the usual musical lilt to your accent; your voice came out reedy and weak, and Pero caught you stifling a cough.

“Good,” he snapped.  He fitted the metal bit into his horse’s mouth and buckled the bridle.  “We are leaving within the hour, with or without you.”

“Tovar…” William said, his tone low.  He shook his head faintly at the Spaniard, who glared back at him.

“We are leaving,” he repeated, emphasizing the last word.  

Pero glanced at you, but you didn’t seem to register what he was saying.  He watched you mount your horse, and even that seemed wrong.  Usually you moved so smoothly, but now you struggled to find your seat.  It seemed to exhaust you, and you panted at the little bit of effort.

Then he saw you shiver, a bone-deep chill racking your body for a moment.

Pero’s usual low-simmer of irritation flared up into anger.  You were sick, he realized all of a sudden.  Stubborn, mule-headed woman had to sleep in the cold rain, and now you were sick.

“We are leaving now,” he said a third time.  His words were a sharp bark that made you look at him in surprise, and he could see how blood-shot and watery your eyes were.  

“I don’t feel very well,” you replied.

Mounted on your horse, gripping the pommel of your saddle, you looked between William and Pero as they stood near your horse.  You looked ashamed to admit your weakness, your sudden illness, but when Pero growled that he was leaving with or without you, you nodded again.

Something about that nod made him angrier.  Stubborn woman.  The type to charge into battle against the beasts at the Great Wall, the type to force Pero to forfeit his own safety to keep you from dying foolishly.  And now this:  sick because of your miserly habits, and possibly keeping them in China for an entire year.

His temper roused, he ranted at you.  Called you foolish, an idiota, a silly girl playing at life and death.  He told you in no uncertain terms that the fraternal bonds of the original mercenary group were dissolved, that he owed you nothing.  That if you were sick, that was your business, but he was going home.  You could stay in China and perish for all he cared.

You only looked at him with your solemn, glassy eyes and nodded along with him.  Pero realized too late that you weren’t hearing him, weren’t understanding what he was saying.  

He only realized it when your eyes rolled back into your head and you toppled off of your horse, slow enough that his body sprang into action before his mind could comprehend it, and he caught you in his arms just as you fell.  The lax, dead weight of your body made him stagger, and when he lightly slapped your face to rouse you, he could feel how feverish you were.

*****

It was hard to know where you were.

It was hard to know when you were.  

You seemed to be unmoored.  Dreaming, maybe?  Dead?  You went from hot to cold, from throwing off the heavy blanket covering you to shivering in your shift, but you weren’t sure where you were.  When you were.  Sometimes you thought you were in your small, mean hut along the coast, your childhood home.  Sometimes you could smell the salt-scent of the sea, hear the lapping shush of the waves against the rocks.

Sometimes you thought you were in Bohemia, when you fought against brigands who had been pestering the local lord.  The scent of heavy pine and rich soil, the cool winds that wound through the trees.

Sometimes you thought you were in Arabia, the grit of hot sand under your tongue, the feel of the sun baking against your skin, the rich perfumed oils that the merchants brushed through their beards in the wadis.

When you opened your eyes sometimes, you were in a dark room with a lone candle burning.  Sometimes you felt a cool cloth bathing your face and neck, and other times someone pressed a cup of broth to your cracked lips, urging you to drink.  You thought it might be your mother tending you so lovingly, but she had been dead for years and years.

Maybe you were dead too.

-----

When the fever finally broke, you felt it.  You felt the way the great fiery fist of the illness loosened its hold on you, then released you.  You sighed in relief, the coolness that washed over your exhausted body.  You fell asleep, and for the first time since you fell sick, you didn’t dream.

-----

You woke.  

You weren’t sure how much time had passed.  It seemed to be nighttime, because the usual candle was burning low on a nearby table.  The room was unfamiliar, but after a moment, the door opened.  A Chinese woman, her hair brushed back in a neat bun at the base of her neck, nodded at you in satisfaction.  She looked vaguely familiar, and it took a moment to place her as the innkeeper’s wife.

“You’re awake,” she said.  “Your fever has broken.”

“How long was I ill?”

“A while.”  She tapped a finger against her pursed lips, searching for the word.  “From a full moon to a crescent.”

“Three weeks?”  You were incredulous to have been sick for so long.

“The one man stayed,” she added.  “The other left.”

Of course.  William would have stayed:  he always was kind to you, treated you like a little sister.  Pero, naturally, was the one to leave.  The man had hated you, though you were never sure why.  Or maybe he didn’t hate you, really.  He had pulled you out of the jaws of one of the beasts, and if he truly hated you, he could have just let you die.

But he had deeply disliked you, so you weren’t surprised to hear that he had pressed onward to the west, leaving you and William behind.

“The man was very worried,” the woman continued.  “He threatened the physicker with harm if he did not heal you.”

You frowned.  William threatened the healer?  You couldn’t imagine it, the kindly Irishman being so rude—

“And he took on much of your care.  Fed you, bathed you with cool water to keep the fever down.”  The woman chuckled and shook her head.  “To think such a fierce man with such a discourteous temperament could be so gentle in caring for a sick friend.”

Her words didn’t make any sense.  Maybe she was just confusing her words, unfamiliar with the different language from her own.  Or maybe the fever left you a fool, unable to comprehend things.

“William,” you started to say, but the woman frowned.  Shook her head.

“No, his name is something else.”  She drew the tip of one finger under her eye.  “Has a scar, here.”

*****

So his ranting had been blustering.  Words with no action behind them.  Pero didn’t care anymore.

The moment you had fallen from your horse, the moment he had caught you, it had struck him all at once. Why he had been so irritated with you.  So bothered by your very existence.

Because even feverish and sick and unconscious, the moment you were in Pero Tovar’s arms, he realized he never wanted to have you out of his arms.  It hit him like a thunderclap, like Saul on the road to Damascus struck by blindness, only in reverse.

Pero suddenly saw everything clearly.

William was anxious to get home to Ireland, and Pero half-heartedly suggested leaving you with a villager and plenty of coin for your care.  The idea had made William uncomfortable—leaving a woman alone in a strange land, and no way to return home unless alone.  

Pero had grumbled.  Cursed.  But it was a ruse, and in the end, he convinced William to go on without the two of you while he stayed behind and watched over you.

It had been harrowing.  It was easy to secure rooms, two side by side in the inn.  It was easy to pay the innkeeper’s wife to help, to translate to the healer.  But Pero had taken on much of your care—bathing your face with a cool cloth, feeding you mouthfuls of broth.  The innkeeper’s wife had given him a small jar of liniment, and Pero had carefully brushed it onto your dry, cracked lips.

Watching over you while you shivered under the thick coverlets or kicked them away when the fever roared in you.  He felt guilty to look his fill of you; the way the thin shift clung to your body as you sweated from the fever.  The way the hem rucked up high on your thighs as you tossed and turned restlessly.  The way the neckline gaped and showed the sweet curves of your breasts, the dusky nipples barely visible under the linen.

Seeing so much of your body should have made his cock twitch to life, but it only twisted a sharp, keen pain in his chest.  It hurt to see you so ill, laid so low.  You had been unfaltering in the entire journey east and at the wall and part of the way back west.  To see you sick reminded Pero that you were mortal after all, and that you could be easily carried off by death from him.

He had been grabbing a few hours of sleep when your fever finally broke.  The innkeeper’s wife had woken him, and in those first few seconds, Pero had felt an icy dread in his gut.  The woman’s solemn face spelled disaster, but it was good news after all.

“The girl’s fever has broken,” she whispered.  “She sleeps, but you can leave in the morning now.”

Pero had led William to believe that he’d leave once you were recovered—or dead.  But he was never going to leave you.  The moment you fell into his arms, he knew that he’d never leave your side again, if he could help it.

*****

The innkeeper’s wife left to get you some broth, and you sat in stunned silence.  Pero was the one who stayed with you?

A moment after she left, the door opened again and confirmed that you weren’t rendered simple by the fever or confused by the limits of language.  Pero Tovar entered the room, and there was something off about him.  He didn’t stride or stomp across the floor.  He crept, quietly, and his shoulders were rounded and hunched.

He must be furious with you.  You delayed his return home by almost a year.  

Before you could apologize, and before he could launch into a diatribe against you, the woman returned with a bowl of broth.  She made as if to sit and feed you, but Pero took the tray from her and waved her away. He sat down in the chair beside the bed, and he took the bowl into his hands.  

He was going to feed you.  He had fed you, according to the woman, and your eyes fill with tears at the simple gesture.  

“Pero, I’m so sorry—” you started to say, but he cut you off with a terse shake of his head.

“Hush,” he growled.  “Eat.”

So Pero Tovar fed you.  When you couldn’t stop the tears from coursing down your face, he also reached out and brushed them away with the back of his hand, gentle in a way you never thought he had and in a way you didn’t feel you deserved.

-----

Every day, he fed you.  He never talked to you, and he never let you talk much, but he cared for you.  Tended to you.  When your hands stopped trembling from the lingering remains of your illness, he watched you eat, focused as a hawk on its prey.  

If you left the bowl of broth half empty, he frowned.  If you ate it all, tipped the bowl back to swallow the last few drops, he nodded in satisfaction.

The innkeeper’s wife helped you bathe, and Pero left the room for that, but you could hear him on the other side of the door, shifting in his heavy boots.

He helped you out of bed, helped you gain your strength step by step.  You had lost so much in those three weeks of sickness:  strength, stamina.  The flesh had fallen away from you, left you weak and panting from the effort of taking even a few steps.  

But Pero was always there, right at your side.  He wrapped you in his heavy cloak and held your elbow in his hand.  Led you around the perimeter of the small room at first, then wrapped an arm around your waist when you faltered.  

Once, he had to scoop you into his arms and carry you back to bed, and something about the gesture was so intimate that you felt your face heat up.  

*****

You healed slowly.  

Pero hated the way you pushed yourself beyond your limits, and he wondered how much of it was your stubborn nature and how much was his fault.  His rant at you the day you had fainted:  he had been cruel in what he had said.  

He had thought you hadn’t heard much of that rant, but you must have heard some of it.  When your fever broke, the first few weeks, you had cringed from Pero.  Tried to apologize, but he always cut you off, never let you get the entire sentence out of your mouth.

He preferred to be close to you in near-silence as you healed.  As he hovered near you, ready to catch you again if you fell.

The first few walks around the room ceded to walks down the hallway of the inn.  Then walks downstairs.  Then walks outside, the cool spring giving way to warmer summer.  He wrapped you, as always, in his cloak, and it gave him a strange thrill to see you clothed in it.  

But you always pressed yourself too hard, and one day, he walked beside you, anxious as you went further and further without turning around.

“We should turn back…” he suggested time and time again, but you always ignored him.  Pressed forward.

It wasn’t surprising when you got winded and tired and needed to sit in the shade of a dove tree with its heart-shaped leaves.  You settled on the ground, and Pero sat beside you.

It was a long moment before you sighed and glanced at him.  It was still strange to look at you:  before, he avoided having you in his line of sight.  Then when you were sick with the fever, he had looked his fill as you slept restlessly.  This was strange, looking at you directly as you gazed back at him.  Making eye contact.

“I want to apol—” you started, but he cut you off as he always did.

“Don’t.”  He shook his head.

“Why won’t you let me?  You never let me tell you how sorry—”

“You couldn’t help getting sick.  And I was cruel to say that I’d leave you behind.”

You reached out a tentative hand and touched his arm, and even through the fabric of his tunic, it stirred that love-sick, lust-riddled feeling in his gut.  He moved his arm away and you sighed.

“Pero, I’m sorry.”  The words came out in a rush, so fast he couldn’t stop you.  “I slept outside, and I should have—”

“Stop.  Just stop.”

He saw the way your eyes glittered with tears.  This was what he wanted to avoid, the cruel mercenary making you cry.  He wanted to just skip past all of it, but you seemed to feel the guilt of your illness on your soul.  You wanted absolution from him.

The Pero of before would have scoffed and you and stomped away.  The Pero of now was a much-changed man.  A man in love, and the Spaniard had never been in love before.  Had never seen the allure of women:  a wife to tie him to one place, a whore willing to ease a few coins from his purse for a quick tumble.  When the other men had sought out the company of the women at brothels, Pero had groused at the waste of money and stalked away in the other direction.  Had found a quiet room somewhere else, had polished his chainmail until it gleamed, then fell asleep alone.

Any tension he’d ever felt below the belt had been relieved easily enough with his own clenched fist, and he didn’t have to pay hard-won gold for the experience.  

Pero Tovar had never had a woman before, and had never much cared about that fact—until now.  Until you fell into his arms, until he had helped nurse you back to health, and now he thought of little else.

He reached out now and hooked a clumsy hand under your chin.  Turned your face to him, and when one tear and then a second shook free from your eyelashes, he brushed them away.

“Do not apologize to me,” he grumbled.  “I won’t accept it.”

“But—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  He gripped your chin more firmly, shook your head a little in his hold.  A little playful, and your eyes widened at the gesture.  “No tears, and no apologies.”

“I’ve delayed your return home though.”  You whispered it, and Pero found his gaze slipping to your lips.  The lovely shape of them, and he remembered how he had daubed the liniment into them in your illness, had traced the shape of them with his finger.  

How he had imagined what it would be like to kiss you.  He’d never kissed another person before.

“You delayed your own return too,” he pointed out.  “So we’ll go home together, a little later than planned.”

He watched you carefully as you considered his words.  You sniffled, then nodded, then swiped at your eyes.

When you stood up, you wavered on your legs a bit, and Pero was there to steady you, his hands gentle but firm on your waist until you found your balance.

*****

You and Pero stayed in that village in China.  There was no way around it:  if you tried to pass through the mountains, you’d be beaten back by the snowmelt-swollen streams.  If you waited until autumn, you’d face winter by the time you reached the other side.

Once you were healed, Pero found the two of you cheaper accommodations—a small hut on the outskirts of the village.  It belonged to a man, recently widowed, who decided to move in with his daughter and her family, so Pero was able to rent it for only a few coins.

It worried you, how much of his money he spent.  Every time he went out for provisions, you tried to press some of your own coins onto him, but he waved it off every time.

“Please, take it,” you told him once.  You pleaded with him.  You felt doubly ashamed:  for keeping him in the east for another year, and now for costing him money.  Hard earned money too, and Pero was almost as stingy as you.  While he had spent his gold on the occasional bed at an inn, he had never joined the other men, who spent their coins as soon as they earned them.  Pero had never gone to a gambling house, or a brothel, as far as you had known.

Now he spent that hard earned, carefully saved coin, and it was your fault.

“What sort of man would I be, taking a woman’s money?” he grumbled at you.  

“I can help, Pero.  I can—”

“What sort of man do you think I am?” he snapped, cutting you off, and the question had left you stunned to silence.  He glared at you for a long beat, then strode out of the cottage with a low growl.

-----

What sort of man was Pero?  It was a question you hadn’t considered before.

You didn’t think much of men at all.  You knew that they were more likely to hurt a woman, so you kept a careful distance, even with the fellow mercenaries you had traveled with.  William had proved to be a kindly man, so you hadn’t feared him.  Pero had been less kind:  never said your name, never spoke to you…but lately, he seemed changed.

There was only one bed in the small cottage that you shared, but he made you sleep in it.  He just curled up in front of the hearth on his bedroll, no matter how many times you tried to convince him to trade off on the more comfortable bed.

He did little things too that confused you.  When he went into the village to buy provisions, he always brought something back that wasn’t needed—for you.  Sometimes he’d bring a freshly baked bun from the baker.  Once, he brought a handful of bright purple flowers he’d found growing alongside the footpath (which he had thrust at you with a muttered ��here’ before he stalked off to tend to the horses).

Once, he handed you two perfect plums, deep red-purple like garnets.  You had handed one back to him and bitten the inside of your cheek to hide the smile at his look of surprise.  Together, the two of you had sat in the warm summer sunlight and eaten the plums, the sweet juice running down your wrists as you bit into the fruit.

Otherwise, Pero was much the same as before.  He rarely spoke to you.  He seemed to never want to look at you, but it didn’t mean that you never felt his eyes on you.

When you felt him watching you, if you turned quickly enough, you could catch the open expression on his face—indescribable, but something akin to confusion.

It was far easier for you to watch him.  You watched him when he strode off into the forest to hunt for game, or when he brushed the horses, muttering quietly to them in his foreign tongue.  

Or when he shed his shirt and took an axe to the pile of firewood stacked outside of the cottage, his bare chest and back gleaming in the sunlight.

There was something about him now.  It was hard to describe:  you had little experience with men, had only kissed a boy from your village when you were a girl.  Perhaps you would have married that boy when you both grew up, but he had died at sea when his father’s fishing boat had overturned in a squall, and that was that.

But there was something about Pero that made you feel anxious and unsettled, but in a pleasing way that you didn’t want to end.

*****

Summer passed, and autumn began.  Once autumn passed, winter would come.  Then, at just the right moment between the danger of avalanches and the danger of the snow-melt, you and Pero would leave for the west.  

He’d never admit it to you.  He could barely admit it to himself, as he tossed and turned from his place in front of the hearth each night, his eyes always searching your form as you slept on the bed nearby.  

Pero Tovar didn’t want to leave China.  Not if it meant what he thought it meant:  that you’d both return to Europe, and then separate.  You to the little farm you had wanted, him to…wherever miserable mercenaries went.  It was funny how he had wanted nothing more than to be quit of you, and now after less than a year together, he wanted to stay by your side until the day death took him.

He had never lived with a woman before.  He’d obviously never married, and he never took a lover or a whore, but even as a child:   his mother had died when he was small, and he only had the haziest memories of her.  She had died birthing his little sister and the two had been buried together.  It left only Pero’s widowed father, Pero, and his three older brothers.  A houseful of men and boys who had an elderly washerwoman that came once a week to help them.

He had always been alone, but he never thought himself lonely.  With you, though, sharing that rented cottage together, he realized all too late what he had been missing out on.  Warmth, companionship.  Even if the two of you slept separately, and even if he only offered one word to every twenty of your own.

He tried to show you how he felt, in his own inelegant ways.  He tried to think of how other men had courted, whether it was their sweethearts in their home village or a whore for the night.  He brought you flowers, little treats he thought you might like.

Anything to make you smile, even for just a moment.

As the days shortened and as the sun faded earlier and earlier, Pero found his mood darkening too.

If Pero had learned one thing in his travels across the world, it was that most people, most cultures loved an excuse to celebrate.  The Chinese in this small village were no different, and with the onset of autumn, the village gave itself over to several days of celebrating the harvest.

Pero was in no mood to celebrate.  

Still, he went to the festival with you.  He grumbled when you lightly touched his arm at each new sight:  the lanterns that lit up the village square, the musicians as they played their songs.  The merchants’ stalls selling everything from food and strong wine and carved bits of wood.

The two of you ate.  You drank the strong wine the locals made from the small, sweet plums that grew so well in their valley.  You were not used to strong spirits, and it took no time before you were trying to tug Pero into the square to dance along with the music.

“I can’t dance, belleza,” he grumbled, and instead he sat and watched you.  You danced with the old man whose cottage you rented, then with a pair of the children, laughing the entire time as you stumbled through the unfamiliar steps.

Pero watched.  He wasn’t used to strong spirits anymore either, and he was feeling warm and flushed and anxious.  He felt like time was running out, that you were a hair’s width away from slipping from his side.  He felt like the words that he kept buried deep inside him were creeping upward, making his throat tight, making his teeth clamp shut as he fought to not say anything.

On the walk home, though, Pero felt his control slipping.  You had wound your arm through his, and he knew it was just the wine, but it was so easy to fall into the fantasy.  You as his wife, the two of you heading to your real home, where he would crawl into bed beside you and spend the rest of the night losing himself in you.  

The path home was well-lit from the almost-full moon.  The wind was chilly, rustling the dry leaves in the trees, and you shivered.  Pero stopped, pulled off his cloak, and settled it over your shoulders.  It was so like when you were recovering from your illness, weak as a kitten, and he felt his chest grow tight and aching with want.

“What does belleza mean?” you asked after a while.  “You said it at the festival.”

“It’s hard to translate,” he replied.

You giggled.  “Well, try, Pero.”

Your laughter was infectious.  “It means, roughly, to be as stubborn as an old donkey laden with heavy stones being pushed to walk up a mountain,” he said.

He wasn’t just rewarded with a smile from you but a loud laugh that made you halt in your steps and throw back your head.  

“You’re a liar,” you declared, breathless with laughter.  “Pero Tovar is a shameless liar.”

“It’s the truth, belleza.  You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever known.”

------

Pero never considered that you might be feeling anything other than the effects of the wine.  

Once the two of you arrived at the cottage, you rekindled the fire in the hearth while Pero checked on the horses.  He lingered outside, waited for his madness to pass.  If he waited long enough, you’d be in the bed by the time he returned, which would make it easier to avoid those words bubbling out of his mouth.

When he finally returned though, you weren’t in bed at all.  You were standing in front of the fire and frowning at whatever you saw in the dancing flames.  Your earlier levity seemed to have burned off, replaced by some serious thought.

You turned when he entered the cottage.  You watched him silently as he barred the door and kicked off his boots, and you watched as he hesitated before coming to join you at the hearth.

Pero considered asking what you were thinking, but the wine must have loosened your tongue too.

“What are you going to do when we get back to Europe?” you asked, your voice quiet.  

He shrugged.  He had no idea.  He had always toyed with the idea of settling down too, but if he had to be parted from you, he instead hoped to find a new mercenary band and find death with them in some bloody war or skirmish.

He watched you frown at his gesture.  You twisted your hands in front of you, clearly nervous about something, and his curiosity was piqued.

“You don’t have any family in the west?  No…no girl, maybe, the way Mathias had?”

Mathias who died from an infected knife wound before China.  He’d had a betrothed in Lombardy waiting for him, a buxom wench with golden hair, according to the boy.  Many of the mercenaries, in fact, had wives and children at home who depended on the coin they earned by selling their swords.

Pero shook his head.  “No girl, belleza.”

“No wife or children?”

He huffed at the question.  “No girl or wife or brats to speak of,” he growled.  

You nodded, and you turned back to the fire.  You addressed the flames instead of him.

“I thought, maybe, if you wanted…maybe we could settle together.  Find someplace, I thought maybe in Bavaria where there’s good land to be had.”  You glanced at him, cringed at whatever you saw in his face.  But you took a deep breath and continued, pushing out the rest in a rush of words.

“We wouldn’t have to marry or live, you know, other than how we live now.  We could…m-maybe tell people we were r-related.  I’m not suggesting anything else.  I know you wouldn’t…no marriage, of course.  Not that.  I just…just thought we have a nice thing here, and once we were home….”

You trailed off, and Pero could see how tightly you were gripping your fists in your skirts.  He was stunned into silence at your proposal, nearly everything he had wanted laid out right before him.  Nearly everything, but not all of it.

“I don’t know if we could convince people that we are related,” he finally said.

“No, it was stupid—” you rushed to add.

“Where is this coming from?”  A thought occurred to him, and he felt his stomach sink.  “Is it because you feel guilty still?  About the delay here, and about the coin I’ve spent?”

You made a gesture with your head, a half-nod, half-shake.  “Yes, at first.  But no.”  A deep breath, another quick glance at him before you looked away.  “It started as guilt, but it’s…not that, anymore.”

Pero could hardly breathe.  He could hardly hope at what you meant.  “What is it then, if it’s not guilt?”

You had always had two sides to your nature:  the quiet woman who sat around the fire with the other mercenaries, watching with wary eyes and taking everything in.  

And the audacious woman, the fierce one, who made her decision and then threw herself headlong into battle.  Pero had seen it enough at the Great Wall and even before.

That’s who he saw now.  He saw the resolute look in your eyes, saw the way you steeled yourself as you turned to face him.  You took a few steps until you were standing in front of him, and you reached up with a gentle hand to touch him.  He flinched when you did—unfamiliar to such a gentle touch—and you cupped the side of his face in your palm.  You ran the pad of your thumb, light as air, along the scar that bisected his eye, and he flinched again.

But he didn’t pull away.

You leaned forward and kissed him.

It was so infinitely soft.  It was the softest touch Pero Tovar ever had in his life, his very first kiss with you on a cold autumn’s night in China.  He froze at first, unsure what to do, but your touch unlocked some hidden, latent wisdom in his body, and he finally kissed you back.

He knew he had no skill, but you led him gently.  You put your other hand on the other side of his face, and you tilted his head carefully, cradled his head between your palms.  You led him, took the lead when you slotted your mouth over his, but he was the one who tasted you first when he pressed his tongue against yours, a little tentative, then bolder when you whined at the sensation.

Pero had always wondered at your life before you joined their band of mercenaries.  He had wondered if you’d had a husband, perhaps, and were a young widow.  Or maybe he had beat you until you ran away.  Or maybe you’d been betrothed and fled, or maybe…but maybe…

He realized that night that you were as inexperienced as him.

It was clumsy.  Awkward.  Pero’s fingers fumbled at the intricate fastenings on your dress, but when he accidentally brushed against a ticklish spot on your side, you squealed in surprise and broke the tension of the moment.

He tried to think of every bawdy bit of bragging he’d ever heard, all the crude advice he had pretended not to hear.  He wanted to savor the moment, to make it special for you.  To prove that whatever love you may have for him was not misplaced.

In the end, he only relied on his own instinct, and the way you responded to his touches.  When you touched him, he noted how he felt, and he mirrored your actions.  

It was clumsy.  He bumped his elbow against the wall and cursed; you pulled him to you for another kiss and missed his mouth entirely in the dimly lit room.  Clumsy as it was, though, it was also so close to paradise that Pero thought perhaps he had died and been carried off to heaven.

When you were both rid of your clothing, and when Pero found himself cradled between your lush thighs, you stilled him before he could go any further.  He gazed down at you and saw, for the first time, fear.

“Pero, will you be gentle?” you asked.  “Please?”

You sounded so small when you asked it, as if you were afraid to anger him.  He thought it might be some remnant to his rough nature with you before, and he was keen to drive those vestiges away for good.

“I will, belleza,” he promised.  He leaned down, kissed your flushed face, your skin warm under his lips.  “Hold onto me.”

You did as he said, and that is how he claimed you—and how you, in turn, claimed him.  Your arms around his neck, his face pressed close to yours and peering at you for any sign of pain or reluctance.  He pushed into you slowly, carefully.  Stopped when he found resistance, kissed you until you sighed and relaxed.

You winced, just the once, when he bottomed out into your velvety depths, but then he felt you raise one leg alongside him and shift, and the pained look left your face.

“Are you alright?” he murmured against your mouth, and he smiled to feel you nodding at the question.

He went slowly.  Kept his thrusts smooth and gentle, never jarring you or hurting you.  You were precious to him, more precious than the black powder he had sought, more precious than the gold the Chinese had given for his role in defeating the beasts.

That Pero Tovar was leaving China with the rarest, most precious treasure in the world…the realization hit him all at once, and he came with a groan and a deep shudder.

-----

Neither you nor Pero had any experience in love-making beforehand, but you were both keen learners.  As the days shortened, and as the winds brought snow, you and Pero spent long, lazy evenings in bed together.  Exploring each other, finding what each liked best.  

All told, it only took Pero a few fumbling weeks to find the key to unlocking your pleasure, and once he found that key, he found more and more.  And that was a treasure too, the way you gasped out his name, the way you trembled underneath him, the desperate way you kissed him as your pleasure crested and overtook you.

-----

When spring finally came, you and Pero left China.  You timed your departure just right—after the avalanches, before the snow-melt swelled the streams.  You made your way back to Europa, and just as you had wanted, you found a bit of fertile land in Bavaria and settled there.

But it wasn’t just the two of you, by then.  It took ages to return to the west, and by then, Pero had two treasures:  you, his fierce, stubborn belleza, and the daughter he made with you on the journey home.  

~~~Tag List~~~ @bananas-pajamas  @massivecolorspygiant​   @imspillingcoffee​   @amneris21​   @paintballkid711​   @mad-girl-without-a-box​   @bestattempt​   @rosiefridayrogersunday​   @strawberrydragon​   @hoeforthefictional​   @greeneyedblondie44​  @leannawithacapitala​   @stardust-galaxies​  @buckybarneshairpullingkink​   @isvvc-pvscvl​   @mrschiltoncat​  @stillshelbs​   @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics​    @tobealostwanderer​   @nuvoleincielo​  @knivesareout​  @frankie-catfish-morales​    @prostitute-robot-from-the-future  

[alpinefury]

So, I've not really used tumblr much before. Absolutely no judgement on the site, but I'm terrible at managing my attention between different places. If I start using one place I *will* forget another, it's like I have limited slots. However, for Reasons that are probably fairly obvious, it suddenly feels sensible to try to explore alternative avenues for social media, and honestly I could do with less algorithmic feeds in my life.

So, I'm going to start sharing the backlog of stuff I've made on here. Most of it is either maps or other digital graphic pieces I've made, or otherwise relates to worldbuilding of some sort. Much of it is alternate history but by no means all of it, I tend to like exploring different genres and styles, particular as I've been making maps digitally for over a decade now.

This map belongs to a specific alternate history I've been working on called They Come In All Colours, which began as a one-off scenario that grabbed me too strongly, and so I got pulled into the details. TCIAC isn't focused on the British Isles, but I am from there, so it felt kind of necessary and interesting to actually make a map like this. For context, the alternate history is one that involves the Habsburgs never becoming more than the lords of the titular castle. The current date is around 1865. England, in this timeline, along with Wales, constitutes part of a republican United Commonwealth/s in combination with large parts of what we'd call the Netherlands, with a titular head of state called a Steadholder in English (and a Stadtholder in Dutch), but in reality ruled primarily by the Parliaments General. Rochester (by this time the greater Rochester+Chatham area) serves as the U.C's official political capital, and is deliberately not coincidental with any of the major commercial centres in any of the Commonwealth's constituent parts. So London and Antwerp for example are actually larger cities than Rochester, though the former is smaller than the actual London would have been by this date in real history.

Scotland and Ireland are currently separate Kingdoms, but historically there was a personal union (in other words, different nominal countries, same sovereign king) between Scotland and Ireland in this timeline that lasted until the early 18th century. Scotland has a somewhat different border with England than in our own timeline, and remains Catholic majority (as opposed to being either 'Lollard', i.e Wycliffite, which the U.C is, or Hussite, which significant chunks of mainland Europe are). Ireland also remains Catholic, and is fairly active in its mercantile relationships with the rest of the world.

The map itself was primarily made in vector using Inkscape. However, significant additional work was done in Photoshop, both for texturing/weathering of the page and the text but also to add the elements that make it look like it's from a book with tabbed pages.

And with that wall of text, here we are.

[hogarthwrites]

take me all the way (request)

pairing: Sam Drake/Reader (m/femme!reader)

genre: smut

warnings: graphic sex

words: 2,835

summary:

You and Sam realize you have Feelings for each other.

note:

this was a request by @howboutwedont!! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

It wasn’t a lie when you said you were excited to go to this party. After all, it’s been a while since you’ve had time to go to one. The past few months were busy with research and traveling from one place to another with your business partner, Sam. You sighed at the thought of Sam; it felt like the more time you spent with him, the more your feelings for him grew.

The feelings started on the plane to Cork, with Sam making you laugh and telling you stories of his other adventures that usually involved a jungle: a pirate treasure in the jungles of Madagascar, being held hostage in the jungles of India. The cliff sides of Ireland was definitely a new experience, and his excitement and the way Sam’s eyes sparkled when he talked about it stirred something inside you.

Meetings in pubs and being suspended on ropes, catching each other didn’t help and you found yourself thinking about him more each day. Eventually you even found yourself thinking about Sam on lonely nights in your bed.

You shook away the thoughts, scared Sam might hear them as he sat on the other side of the room talking to a group of people you didn’t recognize. He made eye contact with you and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Please don’t come here, please don’t-- You were mid-thought when Sam excused himself from the group and made his way to you, leaning against the wall as he smiled at you.

“You seem lonely,” he said, leaning in so you could hear him over the loud music.

“I’m not lonely,” you stuck your tongue out. “I’ve got…” You gestured to the people around you drinking and laughing. “I’ve got friends.”

“I can see that,” Sam chuckled. “You don’t mind if I keep you company, do you?”

“Oh, get in line, buddy.”

Sam laughed and stood in front of you. “Seems like I’m the first one here.”

“Lucky you,” you poked his chest. “I love this song.”

You bobbed your head to the beat as Sam watched. Truthfully, you were suddenly so nervous around him and you didn’t know what you wanted to say. You let the music lead you, moving along to it as Sam followed.

I hallucinate when you call my name...

His hand was on your waist as you moved along to the beat, giggling as he pulled you closer. You found yourself face to face with Sam, blood rushing to your cheeks as he looked at you softly, making you feel like you were levitating.

“Is this alright?” He mouthed.

“It’s…” You gulped. “It’s getting kinda hot here. I need…”

You pulled away from him and made your way to the door, fanning yourself as the cool air hit you. Get it together, girl.

Sam had followed you, your jacket in his hands. “Are you okay? If I overstepped anything, just let me--”

“No, it’s cool,” you let him help you into your jacket, something he always did. “There was just too many people in there.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to part from him just yet. “I live near but I kinda just wanna take a walk around. Come with me?”

The night was still quite young and cold enough to make your hands shiver as you walked with Sam, lost in conversation. It felt normal and right but every time his hand brushed against yours, you felt a burst of adrenaline rush through you. You wanted to hold his hand badly, but you weren’t sure if he felt the same way about you.

“Looks like rain,” Sam looked up at the dark sky, clouds blocking the moon.

As if the universe was listening to him, you felt a droplet fall on your cheek. “Oh!”

He laughed. “Let’s find some shelter?”

“I don’t live far, come one,” you grabbed his hand and led him to your apartment building, going in just as the rain picked up.

Sam whistled as he looked out the window on the way up to your place. “It’s really coming down out there.”

“You’re lucky I bought popcorn this morning,” you smiled at him. “Maybe we can watch a movie.”

“A romcom, I hope.”

You were glad you cleaned after you did groceries that morning. You never really expected to have Sam Drake sitting next to you in your living room, looking around and taking in your decor. For some reason, he seemed enthralled by your living room.

“We have No Strings Attached, Friends with Benefits…” You muttered as you went through the romcom section on Netflix.

“That one,” Sam pointed at When Harry met Sally...

“Classic Meg Ryan. What a dame, huh?”

“I remember seeing that at the movies.”

“Geez, how old were you when this came out?” You put the movie on.

“Um,” Sam looked up as he calculated the years in his head. “Eighteen.”

“Wow, you’re old,” you nudged him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nudged you back. “Let’s just watch the film, huh?”

“Okay, old man,” you stuck your tongue out at him and he flicked a popcorn at you, hitting your forehead before it landed on the carpet. “Hey! You clean that up.”

He flicked another popcorn at you and you flicked one back at him and it hit him on the nose.

“Fuck around and find out, Sam.”

“Okay,” he chuckled and reached over to tickle you, something he knew you always hated.

“Sam!” You giggled as you doubled over onto his chest. “Sam, stop!”

“Fine,” he was smiling when he stopped and you found yourself in his arms, looking up into his warm brown eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

You pulled him in and kissed him softly. Sam tasted like beer and nicotine and you loved it. You felt as you were levitating again as the kiss deepened. Every little kiss, every time he ran his tongue against your mouth, you felt a bit more drunk in your feelings.

He pulled you onto his lap, his arms tight around your waist. You began moaning into the kiss, and alarms went on in your brain.

“Sam,” you pulled away and his lips met your neck. “Wait, I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” He whispered in concern.

“Um,” you gulped as you slid off his lap and sat down next to him. “I'm a virgin.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You're kidding.”

“No, I swear to god,” you bit your lip. “Sorry.”

“What? It's nothing to be sorry about,” Sam took your hand. “We don't have to if you don't want to--”

“But I do!” You pulled at his hand.

He gave you a worried look.

“I've loved you for so long, Sam. I think I know when I was aware of it, but I can't remember how it even started,” you said and his expression changed into surprise. “I never thought about having sex with anyone else until, well, you came along.”

You felt your cheeks suddenly heat up. “That sounded awful. Sorry.”

“No, I--” Sam’s voice was low. “I feel the same way. I can't get you out of my head and it's driving me nuts. I don't think I've wanted anything more than to hold you, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“But are you sure I'm going to be that guy?” Sam asked.

“Never have I ever been more sure of anything,” you gave him a little peck on the lips. “I want to be with you, Samuel.”

You were on top of him again in a passionate kiss, feeling the growing bulge in his jeans under your panties as you began grinding on him. His hands were on your thighs, daring to slide up under your dress.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked between kisses.

You nodded enthusiastically and he pulled you in for another kiss.

“Maybe we should do this in the bedroom then,” he said, resting a hand on your hip.

Sam helped you up, giving you small kisses as you walked him to your bedroom where he closed the door behind him. His hands were all over you as he pushed you down on the bed and crawled on top of you, a tender look in his eyes.

Your heart was beating hard despite the growing wetness in your underwear, but as Sam’s lips were on your neck again, your mind went blank. You purred under his touch, the soft, hot kisses on your neck, his hands cupping your breasts.

He started undoing the buttons in front of your dress then sat up to admire how you looked under him.

“Like what you see?” You propped yourself up on your elbows, taking your dress off so you were just in your underwear.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Sam took his shirt off.

His lips were on your neck again as his hands roamed your body more, expertly undoing your bra. You gasped in delight as he made a trail of kisses down your chest to your now exposed breasts, pinching and sucking at your nipples.

You closed your eyes and you felt him pull your panties off, feeling nervous again. You tried to cover your tummy, suddenly so aware of how naked you were.

“You okay?” He asked as he kissed you again.

“I guess I’m just a little scared,” you breathed. “Can we turn the light off?”

“Why?” Sam sat up.

“I’m just a little conscious.”

“You’re gorgeous,” he tenderly touched your cheek. “You don’t know how bad I want you.”

“Oh, Sam,” you pulled him in for a kiss and he gently cupped your cheek. “Keep going. Please.”

“Okay,” he smiled as he pulled away. “I’ll make this feel good.”

“Promise?” You giggled as he made his way down between your legs again.

“Mhmm,” he licked your clit and you softly moaned in response. “Good girl.”

Sam took his time sucking and licking at your clit, enjoying how you would respond to everything he did. You pulled at the sheets around you, arching your back to push yourself onto his mouth more. He chuckled as he sucked on your clit and you moaned out, your toes curling in pleasure. It felt so much better than your fingers or the clit sucker you bought out of curiosity. By the time he was done, you were a writhing, moaning mess, cumming while he gave your clit a harsh suck.

“My god,” you panted as you looked at him. Sam was looking up at you, wiping at his mouth. “You really know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I’m not done just yet, baby,” Sam kissed your navel.

You winced when he kissed your belly.

“You’re so sexy,” he whispered. “I really won the lottery with you, huh?”

“Don’t even joke, Sam,” you sat up and pouted.

“Who says I’m joking?” He pulled you in to kiss you. “What’s not to love, baby?”

His lips were on your neck again, making you putty under sweet kisses and hot touches. Your fingers lingered on the curly hair on his chest, following the trail down his stomach. He was a lot more muscular than you thought, but he still had a little belly roll as he bent over to give you kisses.

Sam groaned when your hand reached his jeans.

“I’m hard as concrete right now,” he chuckled into your neck. “I need to get out of these jeans.”

“Let me help you,” you pushed him down on the bed and got on top of him.

“Wow,” Sam breathed as he looked up at you and you blushed.

You fumbled with his belt and the button on his jeans and Sam bucked his hips in excitement as you unzipped him. You pulled his jeans off along with his boxers, gasping as his cock sprung up. It was almost like how you imagined and you took him in your hand.

“Just like that,” he muttered as you slowly moved your hand up and down his length. You watched as the tip of his cock glistened with his precum and you were curious enough to give it a small lick, eliciting a moan from Sam.

Wanting to take it further, you took him in your mouth, the taste better than you imagined it to be. You softly sucked on the tip of his cock, innocently looking up at him. Sam had a wild look in his eyes as his eyebrows furrowed. You took him in your mouth deeper.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” He asked.

You released his cock with a little popping sound from your lips and you blinked up at him. “Maybe you just really like me, Sammy.”

“Oh, you don’t even know,” he sat up and took your hand. “Come on, baby. This isn’t about me.”

“Oh? What is this about?” You smirked.

Sam fully kicked off his jeans. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

He kissed you hard as he climbed on top of you again. He made sure you were comfortable, piling pillows under your head before he went back to worshipping your body. His lips latched onto your nipples as his fingers moved down to your pussy.

“Is this okay?” He asked as he slid a finger in.

You nodded and he slid another finger in.

“How does that feel?” He found that sweet spot and softly rubbed it with his fingers.

“Really good,” you breathed and he continued to finger you.

You moaned hearing how wet you were as he kissed you again. His fingers felt so good inside you, you began to imagine how his cock would feel. When he pulled his hand away, you pouted.

“You ready, sweetness?” He smiled.

“As I’ll ever be,” you bit your lip. “Just… Just be gentle.”

“Of course,” he said tenderly as he lined his cock with your entrance.

You closed your eyes in anticipation, but to your surprise, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought. Sam pushed his cock inside as much as he can then stilled, letting you get used to it. You took a few deep breaths, the discomfort fading away as Sam kissed you.

“Am I hurting you?” He whispered.

“No.”

He softly thrusted and you winced.

“Are you okay?”

You closed your eyes and nodded. “Just keep going.”

Sam adjusted his hips and when he thrust again, he hit that spot from earlier and you finally felt good. You moaned and Sam took it as a cue to continue thrusting.

“Just let me know if I hurt you, okay?” He said before kissing your cheeks.

“It feels good, Sam.”

He sat up, holding onto your hips as he continued to make love to you. All discomfort forgotten, all you could focus on now was how Sam was looking at you and how good he made you feel.

“Oh, Sam,” you sighed.

“What is it, baby?” He slowed his hips and leaned over to cup your cheek.

“You’re amazing.”

Sam laughed as he peppered your face in kisses. “You’re so fucking cute.”

He thrust into you hard and you moaned out in pleasure. His lips latched onto your neck as he fucked you harder, desperate to make both of you cum. The sound of his grunts and groans by your ear filled your tummy with butterflies and soon enough you were moaning his name as you came.

“Fuck,” Sam groaned, the movement of his hips becoming more erratic. “Fuck, baby, you’re so sexy.”

He quickly pulled out and soon you felt the warmth of his cum all over your thigh. You looked up at Sam, both of you out of breath and still high on pleasure. He gave you a lopsided grin as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Can we do that again?” You joked.

He chuckled and collapsed on the bed next to you. “Won’t you let an old man rest first?”

You cuddled into his arms and kissed the tip of his nose. “Then we can do it again tomorrow?”

“Anything you want, gorgeous.”

Sam gave you a soft kiss and you both lay in satisfied silence. You played what just happened in your mind over and over again, feeling giddy every single time.

“I hope…” Sam started. “I hope that was okay. No regrets?”

“Are you kidding?” You took his hand in yours. “That was better than I thought it’d be.”

“Guess I still got it in me.”

“You sure do,” you kissed him.

“Maybe we could go out together tomorrow,” Sam wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Like a date?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “Figured after all that, you’d want to be my girlfriend maybe.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind that Sam would’ve wanted that with you.

“Girlfriend?” You repeated. Sam’s girlfriend.

“What do you say?” He was rubbing circles on your waist with his thumb. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Hell yeah, Sam,” you giggled and kissed him.

“Cool,” he smiled.

“Sam,” you rested your chin on his chest. “Can we please have sex again?”

[svgoceandesigns1]

Irish Goodbye Expert Irish Ireland SVG - St. Patrick's Day SVG PNG, Cricut File

Irish Goodbye Expert Irish Ireland SVG, St. Patrick's Day SVG PNG EPS DXF PDF, Cricut File, Instant Download File, Cricut File Silhouette Art, Logo Design, Designs For Shirts. ♥ Welcome to SVG OCEAN DESIGNS Store! ♥ ► PLEASE NOTE: – Since this item is digital, no physical product will be sent to you. – Your files will be ready to download immediately after your purchase. Once payment has been completed, SVG Ocean Designs will send you an email letting you know your File is ready for Download. You may also check your Order/Purchase History on SVG Ocean Designs website and it should be available for download there as well. – Please make sure you have the right software required and knowledge to use this graphic before making your purchase. – Due to monitor differences and your printer settings, the actual colors of your printed product may vary slightly. – Due to the digital nature of this listing, there are “no refunds or exchanges”. – If you have a specific Design you would like made, just message me! I will be more than glad to create a Custom Oder for you. ► YOU RECEIVE: This listing includes a zip file with the following formats: – SVG File (check your software to confirm it is compatible with your machine): Includes wording in both white and black (SVG only). Other files are black wording. – PNG File: PNG High Resolution 300 dpi Clipart (transparent background – resize smaller and slightly larger without loss of quality). – DXF: high resolution, perfect for print and many more. – EPS: high resolution, perfect for print, Design and many more. ► USAGE: – Can be used with Cricut Design Space, Silhouette Cameo, Silhouette Studio, Adobe Illustrator, ...and any other software or machines that work with SVG/PNG files. Please make sure your machiMone and software are compatible before purchasing. – You can edit, resize and change colors in any vector or cutting software like Inkscape, Adobe illustrator, Cricut design space, etc. SVG cut files are perfect for all your DIY projects or handmade business Product. You can use them for T-shirts, scrapbooks, wall vinyls, stickers, invitations cards, web and more!!! Perfect for T-shirts, iron-ons, mugs, printables, card making, scrapbooking, etc. ►TERMS OF USE: – NO refunds on digital products. Please contact me if you experience any problems with the purchase. – Watermark and wood background won’t be shown in the downloaded files. – Please DO NOT resell, distribute, share, copy, or reproduce my designs. – Customer service and satisfaction is our top priority. If you have any questions before placing orders, please contact with us via email "support@svgoceandesigns.com". – New products and latest trends =>> Click Here . Thank you so much for visiting our store! SVG OCEAN DESIGNS Read the full article