#wilderness melodies

[mrbenvs3000w24]

Tuning into Nature: The Interplay of Music and the Natural World 🎶

When I lace up my hiking boots and venture into the wilderness, there's one companion I always make sure to bring along: music. To me, music and nature are inseparable companions on my journeys, each complementing the other in a beautiful dance of harmony. But where exactly does one find music in nature, and where does nature find its way into music?

Let's start with the first question: where is music in nature? Well, for me, music is everywhere in nature if you listen closely enough. It's in the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind, the rhythmic patter of raindrops on leaves, and the melodic chirping of birds at dawn. And for Gray et al. (2001), it's in the sounds of whales in the ocean and the countersinging of bird species such as the Socorro mockingbird. Nature has its own symphony, a harmonious blend of sounds that ebb and flow with the changing seasons. And now, let's experience a snippet of this symphony firsthand with a video I captured last April:

Immerse yourself in the serene melodies of nature at Starkey Hill Conservation Area in Puslinch, ON. 🌿🎶 Let this video transport you to a place where the beauty of the natural world takes center stage.

Conversely, where is nature in music? Nature's influence on music is undeniable. Many composers throughout history have drawn inspiration from the world around them, infusing their compositions with the sights and sounds of nature (Cooney, 2020). From Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" to Smetana's "The Moldau," nature's influence is woven into the fabric of classical music (Cooney, 2020). But it's not just classical composers who are inspired by nature; artists across all genres have been known to incorporate natural imagery and sounds into their music. Consider, for instance, Zach Bryan's "Smaller Acts," where croaking frogs and distant crickets blend seamlessly with the acoustic strumming of a guitar:

Direct video link: https://youtu.be/dM_aZOAeLso?si=XLqrweq4O2-lwyhd :)

But nature's influence on music goes beyond mere inspiration—it has been used to actually create music itself. For thousands of years, humans have utilized natural elements to craft instruments and compositions. One fascinating example is the discovery of prehistoric flutes made of animal bone in France and Slovenia, some dating back as far as 53,000 years ago (Gray et al., 2001). These ancient instruments provide tangible evidence of our ancestors' deep connection to the natural world and their desire to capture its essence through music.

Now, let's talk about those songs that transport us back to a natural landscape in an instant. For me, one such song is "Vagabond" by Caamp. The folksy acoustic guitar paired with the raw, emotive vocals instantly evoke memories of long hikes through the rugged terrain of Northern Ontario. There's something about the lyrics and the melody that perfectly captures the sense of adventure and freedom that comes with exploring the great outdoors.

Direct video link: https://youtu.be/XK3l7QtYeMA?si=WljC1ht2mmHRa9wt :)

Similarly, several songs by Mt Joy have the same effect on me. Whether it's the hauntingly beautiful "Silver Lining" or the anthemic "Sheep," their music has a way of whisking me away to the tranquil beauty of nature. It's as if each note is a brushstroke painting a vivid picture of rolling hills, towering pines, and crystal-clear lakes.

As for the context, well, I often find myself playing these songs on those long hikes in Northern Ontario that I mentioned earlier. There's something truly magical about being surrounded by nothing but wilderness, with only the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustle of leaves to keep you company. And when you add the perfect soundtrack to the mix, it's like stepping into a scene from a movie – everything just falls into place, and you feel completely at peace with the world.

Overall, the relationship between music and nature is a deeply profound and endlessly fascinating one. Whether it's finding music in the sounds of nature or discovering nature within music, there's something inherently beautiful about the way these two elements intertwine. This interconnectedness resonates deeply with our ongoing dialogue on Indigenous value systems, which reject the notion of a strict division between culture and nature (Hooykaas, 2024). So the next time you find yourself out in the wilderness, take a moment to listen – you just might hear the sweet melodies of nature's symphony all around you🌷. Until next time!

Madison B.

References:

Cooney, D. (2020, May 15). Inspiration: An NSO Young People’s Concert about Big Ideas and Big Music. The Kennedy Center. https://www.kennedy-center.org/education/resources-for-educators/classroom-resources/media-and-interactives/media/music/ypc/inspiration/

Gray, P. M., Krause, B., Atema, J., Payne, R., Krumhansl, C., & Baptista, L. (2001). The Music of Nature and the Nature of Music. Science, 291(5501), 52-54. https://link-gale-com.subzero.lib.uoguelph.ca/apps/doc/A69270354/AONE?u=guel77241&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=fb9366a8

Hooykaas, A. (2024). ENVS*3000 Nature Interpretation course notes. Retrieved February 27, 2024, from https://courselink.uoguelph.ca/d2l/le/content/858004/viewContent/3640021/View

[zegalba]

Tom Sachs: Lost in the Wilderness (2001)

[melodychocolat]

hnnngh.... oh alan wilder why are you soooo sexyyyy... aughhh

[imwithmars]

Depeche Mode in the Melody Maker Magazine, 1984

[camcorderrevival]

where is my baby?

[ shauna shipman, yellowjackets || amy pond, doctor who ]

[onebigerror]

@araneorum liked this lyric starter call // still accepting

track 15 // "the alchemy"

"that child's play back in school is forgiven under my rule..."

[duckapus]

Idea for something I might write later: A meetup of royals(and other government officials) who are responsible in some way for an Avatar, as a way of strengthening ties between their universes. Namely:

King Dedede, who ends up as a sort of unofficial leader of the group due to his experience wrangling the Star Allies.

Princess Peach, who isn't entirely certain she should have a place here considering the issues she's working through and the possibility of it implying a power imbalance between her and Mario when their relationship is already pretty rocky.

Queen Melody, so this would obviously be after Watered Down Dreams. she's rather excited to meet people from other worlds outside of a crisis.

King Mickey. I don't really have much to say about him admittedly.

Archangel Flonne, who is acting as a representative of both Celestia (Disgaea's version of heaven), which she's qualified to do as an Archangel, and the Netherworld (Disgaea's version of hell, which there are many of for some reason) that Laharl is Overlord of, which she's qualified to do as one of Laharl's most trusted vassals and his girlfriend. Laharl's not joining the meetup himself because he's self-aware enough to know he's not the best at diplomacy.

Avatar Arle's version of Miss Accord. She is not royalty. She is not part of the Government. She is, in fact, a teacher. At a school that Arle doesn't even go to. She's here anyway.

Mayor Scuttlebutt, unfortunately.

And Cynthia. It would've been Lance instead since Ash lives in Kanto, but he's closer with Cynthia, and she only has one region to handle instead of two so she had more time to come over.

[crowdvscritic]

crowd vs. critic single take // THE LOST WEEKEND (1945)

Photo Credits: IMDb.com

What’s one weekend away? For an alcoholic, torture.

Struggling writer Don (Ray Milland) is dreading a trip with his brother Wick (Phillip Terry), who monitors what he imbibes. He keeps a covert stash in the crannies of their New York City apartment, but it won’t be easy to sneak it out of town alongside his brother and his girlfriend Helen (Jane Wyman). Part belligerence and part willful ignorance convinces him perhaps it’s best not to go at all. A weekend spent only with himself—and a few fellow bar patrons—would be better.

CROWD // One of the reasons I love movies is they’re the closest to time travel we’ll ever get. Like Harry Potter dunking his head into the Pensieve, a screen always reveals more than the filmmakers intended because it's a literal portal into the past. The Lost Weekend’s portrayal of alcoholism feels melodramatic today, borderline heavy-handed, but in 1945, The New York Daily News called it "the most daring film that ever came out of Hollywood.” Turner Classic Movies notes it had a special relevance in a year when soldiers were returning from a traumatizing war, and it was “the first to treat drinking seriously and not play it for laughs. Gone were the inebriated Nick and Nora Charles of The Thin Man movies.” Just a few years later in 1949, Gone With the Wind author Margaret Mitchell died when she was was hit by a drunk driver. When Malcolm Gladwell explored it on his podcast Revisionist History, he observed, “The fact that his drinking might have been the reason he was speeding somehow didn't seem to occur to many people... but in the mentality of the time, the driver was irrelevant. He was as unlucky as the victim." All that to say, how we feel about alcoholism has changed in the last eight decades. 

Though the context feels foreign today, the characters do not. If you’ve ever known someone struggling with crippling mental health issues, watching Helen and Wick waffle between support for Don and total exasperation will feel too familiar. You’ll also recognize the truth in Don’s statement that there are two versions of himself—the one who would love to be a writer, and the one who believes he’s a failure. One version wants to be the man Helen deserves and a responsible brother who pays the rent, but the other cons and manipulates them, even swiping the maid’s paycheck for his habit. (Writer/director Billy Wilder would create another unstable, manipulative character in Sunset Blvd., but Norma Desmond would add a sinister edge.) Even if The Lost Weekend doesn’t feel congruent with modern depictions of substance abuse, it’s still moving because its heart is empathetic to those struggling as well as their friends and family. 

POPCORN POTENTIAL: 7/10

CRITIC // That success is largely thanks to the cast. In another film, Don could have been a villain or comic relief—here is treated with as much care as Milland took in preparing for the role. His commitment is an early example of the strategy many Best Actor hopefuls still take today, volunteering a physical transformation to become this character. In addition to changing his diet to lose weight, he took the initiative to stay in Bellevue Hospital for a time (where some of the film was shot, though Bellevue later regretted it) to experience their treatment of alcoholics. Though he was unsuccessful at achieving drunkenness, he was successfully mistaken as public day drinker by acquaintances who were gracious enough to mention it to the press. Without Milland, Matthew McConaughey might have still lost weight for Dallas Buyers Club, Brendan Fraser might still have gained weight for The Whale, and Leonardo DiCaprio might still have gone through the tortures of The Revenant, but perhaps Milland's win is the source code for actors going to extremes to show commitment to their craft. 

In addition to nominations for editing and cinematography, Billy Wilder won his first Oscars for writing and directing The Lost Weekend. (He’d already lost five times, including for Ninotchka and Double Indemnity, and he’d win four more for Sunset Blvd. and The Apartment. Yeesh, what a career!) A Best Score nod brought to the tally to 7 total nominations, though that’s less impressive when you know the Academy recognized 47 nominees in 3 different music categories for the year of 1945. (The following year each category was narrowed down to the traditional five.) 

One more indicator of the Ghost of Oscars Yet to Come: The Lost Weekend is the first social issues drama to win Best Picture. Previous winners danced around what is now a staple during Awards Season, but Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans and Grand Hotel were really slice-of-life character dramas, The Broadway Melody and Going My Way were really musicals, and It Happened One Night and You Can't Take It With You were really comedies, although all six of those titles were conscious of money, class, marriage, and religion. The Lost Weekend is the first winner about everyday people facing a present day challenge not set during war or a historical period. For the first time, the Academy affirmed the value of a "small" story with its highest honor, giving dignity to people and concerns that could be mistaken as unimportant.

ARTISTIC TASTE: 9/10

[feralgoblinqueen]

I’m not the first to write something like this but here’s my spin on shifter!141.

*****

They had spent too long in their bestial forms. Time feels different when the wolf takes over, easier to lose track of and even harder to remember their human lives. By the time one of them remembers the house in the woods and its many acres that still needs a final payment under a fake name it’s too late.

They look on from the tree line, taking note of the changes made by the new owner. A budding flower garden in front of the house, well kept and just starting to show its spring colors. Around back a large vegetable patch was still green, nothing yet ready to harvest. The exterior had a fresh coat of paint and small repairs had been made. A single faded blue truck rumbled up the long and winding driveway. That’s when they first laid eyes upon you.

—————

“Abandoned, Selling As Is” was what the advertisement had read. No one else had wanted the plot of land hours away from civilization. For you, though, it was perfect. Somewhere to start over, to be alone and relearn who you are.

The rooms still held the previous owner’s belongings. Everything had been left untouched as if they just vanished one day. All men, you assumed, just from the sparse decor and the clothes left behind. Military, maybe, from how the beds were made with their sheets tucked into hospital corners. Paranoid loners, possibly even doomsday preppers, was another guess you made after discovering a gun safe hidden behind a false wall under the stairs.

It was almost a game, once a day trying a hand full of combinations to see if any worked. Something mindless to fill an unoccupied moment of time. That’s when you really started going through the papers and books left behind. Looking for any clues at what the code might be. A notepad left on the small hallway table is where you scribbled down all the combinations that hadn’t worked, in a meager attempt to not repeat yourself. A small mystery to add a little life to your loneliness.

At night is when things really come to life this far out into the wilderness. In the early days of owning the property, before you were able to get the satellite internet set up, you’d spend the evenings watching and listening on the back porch. Deer were the most common, using the wide open expanse of a backyard as a place to graze in the evenings. Owls silently swooping down on field mice before retreating to the trees once more. Coyotes, crickets, and night birds made a symphony of nature most nights.

The most exciting were the wolves. You could always hear them howling in the distance, calling to one another. They weren’t like the coyotes that cackled over one another in attempt to sound larger or more numerous than they actually were. These were direct calls and responses. Their vocalizations sounding almost melancholy, as if they were yearning for something that seemed just out of reach.

It was a quiet night when you finally decided to respond to their calls. The evening had been spent making supply lists for your trek into the nearest town in the morning. A large cooler had been thrown into the bed of your truck to store items intended for the refrigerator and deep freezer.

You sat on the tailgate, listening to the night song that seemed to encapsulate the peaceful valley you now owned. A celebratory drink held in one hand and a small, proud smile graces your lips. Your house was starting to feel like a real home and that was definitely worth celebrating.

The wolves that you had grown fond of, yet had never seen, were starting up. Your favorite night song. A melody that you could listen to for hours. One you had listened to for hours.

Four. You could make out four distinct calls at this point. Two were more vocal than others, their tones more playful. One was definitely the pack leader. His call the first and last each night, like a command or an order. And one was rarely heard, usually only short responses and never as loud as the others. But the valley always carried their calls to you, teaching you their voices. They were faceless friends in your solitude.

So you call out into the night. The long howl a poor imitation of theirs, straining your vocal cords.

The night grows still. All goes quiet. As the silence passes for a beat, then another, your smile slowly falters and fades. A pang of disappointment and a small bubble of guilt at interrupting their conversation.

All animals, even fierce predators, could be skittish. You worried that your call had scared them off, ruining your chances of ever spotting them. With a hop you jump off the tailgate, slamming it shut in frustration. Heavy feet stomping all the way onto the porch and inside. You could only hope they hadn’t heard your foolishness and that something else has quieted them.

The night remains silent as you crawl into bed. The night song ending early and sewing sadness into your dreams.

But they had heard you.

Your distinctly human howling calling to a dormant part of their minds. They remembered themselves. They remembered their life in the valley. They remembered the house where their human lives were lived.

And they were coming home.

[mononijikayu]

immortal sukuna who — in your third life (1).

immortal sukuna masterlist

immortal sukuna who has been waiting a century for your return, slowly forgetting what you look every little thing about you.

immortal sukuna who loses himself as time goes by, aimlessly roaming in a life that never seems to end.

immortal sukuna who finds himself unable to die, no matter what he does even though his wish was to be with you in the after life.

immortal sukuna who becomes embroiled in bloody wars of conquest, aimlessly leading himself to battle in hopes to die with visions of your smile.

immortal sukuna who is continually disappointed that no matter the slash, the gash, the wound - he continues to live.

immortal sukuna who finds himself without purpose or ambition, not even emotion as he felt disappointment that it was not his blood that spills for death.

immortal sukuna who finds himself losing count of how many battles he had fought and how many disappointments he had about living without you.

immortal sukuna who found himself having power of a lord and yet lamented that it was not the power to bring you back to life.

immortal sukuna who leads an aimless and empty life as a lord, drinking the sorrows of forgetting the pitch of your voice.

immortal sukuna who tries to obsessively remember how to say your name over and over after he forgot about it one time.

immortal sukuna who is invited to court by the emperor, but he would prefer to sit in the quiet of the wilderness to find a bird that hummed the way you once did.

immortal sukuna who does not want to exist in this sort of world, but he had no where to be when home died with you a long time ago.

immortal sukuna who finds himself stopping at his tracks as he enters the emperor's courtyard.

immortal sukuna who thinks that he remembers the melody that laughter that booms across the koi pond.

immortal sukuna who dashes far from his direction without a care in the world, like a moth to a flame.

immortal sukuna who slowly stops as he finds the sunlight burst through the world anew.

immortal sukuna who finds that same face, those same warm eyes, those same curiousity as you look at him.

immortal sukuna who does not know what to do or say as you slowly approach him with those same tender steps.

immortal sukuna who thinks that he's remembering how sweet and lively your voice sounded like all those years ago.

immortal sukuna who could feel the air punched from his lungs as you stood right in front of him.

immortal sukuna who found himself faced with the impossible as another man's voice rang through the koi pond.

immortal sukuna who found heartbreak at the adored love in your voice as you called back to the man.

immortal sukuna who found that broach upon your hair, something similar to the one had wed you with a hundred years ago.

immortal sukuna who realized just as quickly that you were someone else's beloved bride, no longer his.

immortal sukuna who found your gaze turn back at him as you introduced yourself with a smile on your face.

immortal sukuna who doesn't know if he was going to laugh or cry at the twist of fate for you and him.

immortal sukuna who smiles back at you, his eyes filled with overflowing emotion as he introduces himself to you.

immortal sukuna who says your name with praise as though it was the incantation to worship a goddess.

immortal sukuna who finds you with a pleased look in your face as you blushed so beautifully.

immortal sukuna who knows that you were being polite to him, the married woman you were.

immortal sukuna who felt his heart break as you say farewell to him and joined the man you call husband.

immortal sukuna who wonders if living this long was worth it if you two were not going to be together.

immortal sukuna who stands there for a long time, letting the sakura blossoms drift in the wind.

immortal sukuna who waited a hundred years and his wish to have you again had been granted in the crulest of fashions.

immortal sukuna who felt tears rush down his face, mourning the grief of cruel fate that now curses you both apart.

[annecoulmanross]

So it's been a while. But I couldn't let James Fitzjames Finding Day pass without some celebration—thank you Doug Stenton, Stephen Fratpietro, and Robert W. Park for giving us this wonderful and terrible knowledge. I've made an emotional playlist of all of us currently experiencing whatever emotion this is:

Selected lyrics for each song included below the cut!

Strange Ships | PHILDEL

Strange ships won’t let me sail out Passed by the ice and stone now

2. I, Carrion (Icarian) | Hozier

If the wind turns, if I hit a squall Allow the ground to find its brutal way to me

3. Howling | Wild Rivers

Howling out here for the morning light I can’t sing no more

4. The Yawning Grave | Lord Huron

I tried to warn you when you were a child I told you not to get lost in the wild I sent omens and all kinds of signs I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

5. Sax Rohmer #1 | The Mountain Goats

Ships loose from their grins, capsize and then they’re gone Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on

6. Long Wave | Dessa

Starve the guard dog And see what hunger does It’s easy when we’re well fed To talk of love

7. Achilles Come Down | Gang of Youths

Throw yourself into the unknown, With pace and a fury defiant Clothe yourself in beauty untold, And see life as a means to a triumph

8. Eat You Alive | The Oh Hellos

I’ve seen the true face of the things you call life The song of the siren that holds your desire Death, she is cunning and clever as hell And she’ll eat you alive

9. My Ego Dies At The End | Jensen McRae

Leave my body and my ego early Kill it kind with a surgeon’s mercy Claim I put it out of its misery

10. Who We Are | Hozier

Darling, we sacrificed We gave our time to something undefined This phantom life sharpens like an image But it sharpens like a knife

11. Devourer | Aidoneus

Beams of light, show me how to feel Light the gloam, find my Achilles heel I will welcome my mortality—let me go

12. Sound the Bells | Dessa

Go lift your sails up For one last swell Go lift yourselves up To sound the bells

13. Your Bones | Of Monsters and Men

Said goodbye to you my friend As the fire spread All that’s left are your bones That will soon sink like stones

14. Wildflower and Barley | Hozier, Allison Russell

This year, I swear it will be buried in actions This year, I swear it will be buried in words Some close to the surface, some close to the casket I feel as useful as dirt, put my body to work

15. These Bones | Azrai, Momo O’brien

It’s a savage sea we’re made to roam Every tide can turn to haunt us But the ocean reaches past these ghosts And I will always sail for more

16. By Way Of Sorrow | Cry Cry Cry

You have come by way of sorrow You have come by way of tears You’ll reach your destiny Meant to find you all these years

17. Gracestone | PHILDEL

When I open my final door I’m gonna sail much wilder seas than your ships were built for I’m turning into dust across that cove You know, I have known enough to not feel owed

18. Glowing | The Oh Hellos

You’ll rise, like land, pulled up at the sound of some strange commandment A moon alight, reflecting fully And I guess it would feel like rebirth, out of some kind of dying To see yourself so glowing

[frantic-fiction]

Beg 18+

Pic Credit: astarionposting

Astarion x F!reader

Summary: Astarion asks for more blood, you make him work for it.

Warnings/Tags: Smut MDNI, fingering, begging, slight overstimulation, sub!Astarion, switch!Astarion, Druid!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Masterlist

"There you are, darling,"

Astarion hovers above you as you sit cross-legged in the grass by your tent, his shadow blanketing you, blocking the sun's warmth. You hum in acknowledgment, but your focus is solely on your book. A delicate finger dangles in front of the vampire, who audibly scoffs but otherwise stays silent and waits, patiently observing. 

You pick at the skin of your lips absentmindedly with your teeth as you flip the page. You can feel his eyes on you, taking every inch of your body in with his wandering gaze. Shifting in the grass, you continue to read, relishing the impatience dripping from Astarion, smirking when each flick of the page elicits a huff of annoyance from the vampire.

Once your chapter finishes, you mark your page and lean back on your hands to look up at the man with a quizzical arch to your brow. "How can I help you, Astarion?" 

His annoyance melts like ice in the sun as a sultry smile stretches his lips. "Can I not simply want to see your enchantingly beautiful face?"

You snort, "You have barely spoken to me since the tiefling's party. So I'd say you want something." Standing, you brush off the dirt on your pants and move to store your book away.

"I have to!" Astarion balks, pressing a hand to his chest in a dramatic display. "Besides, we have been incredibly busy running all over the gods damn wilderness since you and everyone else seem to want to play the hero."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, a playful retort poised on your tongue. "I'm terribly sorry that some of us have morals and a conscience," you tease, your gaze meeting him with a mixture of challenge and amusement.

"Oh, I have morals, my sweet," Astarion purrs, leaning into your space, his breath chilly against your skin. "however, mine sway towards the more sinful side."

You suppress the shudder that trembles through your body. Astarion always has a way of reducing you to a mumbling, blushing mess with only a few salacious words. It's like he holds the key to pulling you apart and leaving you consumed by him, and he knows it, too. But you're not giving in that easily. There's something he wants. You can see it in his eyes, and he's not going to get it without working for it.

Putting your hand up, you interrupt his following flirty remark. "Did you want something? Or are you just here to interrupt my free time?"

Astarion looks at you in shock, mouth open to speak, but no words seem to want to flow. His eyebrows furrowed, and a smirk stretched his lips. Leaning on one hip, Astarion flicks out his hand, idly looking at his nails. 

"Yes, actually, I have a list. Coin, sex, blood, revenge," Astarion counts on his fingers, his tone dripping with amusement. "Certainly not in that order, and I could go on, but what I came here for specifically is something that might be better…" Astarion looks around the camp, taking mind of everyone. "Discussed in private."

Having a hunch on where this would lead, you stifle a laugh, a plan forming in your head. "Then lead the way." You motion for him to walk, smiling brightly at the vampire. 

Astarion nods smugly, obviously feeling like his plan was going just as he attended. He escorts the two of you past the others' tents and deep into the woods. Your hunch seems more viable as the brush becomes thicker and the symphony of nature's melody replaces the still air. 

After a few minutes of walking in relative silence, the two of you break into a small clearing. Its grass has spatters of bright patches of wildflowers, and the colors of oranges, pinks, and blues contrast against the expanse of green. There's a small pond on the far side, and cattails and pond reeds sway in the winds. A deer is grazing the water, but sensing Astarion as a predator; it quickly retreats to the woods.

Paying more attention to the scenery, you had yet to notice Astarion stop mid-step and swing on his heel. You stumble slightly into his chest. "I believe this spot will do nicely," he declares smugly as you step back.

Taking a step back, you quickly recover, "And why are we here exactly, Astarion? I was quite enjoying my book."

For a moment, uncertainty flickers across Astarion's features before swiftly being concealed behind a facade of confidence and a devilish smile. Turning away from you, he strides further into the small alcove.

"Are you so eager to escape my company, my dear?" he counters playfully, eyes scanning the clearing. "I thought you would like this little spot. I had no idea how beautiful the woods could be." 

"You're stalling," you accuse.

"Am not!" Astarion's voice echoes against the canopy.

Folding your arms over your chest, you give Astarion a pointed look.

The vampire sighs deeply, shoulders slumping. "Gods, this is embarrassing," Astarion mumbles under his breath so low you barely catch it. He combs a hand through his tousled curls, not bothering to turn back to face you. "Fine, yes, you see… I'm hungry, darling. Starving, actually."

Of course, the prick ignores you for almost a week to ask you for a bite. After what he did, he thinks he can call on you like his personal snack pack. Oh no, he's going to have to do better than that.

"Then hunt." You smirk, "Or did you need me to ensnare something for you?" 

"Excuse me! I am perfectly capable of hunting!" Astarion snaps his head back and storms toward you. "It's these bloody woods; there's barely any fauna in the cursed thing."

His outburst has the surrounding animals scurrying, and before you can open your mouth to utter a mocking retort, Astarion grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against his body. You yelped at the sudden force of his moments, your hand catching yourself on his chest. 

"Don't make me say it," Astarion breathes against your ear, his hands trailing teasing paths down your sides. 

"Astarion," you chuckle, feigning ignorance. "I don't understand what you're implying. If you want something, you'll need to say it."

Astarion nuzzles against your neck with a groan of frustration, his lips brushing against your skin in a maddeningly gentle caress. "Darling, may I have a taste?" He murmurs, the scrape of his fangs against your flesh nearly causing you to relent. "I'm famished, and your blood… Gods, it's intoxicating. I promise to make it just as pleasurable for you."

How easy it would be to say yes. Let him take what he wants and wait for the next time he wants something from you. But you weren't his little chew toy, just waiting for whenever he deems you worthy enough for attention. No, he needs to learn. 

"Beg." You demand, twirling out of his grasp and pushing him away gently.

"What?" Astarion pauses, disbelief written across his face as if he misheard you. 

"Beg." You repeat, your words slipping from your lips mockingly slowly.

"Are you serious?"

You meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, waiting for him to comply. As realization dawns, Astarion's expression shifts to amusement.

"Joking doesn't suit you, dear," he scoffs, his laughter echoing through the clearing. 

Silent and persistent, you hold his gaze, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. His eyes drift to the faint scar beneath your chin, a silent reminder. Wetting his lips, Astarion clears his throat before looking at you, clearly trying to grapple for the upper hand.

"Must we really play this song and dance?" He asks.

"If you want my blood, this is how you'll get it."

You hold firm, with your arms crossed over your chest. Astarion stares at you as if seeing you for the first time, and a mix of emotions storms behind his eyes. His body seems to deflate, coming to terms with the fact that you won't back down. Licking his lips, Astarion swallows hard and opens his mouth to speak.

"Darling," he murmurs through gritted teeth, his posture betraying his inner turmoil. "Allow me a taste of your exquisite blood. I'm starving and beg for your mercy."

"On your knees," you command softly, relishing the power that surges between you. "And I want a please this time."

Astarion looks at you with wide eyes. "Must I degrade myself further?" The anticipation in his voice betrays his reluctance to give in to you. "You've already gotten what you've wanted."

Biting your lip, you step closer and delicately cup his jaw, your touch gentle but commanding, and bring Astarion's lips tantalizingly close to yours. "I'll let you have your fill of my blood and more if you want. But only if you're a good boy and listen." Astarion breath leaves his lungs in a shuddering gasp, all fight seeping from his body.

"You are a cruel woman." 

With a resigned sigh, Astarion sinks to his knees. His silver curls reflect the golden light filtering through the forest canopy. His back is pin straight, and his neck is arched up to look at you with his deep crimson eyes. You can't help but focus on the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows again.

"I beg, please allow me the privilege to taste your tantalizing blood," he starts, but you zone out the rest of his words, focusing more on Astarion himself.

You focused on how his shirt hugs his chest, the cotton straining in some places while loose in others. You noticed how blue his veins are, just under his pale skin. You see how his pants seemed tight in the front, something stiff straining against the thick fabric. 

Wait. Oh. Now that is interesting. 

You pounce before you can think things through, mind moving more on instinct than anything else. Astarion's plea for you is replaced with a yelp as you push him on his back and straddle his lap.

"Wh-what are you?" he stutters before letting out a pathetic moan he will most certainly deny later. 

You capture his mouth in a heated kiss. Your tongue runs over the seam of his lips, and when Astarion allows you access, you lick into his mouth. Your tongues twirl in a practiced dance as you deepen the kiss. Astarion groans into your mouth. A hand moves up to cup your head, fingers combing through your hair. 

"Astarion," you purr breathlessly, rolling your front against the vampire's growing bulge. You press your body closer against his, practically willing yourself to melt into him. "Did begging for me get you all excited?"

"Excuse you? No! Don't be ridiculous," he tries to deny but fails when another moan rakes through his chest with another turn of your hips. 

"Look at you, all hard and needy." You lick up the column of his throat, stopping to playfully bite at his ear before whispering. "Do you like being my good boy, Astarion?"

"Shit! You're being ridiculous," Astarion pants, his hand tightening on your hips to cease your ministrations. "You're rubbing against me like a desperate virgin. Any man would get aroused."

Humming calmly, you sit back on your haunches and remove your shirt, tossing the garment into the bushes. Astarion's eyes immediately wander your exposed skin, drinking in the sight of your body. You take your bra off and trail your fingers over your nipples. Astarion lets out a pitiful groan.

"That's disappointing," you pout out your lip, trying to conceal a smile. "I was going to reward you for being so good." 

"Darling, I think this is reward enough, so long as we end this with my teeth in your pretty neck."

"That's good to know," you chuckle, trailing a hand down the valley of your breast and over the planes of your stomach, stopping just shy of your waistband. "I'll enjoy this reward for both of us.

Astarion's brows scrunch slightly in confusion before zeroing in on your hand as you teasingly slip under the waistband of your pants and past your folds. Sighing softly, you begin to tease your clit with the pad of your finger, staring down at Astarion, who looks as if he might just have an aneurysm.

He cools his features with a smug smirk, idly trailing his hand up your side. "A show and then dinner? My dear, you're not as good at this teasing as you think, but I admire your effort."

One of Astarion's icy hands works up to your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The other grips your hip and begins to rock you against his stiff erection. You involuntarily gasp at the friction, allowing the vampire a moment of control.

Astarion ruts against you, letting out a grunt when you grind down with equal enthusiasm. Then suddenly, Astarion's hands are ripped from your body and pinned to the ground as you rise further, removing any contact between the two of you.

"What?" Astarion exclaims before looking to the side. Little vines sprout from the ground, binding his hands to the hard earth. "Gods, you wretched thing." 

Clicking your tongue, you grin wickedly down at the trapped man. "Only good boys get to touch."

"Darling, must we continue this?" Astarion groans in frustration, tugging at your vines, annoyed when they don't give. "We both want this. You're the one making things difficult."

"Maybe, but only because I love hearing you beg for me. Now, unless you're going to give me what I want." You resume your ministrations, moaning as you dip a finger into your neglected hole. "Keep quiet,"

"At least remove your trousers!"

"Don't make me gag that pretty mouth of yours, Astarion." 

Astarion fumes from underneath you, but you can see the cracks forming, the dilated pupils, the rapidly falling chest as he pants for breath he doesn't need, and the way he tugs against his bindings even though he knows nothing will give. You know he'll break. He already did once he had a bit more incentive.

Adding another finger, you start to pump in and out of your dripping cunt; an audible squelching noise can be heard with each dip of your hand. You moan, dropping your head back. Circling your puffy clit with your thumb, you rock against your hand, your other one snaking up your body to tease your breast.

"Astarion," you breathe out, smirking when you hear the man's frustrated groan. "Gods, I'm so wet, making a mess, squeezing my fingers so tight."

"You are killing me all over again, sweetheart," Astarion cries; his hips are desperately trying to move against you, but another vine wraps around his stomach, holding him down.

"Just say the word's Star," you say, pinching your nipple and rolling it between your fingers. A whine rips from your throat when you curl your fingers up and hit that spongy spot, which has a familiar burning sensation that starts coiling in your gut. "Fuck, say the words, and it could be you making me feel this good. Won't you be my good boy?" 

"Gods," He bites back another moan, slamming his head in the dirt. 

"I'm so close," you whimper, moving your thumb faster against your clit. "Just imagine it could have been your cock I'm clenching around, not my fingers. Could have been you that's making a mess of me." Looking down, you see Astarion all flustered, mouth agape, and hair a mess of frizzy curls, his whole body practically buzzing with need. It was enough to send you over the edge cumming around your fingers with a choked sob. 

This finally broke the man. "Fine, okay! Please, please let me go!" Astarion pleads, voice ragged and needy. "Just let me touch you. I'll do anything you want, please. Gods, please, please, please!"

Suddenly, the vines vanish, and your lips are again on his. Astarion's pleas muffle against your mouth and quickly morph into a satisfied grunt when he bites his lip. Now that he's finally free, Astarion's quick to roll the two of you and pin you against the cold earth. Nestled between your thighs, Astarion starts mindlessly tearing at his clothes, his mouth trailing sloppy open-mouth kisses down your neck and to your chest. 

"You are an evil woman." Astarion murmurs against the skin between your breasts. Slipping one of your nipples into his mouth, he begins to suck, and you gasp, arching your back into him. 

"Astarion, fuck!" 

A hand curls into his hair, your nails raking against his scalp, causing him to hum against your chest, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You feel his hands move to your pants, tugging them down your hips, dragging your drenched underwear with them. 

A cold finger trails through your warm cunt, and you shiver at the feeling. "I must admit, darling, I quite like it when you take charge, but," His voice rumbles against your skin, and you whine at the feeling of his fangs teasing your swollen nipple. "My patience has grown thin, so if it's okay with you, your good boy will take his reward now." His finger teases your entrance, barely dipping in.

You clench, choking on the gasp that bubbles up your throats. "Yes! Gods, please fuck me!" 

Astarion cups the back of your head and kisses you deeply. Feeling his hard cock swipe through your cunt, your gasp into his mouth, your hand coming up to hold his face. He presses into you, and you pull away from his lips, moaning at the stretch of his cock, filling you to the brim. Astarion peppers feather light kisses over your face and neck as he bottoms out and waits for you to nudge him to continue. 

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Astarion pulls out almost entirely before impaling you again and sets a steady pace. A pace has your toes curling and you feeling breathless with each delicious drag of his cock against your walls. You don't think you'll get over the feeling of Astarion inside you, feeling the ridges rub against you in all the perfect ways as if he has the only manual to tear you apart with mind-numbing pleasure. 

"Ugh-Always so tight," he grunts into your neck, "So perfect, just for me."

"Astarion!" You dig your nails into his shoulders and buck against each of his thrusts. "Faster, please!"

Astarion picks up the pace; your collective sounds of pleasure mingle together in the air, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the clearing. Astarion's forehead drops against yours, and both of your noses brush against each other as he breathes in every whimper and moan of ecstasy you give him with each drag of his cock against your walls. Snaking a hand between your conjoined bodies, his nimble fingers swirl around your clit in time with each grind of his hips. 

Another moan rolls off your tongue, and soon, that warmth blossoms once again in the pit of your stomach. "D-don't stop," you plead, hands running up his chest to wrap around his shoulder. "M' close." 

Astarion nuzzles at your neck and inhales your scent, groaning at a particularly tight squeeze of your cunt. Even after all the begging and pleading you put him through, he still silently asks before he takes a bite. The thought warms your heart and is something you'll have to reflect on later. 

"Yes! Please, bite me!" You whimper, clutching the back of his neck and pressing him close. 

The sharp sting of ice pierces your neck, and you cry out against the pain. Astarion pays special attention to your clit, applying pressure and dragging his thumb around the swollen bud, his way of helping you through the initial sting. After a moment, the pain resides in mind-numbing pleasure, and soon, everything becomes too much. 

Astarion consumes you. His hand caressing your body, his mouth lavishing your neck, his cock hitting you perfectly in spots only he seems to know how to reach. It's all too much, and soon tears prick at your eyes, and the heat in your lower stomach bursts, draining lava into your veins. Your nails dig into the flesh of Astarion's shoulders as you scream out his name, body spasming around the pleasure that courses through your body. 

This seems to be enough to push Astarion over the edge with you. Still drinking mouthfuls of your blood, Astarion is rutting into you, grinding your pelvis against the solid earth. His moans hum against your skin, and his thrust becomes sloppy before a rush of heat gushes inside you as Astarion cums.

With a few more gulps of blood and a few more thrusts of his hips, you whimper with overstimulation. Astarion removes his mouth from your body, licking any stray droplets. He rolls onto his back, dragging you with him until your head is lying on his chest. You whine at the loss of fullness, cringing at the feeling of your combined release that begins to drip down your legs. 

"That was…" Astarion trails off, seeming to be at a loss for words. 

"Way better than the tiefling party." You mumble against his chest, smirking at the snort he makes.

"Yes, I would be inclined to agree."

"So you admit it," you tease, trailing your thumb over Astarion's nipple. "You liked begging for me."

"I wouldn't… mind if you took charge again," Astarion says, skirting around your claim.

"Whatever protects your ego." You tilt your head up. "Hey, Star?" 

Astarion hums in acknowledgment, but his eyes are closed, his body seeping into a comfortable stillness. You note something he didn't allow himself to do at the party. Reaching your hand up, you run your fingers along his jaw, coaxing his eyes open.

"Next time, don't ignore me for a week to ask for my blood. I don't want you hungry. I care about you." 

Astarion seems to freeze at your words as if he's never heard a caring word said to him. The thought alone makes you want to hunt this Cazador down and flay him for all of Baldur's gate to see. 

Astarion opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape. He clears his throat and tries again. "Yes, that will certainly make things easier from now on." 

The two of you lay there in silence, just enjoying the feeling of each other's skin against the other. Soon, when the sky turns to ombres of blues, pinks, and purples, you decide it's time to return to camp. Astarion is quiet for the journey back; an air of contemplation clings to his being. You don't push. Goodnights were said, and you parted ways, feeling like something had changed. Everything may have changed.

Heya, it's been crazy, but I finally got some time and energy to finish up this piece I've been working on for a while. I hope Astarion's not too out of character for as earlier of act one, I just liked the idea. I hope you all enjoyed, let me know what ya thought!

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[soulofapatrick]

I Like Your Mind - Edward Cullen x female reader

Summary: As soon as you meet Edward, you're both drawn to each other with an intensity you never expected

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

I step into the Cullen house, my heart racing in my chest, and my mind filled with a mixture of fear and fascination. Bella has brought me here, introducing me to the family of her new boyfriend - Jasper Hale - and I can hardly believe where I find myself. I know their secret, the one they’ve been hiding from the world, the fact they’re vampires. And I know Edward can read minds which makes the whole situation even more daunting. But, as Bella races off to find Jasper, I’m left alone I the living room, taking in the stunning surroundings. 

The Cullens’ house is unlike any place I’ve ever seen. The air is heavy with an unspoken history, and everything within is both timeless and modern. A grand piano rests against one wall, a dark mahogany masterpiece, and the soft notes of a melody linger in the air, a testament to the musical talents of the family. On the opposite wall, a massive bookshelf houses an impressive collection of novels and ancient texts. Their spines form a spectrum of human knowledge, artfully arranged. 

My gaze drifts to the floor-to-ceiling windows that frame the room, offering a breathtaking view of the dense, ancient forest that surrounds the house. The trees stand tall and proud, their branches intertwined like guardians, protecting the Cullens from prying eyes. The afternoon sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows that dance across the polished wooden floors. 

As my eyes linger on the tranquil forest, my imagination takes flight. I envision myself running through the woods, feeling the cool, damp earth beneath my feet. The leaves would crunch softly with each step, and the intoxicating scent of pine and damp earth would fill my senses. My heart would race, and a rush of adrenaline would surge through me as I lose myself in the untamed beauty of the wilderness. But, what captivates me the most is the idea of running through the forest in the rain. The thought of raindrops falling like liquid diamonds from the heavens, pelting the leaves and creating a gentle, rhythmic melody, sends a shiver of delight down my spine. In my daydream, I am drenched, my clothes clinging to my skin as I twirl and leap through the woods, liberated and carefree.

The rain washes away all my worries and fears, leaving only the exhilaration of the moment. It's as if the world, with all its complexities and complications, has melted away, leaving only the simplicity and purity of the rain-soaked forest. It's a feeling of utter peace, a sense of being one with nature and the world, a sensation I've longed to experience again. 

Lost in the serenity of my daydream, I sense a subtle presence to my right. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and a strange but not unwelcome shiver runs down my spine. Slowly, I turn my head to see one of the Cullen brothers standing there, a striking figure with sharp, chiseled features. He exudes an air of quiet strength and confidence, and I can't help but admire his physical appearance.

As I take in his feature, I quickly realise that this isn’t Jasper, as Bella would undoubtedly be with him if he were here. Besides, Jasper is known for his blond hair, which contrasts with the dark brunette locks of the Cullen brother beside me. His eyes, however, remain a shimmering gold, and their intensity is captivating. 

Going over Bella’s description, I recall that she mentioned Emmett to be big and buff. Emmett is tall and muscular. He has dark curly hair and dimpled cheeks. Despite his intimidating appearance, he is light-hearted and carefree. This man in front of me is almost quite the opposite with perfect and angular high cheekbones, strong jawline, a straight nose, and full lips causing my heart to quicken with a sudden realisation. In a hushed voice, I tentatively ask, “Edward?” 

The name hangs in the air between us, my uncertainty evident in the way I speak his name. The Cullen brother gives a small nod, his eyes holding a hint of amusement and there’s a small smile on his pretty lips as he says, “Hello.” His voice is a velvet whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. My cheeks heat up in response, and I can’t help but feel flustered by his presence. Turning my face away from him, I gaze out at the enchanting forest, using the breathtaking view to regain my composure. 

But just as I start to calm my racing heart, I sense his movement. Edward is moving closer, somewhat hesitantly as if he’s scared to do so but he moves so close I can feel the coolness of his chest against my back. The physical proximity is both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and I can’t help but wonder what his intention are as I continue to look out at the tranquil forest. 

The peaceful silence in the room is broken by Edward’s soft voice, barely above a whisper, “I like your mind,” he admits, his words sending a rush of warmth through me, “It’s quiet.” 

His words wash over me like a gentle caress, and I can’t deny the intrigue of his interest in my mind. It’s a compliment I could never have anticipated, coming from a vampire who can hear the thoughts of others. The intimacy of this moment is palpable, and I can sense the internal struggle within him, as if he’s torn between his desire to touch me and the realisation that we’ve only just met. 

Despite my rational thoughts screaming at me to maintain my distance, I surrender to the magnetic pull of Edward Cullen. My back leans into his cool, sculpted chest, and the sensation of his icy hands on my hips sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through me. It's as if the enchantment of the Cullen house, the breathtaking view of the forest, and Edward's irresistible presence have combined to create a spell that I am unable, and unwilling, to break. 

Closing my eyes, I allow myself to become completely enveloped in everything Edward. I’m hyperaware of how he feels behind me, the firmness of his chest pressed against my back, the subtle rise and fall of his breath against my neck as if it’s a force of habit for him despite vampires lack of need to breathe. His scent, a delicate blend of lilac, honey and sunshine, fills my senses and intoxicates me, wrapping me in a warm, inviting embrace. 

The moment feels intensely romantic, the air electric with the unspoken connection between us. I know that Edward can read my thoughts and perceive my view of him, and in this vulnerable instant, I choose not to resist. I grant him access tot he unfiltered depths of my desire, allowing him to see and feel the passion that simmers beneath the surface. 

The tension in the room crackles, the rain outside intensifying as if mirroring the fervour building within us. It's a clandestine dance of two souls drawn together by an unexplainable force. In this silent, electrifying embrace, I become an open book for Edward, my thoughts and desires laid bare, and I can only wonder what he'll make of the desires that race through my mind like wildfire

With a slow and deliberate movement, Edward turns me to face him, his eyes open and unguarded. They flicker with a hint of vulnerability, as if he, too, is uncertain of the depth of this connection. His gaze drops to my lips, and I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin as he hovers close. His fingers twirl my hair around them, an intimate gesture that feels like an attempt to memorise every part of me that he can reach. The air crackles with anticipation as I hold my breath, my heart pounding in my chest, The world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this electrifying moment. 

Edward’s gaze remains locked on mine, a silent promise of the depths of emotions and desire that lie beneath the surface. In the hushed room, our shared anticipation and vulnerability create an electric tension that’s impossible to ignore. His lips are tantalisingly close, and I can feel the coolness of his breath as he hovers near. It’s as if he’s about to kiss me, his intentions clear in the smouldering depths of his golden eyes. But he hesitates, his voice barely a whisper as he mumbles something about not being able to stop once he starts, a confession laden with both longing and restraint. 

Unable to resist any longer, I tangle my fingers in his tousled hair, an intimate gesture that communicates my desire and intent. With a gentle, yet urgent push, I guide his face the rest of the way down until his lips finally meet mine. 

As our lips meet in a hesitant and guarded kiss, a complex swirl of emotions and desires floods the space between us. Edward, despite his initial restraint, can’t help but respond to the fiery connection we share. His lips, cool and soft, brush against mine with a caution born of a lifetime of self-control. The kiss begins with a tentative exploration, as if he’s testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy. 

The initial hesitancy slowly gives way to a growing intensity, and I can sense his need for more. His grip on me tightens ever so slightly, fingers digging into my hips, a delicate balance between desire and restraint. His response is careful, as if he’s constantly aware of his vampire strength, wary of causing any harm to me. The kiss deepens, his passion building, and the chemistry between us becomes an irresistible force that pushes us further into uncharted territory. 

With a slow and deliberate movement, he begins to walk me backwards, his lips never leaving mine, until my back makes contact with the cool glass of the windows, drawing a gasp from me. It has Edward smiling softly, golden eyes a little glazed as if in a trance of disbelief this is happening before his cold nose bumps my neck, making my pulse jump. I should be scared by how close he is to my jugular but I don’t feel any fear or anything, especially when Edward places a soft kiss on my jugular, a silent acknowledgement of the temptation that throbs beneath my skin. His lips are cold, but their touch is gentle, sending shivers of desire coursing through me. 

My hands tangle back in his soft locks, guiding his lips back to mine, their coldness a stark contrast to the burning passion that courses between us. In that moment, I am both vulnerable and empowered, willingly allowing myself to be drawn further into this intoxicating dance of desire. 

Each kiss makes me feel more alive, more connected to a world I never knew existed. The world outside may be drenched in rain, but in this electrifying embrace, a different kind of storm rages, a tempest of emotions and desires that we can’t control. His lips, cool and velvety soft, meet mine over and over again in a symphony of fire and ice, a fusion of elements that ignite a burning desire deep within me. 

His body presses against mine, a solid and unyielding presence that leaves me feeling both vulnerable and empowered. The contrast between his cool skin and the heat of my own sets my senses ablaze. As we deepen our connection, the room seems to spin around us, and I lose myself in the feeling of everything Edward. 

The room is charged with our passion, and I can feel it deep in my core. Every kiss is like a secret, a stolen moment in a world that is entirely our own. We lose track of time and space, our lips locked in an intimate dance that only intensifies the fever that has drawn us together in the first place. 

But then, like a bolt of lightning in our own private storm, I hear Bella’s joyful squeal. Edward pulling away from me, and I let my face fall into the warmth of his chest, overwhelmed by embarrassment. As I hide from the world, I can feel the soft rumble of amused laughter in Edward’s chest, a sound that both soothes and electrifies me in equal measure. 

“Fuck yeah!” Bells shrieks with joy and I flip her off over Edward’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around me, stifling a laugh as he can probably hear all of my silent insults and embarrassed thoughts thrown Bella’s way. 

“It’s okay.” He murmurs, fingers carding through my hair and I just hum, letting my eyes flutter closed in contentment. I don’t care how quick this is happening, all I know is I need Edward and no-one else so I’ll live with the embarrassment if it means I can have Edward. 

“You have me.” 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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Twilight Masterlist

[melodychocolat]

hierarchy of needs triangle. alan wilder calling me a good girl

[connorsui]

“Earth and pine, breath and heart” || Halsin ||

Synopsis: Amidst the quiet nature of the forest, Halsin finds a new kind of peace in your shared intimacy, realizing that you are the missing piece he's been searching for beyond the balance of the wilds.

Genre/warnings: fluff, a tad bit of slow burn, itty bitty soft moments, quiet intimacy, emotional vulnerability, halsin lowkey loving you …no warnings tho …halsin ain't about that angst

Note: halsin has been on my radar for like awhile …I needed to make a fic out of my bear man

w.c: 1.1K

The warmth of Halsin’s breath whispered across your skin, delicate yet undeniable, carrying with it not just the scent of pine and earth but the very essence of the forest itself. His presence was vast, ancient, yet it didn’t overwhelm—you felt steadied, as though in his nearness you had discovered a sanctuary amidst the wilderness of life. The air between you hummed, alive with unspoken thoughts, the silence more profound than any words.

Neither of you dared break that silence, a fragile thread woven from the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic night sounds. Halsin’s eyes, deep and unyielding like the forest at midnight, flickered in the firelight. His gaze held no urgency, no demand—only a patient curiosity, like the pull of the moon on the ocean, inexorable yet gentle.

“You are different,” he said at last, his voice a low rumble, steady as the roots of an ancient tree. It felt as though he were speaking from some place beyond this moment, reaching for something timeless.

A soft smile ghosted across your lips, but you could not hold back the curiosity his words stirred within you. “In what way do you see me, exactly?”

His brow furrowed slightly, a crease forming between his eyes as though he were contemplating something larger than either of you. “In you,” he said slowly, his voice hushed with reverence, “I see a reflection of home. Not the wild, untamed places I’ve known, but a kind of stillness. A peace that settles, like the calm after a storm. You carry it with you, though you may not realize it.”

His words took root within you, warmth blooming in your chest like the first light of dawn. His hand, rough from years spent in the wilds, was surprisingly tender as he turned his palm upwards, meeting your fingers with a gentleness that felt like a promise, unspoken but deeply understood.

"The wilds will always be part of me," he murmured, more to himself than to you, his gaze distant for a moment, as though searching the horizon for something he had long lost. "But lately... I’ve begun to wonder if there’s more. If balance, in all its beauty, is enough." His eyes found yours again, and in them, you saw not the fierce protector of nature, but the man—uncertain, searching, longing. "Now, I find myself drawn to you, as if you’re the part of me I didn’t know I was missing."

There was a weight to his words, a quiet intensity that made your breath catch. The world seemed to still, the sounds of the forest fading until all that remained was the rhythm of your heartbeat and the warmth of his hand in yours. In the space between words, something passed between you—a recognition, a quiet understanding of something neither of you had named, yet both had felt growing, quietly and inevitably.

You smiled softly, a flush rising in your cheeks as your thumb traced slow circles across his palm. It was such a simple thing, this touch, yet it felt like so much more—a bridge between you, a silent affirmation of the connection that had taken root.

What you hadn’t realized, or perhaps had only begun to understand, was that Halsin was as captivated by you as the forest was by the rain. His gaze lingered on the curve of your lips, the way your hair caught the firelight, making the ordinary seem luminous. You spoke, and he listened—not just to your words, but to the melody of your voice, filling the spaces between the trees and reverberating in places within him that had long been silent.

Without thinking, your knee brushed against his, and you didn’t pull away. In that touch, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. There was only the quiet thrum of connection, as natural and inevitable as the turning of seasons.

Halsin’s breath caught, his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. His eyes, dark and fathomless, never left yours, and yet within them, you saw something tender, something vulnerable. Gently, almost hesitantly, he lifted your hand, his thumb grazing the soft skin of your fingers before tilting your chin upward, guiding your gaze to meet his.

Even sitting, he seemed to tower over you, a force of nature contained within a man. Yet, there was no dominance in his gesture, no need to assert power—only a quiet tenderness, as though he had found something precious in you and could not look away.

His thumb brushed your lower lip, so soft it might have been a dream, and in that instant, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment both infinite and impossibly fragile.

The air between you hummed with unspoken possibility, and then, as though drawn by something greater than either of you, he leaned in. His lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss—a gentle, careful press that felt like the first touch of spring after a long winter. It was tender, yet full of promise—a beginning, not an ending.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between words. His eyes, so often distant and watchful, were soft now, vulnerable in a way that took your breath away.

"You are my peace," he whispered, the words a quiet confession, a truth that had long taken root and was only now finding the light.

The silence that followed was full, rich with meaning, like the stillness before dawn. And as you looked into his eyes, you understood that this was no fleeting moment. It was a seed, planted in the fertile ground of shared breath and whispered words, and it would grow—quietly, steadily—into something deeper, something that would stand the test of time.

Halsin’s thumb brushed your lip once more, lingering, as though he could not bear to let go just yet. "The peace I’ve sought for so long," he said, his voice faltering slightly, "it’s not in the wilds alone... I see it here, in you."

Under the watchful stars, you came to understand that peace was not a destination, but something carried within—growing in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, in the brush of a hand, in the unspoken certainty of a love that needed no words to be felt.

Halsin, with his unshakable connection to the untamed wilds, had found a new home—in you.

I want another kiss like a selfish woman that I am

[sarnai4]

I was listening to "God Games" (for about the 1,000th time, but that's not important) and can't believe it took me this long to notice something. Ares's theme of sorts is a wilder version of Athena's. It's got a very similar melody, but instead of the precise, clean piano, it's another instrument. I can't tell what, though. Ares is the only one whose theme is like that. The others sound very different from Athena's, but I like that theirs are so similar. Ares is basically the unrestrained version of Athena, so his theme being like hers but more unhinged is super cool to me.