#with the snow bright orange in the light

[yodawgiheardyoulikemecha]

The Extractor and the Hibernia Trooper by Devid VII Via Flickr: Extreme cold, raging snowstorms, and a desolate landscape, this is Hibernia. Beneath its frozen surface, precious minerals lie hidden, waiting to be unearthed. The Extractor is built for this purpose, cutting through ice and rock to harvest the planet’s rarest resources. But Hibernia is not just harsh, it’s dangerous. Ruthless space pirates lurk in the shadows, seeking to plunder the hard-earned riches. That’s where the Hibernia Trooper comes in, a heavily armed guardian standing watch over the excavation sites, ready to defend against any threat. Follow me on Flickr | Instagram | Facebook | Rebrickable

[whereserpentswalk]

Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.

The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.

The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.

The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...

The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.

The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.

The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.

The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...

The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.

The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...

The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.

The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.

The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...

[zivazivc]

I'm curious...

Reblog to make the post go 'round and all that. Maybe explain in the tags or replies why you're using the theme you're using if you want.

And if you're not aware yet, you can change your theme in the Settings > Dashboard section.

For mobile that would be Settings > Account Settings > Color Palette, but with less options.

[gallusrostromegalus]

My housemate reminded me of a flashbulb memory I have that I really wish I had a photograph of because it would be a magnificent image to inflict on the internet at large with Zero Context, but I'll try to describe it here, and then draw it after dinner.

Image Description:

As seen from about three feet off the ground: Interior, the den of an american suburban house built at the height of the atomic age and still decorated like it years later. There's dark wood paneling about halfway up the walls that offsets the almost neon pink-orange light of late sunset visible through the large window. Every object in the room is highlighted by the last of the sunlight. The only other light in the room is a TV set that was manufactured the same year Howdy Doody debuted on air, now broadcasting PBS Newshour in black and white.

Closest to the viewer, there is a small end table with a Nearly Full Martini glass, and a Half-empty glass Martini Pitcher, indicating that two of the five martinis it holds have been poured out.

Just behind it, an old man sits in a chair that was bright green and yellow when it was new but is now more Grellow. The man is in his mid-sixites, somewhat heavyset, with a full head of snow-white hair and thick glasses. He's wearing a dark brown tweed suit with leather elbow patches, and a white cotton button-up. He's watching the news with a calm and dispassionate demeanor. Tired, but still engrossed with the world's events. He's wearing dark brown penny loafers and garish argyle socks.

Behind him is a couch that is a matched set with the armchair, with the same Grellow chevron pattern, but there is a very large crochet afghan that has been spread out over the back to be decorative and maybe protect the couch from it's current occupant: a 120lb Wolf Hybrid.

She's seated lengthwise on the couch, like she had also been watching PBS Newshour, posed like a sphynx. She's close in wieght to the man, and definitely taller than him if she stands up, with a dark gray agouti coat and a bit of white countershading from the trace of domestic dog in her. She's turned her head to the viewer, bright yellow eyes focused on them, and the fur of her head and neck haloed with the sunset. She is pleased to see the veiwer, which means most of the teeth in her lower jaw are visible in her canine grin. The effect is very menacing if you don't know her.

Clutched rather neatly between her front paws is a second, identical martini glass, only not nearly quite so full as the old man's.

Title: "Oh, I didn't think you'd be back for another hour/GODDAMIT EDWIN"

[monster-disaster]

I have a request for you!

A female reader that is happy-go-lucky and carefree. She frequents a monster brothel very much to the annoyance of the owner, a large gruff skull headed male demon. All the workers outright refuse to accept any payment from her because she's that good of a fuck and they also slack off during work hours to chat with her. She's very amusing and has an infectiously positive attitude, becoming a pseudo therapy dog for them. He considers her a menace to his establishment.

The next time she comes in he gives her an itemized bill and tells her she is barred from entering until she pays up. The workers start making a fuss and his hubris kicks in and makes a bargain. He'll see if she is that good of a fuck, and if he runs out of stamina before her he'll pay for everything.

He's thinking that she's going to end up under him out of energy and breathlessly moaning his name. If only he knew the opposite is going to happen..…

Dear Anon, I love your brain.

demon!Ezek x human!Reader Good to know: smut

The demon stands outside, framed by the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. His arms are crossed over his chest, muscles straining the fabric of his shirt as he watches you round the corner. His dark, angular face twists into a scowl at the sight of you walking towards him with a spring in your step, light and easy as if you are simply meeting an old friend rather than the very creature who sent you away with a hefty bill only weeks ago. His sharp eyes narrow with suspicion, and annoyance rolls off his spine in waves. Yet, when your gaze meets his, you flash him a grin, bright and carefree. Your lipstick glints under the light of the setting sun still peaking out between the tall buildings. The glow gives you an orange blush that makes the deep color of your eyes shine with something that makes him grumble.

"Little pest," he greets you with a grunt. "I thought you wouldn't come."

The curve of your lips turns sly as you peek at him through your eyelashes. "You thought wrong," you tell him. "I missed my boys too much not to come, anyway."

Your words hit their mark. The tight frown etched into his bony features deepens at the use of your words. He almost scoffs. His annoyance lingers in the air, but he says nothing, only stares at you with that simmering, barely contained displeasure.

Your boys...

And he can't even argue with that. Ever since he sent you away with that bill, his men have treated him like the enemy rather than their boss. They grumble under their breath, shooting him looks like he is a storm cloud hanging over their heads. They have become a flock of offended hens, huffing and puffing whenever they catch sight of him. Their loyalty to you has been a thorn in his side ever since.

You have been the thorn in his side ever since you first set foot in his brothel years ago, slipping through the front door like a breeze that none of them saw coming. You charmed your way into his men's good graces, winning over their hearts with a flick of your little finger. It got to the point where his men wouldn't even accept your money, brushing off your attempts to pay with dismissive waves and toothy grins. It was a rare sight, seeing the lot of them, usually gruff and hardened, melting under your influence like snow under a warm sun. They'd offer you drinks on the house, pull up chairs beside you for conversations, and treat you like one of their own, much to his growing frustration. He’d seen how their eyes would light up when you arrived, and the playful banter that used to fill the rooms whenever you were around. To them, you were a welcome break from the usual grind, but to him, you were nothing but a nuisance, one he couldn’t quite seem to rid himself of no matter how many times he tried to draw boundaries.

"Come, then," the demon rumbles, jerking his head toward the entrance before opening it in front of you with a rough motion. The hinges creak in protest, blending into the noises of the traffic around.

"Where are the others?" you ask immediately, your gaze sweeping over the empty, dimly lit hall as you step through the doorway.

"I sent them home."

The deal he made with you spread through the brothel within a few hours. The whispers and knowing glances bounced from one monster to another like wildfire, and before the demon knew it, the place was unbearable with the sneaky exchanges. He felt like the butt of a joke, and he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Oh," you reply. The disappointment in your voice only adds fuel to his growing annoyance. "I wanted to ask Blake how his family gathering went."

Ezek scowls down at you. His features, all bones, seem haunting. The deep crimson of his skin darkens as he glares. "What?" he asks, irritated. Then, he shakes his head dismissively. "Don't answer. I don't care."

You huff in answer. "Rude."

He rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply as he gestures for you to follow him. The impatience buzzes beneath his taut skin, making his movements rigid while he leads you down the corridor. Each step he takes is purposeful as if he is trying to outrun his annoyance simmering just below the surface.

After he’d had enough of his men’s antics, he finally made the decision to call you. He swore he felt Hell freezing over when you answered the line, all chirpy and upbeat as usual. It was infuriating how effortlessly you managed to sound cheerful when he was at his wit's end at the brothel.

"What can I do for you?"

Ezek snarled before he forced the words out of his mouth. "I have a deal for you."

His idea was simple: you could come and go as you pleased for free, as long as you showed him why the monsters who were supposed to work for him and generate profit acted like you were the one who owned the place. It was a way for him to regain some semblance of control while getting rid of you for good.

"I will be there," you agreed.

The room he chose is simple, with low lights that cast a warm, inviting glow all over. Neatly arranged sheets lie atop the bed, their sweet scent filling the air and mingling with the subtle hints of something floral and fresh.

"I need the bathroom first," you say, already putting down your purse and making your way to the other door.

"Sure," the male grunts in reply with a hint of disinterest in his voice as he loosens a few buttons of his shirt. The fabric parts, revealing a glimpse of his skin.

He settles down on the bed, leaning back against the plush headboard while waiting for you. He can hear you moving around, and without realizing it, he steals glances toward the bathroom, his mind racing with thoughts he can't quite pin down. You are a lively little thing, radiating so much brightness that he has no choice but to feel both frustrated and intrigued at the same time. It doesn’t matter, though. After this night, he will show you that you have no place here, and everyone can move on without making his life impossible. The thought solidifies in his mind. He’s determined to reclaim his authority, to restore order among the chaos you've brought. This night will serve as a reminder to both you and his men that while your presence may be captivating, it’s also fleeting, a temporary distraction that he intends to put an end to.

When you appear at the doorway a few minutes later, he can’t help but be surprised at the sight of you. He expected you to go all out to impress him, but instead, you are clad in nothing but simple white underwear that fits snugly over your curves. Ezek feels a mix of admiration and irritation stir within him as he lets his gaze rake over your soft body. It’s disarming, and he can’t shake the feeling that you are effortlessly turning the tables on him, challenging his resolve in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

"What do you think?" you ask him with a big smile on your face. You twirl around to show him more, though there isn’t much to reveal when it comes to your underwear. It looks soft and comfortable, but his attention is quickly drawn to the plush curve of your ass before you turn back to face him. "I bought it just yesterday."

For a long second, Ezek is silent, taking in the sight of you. Did you really buy this for tonight? But he doesn’t voice any of this, though. While you’re nothing but an annoying little pest in his life, he has no desire to hurt your feelings or damage your self-esteem. Besides, he knows his men would burn him alive if they sensed he’d crossed that line. Instead, he clenches his jaw, torn between frustration and a reluctant admiration for your naiveness.

"You look stunning."

And he isn’t lying. Your natural confidence shines brighter than any lingerie ever could. The soft glow of your skin under the dim lights enhances your allure, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the thin fabric of your bra, clinging to you and showing off your hard nipples. It’s a sight that pulls his focus, stirring something deep within him that he’s too annoyed to confront. Even in something so simple, you manage to captivate him in a way he didn’t expect, and it leaves him grappling with a newfound awareness of just how potent your presence can be.

Moving on the bed, Ezek lets his legs fall onto the plush carpet as he leans slightly onto his knees.

"Come here," he commands, locking his gaze onto yours the whole time.

Maybe he is struggling to find his footing in this situation, but he sure won’t let you lead this dance between the two of you.

_

His long fingers grip your hips with bruising force, digging into the soft skin as he struggles to find control. It’s as if he can’t decide whether to stop you or urge you to move faster, making you bounce harder on his lap. It feels like his brain shut down the moment you climbed onto his lap an hour ago, and now all he can focus on is the heat of your body. Your warmth presses into him in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. Every shift of your body and every roll of your hips sends a fresh jolt through him, and he’s not sure if it’s pleasure or frustration that makes his grip tighten even more. Probably both. His breath comes out ragged, catching in his chest as he tries to steady himself, but it's a losing battle. Every time he thinks he is regaining control, you shift or press closer, and the edges of his thoughts blur again.

You are on his lap, riding him with a relentless rhythm. Your warm, slick heat envelopes him with every bounce. The sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping against skin, fills the otherwise quiet room, blending with the soft creak of the bed beneath you. If Ezek could muster even a shred of sanity, he’d be irritated by the rhythmic noise. He sure will change every bed in this damn brothel the moment he can think again. But right now, every coherent thought slips through his grasp like sand. His fingers press deeper into your soft flesh, trying to steady you, or perhaps himself, as each movement sends a fresh surge of pleasure through him. It’s maddening, the way you ride him, guiding the pace with a confidence that both frustrates and excites him.

"Ezek," you moan above him. The high, desperate sound wraps around him like a vice, pulling tight, and he feels his erection jerk inside your wet, clenching heat.

A low growl rumbles from his chest. His teeth grind together at the way you moan his name, and then your hands slip from the headboard to wrap around his horns. The sudden, sharp tug on his skull makes his vision go white-hot at the edges as a shudder of raw sensation courses down his spine. His hips buck upward in a frantic, uncontrolled thrust that has him driving deeper inside you. The pressure of your grip on his horns leaves him reeling, forcing out another growl from deep in his throat as his body responds to you in ways he can’t quite rein in. He holds you down, forcing you to stay tight and snug around his cock as he grinds his hips up into you. He can feel the slick warmth of his previous release as it seeps out of your used hole, dripping around the base of his cock with every thrust. The sensation is filthy, spurring him on further to push into you with a rough determination that leaves your pussy clenching around him.

"Fuck," the demon snarls, his voice rough and guttural as he pushes himself up on the bed.

He moves with a sudden, feral urgency, crowding you beneath his larger frame. With a swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, forcing your chest down into the rumpled sheets while your surprised squeal echoes in the room. His palm presses down firmly on the small of your back, pinning you in place as he shifts one of your legs to the side, spreading you open. The position leaves your pussy swollen and easily accessible.

"Ezek!" His name falls from your lips like a breathless plea as he drives into you again. Your body arches instinctively, responding to the overwhelming pleasure. His hips snap forward with an animalistic force. Each stroke is deep and unrelenting as if he’s determined to imprint himself into every part of you. You can feel him everywhere, the heat of his body against yours, the way his presence fills the space around you, making it feel both electric and consuming.

The male leans over you, his breath is hot against your ear as he growls. "Cum around me, Y/N." The weight of his body presses down. Your ass is soft and plush against his pelvis. Each thrust drives him deeper, pushing you closer to the edge.

The demon's muscles are taut as he holds himself above you. He can feel the familiar tingle at the base of his spine, a sign that he is nearing his own release. His balls pull tight, the need to fill you up almost primal, urging him on with a ferocity that makes his heart race. He digs his fingers into the sheets, anchoring himself as he quickens his pace.

“Y/N,” he growls, his voice low and raw. "Let go for me."

The tight, urging command is the final push you need. He swears he could break his own teeth by the force he closes his mouth as your warm pussy clutches and pulses around him. The feeling of you milking his already sensitive cock snaps the molten heat pooling low in his stomach. It’s as if every nerve ending in his body ignites at once, stealing his breath away for several long seconds. The tight grip of your warmth around him pushes him to the brink, and he can't help but growl as he feels his release barreling toward him, unstoppable.

With a final, deep thrust, he lets go, filling you completely as he shudders in ecstasy. Thick spurts of his cum paint your tightening walls. The warmth of him floods you in waves that send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through both of you. He can feel the pearly white liquid drip down, smearing over your joined skin.

As he finally catches his breath, he collapses onto the bed next to you, chest heaving and the world still spinning. For a long while, both of you lie sprawled out on the bed, the air warm and thick with the mingled scent of your arousal. He turns his head to glance at you, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. The dim light casts a soft glow across your features, highlighting the contentment etched on your face. It’s a sight that sends a wave of satisfaction through him.

He takes a moment to soak it all in.

Until you break the silence.

“Do you think if I give you some time, you’ll be ready for another round?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbows. Your voice is hoarse, yet as cheerful and bright as ever.

The question catches the demon off guard, leaving him momentarily breathless as he stares at you in disbelief. “Wha'?”

You shrug with a playful glint in your eyes. “You are better than I thought.”

The praise ignites a fire within him, causing his blood to boil. His usual scowl returns, hardening the sharp lines of his features as he processes your words.

For a few silent seconds, you hold his gaze, tilting your head slightly as if trying to decipher his reaction. “That’s a no?”

The demon groans, frustration creeping into his voice as he glances up at the ceiling. “Go and find your boys.”

“And what if I do that thing with my tongue again?” you ask. The sultry tilt in your voice sends a jolt of arousal and pain through his already spent cock, making it twitch in response.

Well, call him a machoist... "Give me ten minutes."

He will hear about this from the others anyway when you saunter into the brothel, so why shouldn't he enjoy it while he can?

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Neighborly (Part 2)

mdni

Masterlist

Soap x reader x Ghost

Summary: You didn't know hate until Johnny MacTavish. (Or a really big build-up to cuddles and smut).

Warnings: near death experience, hypothermia, cuddling for medical reasons, implied medically-related stripping, implied anxiety disorder/depressive disorder, self-isolation, language, incredibly shitty communication and social competence.

It was supposed to be a two-shot.

The cold burned.

Once the sun set, the weather front moved in, and the temperature plunged. Snow fell thick and fast, just short of a whiteout. Your feet sank to the ankle, then to the shin, and your aching trudge became a slow-motion nightmare. It was about that time you realized – you were in real danger.

It was a two-mile walk – uphill, through old snow and frozen sludge – from your stranded vehicle. Home was closer than town, so you put your head down, buried your mittened hands in your armpits, and threw your emergency blanket from the car over your head as a bright orange cloak. And you set out.

It really took you too long to leave the car, but it was a life and death decision, and you waffled between shit options. On a busier road, you’d stay in the car. But this kind of snowfall would keep people home for a day or two. More than enough time to freeze to death, curled up in the driver’s seat.

If you lived, you’d make a better emergency kit for your ride.

In the meantime, the path demanded all of your attention. Even under fresh snow, it was easy to follow the road. Thick forest covered this stretch, and there was nowhere to go but forward. Hopefully you wouldn’t miss your drive. Should luck bless you for the first time in a decade, you’d see your neighbors’ lights in the dark.

But you had miles to go, yet. And the footing was terrible.

Old snow, half-melted and refrozen, threatened to turn your ankle with every step. Staying upright took work. Every muscle joined the battle, from your toes to your shoulders. Your abs clenched, and your thighs soon shook from exertion. As cold as you were, sweat stuck your hair to your face. Your neck.

The wind turned the moisture to ice.

Pins and needles prickled under your clothes.

Worse, and worse, and worse.

But there was no choice, so you moved on. No one was coming, so you would go. Keep calm and carry on and all that noise.

You had tea at home. An electric heating blanket under heavy quilts. Dry clothes and fuzzy socks.

So, you walked.

One foot in front of the other. Wobbling. Trying to find safe footing.

You crashed to your knees, bracing for pain that didn’t come.

Fuck.

You were losing sensation in your extremities.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The fresh layer of snow swallowed your hands where you’d braced to catch yourself. It didn’t look right from your perspective. You hadn’t punched holes into the drift. You’d joined it. Flesh flowed into freeze, and it sucked the heat from your body. Hungry. Careless.

Physically shaking the image from your head, you rose. You pushed on. Slow and unsteady as your thoughts lost traction on the creeping ice.

It never seemed right that such an oppressive season made the world so bright. Even on a moonless night, the snow practically glowed. When you first moved to the mountain, you’d look out the window and marvel at how clearly you could see the world you couldn’t explore. The endless white always looked so inviting, but it kept you locked away, isolated.

Snow ate the color out of the world. That was why it sparkled so brightly in the sun, full of ingested prisms stolen from kinder seasons.

What colors, you wondered, would it digest out of you.

Once you were buried.

Lost to the white void falling without. Swelling within.

Everything felt damp. Warm. Your muscles went syrupy. You were your own personal swamp, and you panted, dropping your blanket. It was too heavy, too waterlogged anyway. You couldn’t carry that weight forever. It fell easily. All you had to do was let go.

Your feet turned, and you began to ascend. Uphill. That was correct, somehow.

Fuck.

You were on fire.

The snow was up to your knees and still falling. Maybe, if you just took a nap, you’d wait it out. Better to travel in the daylight, right?

No. Not quite right.

One arm hung out of your coat, and you couldn’t shake the second free. It clung to your wrist like a needy child, and you just wanted rid of it. Wanted to be free and finished and home.

Lights blazed, and it felt like dawn. Had you walked all night, or did you just look up?

The path split. Or you thought it did. The snow covered the way, but your instinct sniffed out the divide.

You wanted to be closer to the lights. Lights were good. Even though they hurt your head. They looked so pretty, flushing the snow gold. You imagined they’d paint you gold, too. A Midas-touched statue – pretty, lifeless, and cold.  

Snow always looked so soft. You’d felt cheated as a child when you discovered it was nothing like the fluffy duvet you imagined. But in a pinch, it was wonderful.

It held you, gathering you up as you sank. The flakes landing on your cheek didn’t melt anymore, and frigid works of art gathered on your eyelashes, slowly eating the lighthouse you’d followed home from the bright white dark.

-------------------------

“Fucking hell.”

Death had a British accent. Not bad. A shame you somehow disappointed him.

“Johnny! Get some towels. Clean shirt and sweats.”

You blinked up at Death, swimming through waves of unfamiliar sensations to get a glimpse of the end.

Really, you’d hoped for Death to wear a kinder shape – like in Sandman – but the grinning skull seemed appropriate. It was the rare case where the destination mattered more than the journey. Or the escort.

Being dead was exhausting. As curious as you were about Death’s face, the quiet void already had a deposit on your soul. Resting limp in the psychopomp’s arms, somehow you relaxed further. He was so much more solid. More real. Soon you’d melt between his fingers and rain into the underworld.

“She isn’t shivering.”

Dreams ate your mind. Time rose and faded like steam as strange hands prepared you for burial. Your grave was warm. The soil packed tight, wrapping around you as the first gnawing sense of dread woke with the agony in your hands. Roots squeezed around you, tightening as you writhed against the sting in your feet.

You did not rest in peace.

You’d fallen into hell. Your skin burned, your muscles seized, and a sharp scream of a moan shrieked through clenched teeth.

“Easy, easy.”

A broad palm pressed over your heart, hauling you back to a second pulse. Someone else’s words rustled over your hair. Someone else’s breath pushed someone else’s chest flush against your back. Their smell and shape surrounded you.

A someone. A living someone.

That finally reminded you of the need to wake.

To rise from death.

Every inch you climbed towards consciousness scorched you, and reality came in bursts of pain. Your fingertips felt like you’d clutched red-hot iron, and shivers wracked you like private earthquakes. Everything wanted to tear itself apart, escape the pain radiating from every other piece. If the stranger wasn’t holding you together, you’d shatter like your poor, ugly mug.

You had a body but no control.

The stranger shushed you, a second hand settling over the top of your head. Locking you in. Keeping you in your flesh. You thought he might stroke your hair like a cat’s fur, but nothing moved between you besides the heat seeping from his palm to your scalp.

If you had a choice, you’d go back to sleep, but you were too aware. Pain dared you to relax, running knives along the underside of your skin, threatening to stab you inside out with the next shudder.

And you didn’t know where you were – or who was cuddling you back to life.

Helpless as you were, you knew to be afraid.

“Johnny,” the chest behind you rumbled, “she’s coming to.”

Wrath caught on the name. It bit the hook and followed the line to the light so your eyes could flutter open. They were painfully dry, and the gathering tears offered some relief, but you recognized the mohawk over broad shoulders leaning through the doorway through the blur. Your restrained whimpers turned into a growl.

“Think she recognizes ya.”

“Aye.” Johnny approached, kneeling by the bed you found yourself in. His pretty face was all bent out of shape with apprehension. “How you feeling, hen?”

You wanted to shout at him. Or slap him. Both at once and more. Instead, your shaking tongue fumbled the words, and your arm flopped weakly under the quilt, thudding into the branch-like arm caging your chest.

Which meant –

Wait.

If Johnny was in front of you, you must be in his house. He lived alone. Except for a hulking giant in a skull mask.

Like he could read the fresh stiffness beneath your shivering, Ghost said, “Spotted you from the window. Had to get you dry and warm, but you’re safe. Body heat’s best at this stage. We’re both dressed, and if you can’t stand it, I’ll trade out for a fleet of hot water bottles.”

You struggled to pick up his words and put them in order. They bobbed through the snowmelt in your brain like so much flotsam, a murky sea you already worried would drown you. But you did it. You got it all. But it was a lot.

He was barely more than a stranger, and you found yourself in bed with him.

But a man so hesitant to show his face wouldn’t be eager to show more skin than necessary, and while it was hard to tell what fabric was clothing and what was bedding, nothing but cloth touched you. Except for the hand on your head. Which was fine, actually. It could be better than fine if you thought about it much longer.

How much did it cost such a reserved person to get so close? You were no better than a stranger to him, too.

He saw you in trouble and moved to help. Everything he said was practical. Reasonable. He’d probably saved your life.

You felt you understood Ghost. Maybe it was the confusion or the onset of a fever, but you got him. And he was so, so warm. You wanted to crack open that giant chest and burrow inside him like a tauntaun.

When you felt better, you’d make it up to him. You’d apologize for being a burden and make your imposition right. In the meantime, you didn’t want him to leave you alone with some shitty substitute.

You wriggled, trying to put your hand over his, but something was over your fingers, and you had to guesstimate. Maybe you patted his knuckles. Maybe you smacked his wrist. Hard to know. But you felt you made your point.

“S’fine.”

He shifted in response, settling in for the long-haul. “Good.”

You tried forcing yourself calm. Everything had a mind of its own, though, and you curled up tight, trying to preserve heat even when it was given freely. Ghost supported your new position, bending his knees to keep contact, spooning with purpose.

How far had your temperature dropped for you to be this miserable? Very. Dangerously. Fucking shit.

Johnny cleared his throat. “I could join? Help get you toasty?”

Though you were still in gods damned agony, you wouldn’t let Johnny Fucking MacTavish join you under the covers if he was the last thing between you and death. You’d already touched the door to Hades that evening, and he hadn’t been the one to bring you back.

You lashed out the only way you could.

“No.”

The first word you managed to say clearly. You sent it off with a scowl, daring the Scotsman to try you.

He practically jumped back from the bed, anxious expression washed clean in shock. You’d never told him no. Never drawn a boundary. Never shared your anger or hurt.

Well, you’d finally learned your lesson.

Fuck that man.

He wouldn’t be getting anything from you ever again, not even a clear conscience.

Ghost hummed, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Got you right pissed off, has he? What’s he done? He the reason you got caught in the storm?”

Nodding was easier than speaking. You’d said the most important part.

“Thought as much. You’re too well prepared. When you feel up to it, you can tell me what Johnny needs to set right, yeah? He’ll clean up his mess.”

Across the room, where he’d stumbled after your rejection, the man in question blanched. “I didn’t – I couldn’t – What did… Ah, Christ. ‘M so sorry, hen.”

“Plenty of time to talk later,” Ghost said, still fully felt and entirely invisible at your back. “Let her rest. When I’m confident she won’t choke, you can make us something warm to drink.”

Johnny accepted, nodding with big eyes. His shoulders rose to his ears as he turned on his heel and marched away, fists squeezed tight.

He’d only been out of the room for a minute when you heard something crash, and you jumped.

Ghost just hugged you tighter and sighed.

Eventually, you did sleep. It was a night for achieving the impossible, apparently. Ghost kept one hand on your chest, waking or sleeping, and as the daylight slowly burned away the icy mist in your head, you realized he was monitoring your heartbeat. Keeping his arm around your chest was better for your recovery, and you might not have reacted so calmly to a hand on your neck.

You still felt like shit.

“How bad was it?” you whispered.

Asking was a struggle, and not just because your lips cracked and burned around your voice. Staring doom in the face only scared you if you recognized it, and you were afraid to hear how close your choices had brought you to the point of no return. Words could hurt. Knowledge could hurt.

“Should’a taken you to a hospital,” Ghost murmured. “No way to get there in this weather.”

You closed your eyes, burying your face in the pillow. You did it in defiance of the windburn over your nose and cheeks. In defiance of your chapped lips. Dead people couldn’t feel pain, and it was hardly the worst you’d suffered through the night.

“Your shivering’s manageable now. Think you could drink something?”

Could and should.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go tell Johnny. Stay here.”

You didn’t answer, but you swam all the way under the heavy quilts as his solid heat left you. With only your eyes peering over the blankets, you watched him – probably cold in his thin t-shirt and worn sweats – breeze across the room, quiet as his namesake. He had a lot of tattoos, a whole sleeve. You couldn’t catch all the shapes as he moved farther and farther away, but deathly themes curled like gun smoke and curses up from his wrist, towards his heart.

Once you were alone, you examined yourself under the covers. There were socks over your hands, impromptu mittens. You’d worry about any horror beneath them later. You wore a loose tee you’d seen on Johnny when he was resting up, staying comfortable as he nursed his cold. The gym shorts they’d dressed you in were bunched up where the drawstring fought to draw them into a smaller size, and the fabric would fall to your knees if you stood. Maybe farther.

They’d dressed you in a piece of each man’s wardrobe, and the embarrassed heat creeping up your neck was almost as warm as Ghost.

But you wouldn’t read between the lines. There were no lines. They’d saved your life and carefully explained their actions. It didn’t mean anything else.

They were only being neighborly.

[eklaize]

Book recs?

Hey capri community! I would love to hear some book recs from you! Setting: prefer fantasy/otherworldly/period over the real current world.

Gender doesn't really matter, there can be romance and spice (slowburn is always fun). Can have darker topics if done well.

Most importantly I really want to feel what the characters experience. Can be love/deep connection, fear/panic or whatever emotion but I want to gasp or laugh when reading… It's really hard to describe.

Pacat gave all that to me, but it's hard to find in other books so far. (Freya's A Marvellous Light was one of the ones that managed to do it, the second book less so tho, haven't read the third yet.)

So if anyone has a recommendation, please drop it in the comments. 👉👈 ----------------------------------------

EDIT: OMG thank you so much for all the recommendations! I compiled them in alphabetical order, so other people can refer to the list in case they need a recommendation as well:

A-Z (☑ read / ☐ not yet read /📜 currently reading)

☐ A Ballad for slayers & Monsters - Rita A Rubin ☐ A bone in his teeth - Kellen Graves ☐ A Gentleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel - KJ Charles ☐ A Master of Djinn - P. Djeli Clark ☐ A Spear cuts through water - Simon Jimenez ☐ A Strange and Stubborn Endurance - Foz Meadows ☐ A taste of Gold and Iron - Alexandria Rowland ☐ All for the game - Nora Sakavic ☐ Angels & man - Nicolás Rafael ☐ Angels before man - Nicolás Rafael ☐ Ballad of Sword and Wine: Qiang Jin Jiu -Tang Jiu Qing ☐ Beacon Hill Sorcerer series -Sheena Jolie ☐ Betrothed to the Emperor - Kai Butler ☐ Blood Over Bright Haven - M. L. Wang ☐ Crier's War - Nina Varela ☑ Dark Rise - C.S.Pacat ☐ Glitterland - Alexis Hall ☐ Heaven Official's Blessing Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ☐ Iron Breakers Trilogy - Zaya Feli ☐ Long Live Evil - Sarah Rees Brennan ☐ Lymond Chronicles - Dorothy Dunnett ☐ Iron Widow - Xiran Jay Zhao ☐ Murderbot Series - Martha Wells ☐ Nightrunner Series - Lynn Flewelling ☐ of Knights and Books - Rita A Rubin ☐ Parasol Protectorate - Gail Carriger ☑ Priory of the Orange Tree - Samantha Shannon ☐ Realm of the Elderlings/Farseer Trilogy - Robin Hobb ☐ Reforged - Seth Haddon ☐ Rose of the Prophet Cycle - Margret Weis/Tracy Hickmann ☐ Scum villain's self saving system - Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ☐ Shades of Magic -V.E. Schwab ☐ Silver Blood - TL Morgan ☐ Simon Snow Trilogy - Rainbow Rowell ☐ Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo ☐ Skulduggery pleasant - Derek Handy ☑ Something Human - AJ Demas ☑ Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller ☐ Song of the bullrider - Alex "Muun" Singer ☐ Swordcrossed -Freya Marske ☐ Sword Dance -A.J. Demas ☐ The Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault ☐ The Binding - Bridget Collins ☐ The Crossroads trilogy - Kate Elliott 📜 The Darkness Outside Us - Eliot Schrefer ☐ The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison ☐ The Grandmaster of demonic cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi) - Mo Xiang Tong Xiu ☑ The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue - Mackenzi Lee ☐ The Hair Carpet Weavers Andreas Eschenbach ☐ The Hands of the Emperor - Victoria Goddard ☐ The husky and his white cat - Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou (check TW) ☐ The Hyperion Cantos - Dan Simmons ☑ The Last Binding Trilogy - Freya Marske ☐ The Left Hand of Darkness - Ursula K. Le Guin ☐ The Magpie Ballads- Vale Aida ☐ The Magpie Lord Series- Kj Charles ☐ The Prince's Psalm - Eric Shaw Quinn ☐ The Queen's thief - Megan Whalen Turner ☐ The Queer Principles of Kitt Webb - Cat Sebastian ☐ The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater ☑ The Rifter Series - Ginn Hale ☐ The Scottish Boy - Alex de Campi ☑ The Tarot Sequence Series - K.D. Edwards (check TW) ☐ The Traitor Baru Cormorant -Seth Dickinson ☐ The Winner's Curse - Marie Rutkoski ☐ This will be fun - E.B. Asher ☐ Tiger, Tiger - Petra Erika Nordlund (Webcomic) ☐ Will Darling Adventures - KJ Charles ☑ Winter’s orbit - Everina Maxwell ☐ Untamed - Anna Cowan

[r3starttt]

TO SETTLE

PAIRING: Caitlyn x reader

SUMMARY: domestic night with cait

CW: none just 2.1K words of fluff, very self indulgent

AN: Creds to 2rusty_wings2 on twitter <3 I’m so obsessed w their art and I might be writing more fics for it cos it’s just gorgeous and cute and cozy and UGHH love fanart

TAGLIST: @Kaimythically @lewd-alien @greysontheidiot @jolyne @sapphic-ovaries @tlouloser @prwttiestbunny @visobsession @kiki5gigi @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @femininologies @dinakisser @viajeros--sin--destino @GodessAgrona @patronagrona @halle5s @abvisionss

The house seemed alive with its unyielding chill, a cold that clung to the walls and seeped into the very bones of the structure. Despite the fires blazing in every available hearth, their flames crackling and dancing with futile energy, the warmth refused to settle. The floors remained icy underfoot. The walls, aged and unyielding, refused to drink in the warmth

Your fingers, hidden within the sleeves of your sweater, grew stiff, the chill clinging to them with relentless persistence. Even bundled in layers of the warmthes clothing couldn't fight against the chill, as though the house itself were whispering it's cold right against your flesh.

Outside the frost-covered windows, the sun slipped behind snow-draped trees, leaving the sky smeared in bruised hues of gray and violet. The day had been silent, wrapped in the eerie calm that only snowfall could bring.

Each step you took reverberated softly through the expansive halls, the sound hollow and faint, swallowed by the oppressive stillness.

The air was steady, as if the house were holding its breath. And so, the faintest sound drew your attention—a soft, deliberate patter of paws on the cold floor behind you.

The rhythm matched your own footsteps, a quiet shadow trailing your path. You slowed, waiting, and soon felt the familiar brush of warmth against your leg.

Glancing down, you saw him—the young Doberman, his sleek black coat catching the dim light, his amber eyes bright, almost matching the quiet hue that illuminated the house. The orange shadows coming from every room matching his growing frame pressed against your loose pants. You quietly crossed your arms over your chest as you surrendered to his guidance.

The two of you moved as one, your steps falling into sync with his. The puppy led you with his small form confident and his tail flicking gently with each stride.

Your eyes followed him until you saw where he was headed—a dark wooden door slightly ajar, the glow of firelight spilling through the crack and pooling faintly in the corridor. The warm, amber hue seemed like an invitation, its promise of comfort beckoning you forward.

The puppy slipped through the door first, his movements quick and eager, nails clicking against the cold floor. The sound was sharp but not unpleasant, breaking the silence with the rhythm of the unmistakable chaos of his arrival—a series of hurried steps.

You linger for a moment longer in the doorway, allowing the warmth of the scene to wash over you. The air is thick with the scent of burning wood, mingling with the faint, familiar musk of the dogs and the faintest trace of Caitlyn’s tea, still steaming on the small table beside her.

The green sofa dominates the room, its almond tones matching the small Doberman who had claimed his space with all the entitlement of royalty. His back paws, still slightly too big for his body, scrabble briefly before finding purchase. With a triumphant sigh, he sprawls out, his little frame draped dramatically over Caitlyn’s lap, his eyes fluttering shut as though the effort of climbing up had exhausted him entirely.

You suppress a smile, watching as Caitlyn shifts to accommodate him—yet again. Her movements are practiced, resigned, as though this routine has played out countless times before.

The puppy stretches, his head resting heavily against her thigh, and lets out a soft, exaggerated huff of contentment. It’s almost comical in its melodrama, but then Caitlyn mirrors him, exhaling a quiet sigh that carries the same note of fatigue and surrender.

Like mother, like son, you think, a soft chuckle escaping as you lean against the doorframe. The older Doberman, lying on the opposite side and beside her, seems equally put out by the new arrangement.

Once content with resting his chin on Caitlyn’s inner elbow, he’s now forced to shift lower, his head settling just below her arm with an audible groan. “How dramatic,” you mutter under your breath, shaking your head. The sight before you is disarming in its simplicity, a snapshot of domestic warmth that feels all the more precious because of how hard-won it is.

“You’re late,” Caitlyn remarks suddenly, her voice breaking the silence without disrupting its calm. She doesn’t look up at first, her gaze focused on the book in her hands. “There’s no space for you anymore.”

Her tone is teasing, a playful edge that makes you smile.

When she does glance up, she lowers her glasses slightly, peering over the frames to get a clearer look at you. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips is unmistakable, matched by the quiet glint of amusement in her eyes.

“I didn’t know I was expected,” you counter, your brow lifting instinctively. The words come out with a practiced ease, your banter slipping into place.

Caitlyn’s smirk widens, her shoulders shaking slightly with a chuckle that she doesn’t bother to suppress. She shifts her focus back to her book, the firelight catching the curve of her scar and the skin around her once wounded eye as she tilts her head down.

From where you stand, you can see the faint lines of concentration on her face, the way her brow furrows slightly as she reads. Her glasses reflect the steady motion of her eyes as they scan the page, moving with a kind of intensity that tells you she’s completely absorbed.

She’s further along than the last time you checked, the book already halfway finished. You can tell she’s enjoying it by the way her lips press together, a faint smile playing at the corners when she lingers over a particularly interesting passage. Her fingers, which had been idly resting against the spine of the book, now trail absently through the puppy’s soft fur, stroking the small Doberman’s ears with a tenderness that seems almost unconscious.

The room falls quiet again, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the rhythmic sound of her page-turning. You let yourself relax against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you take in the details—the way her robe pools around her, its deep blue fabric catching the light; the loose strands of her hair that have fallen forward, one tucked behind her ear; the delicate rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, calm and steady. This is a rare kind of peace, the kind you’ve learned not to take for granted.

For a moment, you hesitate to step further into the room, as though doing so might disrupt the fragile perfection of the scene. But then Caitlyn glances up again, her gaze catching yours. She doesn’t say anything this time, but the faint tilt of her head and the softening of her expression are invitation enough.

Caitlyn had that rare look of peace now, a serenity that had once seemed so unattainable. There was a softness to her tonight, a tangible comfort in the way she sat—relaxed yet poised, her every movement unhurried and deliberate.

You let your gaze linger on the smallest details, those that seemed to carry the most weight. The way her lips pursed slightly in thought, her bottom lip caught between the faintest gap in her teeth as she concentrated on the book resting in her lap. Her fingers, delicate but strong, turned the pages with an almost reverent care, their movements slow as though savoring each word.

It was a scene you could never have imagined not so long ago. Life had been chaos, a whirlwind of battles fought and sacrifices made. There had been no space for these quiet nights, no room for stolen moments where time seemed to pause.

And yet, somehow, you had found your way here—to this, to her. You felt it in the air, in the way your heart settled at the sight of her so at peace, in the privilege of noticing the little things: how she had claimed your white polo again, insisting it was warmer than her own, how her hair caught the light just so, how the smallest movements of her hand spoke volumes about the gentleness she rarely let the world see.

You stepped forward, your movement slow, deliberate. The old floorboards creaked beneath your weight, but the sound only added to the intimacy of the room. Her voice broke the silence, soft yet firm, halting you mid-step.

“What’re you doing? Come here,” she said, her tone gentle but commanding. She closed her book with a single finger marking her place, her other hand patting the small space beside her. The invitation was clear, even as her slight smirk hinted at the unlikelihood of you finding much room there. The large Doberman, sprawled on the cushion beside her, lifted his head at the sound of her voice but quickly settled back down, his chin resting heavily on the edge of her lap.

You hesitated, eyeing the crowded sofa. “There’s no room,” you murmured, half-protesting, though the pull to join her was undeniable.

She didn’t respond, only murmured something soft to the puppy in her lap as she gently nudged him further onto the cushion. He groaned dramatically, his small body shifting just enough to make space. You stifled a laugh at his theatrics, shaking your head as you lowered yourself onto the armrest first, testing the waters. But her expectant gaze, the slight arch of her brow, left no room for lingering. With a resigned sigh, you made your way onto the sofa, squeezing into the impossibly small gap beside her.

Her warmth enveloped you immediately, the soft fabric of her robe brushing against your arm. She set her book and glasses aside, her hands moving to cradle yours before you could fully settle. Her fingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your own, their touch soothing in a way that words could never match.

“Better?” she asked, her voice carrying that familiar mix of snark and sincerity.

You nodded, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. Leaning into her, you rested your cheek against her shoulder, letting the steady rise and fall of her breathing ground you. The puppy shifted in your lap, his small body radiating heat that seeped into you, melting away the remnants of the cold that had clung to you all evening.

“I told you it was cold,” she added, her voice soft but teasing, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of your hand.

“You’re always right,” you murmured, your voice muffled against the fabric of her robe as your eyes rolled by the forced admission.

A quiet laugh escaped her, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the fire’s glow wrapping around the two of you like a protective cocoon. You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth, into her.

This, you realized, was the kind of moment worth fighting for—the kind you’d never let slip away again.

[tokkiwrites]

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 | oldman!logan × f!reader

𝒯okkis holiday extravaganza. [results from this post]

tags ♰ smut, pwp, some fluff, established relationship, logan is in love, unspecified age gap, afab reader, unprotected p in v.

▪︎ you asked for sex by the fire with old man logan and i delivered !! It's pretty short and not my best piece, but i have been working on other requests as well, so this is my early holiday gift for you all ! not proofread, so if you see any mistakes, just close your eyes. okay ily!!!!

The wind carried the song of winter through the pines, its breath sharp and alive, threading between branches bowed low beneath the weight of snow. The world outside the cabin was a landscape muted to perfection, softened by frost and silence. Snowflakes brushed the glass panes like hesitant fingers, melting against the faint glow of firelight that escaped into the darkened woods.

Inside, Logan bent over the hearth, striking a match with ease. The sulfur flared briefly in the shadows before catching on the kindling. He coaxed the flame, his breath steady, the faint crackle of wood splitting in the heat breaking the stillness. Firelight gilded his features. weathered, rugged, but softened now by the quiet you two had.

As the flames grew, filling the room with flickering light and a spreading heat, Logan straightened, brushing ash from his hands. His gaze drifted toward the small signs of your presence scattered through the room: the scarf you had left draped over the armchair, its wool bright against the aged wood; your coat hanging next to his, the faintest imprint of your shape still lingering in its folds. By the sink, two mismatched mugs stood side by side, their rims chipped but perfect in their imperfection.

“Fire’s goin’, angelcakes,” he called, voice rough. “Should take the chill off soon enough.” In the kitchen, you paused, a knife poised over an orange. The blade caught the light as you sliced it into thin, translucent rounds, releasing a burst of citrus into the air. Cinnamon sticks and cloves bobbed lazily in the pot of wine warming on the stove, their aromas weaving a fragrant dance that curled into every corner of the cabin. You glanced toward the window, watching the snow swirl against the glass, your cheeks pink from the stove’s heat.

Logan’s boots creaked on the wooden floor, a familiar sound that drew your attention just as his arms encircled your waist. His embrace was warm and solid, the weight of his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he pulled you against him. His voice rumbled low, a gentle vibration you felt more than heard. “You keep makin’ the place feel like home, plumcheeks. I’m gonna start thinkin’ I don’t deserve it.” You smiled, tilting your head to brush against his. “Don’t be ridiculous, realx” you murmured, your tone teasing but firm. “You earned every bit of this. Plus, you did lot's todayㅡ the firewood, the shoveling, all of it. I saw that pile you chopped this morning. You could keep us warm till spring.”

He chuckled, the sound rich, unhurried. “All in a day’s work, darlin’." He nodded toward the stove, his beard grazing your neck as he spoke. “Smells like you poured your heart into it.”

“And what if I did?” you asked, turning just enough to meet his eyes. They were unguarded, their depths reflecting the firelight. “Then I’m the luckiest bastard alive,” he said simply, voice grounding the moment. Your laugh was soft, the kind that warmed him more than the fire ever could. “If that’s the case, old man, why don’t you prove it by pouring us some?”

He grunted in playful protest but didn’t let you go right away. Instead, he lingered, pressing a kiss to your temple before moving to fetch the mugs. He filled them with care, the red liquid steaming upward, before gesturing you toward the fireplace.

The two of you settled onto the thick rug in front of the fire, its padded surface a welcome cushion against the floor’s cold. Logan pulled you close, his arm draped around your shoulders as you tucked yourself into his side. The fire crackled softly, its light painting shifting patterns on the cabin walls, while outside, the snow continued its silent descent.

Logan stared into the flames for a long moment, his expression pensive. Then, his voice came, quieter now, almost as if he were speaking to the fire rather than you. “You know, I spent most of my life thinkin’ this kind of thing wasn’t for me. The quiet, i mean. Someone like you, who’d put up with a man like me. Figured I’d just keep on movin’, never settlin’...never havin’ this.” His hand found yours where it rested on his chest, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles. “But here I am. And it don’t feel like somethin’ I earned. Feels like a damn miracle.” You tilted your head to look at him, your gaze soft as you searched his face. “You earned it, Logan,” you said, your voice steady. “You earned every piece of this. And if it’s a miracle, wellㅡ then I’m glad to share it with you.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite mask the emotion in his eyes. “I love you, plumcheeks,” he said, unshakable. “Don’t think I say it enough, but I do. With everything I got.” You leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your hand coming to rest against his cheek. “I know,” you whispered. “I love you. Always.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the crackling of the fire and the muffled whisper of snow against the window were the only things accompanying your ragged breathing. Logan tightened his hold on you, as if anchoring himself in the warmth of your presence. the world felt perfectly whole—fragile, fleeting, and utterly, beautifully yours. and you were beautiful, like this, right now. his.

without hesitating, Logan leans in, capturing your lips into a kiss. The kiss was slow, like he was savoring every second of it, every taste and feeling as if it might disappear the moment he let go. His hand cupped your cheek, rough and warm, grounding you even as the world seemed to tilt beneath you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the tiny space between you. He looked at you, and in the firelight, his eyes held a quiet kind of intensity, the kind that spoke louder than any words could.

“You have no idea what you do to me, baby" he murmured, voice low and husky, a hint of wonder slipping through his usual confidence. Your lips parted, but no words came. What could you possibly say to that? Instead, you reached up, brushing a strand of his hair back, your fingers lingering against his temple. He leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment. "Fuck me, Logan." you say before thinking too much. His breath hitched, just for a moment, before he let out a soft laugh that sounded almost disbelieving. “You’re not even going to make me work for it?”

“Maybe next time,” you teased, your fingers tracing a lazy path along his jaw. “Tonight, I just need you like this. right now." he laughs again. "whatever the princess wants..." Logan’s fingers trailed idly up and down your back, and you let your eyes drift shut, leaning closer into his touch. the smell of cinnamon clung to your hair.

He throws his lips at your neck, your soft whimpers filling the cabin. Logan wastes no time and pulls the blouse you were waiting over your head, the warmth of the fire kissing your exposed skin immediately. He was staring at you as if it was the first time he'd seen you like this. "My gorgeous girl..." With one hand he caresses the top of your head as his lips trail down to your collarbone. His other hand pulled down your pajama shorts along with your panties just enough so he could see your core. 

He could see it your eyes. You were impatient, the way you gasped at the smallest touch he lays upon your burning skin. Logan smiles down on you as he hurriedly discards the clothes he has on, and for a moment he stands like that. "Logan.." you whine, and he can only chuckle. "You're just so cute when you're desperate." he settles back down besides you, his strong arm wrapping aroun you, pulling you on top of his bare lap. You shudder once you feel his hardened shaft between your puffy lips, and you look up at him like a guilty kid that's made a mess. "Quit it." but you tilt your head. "What?"

"Quit starin' at me that way unless you want a baby in ya." that doesn't sound so bad though. You kiss him. Hungry. His calloused palms settle onto your hips and he groans when you start rolling, the friction making his swollen tip to drip more precum. "C'mon..." you plead. Was it the wine? The fire? Or was Logan utterly too perfect to ever let go? Maybe all three. "Up." he speaks softly, making you rise yourself a little, enough so he can grab his manhood and align it with your fluttering entrance.

Logan smiled as his cock was sliding into your pussy “big stretchㅡ look at you taking it,” he muttered, his right hand rubbing circles on your clit as he began to thrust. He stilled for a moment enjoying how perfect this moment was. Your chest heaving heavily as you peered at him with glazed eyes, the fire wrapped around you in a red and orange blanket. This was perfect. You were perfect.

He lets you adjust before rising his hips, making you bounce in response. he laughs somberly before plunging straight into you. your tongue luls out, tears on the brink of your eyes as you cand only squeal out pathetic moans and incoherent pleads. "shit.. squeezing me so good, baby."

and he goes at you, diving deeper and deeper with each hit of his hips, one palm holding your hip and one pressing down onto your tummy "like that?" you can't hear him, you barely make out his words; your eyes roll back and your spine stays arched as he plummets into your cunt. "I think yes." Logan snickers, feeling your walls squeeze around him as he takes one of your palms and places it right on top of your belly too. "feel." and, god, you feel. his cock reaches so far into you it bulges through your pelvis. you feel it and you're jelly all over again.

he takes both his palms and digs his nails into the plush of your hips, hit after hit sending you deeper into oblivionㅡ and you can only moan and cry as you feel your orgasm approaching. desperately, you clench around his cock. "wanna come, baby? tell me." he's stern and rough with his request. "y-yes, plea-se..." you don't know if you're crying because you feel too good or because of how desperately you need to come. your legs could barely hold you on top of him anymore, which didn't really matter since Logan fucked up into you just fine.

"come then, baby." you writhe as the knots in your core begin to untie, shaking on top of him. it hits you like a wave of warmth and frost all at once and it doesn't take long for him to reach his limit as well.

"need'a come, baby. where, tell me where baby?" You feel him so deep, you're drunk on him, vision blurry and mind fogged up, you can faintly feel the warmth of the fire behind you. you usually don't say this. "Inside, please.." You beg, and you don't wait more than two seconds for Logan to spill his warm seed into you. your knees finally give out, and you falter onto his chest. "Did so good, baby." he kisses the crown of your head, and you smile stupidly, rolling your hips against his. you weren't stopping until that fire gave out.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Phrase List: Colours

phrases and idioms to try to include in your poem/story

A white Christmas - a Christmas when there is snow on the ground or when it is snowing

Between the devil and the deep blue sea - faced with two equally objectionable alternatives

Blaze orange - a very bright orange used in clothing especially by hunters for visibility

Bleed white - to drain of blood or resources

Born with a silver spoon in one's mouth - born into a very wealthy family

Drowning/awash in red ink - deeply in debt

Fade to black - to change gradually until it is completely black

Gray area - an area or situation in which it is difficult to judge what is right and what is wrong

Gray literature - written material (such as a report) that is not published commercially or is not generally accessible

In black and white - in written or printed form

Paint the town (red) - to go out drinking, dancing, etc.

Purple passage - a passage conspicuous for brilliance or effectiveness in a work that is dull, commonplace, or uninspired

Red-letter day - a very happy and important day

Scream blue murder - to scream, yell, or complain in a very loud or angry way

Shrinking violet - a bashful or retiring person

Silver lining - a consoling or hopeful prospect

Silver-tongued - marked by convincing and eloquent expression

Talk a blue streak - to talk rapidly and without stopping

The black arts - magic that is associated with the devil or with evil spirits

The green light - permission to start or continue something (such as a project)

Tickled pink - very happy or amused

White lightning - moonshine

White water - turbulent, frothy water (as in rapids, falls...)

Worth one's weight in gold - very useful, valuable, or important

Yellow-dog - mean, contemptible

Source ⚜ More: Phrases ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[heatherwitch]

Bedridden witch: Seasons edition

I made a series for The Wheel of the Year many years ago but I realize that not everyone follows it and dividing suggestions into the four seasons as well might be more helpful for some!

Spring 🌿

Collect the first rain of the season and keep it in a jar

Drink floral or fruit teas

Burn floral or fruit scented candles

Light a candle or turn on an electric candle.

Open the curtains to let light in. 

Visualize a light cleaning each and every room in your home.

Decorate with dried, fresh or fake flowers.

Spray a cleansing spray throughout your bedroom.

Clean an area in your home, big or small. (It could be as simple as making a pile of trash so it’s easier to move later.)

Bathe yourself (either in the tub or sponge bath style). Infuse some herbs/flowers into the water!

Water your plants and whisper blessings to them.

Plant something new! It can be as simple as a beansprout in a paper cup.

Meditate and imagine yourself out in your favorite area in spring.

Make a terrarium.

Spray floral water in the air and on your bedsheets.

Watch for and welcome the returning birds

Learn about local plants.

Crack open all your windows to let in some fresh air.

Bedridden witch: Garden edition

Summer ☀️

Make sun water/tea

Drink fruit teas, infused water or juices

Burn floral or fruit candles

Decorate with flowers and crystals.

Wake up earlier than usual to enjoy a full day of light.

Try to be awake and witness both the sunrise and sunset.

Decorate your windows with rainbow prisms.

Make flower crowns with fresh, dried or paper flowers.

Make sure sunlight and fresh air can reach you.

Enjoy some fresh fruits, veggies, nuts and seeds.

Decorate with/wear/create things with bright colors:

Decorate a new pot for your plants (painting, sharpies, ribbons, etc.)

If you can, put a bird feeder outside your window or just watch them as they fly by.

Pour an offering of water for the plants (indoors, outside or out the window).

Have a picnic (outside, on the kitchen floor or in bed).

Find a way to incorporate honey into your day (scrubs, food, tea, etc.)

Burn beeswax candles.

Listen to music that just sounds like summertime.

Autumn 🍂

Collect the first rain of the season and keep it in a jar

Drink spiced tea, apple ciders

Infuse berries into water.

Burn spiced, woodsy or autumn scented candles

Eat things like breads, nuts, grapes, pomegranates, pies, apples and root vegetables.

Start a new project like crocheting or knitting. This is also a great time to finish that project you’ve been avoiding.

Wear and decorate and create with browns, golds, dark greens, oranges and yellows.

Decorate your home to make it look more like Autumn (fake or real leaves, acorns, paper cutouts, etc.)

Create a picnic/feast wherever is reasonable, with a little bit of everything.

Pull up a video of leaves falling or a fire crackling.

Pumpkin pie, pumpkin spiced-things, pumpkin seeds.

Decorate with small pumpkins, paint them or draw on them if carving is too high-energy.

Create an altar honoring loved ones who have passed on, either a material one or a photo album online.

Pull up a video of a burning fire or light candles.

Turn off all of the lights and sit/lay in darkness.

Visualize your wards and boost your home protection.

Do spirit work/leave offerings for the spirits.

Burn incense/make a spray that smells of spices (cloves, basil, etc.)

Watch spooky/witchy movies.

Winter ❄️

Collect the first snow/make snow water and keep it in a jar

Drink seasonal teas, ciders and hot cocoa

Burn spruce, pine or winter scented candles

Watch gifs/videos of snow, ice forming, fire crackling, etc.

Get/make a small wreath and keep it indoors!

Keep clear quartz and snowflake obsidian around.

Make paper snowflakes! Or find an app/website where you can do a digital one.

Use your heat to draw sigils on frosted windows.

Put a bird feeder outside your window so you get winter visitors!

Get empty glass ornaments and fill them with herbs/pine needles/things that remind you of winter and hang them around.

Get some cute little snow globes. 

Decorate with winter colors! White, blue, silver, grey, dark green, etc.

Create an apple pomander with cloves or dried orange slices.

Decorate with evergreen boughs, holly, pine cones, etc.

Wash your face with snow/cold water.

Make rosehip, peppermint, vanilla, rooibos or spiced tea.

Step outside/open a window to feel the cold air (if you live somewhere warm, do this in the early morning/night).

Handcraft gifts for loved ones or write heartfelt cards/letters to the people you care about.

Put birdseed outside/a bird feeder by your window.

Make a simmer pot, or use this idea to create a scented spray.

Bedridden witch: Winter edition (more ideas in this post!)

You may also like:

Bedridden witch series

Bedridden witch: Wheel of the year edition

Bedridden witch: Elements edition

Bedridden witch: Weather edition

Bedridden witch: Nature edition

Witchcraft for the chronically fatigued

Spoonie witch masterpost

[keelt9]

RED VALENTINE

Part II // Masterlist

A/N: Kind of excited to write this, it's been a while since I wrote about Max, but yeah…RB is out of my mind, my tolerance and all. 🙄 (Proceeds taking a long breath) 

However I believe I'm finding a space to write about him, so let's see how it works.🤫

Max loves the adrenaline, everyone knows that. Every time the season ends, he's back in a car, whatever the type is; with a suit race driving fast as hell, as his blood runs all over his body and his heartbeats increase.

Or he's in a mountain covered in snow as he goes down feeling the cold air all over his face and his legs tighten for the effort he does for being stable in his snowboard.

Maybe in the middle of the sea in his fancy yacht with the strong waves moving it one side to the other, as he keeps lying on the prow letting the soft waves touch his fingers.

In his SIM, hours and hours, playing all types of games, losing his mind from time to time as he grips the wheel or the keys almost turning in part of his fingers, typing fast as he can, even when in the stream are laughing about his T-Rex typing, screaming out loud, letting more than one F word come out of his mouth.

He simply loves it.

But when he met her, he felt terrified to even think about it.

Arriving at her home after a long season as all the lights are off and the visible gold dust line is on the floor only means one thing, she's probably working covered in sand as she's smiling from side to side of her face.

"I told you!" Max hears her screaming as a varied sound at different volumes gets through the door too. "I...Fuck."

A loud thud probably her head against a wall of the wardrobe makes him wait.

"Ok, I'll do that, see you tomorrow morning ok?" She giggles as Max perks over the door of her bedroom.

She's fighting with her boots, her cellphone between her shoulder and her cheek, jumping around to take out the last one of them; instead of sitting and doing it calmly.

She let her phone fall over the bed leaving the last boot next to the other, as her hands went to her knees, a sign that she's tired but at the top of her emotions. 

Max scoffs. "The bed isn't lava, you know?"

Y/N lifts her head, hearing the voice of Max, with bright eyes and her heart beating faster.

"Max!" She runs jumping as Max catches her in the air. "God! What day is it?"

She watches her calendar in her door, the number 13 is the one that follows the other circle ones; 13 crossed with an orange line with a tiny heart in the corner…He is supposed to come on this day.

She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Sorry! I totally forgot."

Max smirks. "How excited are you?”

Y/N thinks before a wide smile appears in her face, almost that big as the one she has everytime they are together. "There were a couple of mummies next to the camera!" She tightens her legs around his torso. "I suspect that but Jesus! Seeing it is... Mind-blowing!"

Max giggles, taking out a big trace of sand and sweat in her forehead.

"Oh sorry, I was about to take a shower." She tries to go down but Max grips his hold around her.

"Good! I was thinking about it too." Max stops in the frame of the door from the bathroom. "Hey! I wouldn't mind a kiss."

Y/N leans capturing his lips in a demanding kiss that makes Max press her between him and the door. That's how she’s been held every time he goes to her, wanting to consume her in every possible way.

She splits seeing Max with his mind cloud but a smirk on his face.

"I really need a shower." Max swings with her right to the bath after a conclusive nod.

He needs one too...with her.

Still, mornings don't change, by the time Max gets down she is already moving around packing her things as she is having her breakfast, just sitting when she feels dizzy from spinning and spinning to pick up things.

"Max!" She met him in the living room, and a half of a banana in her left hand.

His hair tossed in all directions rubbing his left eye, half asleep half awake. Y/N give him a kiss on his lips, yes, she tastes apple juice and a banana.

"I'm about to leave, but I'll be back for dinner." She packs her laptop. "So, rest, sleep and make sure to find a nice place to have dinner, ok?"

Max smirks, here or in another part of the world, is her special key; making him feel love with small acts. This time she hugs him tight as she takes out her bag and a polaroid.

Where Max can notice her sitting with the sun right to her face and IPad on her legs, observing one race. In the background a clear sky with nothing in front. 

She must be in some place so fucking high from the ground.

"I'll miss you, you know that?" Max wants to play around a little bit before letting her go.

"I miss you like a crazy lifje but I think you miss those mummies more." She smacks his chest, he deserves that.

The horn of the car pointed her time to go.

"I got to go." She kisses Max one more time. "Love you babe."

Max pulls her for a second kiss, whispering to her lips. "I love you too, take care please."

Y/N nods, grabbing her backpack and hat, waving her hand before closing the door.

He perks through the curtains, and she knows that as every time she leaves first; taking her time to turn around and wink at him leaving him with a buzz in his heart. In the kitchen, Max feels his heart beat like crazy, a full breakfast and a love card.

��>Love you.

And the shade of lipstick in the corner.

It was a random event for a fancy sponsor in Egypt 3 years ago. Max was driving along one of the historic zones when he found her sitting covered in a grey dust next to the road. He was scared of something happening to her, he parked or he tried to; break dry leaving half of his wheels on the concrete running to see if she's fine.

What he never expects is her smile bright as she shakes her head.

"Fine? I'm over the clouds!" She raises her hands for layback on the sand, sighing before starting to giggle. "A altar to Mut, a fucking altar."

That day he found an archeologist, who found what was an altar in almost perfect state, one of the goodness of Egypt. She was sitting next to the road because she was so excited that the only thing she could feel makes her calm down was walking until her legs couldn't take another step, obliging her to sit and wait for her team to pick her up, but they didn't or they couldn't reach her. Instead a cute Dutch guy offered to take her whatever she needed, turning a small conversation next to a road in a 2 year relationship.

Yes, Max loves the adrenaline until he isn't the one who's walking around in an ancient zone probably meters down the ground, with things unknown that could break, fall or be a trap: fun fact that person it's the girl who loves like no one in the world. 

In that moment Max hates the adrenaline that runs all over his body.

Both of them knew it, he could fake trying to try to sleep and rest but after a 5 hours of waiting, walking side to side of the house, in a lame attempt to play, he parked in the reserve area where all the archaeologists and people who worked there did.

"Max, hey, congratulations!" Y/N boss said as Max walks putting all the things he needs, helmet, flashlight and his neon vest.

Max's smile accepted the high five and the quick hug. "Thanks, I'm sorry if I..."

Her boss shook his head. "Come on Max, it's kind of freak me out knowing you here, still anywhere around." 

Everyone knows who Y/N’s boyfriend is, the first time they met him more than one let the helmets fall from their hands with time Max turned into a VIP guest, moving around wherever they worked. 

Not only because he's curious but also because he's such a worry-slash-protector boyfriend of his girl.

"You know I can't be calm when I'm with her." He shakes his head.

"Don't worry Max." He takes out his cigarette and lights it. "All straight, in 40 meters, you can start to see the movement of people.”

Max nods, high five with him before walking among monumental "building" flanks for massive figures.

Her boss is right; a couple of meters inside he could start to see people covered in dust and sand with the same outfit as him, walking around with papers, cameras, bottles of water and tools.

One by one they take their time to greet the world wide champion as he asks where he could find Y/N; all giggling making his smile drops and answers.

"Somewhere under the ground."

Yes, he hates that type of answer.

Rilion laughs the moment he turns around finding a breathless F1 driver running inside of a dark room, where lights and multiple computers are carefully placed. 

"Well, it takes you..." Rilion sees his watch. "Almost 4 hours to come, that's a new record for you." Max rolls his eyes as he greets Rilion 

Rilion is the best friend of Y/N, they met in the last semester of collage, by a gift of destiny they get working together and after a jealousy session the first time he met him; a roasting but nice friendship born between them too.

"Where..." Rilion interrupts his question pointing to the screen in front of him and the life line knot around a solid structure.

Max feels his heart drops, a life line means she's so, so, under the ground.

"Rilion, omg! Can you see it?" Her voice through the radio makes Rilion and Max looks at the screen.

Max simply couldn't decipher what is, but Rilion does for the way he claps and people watching the other screens to high five with each other.

"What am I seeing?" Max asks, narrowing his eyes as Rilion bluffs.

"That..." He points to what seems like a strange box cover in dust. "Means Y/N, she's right, our mummified friend is an important general."

He gets it, it's the grave of such an important general of some time in history.

"Simply lovely Y/N, be careful, ok? You and Rahul have another..." He sees time they have been under the ground. "Another hour and you must come out, got it?"

The oxygen is not a problem, what is a problem it's the pressure of being under the ground in a place that has been closed for millions of years.

"Ok." Y/N scoffs. "Say Max stop pressing his face between his fingers." Y/N just need to hear the "Simply lovely " phrase to be aware Max is somewhere around.

When Rilion turns he can see Max Verstappen's face pressed between his thumb and his pointing finger.

Max scoffs, letting go of his hand, he is terrified and that's a sign. 

"Tell her to take care." Rilon laughs, who in the world would tell, a guy who drives at more than 200 km per hour is terrified about his girlfriend doing one of the safest activities, nowadays.

"He said to take care." Y/N camera of her helmet and chests show she's making a heart sing.

Yes, she can hear him, but if he knows, he will keep talking and hissing every step she takes.

"Fuck! She's so..."  Rilion raises his finger, moving the chair to the other screen.

"Careful Verstappen, careful. More than one wants to be there." He raises a long stick from a lollipop. "She won for taking out the shortest." 

Max smirks, she's a clever girl.

"Unbelievable, she's so unbelievably." Max patted his shoulder taking a seat in a chair in the corner.

Rilion gives him a heart shaped lollipop. "Sorry you have to spend the day here." 

Max takes it by clicking his tongue. "In her defence, we expected to find our friend in a couple of days, but we took the right paths."

"I can't believe the dead guy is the lucky one." Max takes the wrapping from the candy. "He's with my girlfriend on Valentine's Day."

Rilion laughs hard, Max is such a hilarious guy, and playing with him is funnier.

“If you're unlucky, she probably would come out before going back one more time.” Max bites the lollipop. “Have you ever been dumped on Valentine's Day?”

[respectthepetty]

I had no idea from Secret Relationships' trailer that this messy Korean BL would be getting a Colors Awards nomination, but this show deserves it because even the name tags were color coded!

But more importantly, this show knew what it was doing with the colors every single episode because although Pink Person Jaemin comes across as an angel who has been heaven sent to save Daon all the time and help out his family too,

He actually hid his darkness very well!

Because he is batshit crazy!

However, this Pink Person is truly in love with Daon, a Yellow Yal, and we see that through the colors and lighting.

Daon has always been a source of happiness and warmth from the men who after him even in the most desperate of times.

But Jaemin, with all his darkness, latched on to Daon believing that only he deserved Daon's warmth and happiness. He loved Daon for who he was, but that meant that he wanted nobody else to experience that with Daon.

So Jaemin's ring for Daon is just slightly better than Su Hyeon's because it's gold and in an orange case which are reminders of what Daon represents to him, yet the ring is too small.

And it's ironic that the neighbor who interrupts his little hostile honeymoon states that she lives right next door with the house that has a green roof because the color green constantly thwarts Jaemin's plan to keep Daon all to himself.

The Green Guy could've had Daon if he has just been honest with himself from the beginning.

But honesty is reserved for the Blue Boys.

So while Su Hyeon hides some blue under his darkness,

Seong Hyeon's blue is always on full display.

Even in the worst of times, he will be loyal to Daon.

Su Hyeon and Jaemin, standing there in their full white and black, are complete opposites when it comes to Daon. Jaemin would kill him and Su Hyeon would kill for him, but only Seong Hyeon would die for Daon. Jaemin and Su Hyeon want Daon's happiness for themselves, but only Seong Hyeon would sacrifice himself for Daon's happiness.

Seong Hyeon even apologizes for not coming sooner to rescue Daon, but the after-credit scene gives more weight to this statement. Seong Hyeon, since he met Daon first, could have rescued Daon from both of these men long before they started stealing his warmth and happiness, so as much as people dislike Seong Hyeon, the colors show that he is the only one to give Daon back his yellow color, even as Seong Hyeon possibly lays there dying.

Seong Hyeon's request is absurd, but it prioritizes Daon's future over Seong Hyeon's, which is something neither Jaemin nor Su Hyeon ever did.

That ridiculous dying wish for Daon to give the presentation showed that regardless if Seong Hyeon was going to be next to him or not, he wanted Daon to be happy, while Jaemin and Su Hyeon would have rather Daon be miserable with them than happy without them.

Once again, Pink Person Jaemin and Green Guy Su Hyeon do love Daon, but neither of them loved him enough to rescue him. Instead, they added to his misery. They didn't want him to shine.

But this Blue Boy does.

So the genius decision to transition the lighting between Seong Hyeon's blue to Daon's warm yellow as Seong Hyeon encouraged Daon to take the job overseas because he could wait forever as long as Daon was happy is the prime example of why this show's visual narrative deserves an award!

Seong Hyeon loves Daon.

So although I worried about him wearing green since that is Su Hyeon's color,

I remembered that green is a blend of blue and yellow.

And Seong Hyeon wants to share a life with Daon. He doesn't want to suppress him like others because Daon's happiness is Seong Hyeon's happiness.

This Blue Boy wants his Yellow Yal to remain bright and happy, so he gives him a ring that actually fits and balance, which is something neither previous man offered.

So in the end when they kiss as snow falls after a year apart, it replaces the snowy Christmas at the cabin where Jaemin vowed to be Daon's last love because Jaemin was not even the first guy to love Daon.

That honor goes to the guy who always shows up just when Daon needs him the most.

Because only a Blue Boy would ever apologize for not showing up sooner even when he was already first.

[hanistry]

THE PAWN SHOP | YANG JUNGWON.

genre | fantasy au, magic au / meet cute

synopsis | jungwon stumbled directly into a new job opportunity when he barged into the only store still open on the night of christmas eve.

word count | 6368 

warning | killing, death, crush injuries / mentions of blood, a disregard for human life

world | two

The first snowfall landed on Christmas Eve, not that it mattered to Jungwon.

Usually a light stepper, Jungwon found that the invisible pain on his body had rendered his feet heavy, and it was all a courtesy to the merciless debt collectors that sought him out on Christmas Eve and punished him over a late payment.

Although, between himself and nobody else, he knew he was merely an unlucky target for a man to take out his frustration. Possibly for a missing present under a tree, and the dissatisfied pout from a spoiled daughter. 

There would be a trail of blood on fresh snow if he hadn't gotten out of the grasp firmly pressuring him down to the ground. It wasn't as if he could fight back anyway, at least not when the debt collectors came in a group of three.

Since retaliating wasn't an option, he opted for an escape. Not a great one, just a desperate one; desperate enough to run down four blocks without pause, each pant a prayer that one store would still be open so close to midnight on Christmas Eve.  

Sweat drenched his hair, but the cold air numbed his skin enough to lose the sense to feel it suffocate his neck and back. His legs brought him past one closed store after another, and he noticed almost all had a holiday closure notice at the front of their entrance. He cursed. It didn't make sense. Restaurants tend to operate on regular hours, even during the holidays.

He turned a sharp corner, his eyes welcoming the tender orange from the street lamp and a bright gold from a singular store that remained open. He suppressed the celebration inside his throat and the guilt of throwing the poor employee into a hectic situation they likely did not train for. He picked up his pace, trying to lose the men on his tail.

You flinched and spun around, your fingers clutching your wooden staff tighter. Fully prepared to find a harpy staring you down at the doorway, your shoulders slumped with a confused sigh when you only saw a boy standing there.

A few seconds later, the door was forced open again and three men trailed in. Jungwon, already knowing who was behind him, bounced away from the door and rushed over to you.

You looked up at him with furrowed brows. This was abnormal. You had already served all the customers who were supposed to find the pawn shop today. You had already flipped the open sign and cleaned up for the night. No human should be able to see the store. 

You leaned back when Jungwon was near, your thought cut short. "What is happening?" 

"I need help," he replied. "Please help me. I'm hurt."

"Roping an innocent bystander into this mess? That's awfully indecent of you, Jungwon."

You raised a brow as you turned to the group's spokesman, and then your eyes trailed across the two behind him for a better idea of the kind of trouble that had intruded on your closed shop. You realized there wasn't anything alarming about their appearances. You wouldn't have batted an eye if you had walked past them on the street.

"Seriously, what is happening?" you asked again, but this time, Jungwon noticed the question was directed at neither him nor the men who chased him into the store. You directed the question at the ceiling.

Looking up was a pit of black and a messy collage of irregular shapes. Jungwon blinked. He looked down, back up at the ceiling, then down again. Disregarding that you spoke to the ceiling, he just now found out there were no lights.

When he looked up at the ceiling, it was pitch black, yet the store was lit with a shade of warmth. When he looked around in search of light bulbs or strings of light hidden in creases of walls, there was none. 

"Where is the light coming from?" he whispered. 

"Hm? The light?" You twirled your index finger. "It's coming from the windows. It's day time outside."

Jungwon looked around. "There are no windows."

"Bummer," you nodded, "I guess there aren't."

He pulled a face at your skeptical answers, and you smirked politely in return before you looked up again. The glasses perched lowly on your face and slid back toward your eyes. You adjusted it and placed your hands back on the wooden staff. 

"Is none of you going to answer me?" you asked as you gestured toward the newcomers. "We all know this isn't supposed to happen."

The spokesman tilted his head. From the lack of attention to the cryptic conversation, none of which he signed up for when he barged into the store, he was quickly losing patience. Shoving his arm forward into a beckoning wave, he hollered, "Hey! What are you two whispering about over there-"

The structure shook and cut off his sentence, which was nearly at its end. You stumbled at the abrupt commotion, but before you had to ground yourself with the staff, Jungwon reached out and steadied you by the back of your shirt.

He let go as soon as you gathered yourself, sheepishly stepping back only to find himself approaching you again when he turned to look at what caused the Earthquake.

Blood seeped from beneath a pair of wrinkled talons. Standing tall and unfamiliar above the talons was a bird with a woman's head. Its hair was long. Its color was identical to its feathers, so it was hard to decipher where the hair ends and feathers begin.

The bird woman had eyes like a hawk—sharp and uncanny—but it did not have a beak. It had ears and a nose but lacked dexterous arms and hands. 

When Jungwon adjusted his eyes at the horror, he realized the debt collectors chasing him the whole Christmas Eve were crushed to death by the bird woman. He carefully looked down at his feet and pursed his lips to prevent acid reflux, instinctively stepping away from the blood that had trailed to where he stood.

"Harpy!" you exclaimed accusingly. "A lot of work goes into preserving wooden floors!"

"I was helping," Harpy said. "It looks like they were bothering you."

You sighed. "We both know you didn't do that out of the goodness of your heart."

"Does it matter? The problem is solved," Harpy said.

"And it generated a new problem," you said, eyeing the dirty floor. "I have to clean this up."

Harpy tilted her head to glance behind you at the shrunken boy trying to hide behind you. She mused at the fact that he was almost a head too tall for that and because it had been a long time since a human had seen her in the flesh.

She must admit Jungwon's reaction was less entertaining than anticipated, but she understood. He still has to wrestle with himself to determine if he wants to believe in her or consider this an alarmingly realistic dream.

"Why don't you ask him to clean it up?" Harpy nudged her chin toward Jungwon's direction. "This all started because of him, anyway."

Jungwon flinched. You turned around to find him all shaken up from the sight. You considered the suggestion before reaching up to grab him by the chin. You tilted his head and examined his face, humming here and there as if critiquing him. 

"Do you know how to clean blood off wood?" you asked.

He nodded. "I was a housecleaner for two years."

"What a coincidence."

Harpy's musing made you whip around. "What do you know?"

"Me?" Harpy shrugged. "Nothing."

"Have you noticed any changes recently?" 

"No."

"This doesn't make sense," you muttered. "He's not supposed to be here. Four humans barged into the store today."

Harpy considered your words briefly before she looked up. She chirped lowly, her feathers moving along with the sound. Not long after, an orchestra of screeches sounded from above. Jungwon covered his ears at the sound akin to scratching a fork on a porcelain plate, but he suspected there was more than one bird woman in the structure. He didn't dare look up. He wanted to avoid catching eyes with one.

"Nobody has noticed anything different," Harpy said. "One of my daughters said the Oak Tree recently recruited a human boy at the Masquerade. What's his name? Jisung?"

"That's not abnormal," you pointed out. "Every employee working at the cosmic stores is human."

"Except for Jongseob and Soul.”

"Human souls. Human beings. Same difference."

"Agree to disagree," Harpy said. "If all are dead ends, then I suppose something happened to the veil." 

You grimaced. That was the last thing anyone needed. "That's difficult trouble."

"We've had incidents of a torn veil before," Harpy said. "I am most certain the issue will be fixed with time."

The conflicted expression on your face was unreasonable, but Harpy ignored it and turned the subject matter to Jungwon instead. She lifted hr feet from the corpses, her shift in weight forcing the floorboards to creak. She stared at Jungwon, her nail dripping with blood.

"I am going to take them home to feed the children," she said to him. "If you have anything to say to them, now is the time."

"He is in shock," you chimed in. "The least you can do is introduce yourself."

"I don't think that will be helpful," Jungwon muttered.

"Oh dear. Where are my manners." Harpy put her feet back atop the corpses, squirting what liquid remained inside. "My name is Harpy. I am a Harpy."

"A bird woman," you whispered. 

Harpy. A bird woman. The creature named herself exactly what it was. It was a convenient choice; Jungwon would give it that.

"Does this not bother you at all?" Jungwon turned to you after a moment of silence. The betrayed confusion in his tone helped stand up the hair on his neck. 

You shook your head. "They lived among us back when I was born, so this isn't new to me." 

"No! That's not-" Jungwon ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "That's not what I meant."

"I see." Your hand briefly slid down the jagged wood of your staff. You glanced at the corpses, the squashed organs melting together inside the blood and losing their individual value. The men could have had a more timely death, and it was unfortunate that they didn't. That was all you could muster. "I can't feel how you expect me to feel about it."

Jungwon dropped his arm to his side. He wasn't sure why he imposed any expectations on a stranger, anyway, or why he even cared how you felt about the death of three people you had never met.

He dropped his head but glanced toward the side through the gaps of his hair. His eyes fixated on the bloody sight, and he has long lost the urge to puke from disgust. 

He was relieved now. It would be a while before anyone chases him down for debt again. 

"I have nothing to say to them," Jungwon muttered. "Just take them away."

Harpy curled her talons to pick up what remained of the bodies. She looked at Jungwon after she prepared for take off. His distraught expression reminded her of you centuries ago when the willo-o'-the-whisps warpped you out of the Chimera's cave you mistakenly ventured inside to look for the magic lamp. Your naivety amused her to this day.

The magic lamp wouldn't be in the forest but in the catacomb or an underground ruin. 

"Let go, boy," she said. "Or it will consume you."

Jungwon raised his head with a grimace. "What?"

Harpy turned to you. "Best of luck to you."

"What?" You mirrored Jungwon's expression. 

A strong gust of wind accompanied the vanishing of the bird woman. She was gone in the blink of an eye; some might even say the wind was a distraction so no one would see where she flew off. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. Harpy's blessing was brief and confusing. It could have been that the bird woman knew something unrevealed to you, but why would she entertain the conversation about the broken veil if she already knew that wasn't the case?  If it wasn't a fractured veil, why would Jungwon be here, leading three more people inside the store? 

"We have to go talk to Seungmin."

"Who?" Jungwon scratched the back of his head and gestured toward the blood on the floor. "I can clean that up for you. Do you have detergent and a mop?"

"The blood can wait," you said. "We should find Seungmin.”

He tilted his head. "It'll be harder to clean if we wait."

You walked over to the pool and examined it briefly. Stomping the staff against the ground near it, You closed your eyes and whispered a sentence. The leaves that were irregularly sticking out of the vines wrapped spaciously around the shaft and danced without wind. Light shone out of the crevices of wood curled into the shape of a bee's nest. 

Everything stopped quickly after, or better yet, it returned to normal. You turned to Jungwon with a nod.

"That should do it," you said. 

He shook his head, his eyes widened in disbelief. "What did you even do?"

"I will explain on the way," you said, shuffling over to the door. You placed your hand on the doorknob and beckoned Jungwon to follow your with a head nudge. "Come on. We are heading to the tower."

Jungwon moved despite hanging strings of disbelief at his tongue. As he neared, you opened the door, and he paused. 

The dark, snowy roads he came from a few minutes ago have been replaced with bright greenery.  

The Repository was blue. It was scattered over with a hue so blue Jungwon thought it was a tower built underwater instead of sky-high. Not to mention, it was technically inside a tree, or he thought it was inside a tree because you led him through a gaping hole in one, and he came out the other side where the tower was.

The building has an eerie chill. There were no windows in the tower as far as he could see, only floor after floor of metal doors and books on walls. It didn’t feel like the air circulated. Still, it was cold. The kind of cold that sticks to Jungwon’s spine, the kind that makes him tremble without touching a single surface on his skin. 

There was a small table upon their entry. It wasn't a reception counter, but it acted like one. The librarian—a boy, seemingly older than Jungwon—already had what you needed on the desk when you arrived. 

Seungmin briefly scanned the book in his hand before he slammed it shut. He looked at you and nodded. "He is supposed to be here." 

Your shoulders raised in acknowledgment and then more in confusion. You shook your head, your tidy bangs barely shifting. “What else?”

Seungmin stared at you before he tipped the book over toward your face. "What else is you figuring it out for yourself. You can read."

Jungwon grimaced at Seungmin’s response but said nothing as you received the book and turned around. He followed you to a makeshift booth that looked like it was made by a person hacking at a tree log until there was a shape resembling a booth chair.

A soft seat cover draped neatly on top, and there were a few books stranded on the floor next to it. You dusted the seat cover and sat down, crossing your legs to put the thick book on your knee. 

"Let's see what it says." You opened the book and carelessly flipped toward the middle. 

Jungwon leaned over to take a peek. Ranging from the horrific Harpy and the sudden appearance of a magnificent forest, he wondered what kind of book it was to have the answers to your questions surrounding his untimely arrival. “What is this?"

"This is a Book of Life. It is as its name describes." You pressed a finger to the lines. "It details the beginning, the middle, and the end of a person's life."

Despite the immense curiosity, he recoiled from the information and looked away from the pages. Despite his less-than-suspicious actions, he rejected the concept. “There’s no way.”

“Why not?” you questioned through a dismissive chuckle. 

“I…” Jungwon inhaled. You raised a valid question, especially after everything you had shown him. From the changing doors to the sky-high tower, why wouldn’t a book like that exist? “I don’t know. I just can’t believe it.” 

“Mhm. You dropped out of high school?” you asked rhetorically. You continued to flip the pages and answered questions spilling out of your mouth. “Your mom had cancer. You took out an unofficial loan from a local gang to pay for medical treatment because your part-time jobs aren’t paying enough, but you got scammed, and she passed away anyway.”

“I’ve seen a lot of people in my life, but this takes the cake.” You whistled when you finished. “What are you, nineteen?”

“The book doesn’t tell you that?” Jungwon muttered as he turned away. Although he has unknowingly begun to suffocate from your casual tone as you recounted his lived experience, he made no attempt to remove himself from your presence.

He hadn’t wanted it to get to him. Not too much, at least. Not enough to force a spotlight on himself, which fleeing would promptly do. It has been over a year since his mother died. He cried once at her low-budget funeral, and when came the financial trouble with his debt, he got over it. 

He has to be over it. If he thought about his mother too much, he would have died. All this time swallowing his grief cannot be undone because he couldn't handle a stranger reading his life off a magical book. 

You peered at him and returned to the book, debating if you struck a fresh wound or Jungwon didn’t want to believe such a book existed. You made no attempt to apologize, even though it was your oversight.

"The Gods are real," you said after turning a few pages of the book. "They used to be people."

As Jungwon collected himself, he rubbed his fingers together. He stared ahead. "I wasn't thinking about that."

"Oh, I was just telling you,” you responded. "I don't know about your God, but my Gods are real. They are twins." 

"I'm not religious," he muttered, putting his hands into a praying gesture and leaning his chin against it. 

"That might matter," you chuckled lowly. "But you know there is one."

"Like I said," Jungwon rubbed his eyes, "I don't believe in those."

You looked up and breathed deeply, but it felt like a refreshing breath of air rather than one that eliminated all the stressors in your life. 

“It’s not about that, is it?” you mused. “Knowing and believing don’t have to coexist, and religion isn’t just about believing.”

Finally, after his hand dropped to his lap, Jungwon turned with tired eyes and sighed. “Right. Some people know he’s not real, so we don’t believe in him. Now that you told me there is a pair of Gods who do exist, that naturally makes it that the one we know is not real.”

"Truthfulness and correctness don't necessarily coincide either,” you said. You dipped your head to look at Jungwon. "Just because my Gods are confirmed to be true doesn't mean it's correct to say your God doesn't exist."

"You are basing this off a technicality," he said. 

"Sure," you mused. "There's nothing wrong with that. After all, it's not real faith if you need to confirm its reality before devoting to it."

"Then is he real?" Jungwon asked. "Is our God real?"

You closed the book and stood up. You shrugged. “How would I know? I've never met it before."

Jungwon leaned back at the useless answer with a scoff. He exhaled, his shoulders visibly relaxing as you left to find Seungmin at the counter, and he tried to find something else to focus on.

Something tangible, unlike the existence of a Book of Life or you and Seungmin's identity as otherworldly beings, or the question as to why your Gods never responded when he prayed for his mother's recovery.

Something tangible. Something easy to access. 

Jungwon got up from the seat and followed You back to Seungmin’s desk. You dropped the book on the table, leaving your hand on the cover as you leaned against it.

"So," Seungmin started, "what does it say?"

"Nothing," you responded curtly.

"Okay, don't tell me."

“No. There’s nothing,” you said. “The pages are still in the book, but the words were blurred together.”

Seungmin picked up the book slowly. With a raised brow, he flipped it to the last few pages he hadn’t accessed prior, and, as you mentioned, the pages were intact, but the content had been scrambled like watercolors mixed inside a bowl of water. He peered up at Jungwon and down at the pages, hummed in thought, then shut it, dropping it by his worksheet.

“My mistake,” he said. “The content is rearranging in real-time.”

The events detailed in a Book of Life were more similar to an ultra-accurate prediction of a set of predetermined factors of a person. It was partly the work of the cosmos and, for a lack of a better term, statistics.

Hence, it is typical for the content in a Book of Life to change according to deviations. However, when the whole second half of a book blanks out, that usually takes a miracle.

"What does that mean?" Jungwon asked, stepping forward so he could be in the know.

Seungmin turned to him. "It's exactly what I said. It erased its original content and is currently following your life because it can no longer predict it."

"Is that bad?" 

“No.” Seungmin shrugged. “It’s just a book. The only way for a meaningful change is if someone reads their book and modifies their actions. But you haven’t read it,” he lifted the book and tilted it side to side, “so it doesn’t matter what happens here.”

You nodded but couldn’t resist the urge to fiddle about with your hands. Something wasn’t adding up. From the short time you’ve known Jungwon, based entirely on a first impression, you could not pinpoint what was so special about him that warranted a miracle. 

He did bring three people with him through the store entrance, though. Could it be his affinity with magic? Magically gifted humans aren’t common, but with the help of the Cosmos, they are easy to pinpoint.

"Okay." You squinted your eyes at nothing. "Thanks."

“You’re welcome,” Seungmin said. “Are you going to be in the Green Hallow, or are you heading back to the store?”

"We should head back," you replied. "I kind of owe him an explanation."

Seungmin placed the book gently on the counter and nodded at Jungwon. "Good luck to you, then."

Jungwon frowned. He wondered why.

When you returned to the shop, the first thing you did was apologize for the mess. Jungwon wasn’t sure what you meant until you flipped the light switch. 

The hidden area revealed itself with each grand flicker of the lights that, once again, came from invisible bulbs.

Previously, shielding the hidden area was a wall that appeared to be an illusion, as it disappeared as soon as the light hit it. The hidden area was bigger than the main area of the store; it looked to be of a square structure, while the main area was of a narrower, rectangular structure. 

The room was as cluttered as you implied, but the more Jungwon looked at it, the more organized the mess seemed. 

There were multiple wooden tables organized the same way he remembered his high school’s art classroom did it. On top of the tables were trinkets and bigger objects, ranging from table cloth to farming equipment to treasure boxes and pearl necklaces hanging from their rusty locks.

Pulling himself back in hopes of seeing a bigger picture, Jungwon found there to be none. There was no pattern to the placements. Everything was where they were out of randomness. 

Stuck firmly to the wall were tidy shelves that served as a contrast to the tables. They were mainly littered with labeled jars and boxes, some potted plants, and books. These items were grouped and lined up neatly, indicating general importance or personal preference. 

“We should sit,” you said as you grabbed a hook pole leaning against a shelf. “We have a lot to talk about.”

You reached for a salt shaker on a wall shelf nailed at your face level and briefly dusted the hook with it. Carelessly returning the shaker, you extended the pole as you neared the center of the store.

Once it was of appropriate length, you hoisted it up into the dark ceiling and rummaged through it. Jungwon furrowed his brows as clanks and pangs sounded from the rummaging before you finally hooked onto something and pulled it down with one strong sweep. 

A metal pan fell from the ceiling. Once it hit the ground, it bounced, and the material stretched. Following a stream of uncomfortable and jarring sounds came a single couch stretched into by a cooking pan.

You scratched your head sheepishly when the air quieted again, and you tapped the couch twice with the hook before the noise circulated again to return the pan back the way it was.

“Sorry about that. It is also really messy up there,” you said after throwing the pan high. It didn’t come back down. You brought the hook pole up again and shifted it left and right. When You noticed Jungwon’s incredulous stare, you informed casually, “It’s a pocket ceiling. I gave up the lights for it.” 

“Really,” Jungwon hummed sardonically. “I couldn’t tell.” 

Giving him a brief pointed stare, you stopped as if you had come across something immobile. You thrashed the pole around briefly before finally pulling a red and gold velvet drape down. It moved exactly like the metal pan when it fell on the floor, except the drape was slower and more graceful as it shifted into a single couch.

You dusted the seat once the transformation was over and stepped to the side to present it to Jungwon.

“Ta-da!” You sang. “This drape has been around since the Renaissance.”

Jungwon hummed in acknowledgment. The sound of you shifting the pole around to find something suitable as couch fabric faded into the background. He dusted the seat, assuming it had never seen the light of day since the Renaissance, and sat down. “That’s the art movement?”

“It is. I wasn’t around Europe at that time so I missed it, but it was of great artistic significance!” You patted your chest with an approving nod 

“You were gone from Europe for three centuries?” Jungwon raised a brow. He noticed you had pulled something down from the ceiling, but he did not catch what it was. Standing beside you was a single couch with a polka dot pattern, so he assumed it must be home decorations again.

“Traveling outside of Earth takes a lot of time and effort,” you said as you sat down. You soothed out your pinafore. “Well, at least that’s how it was back then since I was still mapping the places. I also used a pen and paper, so there were no shortcuts!”

Habitual suspicion vanished from his throat. It has been a while since he left The Repository, which was one of the more defining pieces of evidence that cut his disbelief short.

From the Harpy to the magical tree, and finally to the sky-high tower built inside said tree—all of which he saw with his naked eyes or walked through with his feet. His suspicion of the supernatural has mostly eliminated itself and was replaced with curiosity.

“There are places outside of Earth?” he asked.

“Oh, great! You’re starting it.” You clapped in relief before you settled to answer. “They are places outside of Earth and within Earth. Some exist in space, some exist beyond time and space, and those within Earth are in a shielded reality that normal humans cannot access.”

“Do you remember me talking about a veil with Harpy?” 

“Yeah.”

There are three commonly used spells for spacial alterations: a veil, a barrier, and a ward.

A veil is invisible and can be walked through by anyone, but only those who possess magic can access the duplicated reality inside the veil. Whatever is done inside a veil does not transfer outside, so the original reality will not be affected. If there has been a hazardous event with great infrastructural damage, fixing it is as easy as sealing the veil.

However, it only applies to what is duplicated. People who enter the veil after its creation are not considered so.

A barrier colors itself a blurry, transparent grey so people outside it can faintly look into it. A barrier cannot be entered or exited once it is created. Whatever happens inside a barrier simply happens. 

A ward functions similarly to a barrier, except it is explicitly used to keep things out. Exiting a ward is possible, but entering it is not unless one is the creator of the ward. Whatever happens inside a ward also just happens.

There are an uncountable amount of magical beings. Most of the humanoids usually live among others, while some others have created both open and gated communities in suburban areas.

There are faeries and dryads, witches and sorcerers, mushroom rings and moon pools. Tiny creatures hanging around each corner of the place that he would miss out on if he stopped paying attention. 

“There are also Entities, but I don’t deal with them too much,” you said. “The workers at the cosmic shops tend to get trouble from them the most because of the affinity they collect from troubled humans.”

Jungwon fiddled with his thumbs in recognition. He remembered hearing you talk about that briefly with Harpy. “They hire humans.”

“They do, but most of them are magically inclined, which is necessary for them to be, considering the risks,” you said. “Unfortunately, humans have a lot of offer.”

Vampires enjoy human blood; Eodukseoni feeds off of fear; An incubus and a succubus, and many more others, drain people’s life force. Humans are a reservoir of delicious food for a majority of magical beings. Hence, the cosmic stores would get attacked, as their services leave a great deal of emotional residue from humans.

“On the topic of being magically inclined!” You straightened from the chair and got up. “I need you to do something.”

You shuffled to the back of the counter and vanished once you crouched. Jungwon pushed his back away from the chair and barely raised his head to check out any movement. You stood up soon with a jade crystal in your hand. You left from behind the counter and returned to the seats.

You handed Jungwon the crystal before beckoning for his hands. You helped him cup it tightly, putting your palms over his hands and pulling it toward your face. 

Jungwon’s hands trembled, a faint blush appearing on his face when your breath hit his skin as you spelled. You released him when it was over. 

“Try to change the shape of the crystal,” you said.

“What?” Jungwon raised a brow. He looked at it and weighed it on one hand. It was heavy. “With brute force?”

“No, with magic,” you clarified as you slumped on your couch. “I gave you some of mine, so all you have to worry about is giving the crystal a different shape.” 

Jungwon looked down at the jade crystal. You sprung this on him so suddenly that he paused on the spot, not knowing what to do. He didn’t know the first thing about using magic, and he figured it was too cliché to close his eyes, concentrate, and visualize. Those were methods shown in movies. Yesterday, he still thought they were fake. 

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Close your eyes, concentrate, and visualize?”

“Okay,” he deadpanned. “Is there a spell for this?”

“No. Modification is a process, so it’s less about chanting and more about how you let the magic trickle out as you shape it,” you said. “But don’t worry about making a perfect shape for now. Worry about being able to use the magic.”

Jungwon sighed deeply as he rolled his eyes to refresh his mind. The only thing he knew was that he couldn’t feel anything abnormal. His body wasn’t cooler or hotter, heavier or lighter. However much magic you borrowed him has integrated perfectly into his body. His best-case scenario was either to do as you suggested or reject doing the task at all. 

“What am I doing this for?” he asked, lowering the crystal onto his lap.

“I need to check if you are magically inclined enough to work here,” you replied after humming in thought. 

“The pawn shop has a preplanned list of customers that will be temporarily allowed access inside a veil and be led directly into this store on the day of their planned entry. You and the men who chased after you were not part of the list. The veil surrounding this area was not torn either. I was compelled to believe you came here for a reason: to start a new life.”

Jungwon tightened his grip on the crystal, not realizing the faint glow seeping through his fingers. A new life would be compelling if he didn’t already take on so many responsibilities. After his mother passed away, he focused on working the days away to make back the money he owed. He also didn’t want to think about the amateur mistake he made trusting strangers for financial aid. 

Some of his jobs held no emotional value, so it wouldn’t be a problem to up and leave without so much as a two-week notice. He would likely put in a paid time off request and pray for the best. Other jobs were managed by kinder others or involved people he’s grown to like and care for.

He wouldn’t owe anybody an explanation for why he’s abruptly leaving; even if he did tell them, they wouldn’t have believed him. But he didn’t want to abandon anyone without a reason. 

Considering the nature of everything about the cosmos and the businesses being operated inside the know, he assumed once he decided to work at your pawn shop, being able to return to the regular human world would be a rare trip.

The outside world intrigued him. He didn’t think it would bore anyone living in the city and working a dead-end job. There were many more things to discover, learn, and do. But he couldn’t leave his life for it.

He couldn’t leave his mother there. 

“Earth will be here when you come back,” you said, breaking his train of thought. You smiled when Jungwon looked up, and then you pointed at his lap, where the crystal was formed into an irregular shape of sharp edges with a swirl of an unrecognizable color. “That’s fantastic news.”

He carefully lifted the object and examined it. His curiosity changed its color into a brighter, warmer shade, and his confusion forced it down into a dimmer tone. He huffed in pleasant surprise. You grinned to herself, delighted that his intrigue in magic remained despite the uncertainty. 

“Look, Jungwon,” you said. “If you have a place to stay, I don’t mind if you clock out and go home at the end of the day. It’ll just be like a regular job.”

“Oh,” he muttered, looking back at you and lowering his hand. “I guess I assumed wrong.” 

“Well, not really,” you said. “I was planning to make space for you at the shop because the book told me you are currently living at a homeless shelter. Obviously, it will be easier for me if you do make this place your home because then you can work twenty-four hours a day.”

Jungwon frowned. “That’s not convincing me.”

“Some resources can only be collected at night.” You shrugged. “That’s just how the world is. We can’t do anything about that.”

He faltered. There was no good reason for him to refuse the opportunity besides sheer unwillingness. Even then, he knew he wasn’t entirely against the idea.

There was nowhere for him to go when he leaves, and the debt will eventually catch up to him again. It could even be worse knowing that there are families out there waiting for those men to return. The pawn shop was more than a job opportunity or a chance to explore a magical world. It’s a safe haven from his life. 

“What does the job entail?” Jungwon asked. “I’m just asking to grasp what I have to do. I’m not turning the offer down.” 

You turned your head slightly and squinted your eyes. “Are you accepting it?”

Jungwon rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Yeah?”

“And you plan to go home at the end…” You dragged the end of the sentence longer, waiting for him to respond.

He blushed with embarrassment, looking away. “Actually, I’d like a place to stay if that’s… not an issue.”

“Oh great!” You jolted up from the couch and reached over. You removed the crystal from his hands and warmed it with your palm. It immediately returned to its original shape. After, you beckoned at Jungwon. “Get up. We’ve got a lot to do!”

He did as You you, slowly and unsurely. “Like what? An orientation?”

“That, and other things. We have to rearrange my room to fit a bed for you,” you said. “We have to go back to the oak tree, and then make you a bed, and then get you a wand, and–“

“There’s more?”

“Well, yeah.” You nodded. “We are going to find a good place in the Green Hallow.”

“For what?”

“So we can properly bury your mother.”

[latenightdaydreams]

Werewolf König x Human!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, p in v, non-con, werewolf, knotty, breeding kink, biting, chase

3.5k word count

🐺

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💖Set in the 1980s💖

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It’s half past midnight as you hug your best friend goodbye. Her boyfriend had broken up with her, so you made the hour drive into the countryside to see her, but you work tomorrow so you aren’t able to stay the night.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Laura, your friend, asks. “It looks like it’s about to snow.” She looks to the sky with her sage green eyes, cheeks stained red from crying, but she still looks so beautiful.

“I can’t miss any more days of work, or else I would. I’ll drive safe, promise.” You hold your pinky finger out for her to wrap hers around.

“Call me once you get home, please.”

“I will.” You wave to her over your shoulder as you walk to your car. When you look up, you can see bright gray clouds and the full moon illuminating the night sky. You unlock your car and get inside, turning up the heater all the way.

 The radio turns on, Air Supply- “Making Love Out of Nothing at All”, blares from the speakers. Singing out with all your heart along with the radio as you turn your headlights on and set off back home.

The main road you take has no street lights to illuminate the path; only the light from your headlights and the moon to guide your way. When you look on either side of you, all you can see is dense woods with the occasional farm land.

Fluffy chunks of snow fall from the sky as the road ahead of you quickly gets covered. You turn on your windshield wipers at the highest setting. The snow makes the drive seem more surreal. As you have stepped into a Disney movie. It’s relaxing, to say the least.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can swear you see something big. You twist your head, trying not to look away from the snowy road for too long. Yet, you see nothing. You chalk it up to you being tired and seeing things. This area has no wolves, at least not anymore. They were all hunted into extinction or pushed out.

The drive only gets harder as the snow falls faster than what your windshield wipers can clear away. The visibility becomes so poor you can only see a few feet in front of you. Feeling your heartbeat pick up from anxiety, you slow your speed to 15 under the speed limit. You’d rather be safe than sorry.

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König deployed to middle America twenty-seven days ago. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out extraction that went sideways. Two weeks turned into four. Panic set in as he realized he will change away from his restraints.

Day twenty-eight, he looked at his men with hungry eyes. Their fear of him becoming easier to smell and he knew he had to get away from them for their safety.

“I’m going to patrol. Make sure no one follows us.” He lies.

The sky beginning to turn a pinkish orange hue as he drops his weapons and runs. His heart pounding in his chest, dirt kicking up beneath his feet, he tries to get as far away from them as he can.

Looking up, the sky turns a dark blue as the sun is almost completely set. After what feels like an eternity of running, he finds an abandoned run-down farm. He makes his way inside the barn to make sure he is alone.

Once inside König quickly pulls his helmet off of his head followed by his mask. He drops to his knees taking in deep breaths. He can feel his body temperature beginning to rise rapidly and his senses begin to heighten. His pupils enlarge, turning his icy blue eyes black as he begins to pant. Pain consumes his body as he begins to change, his hands grabbing at his shirt and pulling the rest of his clothes from his body with haste.

“Argh!” König’s scream comes out deep, inhuman. His body begins to contort as he drops to the floor in agony.

His fingertips now sharp claws, black and grayish fur cover his body. Standing up from the floor, fully transformed, he takes in a deep breath before letting out a loud howl. He now stands 9ft tall. Taking a moment to adjust to everything he can’t stop sniffing the air. There is a scent, one that he has never smelled before. He follows it outside of the barn. Stepping into the moonlight, he begins to run on all fours in the direction it’s coming from.

König is blinded by his pure primal drive as he runs with one objective. He stops by a roadside and looks up to see a small ranch style home with two cars parked outside. A woman with her back turned to him hugging a taller blonde. It wasn’t the blonde he was here for; it was you. He was smelling you.

His eyes follow you as you walk to your car. It was too risky to run out and grab you now. When the headlights turn on his eyes; he squints, retreating back into the tree line. König stands on two feet and sniffs the air, letting out a deep sigh before dropping back down on all fours. He begins to follow you.

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You lean forward as you drive to try and see the road better. Driving was becoming dangerous, but you’re still 45 minutes away from home. Out of the corner of your eye you see the dark shadow again. It’s almost as if it’s something chasing the car, but you chalk it up to just the shadows mixing with the heavy downfall of snow.

The car’s tires begin to struggle to grip the road as it quickly becomes slippery from the heavy layer of snow. You lift your foot from the gas to let yourself slow down more.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whisper to yourself as you feel your heart beating in your ears. You absolutely hate driving in the snow, especially when you’re so far away from home. Had you known it would snow, you would have had Laura come stay with you.

Just as you did breathing exercises to calm yourself, something huge darts in front of your car. You slam on your brakes and turn the steering wheel. A panicked scream leaves your mouth as your car drifts out of control. Within the blink of an eye, your car slams into a guardrail that stops you from falling into a ravine. Your head hits the steering wheel and you fall to the side slightly, making the music blast. The song “Every Breath You Take” by the Police fills the car.

“Shit.” You sit up and rub your head, feeling warm blood on your fingers.

Reaching over, you turn your rearview mirror towards you to check yourself. The low light makes it hard, but you only see a cut across your forehead. Letting out a deep sigh, you look at the car through the windshield. It’s smoking, but the battery is still running, so you try to get the car to start back up. Nothing. You’re stranded.

Stepping out of the car, you’re hit by the harsh cold and the snow on your face. It’s absolutely miserable outside. You remember the last roadside sign said there was a rest stop about two miles ahead, you could definitely call for help there.

You go into your car’s trunk and pull out the flashlight you had back there in case of emergencies; much like the ones you’re in now. The snow crunched beneath each of your footsteps as you made your trek to the rest stop. If there is one thing you can be thankful for, it’s the fact you wore your winter boots today.

“Just my luck…” you whisper to yourself, your breath visible as you speak. The wind whistles all around you as you hug yourself with one arm and continue holding the flashlight up with the other. The night is eerily quiet, not one other car on the road.

You continue ahead and stay to the side near the tree line just in case a car came. You can’t shake the feeling of being watched, as if you’re being followed. In your head, you tell yourself that it must be just all of the anxiety. No one else is actually out here.

That is until you hear a branch snap. You freeze for a second, holding your breath, trying to listen. All you can hear is the sound of the wind whistling around you and your heartbeat in your ears. Just an animal… You think, but then you scare yourself trying to think about what size animal that was.

With nothing you can do, you decide to just push forward and keep walking. Each step you take with haste, as you feel the fear of being watched, might be valid. You try to not freak out and waste all of your energy running, so in your mind, you try to calm yourself.

Maybe it was only a deer. Deer are heavy and live here. Could have also just been a branch falling down…

To relax more, you hum to yourself, just a random tune you made up in your head. You look up at the sky to gaze at the moon when you hear another branch snap. You twist in that direction and shine your light. That’s when you see the reflective glow of a pair of eyes inside the tree line.

The eyes quickly move away, your stomach dropping. Your mind goes back to the creature you saw while driving. You look around before continuing on. Your once hurried steps are more of a light jog. Your mind is torn between the primal urge to run and the human urge to remain calm.

Just a deer, just a deer, just a deer…

You hear another branch and you jump, turning again to shine the light on it again. The eyes appear once more, closer this time. You let out a shaky breath as you feel a wave of dread wash over you. Just then, you hear a low growl.

Not a deer, not a deer, not a deer!

Without a second thought, you turn and run, continuing down the road. Your mind goes a million miles a second as you try to process what animal it could be; maybe even a stray dog. Either way, you didn’t want to find out.

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König watches you closely. Your smell is intoxicating. Consuming his mind, he can’t stop pursuing you. When you hear his heavy foot snap a stick, he freezes; he can hear your heartbeat race inside of your chest. The smell of fear growing stronger by the second.

You shine the light in his eyes, and he cowers away from the brightness of it. He lingers as you walk away again, getting some distance between the two of you so it would be easier to follow you without being seen.

He keeps his pace, listening to you hum a song to yourself. Acting as if you’re unaware that you’re being stalked when your elevated heart beat says otherwise. Then he does it again. This time you’re quick and flash the light on him instantly.

His urge to get close to you is uncontrollable. Your smell…what is it? He needs you, craves you. You are his. He lets out a deep growl, feeling his body tingle. You hear it and take off quickly. This is the moment, his time to pounce.

He picks up his pace until he is ahead of you. Once he is, he jumps out from the woods and walks in front of you. Standing up on two legs, he lifts his head and howls.

A deep, truly terrified scream escapes your lips as you watch a 9-foot-tall creature stand before you on two legs, howling as a wolf. Your flashlight illuminates the thick, dark fur covering its whole body. This was the creature you saw running beside your car, the one stepping on sticks, whose eyes you saw glowing…

You turn quickly and run back in the opposite direction, towards Laura’s house. In a panic, you drop your flashlight, your only possible weapon. There is no time to stop and pick it up, as you can hear the creature beginning to chase you.

“HELP!” you scream into the darkness, but there is no one around to hear you. “PLEASE!”

Adrenaline courses through your veins as your feet slip on the snow beneath you. You catch yourself and keep going. Looking over your shoulder, the creature is gone. What the fuck… You stop to look around, panting.  

If it wasn’t for the claw marks in the snow, you’d think you were hallucinating. Laura's home is closer to you than the rest stop, so you continue running back in that direction. As the adrenaline wears off, tears fill your eyes, the rush of everything you just witnessed causing you to break down. You take a deep inhale before letting out a loud sob, your feet slowing. Allowing yourself to have a moment before collecting yourself.

You wipe your tears away, trying to steady your breath as you turn to look behind you. All you see are your own footprints now. The cold makes your nose leak as you wipe it away on your coat sleeve.

“What the fuck is going on?” You whisper to yourself as you sniffle.

You turn back around and freeze. Up the road you see a dark black shadow. Your heart rate spikes again. It doesn’t move, so you take small steps backwards. Unexpectedly, the creature walks away slowly back into the wooded area. Confused on which direction you should go; you just continue to go towards Laura. Clearly, no matter where you go, this thing can move faster. Everything around you is quiet; on high alert, your eyes dart around in every direction.

“Just keep walking. You’ll be at Laura’s in no time.” Your voice cracks, lacking confidence in your own words. It’s as if this thing was toying with you.

Your body shivers from the intense cold. In your mind you convince yourself that this will just be a funny story you tell her once you get there. She will make you hot chocolate and everything will be fine. You’ll be okay.

Just as you started to believe your own hype, your body hits the snow-covered road- hard. Your head hits the ground and your vision goes blurry for a split second. You can feel hands grabbing your ankles and dragging you back into the woods. In a panic you begin to grasp at the snow on the ground, trying to pull yourself away from it.

“Let me go!” You try to squirm, trying to make yourself difficult in hopes it will drop you.

The creature growls at you, refusing to drop you. It drags you through the cold snow, sticks hitting your face and scratching you. Finally, it drops your legs. You turn quickly and begin to scoot away on the floor.

This… this isn’t real. This can’t be real. You see a 9-foot-tall wolf looking humanoid. A werewolf? No, they aren’t real.

König takes a deep breath in, having you this close makes that sweet smell so much more intense. His eyes travel over your body. He needs to claim you. He steps closer as you begin to crawl backwards. A growl escapes his lips as he lunges forward, grasping your ankle tightly; screams going unheard.

His clawed hand comes up and rests on your chest, pressing you into the cold ground.  Moving slowly, his cold wet nose touches your neck and you wince. His tongue coming out and kicking you.

His hands grasp your winter coat, ripping his sharp claws through it. A burst of cold hits you as you try to fight back. You hit him in the chest and on his face. He grasps both of your wrists with one hand and holds you down.

With your coat torn open, the sweet scent gets stronger. He is getting closer. In a frenzy he continues to tear off your clothing. Your small body wiggling didn’t slow him one bit. Covered in goosebumps from the cold you feel his nose trail down your body until he lands between your legs.

Nuzzling his snout between your legs he begins to take deep breaths, it’s what he’s been chasing. He’s finally found his mate. The aroma of your cunt begins to make his cock hard. His fat tongue presses against the fabric of your blue cotton panties.

“No!” You try to kick him again.

His blacked-out eyes snap up at you and snarls before looking back down. Grabbing the hem of your underwear with his teeth, he jerks his head to the side; tearing your underwear off. You have half of a shirt on, your bra torn down the center. You’re basically naked, the snow still falling heavily. Other than the extreme heat from the werewolf, you’re freezing.

Nuzzling his snout between your legs, he begins to lap at your cold cunt. His first taste made him close his eyes; he has never tasted anything as good as you before. Your back arches, hands still restrained above your head. Squeezing your legs around him you let out a tiny moan. He responds with a low growl. All he can think of is getting your scent all over him and his all over you.

His hands move to your hips and pull you toward him. His hands wrapping around your thighs and spreading your legs wide apart to fit his body between them. His hips grind forward and rub his massive erection along your wet folds.

You look up at him helplessly as he leans forward to lick your face and neck. Slowly the fat head of his red cock begins to slip into your tiny little cunt. A loud groan leaves his lips as he feels you wrap around him. His claws dig into the supple flesh of your thighs as he rolls his hips into you at a rapid pace.

Hands grasping at the forest floor, grabbing leaves and pieces of your torn clothes. You try to crawl backwards but he stops you, growling as he pulls you closer to him again. He gives you a glare as his cock stretches you to the brink, you’re his now to breed with and you won’t be leaving until you’re bred.

He drops your legs and turns you over. Your naked body hits the snow and you shiver. His hands grab your hips and pull you to him so you’re on all fours with your ass in the air for him. His cock slips back in, making him let out a small growl. His balls slap against your clit as he bucks into you.

Moans leave your lips, feeling disgusted with yourself for feeling pleasure from this beast. He loves to hear your pathetic little sounds. König’s claws dig into your hips as he gets closer to cumming inside of you.

Panting loudly as he leans over and begins to bite your neck hard. You let out a pained moan, the bite feeling slightly pleasurable. Slowly, the pressure of the bite increased and it was almost like he was keeping you in place.

That’s when you feel his hands on your hips push you down more on his cock. Your pussy is already full. You squirm from the pain. The squirms don’t stop him. He is close now. His hands firmly pull you back again as he pushes forward and you let out a loud moan. Little did you know he was trying to knot you.

König was ready to cum. His teeth sink fully into your neck, causing you to bleed. He pulls you to him and pushes forward until it pops in- finally. Instantly, your pussy clenches around his bulbous knot. You’re so tight, his cock throbbing periodically as he cums deep inside of you. Making sure not even one drop escapes you.

His massive body keeps you warm as you lie there in pain from being so full. You try to move and he growls at you, still not moving his teeth from your neck.

Slowly, he moves his teeth from your neck. You try to move and lie down, but you can’t. You're attached to him. Looking back over your shoulder at him, he leans back in and licks your face before licking your neck where he marked you. Now you’re officially his mate.

He stays locked inside of you as he ejaculates until his knot slowly fades away. Almost an hour on the freezing cold floor. If it wasn’t for his body heat, you would have frozen to death by now. As König slowly pulls out, he looks down at your small body. His eyes focused on your stretched pussy. Gently, he lifts you into his arms and walks you to the barn. He would not let you go now that he has found you.

[boiledkwamaegg]

Skyrim and its disconnect from Nordic nature

Hey everyone, this is a pretty long read and kind of unrelated to any OC or art stuff, but I got really passionate about Nordic nature and seasons and how Skyrim as a game fails to capture its beauty and reality. Despite the length, I'm not very serious about this, I'm not an expert on ecology or anything and I know it's all just fantasy and I love Skyrim for that, so don't get on my ass about how I'm nitpicking, that's not the point of this post. I just wrote this for fun! Everything is under the cut.

One of my biggest peeves with Skyrim is that the ecology and weather in the game is kind of idealized and fantastical. I don't know, the environment is really beautiful, and some places look harsh and gray, yes, but it feels like it's a bit too scared of showing "ugly" things, forgetting that usually the "ugly" wet grayness of Nordic nature is what makes it so beautiful. I'm going to get back to that statement soon, stay with me. In the game, there are no seasons, which I'm assuming was purposefully cut out in order to save time when making it, but it takes away *so much* of the experience of living in a Land of Really Cold. The sun sets at the same time every day of the year, the same flowers bloom everywhere all at once, some places are in an eternal state of autumn, and some places never get relief from the frost. I don't know, to me it's boring, and almost a little uncanny.

Like, one of the things we usually miss out on in open world games is that the world around us is alive, the world around us changes without us, and we need to adapt to it. Let's take something as simple as the sun. See, in the arctic circle and close by, nights are incredibly fucking bright in summer, and it often drives me a bit insane because I like to sleep in the dark. However, in winter the sun is only up for like 6 hours. Usually when the days start getting darker, maybe you feel a bit of relief, but you also start feeling this kind of dread about a quickly approaching period of Dark and Cold. If you work or study, chances are you don't really see the sun for weeks or even months during winter, because not only is it often cloudy, the sun isn't up yet when you go to work, and it's already set when you come home. And then, on a random Tuesday in March, when you're going home, you notice the sun for the first time in ages, and you just stand there, basking, celebrating the fact that you got through another long harsh winter. And then you have like two months of normal amounts of light, until soon you can't sleep again.

Seasons were pretty important to people in the past, they dictated how you would work, the amount of food you had, religious celebrations... I feel like nobody in Skyrim really talks about how bad weather can cause famines, or how a simple blizzard can make traveling impossible, or how seasons affect the animals you hunt. In spring you sow fields, in summer you tend to your crops, and in autumn you harvest. And winter? In winter you fucking survive.

Let's get back to the ugly wet grayness I mentioned. Most Finnish nature photography I see only captures the sun shining through the trees into the water in summer, vibrant orange forests in autumn, and the northern lights above snowy hills in winter. But like, what about when you go to actually walk in the forest and it's kind of lightly raining and gray, what about in spring when the snow melts and there's water everywhere and the grass is flat and yellow, what about when that one single week of autumn where everything is vibrant is over and the trees are barren and everything is brown, and what about 4pm in January when the darkening sky paints everything you see a deep blue. It's cold, it's wet and it's gray! And honestly, that's what I call the Land of Really Cold, and that's really beautiful to me - because it's real, everything you see changes in a cycle, and the good and the bad moments don't last forever. It comes and goes, and you start to appreciate every moment for what it is. Nordic nature is melancholic, and I don't think Skyrim as a game can quite capture that.

One of my favourite things about winter is when there's a field and the frozen tall grass and weeds kind of stick out of the snow. And let's talk about that, actually. See, snow isn't just some white frozen mass, sometimes snow is wet, and that's when you can make snowmen and throw snowballs at your friends, but in colder temperatures it doesn't clump up like that anymore. I think Skyrim can't capture the beauty of freshly fallen snow either, how soft it is, how sometimes trees are so covered in this blanket of it that the branches hang next to the ground. The game forgets how exhausting it is to trudge through knee-high fields of it, how sometimes you can't see a slippery patch of ice underneath, and how sometimes further into winter the snow gets this kind of hard shell on top that cracks when you step on it. And yeah, ice is fucking treacherous, you actually need proper boots in order to move around. Speaking of proper gear, it's really funny how poorly dressed some of the people in Skyrim are.

Anyway, I don't think it's a huge deal, like I said in the beginning of the post, these are just my own thoughts, and the landscapes and views in Skyrim are indeed very gripping and beautiful in their own sense. But like, I would love to see Whiterun covered in snow, or Windhelm in summer, or the Rift in any other season than autumn. I could talk about this more, about how eerie it is to spend a quiet midsummer night sitting by a still lake, how the yellow grass in spring quickly turns light green, how even the ugliest rock in a forest always beats the mundane city life, but I would digress, I've said what I needed to. Nature is alive and you can't just stop it from changing - when you do, you take away the life from it.