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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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Number 2 "I'm sorry I hurt you"? I'm excited to see what'll come if that

CW: Gaslighting, emotional abuse and manipulation, referenced and implied dubcon

He shifts in the bed, and the gentle scent of crushed rose petals wafts up around him. After weeks curling up to sleep in a ball on the cold tile with the flat white light eternally pressing against the backs of his eyes, the smooth cool sheets and soft mattress feels like pure, unadulterated heaven.

Except for the other person in the bed.

Owen's deep navy sheets pool around his waist where he lays on his side, resting his head against one hand, watching Kauri with unsettling intensity in deep green eyes. Kauri feels the weight of that stare, and his body moves in an unconscious arc of his spine, knowing his pale skin stands out even in the darkness.

"Did you like the roses?" Owen asks, a hint of uncertain vulnerability.

Kauri looks away, towards the ceiling. He gives Owen only his profile. "Yes, Mr. Owen."

He did. He did like the roses.

"Did you enjoy the dinner? I thought for weeks on cooking you your favorite food for your first night home."

That's not my favorite food.

"Thank you," He says, still not looking. The scent of roses only barely covers the deeper smell in the room, the one that layers sweat in a layer like grime on Kauri's skin. "It was really good."

"I know you love champagne, and, uh, I like to be a little romantic sometimes-"

Kauri's breath catches.

"-and champagne is definitely traditional."

I don't love champagne.

"I just..." Owen reaches out, brushes fingers over his skin, and Kauri shudders, feeling the pinch of the wide black collar pressing into his neck. "I thought about you so much. You..." Owen's voice breaks and Kauri rolls onto his side to look at him now.

Is Owen crying?

But you're not even drunk.

"You were going to leave me... I didn't. I didn't know what to do." Owen's voice trembles - he's confessing, he's in pain. The thing Kauri needed someone to know so badly... He doesn't even know what it was, and he has left Owen so shaken with it, pushed him so far over the edge.

"I would never leave you," Kauri whispers.

You've made sure I never can.

"I couldn't know that, honey," Owen says, and Kauri blinks. Owen rarely calls him the kind of sweet things you call real people. "If you could break one rule, did that mean you might break them all? And leave me all alone here?"

You told them to do surgery on me, Kauri wants to scream, but all the anger dies in him when there are tears in Owen's voice. You made me go back to that place. You broke your promise. You never cared about me at all.

But he must care, if he's crying like this.

Right?

Owen's breath hitches and Kauri crumbles, then, shifting hurriedly across the bed to pull Owen close. He slides arms around his muscles shoulders, shoulders he was clinging onto on his back not twenty minutes before, kisses across his face and his mouth and his neck, as Owen begins to sob, hoarse, wracking sobs that rock his body forward.

Sandy blond hair brushes Kauri's face.

Guilt eats all his anger.

Kauri wishes he had never broken any rules at all.

"I was so scared, Kauri, I didn't ever mean to act like that, I was just scared... You understand, right? You know why I had to? To stop being scared?"

Kauri thinks of hands around his neck, choking him until he blacked out, waking up only to be choked again. Over and over. Owen's anger... had it just been a mask over fear? Because Kauri had scared him so badly?

Was it really all his fault in the end?

Kauri presses a soft kiss on Owen's lips, feeling the sensitive skin tremble against his touch. Owen's tears are real, his face is wet when Kauri rubs a thumb across his cheek.

"I was just so scared," Owen cries, and Kauri's heart twists, breaks apart under the weight of how badly his actions have wounded the only certainty he has in the world.

He kisses Owen again. The scent of roses rises around him.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," Kauri whispers.

He means it.

#whump #erase to control #kauri #dialogue prompt #abuse #tw: emotional abuse/gaslighting #tw: emotional abuse #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #box boy #pet whump #pet whumpee #gaslighting #intimate whump #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #abusive whumper

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bountyman · 7 years

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VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

RULES. repost; do not reblog! tag 10! good luck! TAGGED BY: @bonhcmme (thanks babbu) TAGGING: @wisenedup, @myxcenterxstage, @dealkept, @brrattty, @abyssstaresback, @makethiseasy, @wearesurvivxrs, @aligxrous, @mcrtuuspiscinam, @fictionborn (idk, nicky? i love nicky), and absolutely anyone else who wants to ♥

BASICS.

FULL NAME: joshua louis randall. NICKNAME/S: none, unless you count “josh”, but he typically goes by the shortened version of his name anyway. AGE: 34. BIRTHDAY: march 24. ETHNIC GROUP: white. NATIONALITY: american (with some scottish and irish heritage). LANGUAGE/S: english with some basic spanish (limping, but enough to get by in most situations). SEXUAL ORIENTATION: questioning. possibly bi with very strong leanings toward women. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: questioning. possibly biromantic with very strong leanings toward women. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single. CLASS: born to a lower-middle class family that eventually fell in and out of poverty. HOMETOWN / AREA: family moved around too much to ever truly get settled in one spot, but josh lived in georgia for a while in his early life. CURRENT HOME: nowhere. josh continues to travel as a bounty hunter and has no permanent place to call home. PROFESSION: bounty hunter.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: almost white-blond in his youth, darkened to a sandy blond as he grew older. usually cut fairly short, but tends to wave and curl a little at the ends if he lets it grow out enough past his ears. EYES: sharp blue. NOSE: average size. FACE: oval-shaped with distinct smile and brow lines. somewhat wrinkled due to the sun despite his age. a faint mole sits near his nose beneath his left eye. LIPS: average size with a larger lower lip and well-defined cupid’s bow that arcs softly and dips sharply at the center. has a small scar on the left side of his bottom lip. COMPLEXION: fair-complected but tans easily in the sun. BLEMISHES: calluses on hands and a mole on the left side of his face. SCARS: many. the most notable ones are the bullet scars on his chest, abdomen, right shoulder, left thigh, and forearms. most are bullet scars, but some are signs of defense wounds from knife fights. TATTOOS: none. HEIGHT: 5′10″. WEIGHT: approximately 164 lbs. BUILD: lean-muscled and well-toned, but somewhat on the skinny side. ALLERGIES: none. USUAL HAIRSTYLE: cut somewhat short and never allowed to grow very far over the ears. USUAL EXPRESSION: fairly even with a surprisingly amiable expression. quick to smile or smirk as much as he is to settle with a hard glare; it all depends on where he is and who he’s around. USUAL CLOTHING: simple. usually cotton or wool shirts with canvas pants, a pair of boots, cowboy hat (usually gambler style), and sometimes a bandanna and jacket or coat. his shirts are usually tan, brown, pale blue, or grey. his pants are usually light grey or brown. his boots, always brown. his hat, tan or dark brown. his bandanna, red. his lighter jacket is white / off white and his coat is a made of tanned sheepskin and wool.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: hanging / being lynched, drowning, and dying slowly. none of these are phobias or something that weighs over his head, but the thoughts of them particularly unsettle him. ASPIRATION/S: to do right by people, to live with the knowledge that he kept someone safe, to travel where he pleases... but perhaps settle down some day? POSITIVE TRAITS: generous, self-sacrificing, compassionate, honest, determined, good sense of justice, relatively easy-going, loyal, and surprisingly liberal for his time. NEGATIVE TRAITS: can be stubborn, can be greedy, something of a womanizer, a little sexist, sometimes brutal, blunt, sometimes overly casual, and mistrusting. MBTI: possibly isfj-a, “the defender”. ZODIAC: aries. TEMPERAMENT: phlegmatic with melancholic leanings. SOUL TYPE/S: tie between “caregiver” and “helper” with “hunter” a close second by just 1 point difference. ANIMAL: beaver (but i think this quiz is highly inaccurate...) VICE/S: travel, women, and drink. FAITH: raised christian and considers self christian but isn’t overly religious (prays occasionally, but doesn’t regularly attend church). GHOSTS? no. AFTERLIFE? yes? REINCARNATION? no. ALIENS? not something he has considered. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: neither here nor there. it fluctuates. he tends to stay well away from politics. ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: just comfortable enough to live on. he enjoys having money, but he has no real desire to be a very wealthy man. SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: n/a. EDUCATION LEVEL: not much formal schooling since kids weren’t so much required to attend back then and especially while out on the frontier, but josh is literate and well-read.

FAMILY.

FATHER: lawrence randall. MOTHER: anne randall ( née o’delle ). SIBLING/S: none. EXTENDED FAMILY: amos randall (paternal grandfather), margrethe randall (paternal grandmother); eams o’delle (maternal grandfather), marie o’delle (maternal grandmother), joshua o’delle (maternal uncle). NAME MEANING/S: “joshua” is a hebrew name meaning “god saves”. “louis” is a german name meaning “famous in battle”. the surname “randall” is of english origin which may mean “little shield”. HISTORICAL CONNECTION: none. although he could have as easily been named after the biblical joshua who fought the battle of jericho, he was simply named after his uncle josh.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: no favorites. books are somewhat hard to come by and carry, given his job, so he doesn’t read as much as he would like anymore. but he enjoys factual books about wildlife and history, splurging a little on adventure fiction whenever he can get his hands on them. 5 SONGS: honestly? anything chopin because it reminds him of his mother, who used to try to play some chopin from a collection of old sheet music. his favorite, however, is nocturne op.9 no.2. DEITY: hades. MONTH: march. SEASON: summer. PLACE: prairie. WEATHER: sunny, warm, and clouded. SOUND/S: horse hoofbeats, the crunch of dirt and sand, the jangle of spurs, the creak of a saddle, the sound of gunfire, rustle of the wind in trees and grass, the chirp of crickets at night SCENT/S: sweat, leather, gunpowder, fresh air, petrichor, dust, cigarette smoke, hay, blood. TASTE/S: sharp tang of blood, whiskey, the juicy sweetness of a good apple, warm water, the bite of strong coffee. FEEL/S: the heat of the sun, grit and grime mixed with sweat, the feel of leather, the softness of wool, the relief of a breeze washing over you on a hot day. ANIMAL/S: horses, coyotes, weasels, and dogs. NUMBER: 4. COLOR: brown, tan, gold, grey, blue.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: agility, speed, cunning, manipulation, intimidation, good instinct. BAD AT: self-love, commitment (to a degree, it’s a bit complicated), arts, trusting. TURN-ONS: deep kisses, hair-pulling, gentle biting, neck / jaw kisses, being bound at the wrists (only with those he explicitly trusts), fingernails on back, encouragement, moaning. TURN-OFFS: very loud partners (except in some situations), possessiveness (depending on person and what sort of relationship they have), humiliation, excessive pain, choking (hard no). HOBBIES: traveling, stargazing, reading, playing cards, horseback riding, magic tricks. TROPES: always gets his man, bounty hunter, the drifter, no good deed goes unpunished, hand cannon, unorthodox reload. AESTHETIC TAGS: i’m not really sure what this means?

FC INFO.

MAIN FC/S: steve mcqueen. ALT FC/S: n/a. OLDER FC/S: n/a. YOUNGER FC/S: yet to be determined... VOICE CLAIM/S: steve mcqueen. GENDERBENT FC/S: n/a.

#bonhcmme #saddle tramp [headcanons];#// this meme was so fun but so long holy cow

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pywriting · 7 years

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Tide of Fate I

Late morning light splayed across warm sheets, the motes swirling around the breeze that teased along bare fingers. Oh, how these mornings never seemed a part of reality. Comfort beyond imagine, the daze of a night awoken from, the start of a fresh day and all that it might eventually bring.

Hair pooled about the silken sheet, soft as a cloud in some odd sort of dream. Her blonde curls grabbed hold of the light, locking them in the bounds of the clean locks. Green eyes looked out from the waves of hair, bright even in the sunlight, half lidded as she looked off towards the slim, yet worn fingers that spoke of years of history.

A slow breath was taken in, and she let it out just as slowly. The air was scented with that heavy yet fresh bloom of roses and tinted with the spray of sea air. In the distance, she could hear it if she tried. Waves crashing down along sandy beaches, calling her to that ever romantic freedom she ever so loved. The chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves in the nearby trees, the slowness of a morning playing out that she was a part of.

Taliorinth loved it all.

So often was she one to run along, yearning to experience every moment as fast as she could anymore, it was moments where she allowed herself to just stop that she adored. To sense every beat of the world, to bathe in the moments as they played out alongside her. Another memory, another detail that engraved upon her mind, no matter how insignificant.

Yet, while she’d forever be able to recall such miniscule moments in her life, she knew it would not last. The daze of sleep blew away with each caress of the wind along her cheek, tugging her mind to rouse until she would come to accept that she had to rise from bed.

And she would. Pulling herself from rich sheets, she stood and brushed away the last lingering aches of waking up. A stretch of her arms, then a brush of those fingers through her curls that messed them ever so slightly, yet pulled them from her face. She already found clothes laid out for her, clean and new.

She slipped the short dress over her body, feeling as it fit perfectly, as if it were made for her. Enjoying the light greens and the spread of flowers across the skirt. Moving to a mirror, she looked at herself with some degree of admiration.

Since she had come here to the seaside estate of the Rosespears four days ago, she had felt a part of the place. Pampered and pleased, she had been enjoying the stay, feeling the stresses of all that occurred before slip away and instead replaced by fond memories reforged with those of her own blood.

When she was with them, she found her wild look tamed out. Her hair was rid of tangles that pulled and hairs that stuck every way they desired. Thick curls spiraled down her shoulders, only mussed up by the nights turns and twists. Her wide eyes looked over her features, seeing the splay of freckles along her tanned skin, soft looking lips, a sharp jawline that looked so much like her sisters who she desired so strongly to appear like. The dress was fitting, the shoulders fallen off her own with a loose look, the cloth fitting to her trim form in the right places, despite her lacking curves, and the short skirt girlish and fun in a way, leading to legs that were made to look much longer than they truly were.

She was beautiful, just like her sisters were.

In that moment, Taliorinth reflected on just how much she changed when she came here. In a way, it was disturbing. She had seen a century of grit and grime, blood stains and threadbare clothes that smelled of piss and sweat. Yet here, she saw only a fresh, clean woman.

No, not just a woman. A lady. She was a lady of the Rosespears, and that in itself was the difference.

The words of her sisters reverberated in her mind.

“You belong here, with us, Taliorinth.”

“This is your place, Taliorinth.”

The monks hand reached out to touch the glass, her fingers pressed against the cool reflection of her face, brushing along the lines she saw in her features slowly.

Did she truly belong here? In a place where those she considered just as close as family did not belong? In this clean dream where there was this certain air of happiness that was not matched when you sat along so many others on the ship. In this place where war seemed so distant, and violence a mere rumor along lips at a meal to amuse along a conversation.

In her mind mulled that hurricane of thoughts. No matter what she did, she never could sort through them all, only listen to them as they passed by like harsh winds.

She told herself she belonged here.

She told herself her sisters loved her.

She told herself that the witches words surely could not be true.

She told herself to remember Vaelrin’s words. To remember Gabriel’s words.

She told herself that her fate was her own.

She told herself not to be scared.

She told herself not to cry.

She told herself… she told herself…

So many words, she told herself, to remind her of what to do. To tell her where to go, and where things would take her.

As if in need of convincing her own reflection, she spoke softly to it. “I do belong here. I’m happy here, I really am, and it doesn’t matter if I have to make a hard choice. I won’t lose my family, not again. I won’t lose any part of them. Not a single one.”

Her brows creased together, and she frowned at herself, her ears lowering with a certain heaviness that fell upon her shoulders. It made no difference what she said here. She didn’t know what to think, even as she spoke the words that made it seem as if she did. Her doubts were fueled by memories of conversations long past. Worries of those who said they cared for her, and that she believed did. Who could she really believe in such a case? Why was it the world slated her for such decisions? Why would things not just be the way she wanted them, for all to be happy and to be able to be a part of it all?

In a sudden burst, she felt pain in her chest. An ache of loneliness in her that unsettled her so strongly in moments such as these. She didn’t want to be left alone in these thoughts. She wanted to distract herself, to hold herself close to another person, no matter who it was.

Drawing her hand back from the glass, she rubbed a hand along her face and let out a slow breath, erasing the aching look of trouble from her face as she turned from the reflective surface that showed the woman that she was.

Tonight was an important night, she knew that much. A celebration of sorts, a calling of close friends from so long ago. She didn’t want to disappoint anyone by being troubled. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to enjoy this time.

Her feet were quick, and soon all that rested in that early morning room was the sound of the morning passing on.

Tagging for mentions: @forever-afk @sakialyn @jessipalooza @stormandozone

Tides of Fate Story Index Here

#Tides of Fate #Taliorinth Rosespear #Taliorinth #Taliori Dewblossom #Taliori #Vaelrin #Gabriel #Laenetta #Vesthiriel

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