It seems like the oven is always on with another batch of baked goods, all destined for your belly. And you often have a hot drink in your hands to wash it down with: rich hot chocolate is your favorite, or maybe my homemade buttered apple cider.
You’ve been plumping up because of it, there’s no question. We’ve had to buy you all new sweaters this year - can’t have that little bit of belly poking out the bottom of your old ones getting chilly.
You haven’t needed them as much around the house, though. You have all that extra insulation against the cold, your body like an extra-soft heater to warm up my hands.
And I can’t keep my hands off you: you’re becoming so soft and ever more cuddleable with each added pound. I always want to be right next to you, warming me up as I fill you up with every sweet treat you adore.
I can’t wait spend the winter together, keeping each other fed and cozy and warm. ☕
Druids are not men with long white beards sacrificing the living. Nor is it restricted to Gaulish and Celtic regions anymore.
Druids are professional Men and Women from all around the World sharing a deep connection with all life within Nature.
Druidry is so much more then the tales of the Mabinogion. It is real life, a passion to help, heal, and preserve all that this World and the Other has to offer.
If you wish to witness true magic, step outside, touch a tree, listen to the birds, watch the change of season, or start by looking at yourself. Just because you see and hear these things everyday, doesn’t mean that they are not magical, we live in a magical realm right now.
A simple exercise : Notice all things magical, and what makes them so.
Imagine you’re asleep, and your F/O whose been having trouble sleeping tonight looks over to your peaceful expression.
“S/I…” they mutter deep in thought as they look at your vulnerable state at the moment, they feel themselves fall under a spell.
They brush your hair from your face and look at you in awe. “Day in and day out you do so many amazing things, i wish you saw yourself the way i saw you.” Your F/O says.
But for now they decide it’s enough for them to wrap their arms around you, protecting you from the cruelty of the world.
In their heart they decided to protect and care for you forever.
its late and the outside is quiet, you rest your head against their chest and listen to the sound of their heartbeat and breath
its slow and even and makes you feel warm. really, no matter where you were, cuddling close to them gave you a sense of safety and security like no other. no one could touch you when you were in their arms
with a deep breath in, their scent flooded your senses. whether it was sour or sweet, floral or fresh, you wanted to sink into it more than anything
you never felt the urge to shift or readjust against them, the position was perfect; not to mention you fit like a glove in the arch of their torso and the dip of their shoulder
as you’re resting together, their hand comes up to pet your hair, gently running through each strand
the tender fingertips brushing across your head send a few chills down your spine, but the sensation is nothing short of lovely
as long as it was them, their touch, their scent, their warmth; there was nothing you couldn’t love when all they were giving you was love
in this special moment, the both of you were untouchable
it felt as though it would last forever, and as you fell asleep your dreams would be full of warmth and safety, and when you woke up, they would be there for you. ready to fall in love with you all over again
Notes: this is my first time writing anything on here so I hope y’all enjoy. Sorry for any grammatical errors. This was inspired by @sevsnapes and her recent Xeno works
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“Xeno, I’m home.” You called out, shutting the front door behind you.
Silence greeted you as you walked into the living room searching for your partner. The newest article for the Quibbler was left half finished in the typewriter with Xeno’s notes surrounding it on the coffee table. You frowned slightly when there was still no sight of or response from Xenophilius. Quickly you walked through into the kitchen but found it empty as the living room, so you headed for the spiral stairs to the upper floor.
Once upstairs you noticed the door to yours and Xeno’s bedroom was left ajar, but the room itself was dark as night. Silently you pulled your wand from your sleeve as your heart started pounding. Thoughts of rogue dark wizards seeking revenge on you for your position as an auror plagued your mind. You crept towards the open door, wand held out before you in a white knuckle grip.
Slowly you pushed the door open and nearly dropped your wand in shock. Huddled in the corner of your room, between the wall and bed, was Xenophilius. Head buried between his knees, he rocked back and forth in the fetal position. You quickly scanned the room for any possible threats before crouching down beside him.
“Xeno.” You muttered softly and reached out a hand to place on his shoulder. The moment your fingertips brushed his arm he was scrambling to get away from you. He pushed himself further into the corner away from you, almost like he was trying to hide in the wall itself.
“NO, NO STAY AWAY! Don’t hurt me please.” He screamed while trying to get as far from you as possible.
The pure terror in his voice caused you to shrink away from him before snapping out of it. You placed your wand on the floor beside you and held up both hands, showing him you were unarmed.
“Xeno, love, it’s me. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.” You whispered so as not to scare him. “You’re safe love, you’re home. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
Slowly Xeno stopped shaking and lifted his head from between his knees to look at you. His pale eyes were unfocused and filled with tears. You gave him a small smile and carefully lowered your hands. He locked eyes with you and just stared for a moment before a look of recognition washed over him.
“Dove?” Xeno rasped, his throat sore from the violent screaming moments before. His bottom lip started trembling as his eyes focused and he realized what had happened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I didn’t realize…” His words trailed off as he choked back a sob. You moved to sit near him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against you.
He tensed for a moment before pressing his face into your neck and letting out the tears he was holding in. His tears grew to loud sobs and he turned fully to throw his arms around you, pressing his entire body into you. You held him tightly as he cried, running one hand up and down his back while the other cradled the back of his head.
Blinking away your own tears you pressed your lips to the top of his head. You whispered words of comfort in his ear and tightened your grip on him, attempting to keep him grounded. Xeno’s sobs eventually tapered off into occasional sniffles as he clung to you.
“I thought they were back. That they had come to drag me back to that hell.” His words were muffled against your shirt and he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. You moved the hand on his head to press it to his cheek wiping away the tears.
“They’re never going to hurt you again. You’re safe now and never going back there. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again.” Your words brought a new wave of tears to his eyes and he squeezed them shut. Catching sight of your wand laying on the floor beside you gave you an idea. Pulling your hand away from Xeno’s face you reached out to grab the wand. You quietly muttered the incantation and flicked your wand.
A bright silvery blue light sprung from the point of your wand in a shapeless cloud before solidifying. Xeno opened his eyes as something soft bumped his cheek. Your Patronus pressed its head into Xeno’s shoulder and you could feel him relaxing next to you as he watched the beast. He raised a shaky hand and placed it on the creature’s head, a sense of peace filling him. After a moment the silvery Patronus faded and Xeno turned to you with a smile as you set your wand down.
“A lioness. A protector, like you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek and reached for your hand. “Thank you for staying with me through this my dove.”
“I love you Xenophilius, and I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again.”
“Kagome,” Inuyasha whined, ears lower on his head and golden eyes wide and pleading with his wife. “But I don’t know what to do.What if I screw it up?What if I make it worse?What if–”
His wife sighed with a roll of her eyes and hitched their wailing six-month old up higher on her shoulder, patting his back in effort to console. “Inuyasha, she’s your daughter, not a ticking time bomb. And right now to her the world is ending - or has ended, whatever - so I’m pretty sure you can’t do much worse.”
“But—”
“Just be a dad to your child, Inuyasha,” Kagome said and shot him a stern look. “Tai is teething and unless you’d like to—” She stopped at the look on his face and arched a brow. “Then stop whining and go comfort your daughter. I promise it’s not that bad.” Her expression softened and she smiled encouragingly before leaving their home, hoping some fresh air and a nice long walk would help calm their son enough to fall sleep.
arthur knows there is something to be said of the way a man wears his scars.
his father wears his, an angry silver cord right above his eyebrow, with defiant pride. time and time again, he has seen a visiting noble alight their gaze on the mar, and his father’s bellicose stare in return, a silent war between them. i have survived this, the king would say without words. i will survive you.
on his father’s men, a constellation of pink, raised flesh– a rope of gnarled skin on sir bedivere’s left arm from the slice of a blade; a thick, white tear in the fabric of ector’s neck. when arthur’s young, he sits by fires and listens to the tales of bandits, beasts, and brethren who leave the marks on the warriors who arthur loves.
and, in time, they come to arthur. a snaking vine on arthur’s right hip. a thin slice along his left bicep. none of them grow angry and purple the way he’s seen after the battle dust settles. he’s lucky, in that regard, that all his settle into the skin like they belong there. a man who wears his scars not without pride, but whose scars wear him with the same reverence.
his new knights collect them with the same wonder arthur first collected his. a memory of a battle well fought. a time where death reached out its hand and missed. i have survived this. i will survive you.
but they never come to merlin.
at first, when he’s young and naive to all the things merlin has done for him, it stands to reason that merlin is never scarred. he doesn’t do anything. later, when the truth outs, arthur knows that was as foolish a thought as trusting his father blindly.
merlin fights alongside him, now, in their older years. he watches as blade lunges, as arrow pierces, as spear aims– and yet, merlin walks away from battle without a scratch. surely, arthur thinks, merlin has just been lucky. maybe his scars are like arthur’s– not quite as visible as his father’s, as his men’s. hidden underneath cloth and armour.
merlin shares his battlefield, his kingdom, and– on the luckiest night of arthur’s life– decides to share his bed, too.
it’s after arthur has run his hands over every inch merlin will allow him that he realises. not once, in the fog of their union, did arthur’s fingers ever stumble over raised skin, divots or grooves.
“what’s wrong?” merlin asks, his voice quiet, his lips pressed to where their hands are joined. “tell me if you’re about to kick me out of your bed, at least, so i can figure out how i am going to walk after all that.”
it’s a joke to mask how scared merlin must feel. this is a new development, though one as easy as breath, as predictable as the sun rising in the sky. arthur will tell him that later. for now, though–
“you promised,” he whispers into merlin’s neck, “to keep nothing more from me.”
merlin frowns, his brows drawn together. “i haven’t? i mean, if you’re talking about my affections, surely we can both admit that yours were the more hidden–”
arthur places a hand over the groove of a lower rib. “here,” he says, “is where you were almost run through by bandits, a few seasons ago.” his fingers trail down to a hip. “here, you intervened in my fight with some beast or another, and i had to watch gaius give you stitches. and here–”
merlin stops his hand, sucks in a breath. “arthur.”
“did you use magic to heal?” arthur finds he isn’t angry, not in the way he expects. “i understand, merlin. you had to explain away so much; it would make sense–”
“it’s a glamour,” merlin admits in the space between his words.
arthur frowns. “a glamour.”
merlin can only nod.
arthur knows what the word means, sort of, from the magical instruction and history merlin has given him in the time past their– arthur’s– new found knowledge of their bond. but glamours, as merlin had explained, are oft for the use of enchantment, so as to make one’s romantic interest view them as beautiful–
oh.
he rolls merlin onto his back.
“show me.” it is a plea more than a command. it is not from merlin’s king, but rather, arthur hopes, his heart.
merlin sighs. his eyes glow gold.
like roots spreading through the earth, a tide rippling over sand, his appearance changes. angry pink gnarls. fine, silver cuts. the faint shadow of where a burn once sat. they litter merlin’s pale skin, old and new, in places arthur never could have imagined.
he knows his face must show something that makes merlin turn away from him. with a shaking hand, he turns merlin’s chin back to him.
“tell me one thing,” arthur says. it is a command, now. “were these all for me?”
there is no air in the room as merlin nods.
slowly, arthur draws in breath. he leans down, then, and presses his lips to one at the base of merlin’s neck.
“then,” he starts, shakily, “this is mine.” another kiss, to his ribs, the puckered flesh of a sword wound. “this is mine.” to his wrist, where chains must have sat at the behest of his father. “this is mine,” and he’s choking up, now.
merlin’s trembling underneath him, a quaking branch in the wind. arthur spreads his fingers over merlin’s heart, takes its beat in his palm, and looks him in his eyes.
“i will love everything you show me,” arthur breathes, a promise, “because it is mine.”
