#laukka

"It is getting cold during the nights. We are higher up here, so it will be even colder. Make sure to cover up properly. I will get to fixing the window in the morning." Paukka stood in the door frame to the guest room with a stretched out arm, offering a spare blanket he himself would have used himself but had decided on giving up so Gabban would not be the one freezing through the night.

An entire room for himself? What would he want with all this space? Gabban took the blanket in his arms and pressed it flush to his chest– the fabric even smelled clean. 

“But where do you sleep?” He was genuinely confused, there were barely any houses back home that reached more than four rooms. Those that did were more of a kind of communal home, or public space…

He turned to face the window and heard the sound of windchimes filtering through the open wedge. How bizarre, he was lured to the view by that gentle song, catching sight of the sun before it dipped behind a vast and darkened landscape. 

@laukka sent: “ now you’re going to tell me what’s wrong. the truth. and then i’m going to fix it. ” / for Samuel

Discomfort twists Samuel’s features as he hears the Sheriff’s words; the duplicity of his role in this town requires a defined degree of distance; he may be a bounty hunter, but that doesn’t make him a lawman; truth be told Sam has more in common with the criminals he is paid to catch than Laukkanen and suspects the man can sense it.

“Look, it ain’t rightly my place to say…” He falters; if he reports this to the Sheriff it will mark a target on his back and the gang who have treated him like a practical member, occasionally aiding him in tracking down his bounties are likely to turn on him. Right now, even with the payment he’s just received for hauling in a fraudster from the city, Sam barely has enough money left to pay for the coffin the Daltons would send him straight to. Regardless, Silas knows he can’t remain silent; the Dalton gang has changed for the worst since the eldest Brother took over and what they’re doing now, well, it just ain’t right. Sam can turn a blind eye to many things; holding up a bank or robbing the local store, but not to this, never this.

“It’s the Daltons, they’re killing folks Paukka, good folks, whole families, burning down their homesteads and taking the land, their cattle.” It feels both good and terrifying to say out loud; a weight lifted but now balanced with equal dread. Since it started, a blanket of silence has descended over the area; people are too frightened to speak out; too fearful of retribution; which always seems to come swiftly. He understands why they stand by so idly, but Samuel simply can’t bring himself to do that same; he was raised better than that.

@laukka

She'd look long and hard at the man before her before asking, "Do you not feel a wolf is true to your nature?"

Should he feel that a wolf is not part of his identity, that this lycanthropy is not meant for him (truly), then she will accept the challenge. To soothe the restless soul that cannot be itself, that is housed within a body that resists it. If there is no harmony to be found, then she is inclined to aid him and make sure he finds the calm he seeks. That his potential is no longer suffering because he does not feel like himself.

🧵🧶✂️❤️

When Gabban had first looked at the shirt, chewed open by the prying of a playful brahmin, it seemed like such a lost cause. The sleeve dangled listlessly from its socket, broken at one side, and held fast by the only string the animal’s teeth hadn’t snapped. It would have been easier to scrap the whole thing for parts. There were certainly other items around the house that needed patching. But this seemed oddly important to Paukka, and once or twice, he’d even noticed them sneaking glances to the embroidered pocket, lamenting over the little fabric flower sown there. Had this been a gift? 

Gabban held it at arm’s length then, taking note of the damage with more sympathy. Perhaps he could fix this after all. He’d never backed away from learning new skills before, no matter how complex. That sort of insistence, that willingness to labor against an obstacle, was one of his better features. Or so Vulpes had told him. It made life easier for everyone else in any case, and he wasn't sure how that could be a bad thing.

So he’d placed the shirt on the table that evening, comparing strings he could use and taking measurements. The project was slow to start, and would be even slower to undertake given his inexperience, but he seemed content regardless. He smiled as Paukka had passed him by, happy with the thought of pleasing them in some way. Then as he hummed back to his work, he felt his wrist being pulled away. Gabban didn’t resist their hands, not when they led to such a warm and all encompassing embrace. His chest pressed to theirs and it was as if their bodies were fated to lock in with one another. The comfort he felt was indescribable, and it urged him to wrap his arms back around them, echoing the affection tenfold. 

He was reminded just how strong Paukka was, their sturdy arms, the muscles he felt flush against his front. Instead of being intimidated, as thoughts of their past training flitted across his imagination, he felt– 

Safe. 

Licking and Biting (Closed)

Gabban laid flat on his stomach, exhausted and freshly bathed, his muscles grateful for the comfort of a real bed. Some of the brahmin had needed their routine hoof trimming, which between their stubbornness and the odd angles it took to set their limbs into position, meant wrangling an animal more than twice his size beneath an ever blazing sun. How Paukka had managed this without anyone’s help was beyond him. There was such a font of strength inside that man, lurking just underneath his ice caps, which captivated him to no end. He shifted slightly, remembering how Paukka’s biceps had tensed when keeping the brahmin in place, their look of total concentration, and their words of reassurance towards the beast above all. This wasn’t at all the sort of work he was used to, and it stirred within him a series of confounding emotions. His hands had always torn at everything they touched, as a dog’s maw does to prey. But on the farm, with the animals, with them, he cared and comforted instead. His heart felt heavy at the end of each day, no longer with a burgeoning sense of guilt, but a quiet sort of pride, the joys of laboring and seeing their efforts flourish beautifully. It made him wonder, and wonder, and wonder, until he was at a loss at the turns of his fate. 

A touch was all it took to anchor him to the present, a hand at his back, mercifully gentle as always. He looked over his shoulder then with a grin and locked eyes with that same focused gaze. Their fingers traveled carefully across his skin, once and twice over, and his thoughts wandered closer to the providence of his divine Goddess. Gabban knew them as a man of little words, but could this possibly be praise? Had he done a well enough job to deserve it? His lips parted as if to ask, but a soft breath was all he could muster in the end. Whatever this was, he wanted more of it– ached for it even.  He arched to meet the trail of their palm, unable to suppress the urge for pleasure, and he watched as Paukka´s stare was drawn towards his body. 

What could they make of his jumbled map of scars? It had been one thing to reveal the bite marks which riddled his arms and legs, but another thing entirely to make himself fully known. The stories etched onto his back, like all the rest, weren’t pleasant by any means. Many of them he’d earned as a boy, and they have since warped into strange shapes, stretching as he grew to be a man. Healed but seething with evil memories, they had turned him wretched and unfit for beauty. 

They reached the band of his underwear and Gabban waited patiently for things to progress away from that long stretch of marred flesh, only for his breath to catch at the soft press of their lips. The bed shifted beneath them, Paukka had moved to kiss along the small of his back and mark the jagged edges of his wounds. He closed his eyes, unsure of how to respond or if he was meant to say anything at all, yet his voice still trickled out in pleased exhales. Prompted by this response, Paukka moved back up the line of his spine with tender kisses and licks– the latter of which surprised Gabban more than anything else. Both of his hands clawed down on the mattress as pressure built at his core. He was being driven to the shores of Her madness, already turning a flush red with Her fever. This was his religion and his want, a spell upon his own spirit. There was no winning against the height of this ecstasy, no show of temperance strong enough. Gabban imagined their handsome face so close, their strong hands trained solely on himself, the chance that something too was stirring in the other, and he felt pushed to a life-defining epiphany. 

send a ☕️ for an in character rant /Always Accepting

”At the moment? My car. But I still miss the tanks. Indescribable really. I have to think it would be impossible to not feel unstoppable when sat in the top hatch, looking over the main gun. I have yet to find another vehicle that gives someone that same sense of utter untouchability.” His eyes sparked a flame behind them. Obvious the tanks themselves were passion holding in themselves. “I particularly miss the Leopard twos I had. For a tank it was pretty luxurious, but I mean that for its performance. Sixteen countries have adopted them into service, including Finland.” His hands becoming animated, mannerisms a professor would use in the classroom during a lecture. “Its weapons stabilization system can and has transported a full beer-stein on the end of the one hundred and twenty millimeter barrel without spilling a drop!” Klaus’ face drew his eyebrows up . Wrinkling his forehead. He obviously was still moved by simple improvements that to any other were taken for granted. “And this is coming from someone who still touts the older tanks as forces to reckoned with. Because they are, and between you and me, T thirty fours are one of the most formidable tanks ever made. They can still hack it as far as I’m concerned and they’re over eighty years old at this point.” Throwing hands up and letting them drop. He cut himself off to add. “The Russians weren’t playing. And there’s something to be said for the few surviving Tigers only living in museums and statues and T Thirty Fours still being ridden into battle.”