galdrafullur

[galdrafullur]

{ blows dust off this account }

[galdrafullur]

pytmeddet‌:

     ‘If America accepts the offer, then yes!  We’ll be one, big, happy family!’ ❤️

‘But my pocket money will remain the same, yes? Not gonna suffer financially because of new sibs in the crew?’

[galdrafullur]

kriegerherzz‌:

galdrafullur‌:

Oh? Oh–! What is it? Show me!!

          [ look at him. no fear. he’s taking this like a champ ]  [ he reaches into his knife bag and he pulls out this shirt with a flourish ]  here! i hope you like it. it reminded me of you –

[ -- !!!!!! ] [ he’s going to put it on immediately ] [ enjoy a small striptease show, he’s changing here and now ] I love it. It’s literally me. Thank you so much! [ owocry.png ] [ look at him. one happy boy ]

[galdrafullur]

kriegerherzz replied to your post: It’s June, it’s my Independence Day soon, and it’s...

hey. hey, gunnar. come here, i have something for you. in my bag. come over here.

Oh? Oh--! What is it? Show me!!

[galdrafullur]

It’s June, it’s my Independence Day soon, and it’s a friendly reminder that I’m gay. I like boys.

[galdrafullur]

Happy Pride month, y'all!

[galdrafullur]

(( in this house we celebrate gay boy ))

[galdrafullur]

ICONS

[galdrafullur]

'i struggle with the idea of anyone loving me unconditionally.'

he was made of stories, of poetry and gentle words / accepting

Slender fingers run back and forth through chestnut locks, over and over, with the utmost affection and care. The distance between bodies of two lovers long gone, legs intertwined together in a Gordian knot. An arm wrapped around a man of a smaller, more fragile frame, with the other hand gently caressing the back, feeling bumps of the spine. Pouring unconditional love into the one he cherishes more than anyone else, his lips searching restlessly for Feliciano’s to ensure them once again they’re craved, they’re sweeter than nectar, sweeter than honey. Once free to speak, they utter words that cut through Gunnar’s intestines like a blade. His eyebrows draw together in a soft frown, and he wishes eye contact was possible in their setting. Instead, he decides to lower his voice and whisper into the silence of the room.

“ Feliciano ... ” there is a tone of resigned heartache in his voice. “ Don’t invalidate my feelings for you. I chose you, out of all the people... and I remain firm and convinced about my choice being correct. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I ... I don’t know what else to do if you don’t feel sure about it. ”

The hold feels tighter now than it used to as if he wanted them both to merge into one presence, into one body with one compounded heart beating in one rhythm, singing the anthem of devotion and yearning, of warmth and security. He lets out a sigh to subtly announce his downcasted mood. The tenderness did not cease, quite the contrary; a worried boy who would give up his life for the love of his life, Lord oh Lord, was he not doing enough?

[galdrafullur]

kriegerherzz replied to your post: Alltaf best að vera heima.

REEEHAHAHAHHHHHHHHHHGGGHHHHAHAAAAAAA

[galdrafullur]

bacieciambelline replied to your post: Alltaf best að vera heima.

SCREAMS AND YELLS SO MUCH ABOUT HIM,,,,,,,

SCREAMS RIGHT BACK AT YOU WE STAN A BOY

[galdrafullur]

Alltaf best að vera heima.

He’s never known any different than that.

His land, buzzing with secrets as old as the hills standing proud on the menacing ground. The country of unwavering and steadfast people, who had learned to tame the unbridled weather and selfish terrain, and pulled the reins in their favor. Though few and lonely, they never knew fear, and the idea of docility never settled down in their vernacular. They were united in suffering, an offer of helping hand solidified as a custom in the mentality of proud Viking descendants. Though scarce, the Icelanders refused to perish. Their own homeland had tried to wipe them off its surface, wanted them dead or begging for the sweet release of death. Still, they clung to each other, sharing hopes, dreams as well as worries and dread. There are no people he holds closer to heart than his own kin. They are his heart and soul, his vital energy, the rush of hot blood in his veins, a fresh breeze in his nostrils. His comfort through the bad and his pride and joy through the good times.

He’s never known any better than that.

Small huts scattered all over the country, each of them with a story to tell, with dried fish to feed the entire family, with a father risking his life for his loved ones by facing the turbulent seas so long as it gives nutrition. With a mother holding her younglings close to heart, humming sad lullabies into the dark night, mourning another child who did not live to see the next spring in the familiar dale. He’s seen it all. An orphan without a hearth to return to every night, he crossed the country, and in exchange for affection, he would toil his hands to blood. Nothing would come to him without hard work, no doubt about that. But he loved his folk. With all their quirks, imperfections. His admiration knew no boundaries. The plagues and volcanic eruptions decimated them, shattered his spine, drove him to the verge of extinction. With his head held up high, in the likeness of the Icelandic people, he withstood. Throughout a thousand years, he survived.

He’s never wanted any better than that.

The world soon opened its door for him. The gate that has been closed on him now gave him a warm invite. But he was hesitant. While tempted by the unknown, by the new possibilities all available to him, the big globe ready to be uncharted, he was fearful. The idea of a city he wanted to visit having twice as many inhabitants as his entire country filled him with sheer anxiety. When faced with the American skyscrapers and surrounded by people fluent in a language he could only stutter so much in, he could feel panic creep down his spine, his legs felt weak, and one wish he had was to disappear never to be seen again. He longed after the peace and quiet of those forgotten by time huts by the roaring sea, the only noise in his life sparking bearable since familiar restlessness. When confronted about his feelings, he would brush the insecurity away by saying he’s doing fine, just jet-lagged. Put a mask of a smile over genuine fear. That’s how it works when you cherish your friends, those are the lengths you go for them. He is known for wearing his heart on a sleeve. But is he genuine about it?

Það er alltaf best að vera heima.

Or so they say.

[galdrafullur]

(( Gunni Protection Squad, reblog if you’re a member ))

[galdrafullur]

꧁poetry sentence starters꧂

from the first 70 pages of “whiskey words & a shovel” by r.h. Sin

 “ you’re so used to being mistreated. ” 

“ you’ve gotten so used to being hurt that happiness scares you. ” 

“ who robbed you of innocence? ” 

“ who was your first? ” 

“ and the saddest part of all? you’ll cling to the good memories, as if there were any. ” 

“ the pain will always be there. ” 

“ so many people are setting the bar really low. ” 

“ you get what you allow. ”

“ i was never what you wanted. ” 

“ i was just the one you settled for. ” 

“ you’re an experience. ” 

“ meet me here. ” 

“ you were never the one. ” 

“ this was never love. ” 

“ you were simply necessary. ” 

“ i had to be hurt by you. ” 

“ i hope you find what you’re looking for. ” 

“ i hope you find the truth. ” 

“ and that’s how they control you. ” 

“ our version of living feels more like death. ” 

“ i understand you. ” 

“ i was forced to survive in your absence. ” 

“ i was faced with the realization that I never needed you. ” 

“ you’re always apologizing. ” 

“ one day I’ll stop listening. ” 

“ we grew apart.” 

“ we stopped trying. ” 

“ i’m trying to get better. ” 

“ i’m trying to get better at walking away from unhealthy situations. ” 

“ i struggle with the idea of anyone loving me unconditionally. ” 

“ sometimes I wish you waited for me. ” 

“ i got tired of going through the same shit with different people. ” 

“ it’s not your fucking fault. ” 

“ you can’t change a man. ” 

“ the thought of being in love is blinding. ” 

“ bargaining using sex.  either way you get screwed. ” 

“ the memories hurt the most. ” 

“ sometimes i get tired of thinking about the things that i don’t want to think about. ” 

“ sometimes i get so fucking tired. ” 

“ tonight, you’ll be the death of me. ”

[galdrafullur]

send me  ‘ hc ‘  + a word and i’ll write a headcanon about it regarding my character.

[galdrafullur]

(( also if you’d be interested in interacting with me here, lmk! ))

[galdrafullur]

(( coming up soon: meta about 17th-century witch gunni ))