#four fists

[greatandquestionablecontent]

17 ❤️

What songs did I listen to!!! So many!!!

I’ve selected three big Conviction vibes that made my top 100 most listened to this year and that I want to share some lyrics from

For those interested, here’s my extremely long playlist for Conviction that I’ve been adding to for several years 😊😅🔥🥰

MMMMMHMMMMM by Four Fists (this has made my top 100 several years in a row!)

No calm, no hesitation

No alarms, no self-preservation

Just nerves and ashtrays and on and on

No sleep without assistance

Gotta bash the brain into submission, yeah

Just close the windows and lock the doors

From Here til Utopia (Song for the Desperate) by Ramshackle Glory

Because I’m afraid to look the world in the eye

If nothing’s gonna change, well, then I’d rather die

And I’m too unemployed to organize a union

I’m too intoxicated to tear down a building

I’m too hopeless to look for a solution, I’m afraid that if I found one

I’d be out of excuses for the way

I waste away in the gutters that I chose

What If We Could by Blue October

What if we could

Put our lives on

Hold and meet some

Where inside of the world

I would meet you

Would you meet me?

On a park bench

On a skyscrape

On a mountain

Oh yeah, whatever it takes

I would meet you

Would you meet me?

I'm glad to say that we've met

But I'm sad to say that the circumstances weren't

On our side

[sideblogofreality]

People love hanging out in puddles wearing baggy socks

[v-l-d-s]

Way of the Four Fists

Through the careful manipulation of their ki, monks of the Way of the Four Fists strive to emulate the unusual fighting style of the legendary Monkey King. As they progress in their training, these monks undergo a magical transformation, slowly gaining more simian features. In combat, a master of this monastic tradition is a whirling, leaping blur of elbows, fur, and fists.

GRASP OF THE MONKEY When you choose this tradition at 3rd level, you undergo a permanent magical transformation, lengthening your fingers and toes, strengthening your arms and legs, and sprouting a tail. You gain a climbing speed equal to your walking speed, your jumping distance is doubled, and you have advantage on ability checks and saving throws made to climb, maintain your balance, and grip objects such as ledges or ropes. You can hold and manipulate objects and weapons with your hands, feet, and tail, but you can’t make attacks with weapons held by your tail.

SIMIAN SWIFT Also at 3rd level, whenever you roll initiative and aren’t surprised, you can spend 1 ki point to move up to half your speed or jump into the air, and then make one unarmed strike.

NIMBUS At 6th level, you can use your bonus action to summon a cloud to ride upon. Until the start of your next turn, you have a flying speed equal to your walking speed. When you begin your turn, you can maintain this effect by spending 1 ki point. Otherwise, if you begin your turn and have nothing holding you aloft, you fall.

UNCANNY DODGE Starting at 11th level, when an attacker that you can see hits you with an attack, you can use your reaction to halve the attack’s damage against you.

FLURRY OF LIMBS At 17th level, by walking on your hands and twirling erratically, you can fight with your feet as nimbly as you do with your fists. You make three unarmed strikes, rather than two, when you use Flurry of Blows on your turn.

[johnslittlespoon]

i just finished the prologue of the mota book and i don't know how i haven't seen a single post talking about how after john and gale's stalag reunion, they were then separated for another four months.

my heart is aching so bad. imagine being reunited (after almost three weeks, oct 8–26th) and having that tiny feeling of 'everything is going to be okay' and then being ripped apart again for four fucking months. 120 more days of not being able to be at each other's sides.

[figofswords]

what if the little green guy was even littler

[base0h]

asl trio when there s/o doesnt say ily back please? also i luv ur writingg!

a/n - why do I feel like Sabo would just start sobbing. 😭 also I’m adding shanks bec why not 💜

Warnings ⚠️ - g/n reader, Sabo sobbing for 15 minutes straight

You’re supposed to say it back

- I imagine that shanks wouldn’t really let you get away with it 👀

- “Bye baby! I’m just gonna go to the town to buy some things before we leave. Benn and Roux will help me if I need it.”

- Shanks tenderly hugged you to his chest and pressed a kiss on your forehead, “I love you, I miss you already.”

- “You’re still holding me.”

- You waved goodbye to him, starting to walk away while purposely not saying I love you back to him. You thought it’d be funny to see his reaction

- He grabbed your wrist gently, “Hm- you’re forgetting something?”

- “what?? I have my bag, weapon, and a jacket.. Im not forgetting anything!” You feigned innocence, and you could see his expression dropping down

- depression surrounded the emperor as he slouched over, almost pouting at you, very impatiently waiting for you to say it back to him (before he threw a temper tantrum)

- you laughed, god he was such a baby sometimes

- “I love you too shanks.”

- his face lit up again, and he pressed his lips to yours, holding the back of your neck softly with his rough hand

- “You were hurting my feelings for a second.”

- “It would’ve hurt more than when my arm got bitten off.” 💀

- The amount of times Luffy says “I love you” throughout the day is sometimes amazing

- when you get up in the morning, “I love you y/n!”

- breakfast: love you!! (Gimme your food)

- randomly walking in on him taking a shit: oh hi y/n! I love youuuuu!

- yeah you get the point 😭

- and you never fail to always tell him that you love him too

- except for today, you thought it’d be funny to see how he reacted

- it was time to go to the town with Nami and Robin, and of course, luffy wanted to go with you guys

- “Luffy- just stay on the ship this time! I’ll bring you some meat back, k?”

- “Ok- fine.. Love you y/n!”

- he always gives you little kisses on both of your cheeks before you go (pls help I’m sobbing 😭💜)

- “Bye Lu :)”

- Even robin was a bit shocked, you didn’t say it back

- hell, zoro even opened his other eye and sanji lifted his bangs up to look at you

- you started walking, and Nami was concerned, did something happen between the two of you???

- “Luffy.. Did you do something bad?” Usopp asked with a wince, whispering in his ear

- Luffy looked angry, but sad, but hungry, but confused

- “Y/NNNNN! Why didn’t you say it back?!”

- You looked back with fake confusion on your face, “I said I love you!” -Luffy

- “I know!! I Heard you! Bye!”

- man sprinted over to you and shook you by the shoulders, smothering you with hugs and kisses

- “SAY IT BACK!”

- You were getting dizzy, so you gave up, “Ok ok! It was a joke calm down- I love you Luffy.”

- he laughed, “Shishishi~ love you too! Please bring back a lot of meat!”

- lesson learned, you never did that again

- ace is the perfect definition of a golden retriever boyfriend

- he needs constant love and affection, and when he doesn’t get it, he kind of melts down in a sense (I JUST REALIZED THATS KIND OF A JOKE)

- “Y/n! Be careful please k? Love you.” He said, pecking your cheek before you nodded with a smile, waving goodbye to him

- Was he going insane? You said that you loved him back right?

- “Hey pops- did y/n say they loved me back?”

- “…”

- Marco was desperately trying to tell Whitebeard to just say that you did so ace wouldn’t go into overthinking panic mode, but the poor guy didn’t seem to understand the frantic hand motions

- “Uh. No?”

- “POPS.” -Marco

- ace started to panic, what did he do today?!

- you both woke up at 2pm, cuddled for another hour, ate food together.. He fell asleep on your lap.. he was writing a letter to Luffy.

- wait. he was writing a letter to Luffy.. AND MAYBE YOU THOUGHT IT WAS TO SOMEONE ELSE?!

- he sprinted after you, tripping over every single rock in his path, pebbles and all

- he skidded in front of you, panting, “Y/n! I promise I was writing a letter to Luffy, not anyone else! I only love you ok? Please believe me- I’m sorry for not telling you!”

- you were concerned and felt bad that your little prank spiraled down into this-

- “Ace it was a little joke- I wanted to see how you reacted. I’m sorry baby- I love you so much k?”

- you ended up taking him shopping with you, and you had a 6ft tall fire golden retriever running around and grabbing things he through reminded him of you 🥺🥺

- sabo was about to head off to report to dragon, and he was giving you a hug and soft kisses before he left

- “I love you y/n, I’ll be back soon.” He said softly, moving your hair behind your ear

- “Ok, good luck sabo, i know you’ll do great!”

- he was a bit taken aback because he could’ve sworn that you didn’t… Say that you loved him back?

- he waved goodbye with the same expression written on his face the entirety of his walk to Dragon’s office

- “Sabo? You ok?” -koala

- He just started crying, and Koala had to bring tissues to try and calm him down

- he was fanning his face, his eyes puffy and his nose punk from wiping the snot away so many times

- “I don’t know- *sniffle* what I did! Y/n didn’t say “i love you” back to me- *sniffle*”

- pls he’s sobbing rn

- “Koala have you seen Sabo-?” -dragon

- dragon had never left the room so fast (he left faster than when he left Luffy)

- man forgot about the whole meeting- he’s never seen Sabo cry like this before! What the hell did you do??

- “Sabo- im sure y/n loves you! Maybe they just forgot or didn’t hear you?”

- you ended up following the sounds of muffled sobs and had to comfort your poor boyfriend for about 20 minutes before he stopped crying

- “I’m sorry Sabo- I didn’t mean to make you feel bad! It was just a joke.. I love you so much ok?”

- *sniffle* “Now everyone saw me crying- this is embarrassing.”

- he’s now just nuzzling into your chest for comfort, and you decided to never do this prank again because god this was painful

- seeing him cry like that hurt your soul 😭

a/n - tagging @figgydooo bec I saw your ask 💜💜

[roguescum]

zolu but i ummmm uhhh

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Need a tshirt that just says “counterspell this bitch” with either Fig Adaine or Riz holding their guns

[wildflowercryptid]

does kieran know how many people were concerned for them? do they know how many people loved and cared for them and wanted the best for them? do they? DO THEY???? 😭😭😭

[sentientstump]

ok so, at some point in life i found this podcast with beef as a cohost and, yknow, as a fun little activity, try to guess who the guest in the first episode is:

transcript with the best of my ability:

Beef: (high-pitched) [???]!

Beef and Geoff: [chuckle]

Beef: Can't get any higher! Before it gets any higher.. Maybe we should, uhh- Maybe it's time to bring our guest on.

[calm tune]

Beef: Our guest today is Jordan Maron, better known, uhh- through his online pseudonym CaptainSparklez uh, american YouTube personality. We have that in common- Well, I'm not american, and I have... very little personality... [chuckles] Well, you've got-

Jordan: Alright! We have a lot in common!

Beef: A lot in common!

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

This crackship was supposed to be FUNNY but then it got really serious instead?

At least it's sweet. Or at least @elder-dragon-reposes thinks so!

Yo @incorrectskyrimquotes do you want some Leara/Ralof romance/pining?

ao3 | masterlist

She's curled in the corner of the wagon when he first notices her. Dark red hair falls in a curtain over her face, but Ralof thinks he sees the tip of a leaflet ear poking between the fallen strands. An elf, then. He doesn't remember seeing her during the ambush and the skirmish that followed. He wonders how she got there. He wonders why. Was she at the border?

When she wakes, it's signaled by strained shoulders and a near-visible shrinking in on herself. Then Ralof is met with the most startling blue eyes he's ever seen, bright and cold and thick with ice. They sweep his face, then turn to the other occupants of their carriage. At the moment, Ralof swears those eyes hesitate and widen when the elf woman spots Jarl Ulfric, but later, he isn't sure.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

She stares at him again and is quiet.

She is quiet when the Imperials corral them from the carriages to hear General Tullius's damning talk-down to Jarl Ulfric.

Then, they're in line for the chopping block. Hadvar, damn traitor that he is, is standing there prim as a princess with his quill and parchment, ready to take down the names of the convicted.

Ralof wants to curse him. He cannot.

Then the elf woman is in front of Hadvar..

"Who . . . are you?" "Leara Ormand. I, I'm from Daggerfall." "I'm sorry, miss. We'll make sure your remains are returned to High Rock."

She hangs her head.

This was Imperial justice, Ralof thought. The innocent were condemned just as easily as those who fought for others' freedom. Anything that was inconvenient for the Empire must go.

They execute Snorri first, Talos guard him. Then they call the elf woman, Leara, forward. Her head no longer hangs. She walks forward with the same cool face and straight spine he's seen in other high elves.

Thunder rumbles, not for the first time since this circus began.

She kneels at the block.

All Oblivion breaks loose.

Smoke and screams resonate through the air as fire splits the skies. Visibility is lost. Ralof stumbles to the ground.

Amid the screaming, he hears a word echoing above the den and so penetrating that it chilled his soul.

Dragon.

He stumbles over something—someone. The woman, Leara.

Her hand snatches at his arm, shockingly cold amid the blistering heat.

They drag each other to the tower, making it just before Jarl Ulfric and the others close and bar the door. He turns to ask Jarl Ulfric—Could the legends be true?—and then she is gone like a dart up the stairs.

Ralof doesn't see Leara again until he stumbles into the Keep. She's on the floor, propped against the wall with her face flushed and her hands encrusted in frost. In her hands, she's clutching the hilt of a katana, but where she got it, Ralof doesn't know. Her eyes are closed, and she looks desperately like she's trying to catch her breath. But Ralof knows that soon this room will be swarming with Imperials fleeing the firestorm outside. They needed to go.

Their trip through the keep and its cave network is a blur of exhaustion and bloodshed. Her hands leave a trail of black frosted blood pools in their wake. The katana sings like hissing ice in her hands when they face the Torturer and sleeps just as easily when they agree to sneak past the bear.

He takes Leara to Gerdur. He needs to return to Windhelm as soon as possible, but it is clear as sunlight that Leara has been caught in a bad spot. When Gerdur hears about their escape from Helgen, she is only too willing to help out Ralof's new "friend."

Ralof waves Leara goodbye the morning after they stumble into Gerdur's yard. She is sitting on the porch, her katana beside her, but her face is clean from the ash of their near-death.

"Be well, Ralof!"

She says in farewell.

Ralof grins at her, not quite full, and leaves. And his mind wanders down other paths, away from his harried flight with Leara Ormand.

But he thinks of her again when he's faced with the white-blue ice of the White River biting at the ancient stones of Windhelm. When he returns to the field, he halfway remembers the song of her katana in the whistling of the wind through the pines.

But it is the dragon attack on Whiterun that eventually brings her back to the forefront of his mind. The attack is months after Helgen, but not long enough for the people of Skyrim to forget that a dragon leveled an entire village and stirred the embers of the Civil War into a full blaze with Ulfric Stormcloak's escape from the Imperials. The fighting has just picked up again after the winter lull when the news of the attack spreads like wild . . . dragon fire.

And with that news comes the murmur of Dragonborn. The Greybeards called her.

"Her?" "Some pointy ear. Not a Nord."

It is only when someone mentions that the Dragonborn carries a katana that Ralof knows that she and Leara are the same. It makes for a good story around the campfire when Ralof tells how he and the Dragonborn escaped that first dragon attack. Most don't believe him. Some do.

Then there are those who scoff at the idea of an elf woman being the Nords' hero. It's not long before Ralof finds himself in front of Commander Gonnar for brawling over it.

Commander Gonnar is . . . not impressed.

"Do you think we're out here to brawl like barflies?" "No sir." "No, because we have a job to do, leiutenant, and you can't perform your job when you're out there rolling in the dirt because someone insulted an elf to your face." "She's the Dragonborn, sir." "Well, then, she doesn't need you taking up for her, does she?" "Yes, sir."

Commander Gonnar sends him back to Windhelm soon after that. Less trouble in the camp.

Even in Windhelm, support for the Dragonborn is mixed, especially when Ralof hears about her plans to hold a peace talk at High Hrothgar. He volunteers for Ulfric Stormcloak's guard. The Jarl, at least, doesn't seem to care about What the Dragonborn is, so long as she takes care of Skyrim. That's fair enough, all things considered.

At High Hrothgar, Leara is happy to see him. Ralof is surprised when she catches his hand up in hers, a grin curving her white gold face. She seems happy . . . for someone who then proceeds to manipulate an entire table to agree to her terms while holding everyone else at their starting positions.

Yes, Leara is perfectly fine. Or so Ralof convinces himself, until he finds her in an alcove, sometime after dinner, with her katana in her hands and her face too pale. Her breathing is shallow and she's not seeing.

Ralof is crouched beside her in a moment.

"Leara—" "Elenwen. Elenwen."

Her skin is clammy. Oh.

Ralof holds Leara's hand through the panic attack beating on her. The best he can do is talk to her and rub her shoulder. Eventually, he manages to pry the katana from her death grip. Her hands soon fist in his hauberk. She falls asleep not long after that.

She is apologetic but still thankful afterward. For the first time, Ralof sees the layer of ice in her eyes give way to glimpses of spring waters.

Ralof might not know what happened to Leara, but he knows being a hero hasn't suddenly made her invincible. If anything, it's exacerbated a deeper problem. Problems he doesn't dare to tease out when General Stone-Fist sits down to talk about the Dragonborn as the Stormcloaks make their descent from the Throat of the World.

Months pass before he sees her again, and then it's on the wings of her victory over the World-Eater. She sweeps into WIndhelm and soon Ralof finds himself at the bar with her at Candlehearth Hall. He looks forward to speaking to her again but is nonetheless surprised by her turn in conversation.

"What do you know about the Butcher murders?" "Well . . ."

Ralof can't say he's kept up with the whole drawn-out tragedy, but Leara seems intent on investigating, and he commits to helping her—as much as his duties allow, that is. Later, when she brings the amulet to him with whispered descriptions of a room bathed in sinew and blood, he suggests the court wizard. Ulfric trusts the man, and from what Ralof has heard, Wuunferth seems pretty knowledgeable.

Directing Leara to speak to Wuunferth does not prevent her from being stabbed by the Butcher days later. She takes Calivto Corrium out with her own bloodied ice before collapsing in a shivering heap. She is taken to her room at Candlehearth before Ralof can check in on her. Before he can see that she's okay.

Leara will be okay. Ralof will not.

When Ralof accompanies the guards to clear out the House of Curiosities, he finds the Dibella statue modeled in Leara's likeness: White gold, small, naked, and frigid.

Rage bursts in his chest. He throws it into the wall. On impact, it shatters in a rain of pottery shards, painted and false.

From there, Ralof hurries to Candlehearth. There, he finds Leara propped in a chair; when he enters, she's half-heartedly nibbling an apple tart but, at the sight of him, sets it aside.

"Ralof! Would you like some pastry?"

Her smile is bright, if strained by the lingering pain. She half-raises the plate toward him.

Ralof takes it from her, and setting it on the table, kneels beside her chair. As he does so, he takes the cold hand in his, clasping it between both palms. He bows over her hand in his, his forearms braced against the chair arms.

"Ralof? Are you okay? What's happened?"

But Ralof can't speak. How can he? How can he speak into existence the truth his spirit has been seeking this whole time? He must tell her. He's not a coward, but a brave son of Skyrim! But the words stick in Ralof's throat, even when Leara's other hand comes to card through his hair.

When he leaves, the words are still lodged in his throat. The whole time he doesn't speak, Leara simply strokes his hair, and when he leaves, she offers another smile. Confused, certainly, but soft. Kind.

Ralof is tempted to ask Generals Stone-Fist or Thrice-Pierced to deploy him to a camp in Hjaalmarch or the Reach, but every time, he's driven to stay. All the while, Leara is recovering. Soon, she's back on her feet, and when she mentions leaving Windhelm, Ralof feels as if he'll be sick.

What will she do once she's out there, alone?

She's capable, he reminds himself. Yes, she defeated the World Eater. But then she was nearly murdered by a serial killer. All it took was one mistake. One. And Leara would be, Leara . . .

Leara would be dead.

t's that thought that drives him to Candlehearth again. He's hurrying down the hall toward Leara's room before he realizes Elda is calling him.

"She's gone." "What?" "The Dragonborn, she checked out this morning."

Bile churns in Ralof's gut. She's gone.

Again the Palace of the Kings, Ralof seeks the training yard. Hack. Slash. Stab. Leara left. Slash. Hack. Stab. Leara was alone. Slash. Swipe. Turn. Leara might not come back. Stab. Hack. What if she . . .

No. He was being dramatic.

Ralof is not given long to wallow. General Stone-Fist promotes him to captain and deploys him to the Reach, clear across Skyrim. In the Reach, there's more to worry about than the abstract until proven idea of Leara's present safety. Ralof's, for one thing, and the state of the Stormcloaks campaign in the region, for the greater.

He is in the Reach a month before reports filter out of Markarth about heightened Forsworn activity in the city. The Forsworn were already a pain in the rear out in the hills and crags. Ralof did not look forward to weeding out a potential secondary force when the Stormcloaks marched on Markarth.

Then, a report comes saying there's been a breakout from Cidhna Mine. And that Madanach is alive. Ralof has a bad feeling about this. He's pretty sure Jarl Ulfric will have plenty to say about the situation.

Whatever Ulfric would say is driven from Ralof's mind when a thin figure stumbles into camp. Her hair is wild, her eyes are wild, and in her hands is that same katana.

Ralof is running to Leara to catch her in his arms before her knees even threaten to buckle.

"It's my fault." "Shhh." "Ralof, Ralof, Markarth . . ." "We'll take care of it. Don't worry, Leara."

Soon, she's asleep in the medical tent. Ralof is sitting beside her when Commander Kottir pokes his head in.

"So, that's the one stirring up the fuss in camp." "The Dragonborn, Commander." "That's what I hear."

Commander Kottir nods, grim.

"See that she doesn't die on our hands. We can't afford the talk."

Jaw clenched, Ralof just nods. Leara's hand is in his. Over the cot, he catches the commander's eye. Kottir's eyes linger on the joined hands before slipping from the tent.

When Leara wakes, Ralof learns all the dark details of Leara's ill-fated investigation iin Markarth that turned into her incarceration and eventual jailbreak with the King in Rags and his court.

"I had no idea what I was getting into. It was like a completely different playing field from what I'm used to."

Ralof can't offer much advice, except that when the Stormcloaks take over Markarth, they'd weed out the Forsworn support. Leara's face is drawn, but she squeezes his hand.

When she leaves, she says she's heading for Solitude. Ralof wishes her well, but a feeling of foreboding seeps into his bones. She doesn't say why she's going to Solitude, but there's a particular gleam in her eye that piques him in a certain way.

Without Leara in camp, Ralof's focus goes back to the war. General Stone-Fist comes out west, and Ralof is asked to accompany him to Hjaalmarch. They have their eyes on Fort Snowhawk, but before they get there, an anonymous tip comes in that the Dragonborn is being held by the Thalmor at Northwatch Keep.

When he reads the note, Galmar's face is hard. Ralof is cold.

"We can't leave her there, General." "We might have no choice."

But Ralof can't accept that. He'll go after her by himself. His knapsack is packed and his sword is sharpened when he heads for the edge of camp. Galmar stops him.

"You're not going to Northwatch alone." "Respectfully, General, but I am. I can't just leave Leara with the Thalmor when I can do something about it." "No, Captain, you're not going alone." "But sir—" "We'll be leading a raid on the fortress."

The Stormcloak attack on Northwatch is swift and pointed. The Thalmor wizards are difficult, but they're no contest when met in the tight melee range of the halls. General Stone-Fist's battlecry rings off the stonework, rallying the rebels. This is not like their plans for Snowhawk. They weren't trying to hold the fort. Raid, disrupt, and devastate, however? Doable.

Throughout the raid, Ralof felt at turns cold and furious. Leara is here somewhere, he thinks as he leads a group down into the dungeons.

The scent of blood and bile burns his nose. Ralof pushes forward until, rounding a corner, he runs headlong into a tall golden-haired Altmer. Lightning sizzles on her fingers, burning the air and setting Ralof's teeth on edge even as he thrusts his sword deep into her stomach.

Blood curdles out of her mouth as Ralof pushes passed her into the cell beyond. There.

Her head lulled to the side and eyes heavy, Leara is strapped to the wrack, her thin arms stretched skeletal over her head. In her mouth is a heavy gag, tied tight to prevent her from using the Thu'um. Ralof is at her side in an instant, making quick work of the bindings. He pulls the gag from her mouth, tossing it to the side. Behind him, one of the battlemaidens drops to her knees, checking Leara's throat and wrists.

"Captain." "How is she, Tilda?" "Sir, I don't think—"

But Ralof has Leara in his arms, her head falling against his shoulder. She's not heavy at all. They were starving her. Feeding meant removing the gag, risking the Voice. She wasn't this light in the Reach. They starved her.

He hugs her tighter to his chest, and hurries from the keep, Tilda and another soldier on his heels.

That night, after setting fire to the keep, Galmar meets him in the field healer's tent. It's even less equipped than what they have at one of their permanent campsites, and Ralof fears it won't be enough.

Leara is incredibly small and broken under the blankets. New golden scars peak from under the collar of her waif-thin shirt, tracing the path of her veins. Sitting by her bedside, Ralof has held her hand since Tilda finished examing her, the battlemaiden's face grey. The chill in Leara's hand is different now. Unsettling. He can feel the weight of Galmar's eyes on him.

"Tilda told me." "Oh." "If she wakes, she may not be the same."

Galmar cut himself off, but Ralof didn't pay attention. His focus was centered on the slight rise and fall of Leara's chest as she breathed. Every breath was shallow, and none of them restful.

"Listen, Ralof. When the time comes, if you need to take some time and go back home for a few weeks, not a man amung us would begrudge you that."

His throat thick, Ralof only nods.

With Leara in the condition she was in, it was risky to move her, but staying meant her death. The Stormcloaks were caught in a delicate situation, especially considering that they were still in Imperial territory.

"I can give you two days."

Ralof heard Galmar say to Tilda. The battlemaiden nodded. She worked diligently with Leara, praying to Talos, Mara, and Kyne for healing while attempting to work her own arts. Ralof prayed too, though his prayers beseeched Akatosh second only to Talos. But he also prayed to Arkay, begging for the tenuous thread of Leara's life to be strengthened.

One day elapsed. The second one drew toward its close.

There was no change. Within the last hours, Ralof sat on his knees, her hand in his and clasped against his forehead as he leaned into her cot. Ralof's chest ached.

One of the soldiers appeared at the tent flap, but Ralof didn't look up.

"Captain, General's ordered the camp to pack up and head out." "Thank you, Jorvar."

Then it was Tilda's hand on his shoulder.

"Come, Ralof. We must wrap her up and get her on a horse. We've given her as much rest as we can." "She's not strong enough." "Perhaps not, but we have to trust in the Divines that she may be."

His mouth in a line, Ralof simply nodded. Sighing, Tilda turned to finish packing the medical supplies they'd brought from the Haafingar camp.

A tear stung his eyes, followed by another. They weren't the first he'd shed over her, but the fear and despair were beginning to gnaw deeper into his spirit. With trembling lips, Ralof dotted a kiss on Leara's palm, then her knuckles, and the pads of each finger. At last, he drew the thin hand to lay flat on his heart.

Please.

Leara remains stable on the trip to the Haafingar camp, wrapped in blankets and nestled in the bottom of their one wagon. Tilda keeps vigil at her head. Beside the wagon, Ralof rides on horseback, his sword and Leara's katana sheathed at his side.

They make it to the camp, and Tilda is able to administer different medicines that she did not have before. Some color returns to Leara's face, but she still breathes shallowly. Soon, Tilda grows adamant that they must take her to Whiterun, to the Temple of Kynareth. Galmar, while seeing reason in some of Tilda's arguments, is quick to remind the battlemaiden that Whiterun is not their ally. The Stormcloaks cannot step foot in the city. Tilda insists that they can under certain terms.

In the midst of them, Ralof keeps praying that perhaps Leara would at least open her eyes. One last time. During these times, he often falls asleep, his head by her arm on the cot.

It is one of these times that Ralof fell asleep that he thought he woke up. Really, he was sure in the moment that he had, but afterward could never be totally sure. As he lay in half-sleep, he watched a man with golden skin and blue-fire eyes slip into the tent. As he approached, his feet made no noise.

The man's hand passed unfelt (and yet felt) over Ralof's head before landing on Leara's arm. As if entranced, Ralof watched the man remove Leara's hand from his grip and tuck it over her stomach.

"Oh, little one."

For the rest of his life, Ralof could never remember what happened afterward. One minute he was half watching the stranger pass the backs of his fingers over and over Leara's sallow cheek, and then the next, well. The next moment Ralof knew on waking was Leara's fingers carding through his hair. He stirred, and then stared.

From her pillow, Leara was smiling at him. It was a slight smile, still touched with pain, but it was alive because she was awake and she was here.

Ralof met the summer lake warmth of Leara's eyes. And he knew. He clasped her hand in his, and once more began to kiss it. Leara laughed, small and tired, but awake and alive. So very much alive!

He grinned at her.

"I love you." "I know."

Her voice was worn, tired, and fracturing, but so soft and relieved. Hopeful. He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of Leara's wrist. Yes, he loved her very much, and he would tell her so every day for the rest of their lives.

fin

[000marie198]

Sonic wasn't much of a touchy feely person unless it involved cheering up one of his friends or looking after Tails, which involved hugging the kit when he was sad or carrying him to bed when he nodded off and what not

Tails very quickly caught up on that and would often pretend to fall asleep just so he would be carried by his big brother

[fourswords]

i know i don't shut up about it but i think it really truly says something about link's nature as a whole that the four of them got attached to shadow so ridiculously fast. vio at least had the excuse of hanging out with him for however long it was but it was still indicative of that same nature that he quite literally accompanied shadow in burning down a good portion of hyrule's lands and STILL quietly mourned him after they'd "killed" him. but then you have the most obvious examples of blue and green getting so unbelievably distraught when shadow "died for real this time (he did not die for real this time)" after interacting with him in a manner that wasn't "trying to murder each other" for a grand total of like. five minutes. ten minutes tops.

shadow helps them out exactly one time (and really you could see it as him just doing the bare minimum to clean up the mess he created by getting link to release vaati in the first place) and suddenly the links as a whole are like "FORGIVEN!" and if "making friends" was a button they all started hitting it so hard that it broke. shadow was like "still doesn't make me part of the body :(" and green speaking for all of them was like What the fuck are you talking about. Of course it does. We're friends. and by god is that going to influence everything that happens after the manga. like no matter what issues themselves arise between link and shadow that they're gonna have to work through (namely: vio's betrayal) if anyone ever tries to tell him that shadow still poses a threat to hyrule as a whole and he's an enemy and should be taken out then link is just gonna hit them with some flavor of this and that's gonna be the end of the conversation:

[pettyprocrastination]

Reluctant Bride

Pairing: Ellaria Sand x Baratheon!Fem! Reader (background Oberyn Martell x baratheon!fem!reader)

warnings: description of war, derogatory description of women, forced marriage, oberyn talks lowly of the reader’s appearance and status because he’s angry he has to marry in the first place, Oberyn is a dick but he gets better, (this makes it sound worse than it is lol. Just lore building with angst and sapphic yearning lmao. 

Summary: Just months after the rebellion has ended, Ellaria Sand meets her lover’s betrothed.

word count: 1k 

_____

Ellaria was dressed in finer clothes than you on your own wedding day. 

Orange silk embroidered with golden serpents hugged her curves and fine jewels were weaved into her hair that your betrothed seemed content to twirl with his finger as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

You didn’t need to be told who she was. The beautiful woman by your husband’s side, you saw it plainly in his eyes. Love and devotion that could never be found in a marriage under the sept’s roof, but rather one made by affection and passion. 

Ellaria Sand was more of Oberyn’s wife than you ever thought you would be. 

But bless the poor woman’s heart, she was frightened. 

She didn’t want to come to his wedding at first. But Oberyn has all but begged her to, laying gentle kisses up her arm until he was mumbling his plea into the crook of her neck. 

“If I will be forced to wed against my will, the least you can allow me is the pleasure of having my true love by side when I am chained to another.” 

He always has a flair for dramatics, her sweet prince. 

But Ellaria felt it, as she entered Storm’s End by his side, the judgemental stares and hushed whispers when his hand did not release hers. She knew exactly what they thought of her without ever heaving to hear their voices grind against her ears. 

“He brought his whore?”

“To his own wedding, the gal!” 

“She’s a bastard too, I heard.” 

“That’s the dornish for you, debauched dogs, every single one of them.” 

But she would not flinch at their words, she knew she was a bastard since birth, Dorne may have welcomed it but the rest of Westeros had no issue reminding her and every other sand in the world of their place. She learned it well and wore it with pride. She was the lover of the Red Viper, a child of house Uller, the gossip of tittering lords and ladies did not frighten her. 

However, the Baratheons did. 

She would be a fool not to, truly. They were the ones that started the war, plunging the realm into a year of bloodshed and horror that their eldest son charged headfirst into without a second thought. 

Strong, dutiful, dangerous. 

As she entered Storm’s End, thunder echoing against its stone walls that made their grand home resemble a shadowed cave rather than a castle, she is reminded of their words. 

Ours is the fury. 

It had been the third child, who greeted them. Dressed in all black and face somber, he looked well past his age, like a soldier returning from war rather than the young man just coming to age as he was.

“It’s a great honor to have you, my prince.”

But Stannis Baratheon had suffered a siege while his brother commanded from the battlefield, he had seen the war just the same. 

His eyes, dark and cutting like a hidden blade, fell onto Ellaria, for a moment she felt as if she had come to an execution, rather than a wedding. Stannis looked at her like an intrusion, before bowing his head. 

“My sister is eager to join our houses with this union. As are you, I am sure.” 

Oberyn’s agreeance was slick with mockery, teeth flashed in a grin that made the young man’s face go sour. 

“There is nothing I look forward to more.” 

He had yet to let go of Ellaria’s hand. 

The pair did not separate until they reached the sept, a grand building covered in tapestries of every dead saint and alive with hymns that speak of love and devotion. 

Two things seldom found between husband and wife. 

Oberyn walked to the altar alone, but his eyes caught hers  in the crowd and he smiled. Even from afar, she knew him well enough to catch the twitch of his thumb at his side. That despite his anger and dismissive arrogance he loves to wrap himself in like a silken robe, he was at a disadvantage. This was not his home and nor were these were not his people.  He was in the house of the family responsible for the death of his sister with no plan for vengeance, but a wedding he was forced into, just like his Elia.

Ellaria’s gaze is pulled from her lover as the grand door creaks open over the singing, where their king enters, face still laden with scars of the rebellion, of his conquest, escorting the bride by hand. 

Robert Baratheon was large in every way possible. His presence commanded respect. Even in his formal wear the bulk of his muscle was seen through as he walked. The hymns dulled to a soft hum at his entrance, head turning as his eyes cut into the crowd before they landed on Ellaria and she froze in her spot. 

For a moment, fear clenched her heart. 

Robert had unleashed a war upon the realm when Rhaegar took his betrothed, he plunged his siblings into starvation and rode against countless noble families that now bend the knee to him. He caved in the chest of the silver-haired dragon prince himself, severing the three headed dragon with his war hammer until there was nothing left of it’s legacy than two eggs, lost to the wind. 

And here she stood at his sister’s wedding, the proud lover of her betrothed. 

There’s a brief moment where she wondered if he was going to say something. Shout an order for her to be escorted out for being so bold to be at the union, but then a hand squeezed his and he pulled away from her gaze to yours. 

“Don’t.” Barely a whisper that only he could hear. No question nor plea, but an order. 

One the Usurper obeys without resistance. 

Ellaria had never seen you in person before. But Oberyn had painted a foul picture of you the moment your betrothal was confirmed to still be held after the rebellion. He spoke of your sneer and the way your lips puckered into a sour pout each time somebody spoke to you, your eyes were flat and empty of any emotion. 

“If it weren’t for her skirt I wouldn’t know which one I was marrying.” Oberyn jested as he lifted a goblet of wine to his lips. “Her or Stannis.” 

Ellaria watched you walk down the aisle to her lover, struck by your beauty. 

A hood sat atop your head that fell to embroidered lace covering your shoulders, her eyes found a stray curl that dangled by your face and wondered what it would feel like under her finger tips. Dark eyes flick over to her own if only for a second and she felt herself stopped once more, not with fear. 

But desire. 

You continued forward and she watched you walk down the aisle to the awaiting prince. 

A strong nose frames the soft line of your features, shoulders drawn back and head held high like a queen to be worshiped or a painting to be admired. 

You were regal. Looking more like a crowned ruler than the king by your side.

Your voice did not waver during your vows, she wondered if you were frightened. Any woman would be. To marry a man who loathed her family for a death you had no part in. 

But you didn’t let it show. Instead the promise to be a loyal wife echoed through the sept before you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Oberyn’s, who was just as stiff as you. 

As she watched the first kiss of an unwanted marriage, Ellaria’s chest filled with envy of her beloved prince. 

[mpregjamesdiamond]

apparently my brother thinks i have a year left to graduate... idk who fed him that false information but with the shitty previaturas (idk how it's called in english) system i have at LEAST 3 more years to go

[aingeal98]

Daisy: You know after having spent 25 years alone and unloved I really thought searching for my birth parents would be the only way I could find a family but you know what this team is kind of-

Daisy: OK so at least one of my team is a traitor and my birth parents are alive they're just evil monsters. Cool cool cool I am once again not feeling very safe and secure

Daisy: Oh actually wait my bio parents love me? They want me? I can make a home here mayb-

Daisy: Oh never mind my mom just tried to murder me. And my dad is still a monster but he's agreed to have his memory wiped. At least he's still breathing I guess?

Daisy: Good news is I still have my found family parents so at least-

Daisy: Aaaaand found family dad is dead. You know what this is fine as long as I just have-

Daisy:

Daisy: Universe. Universe listen to me very closely. You bring back my found family mom right fucking now. If I have all four of my parents die on me I will destroy this world just like you all said I would

Daisy: OK good. We found a nice compromise. I get to keep one parent and don't have to watch four of them die. Oh hey it's my bio mom from another timeline where she didn't get tortured into insanity and could actually love-

Daisy: Are you fucking KIDDING me.