#i told them to watch army of darkness like i have ever done such a thing. i’m aware Of the series peripherally sure

[minniiaa]

Nighttime Chats with Ace - A Sabo Headcanon

Some nights Sabo talks to Ace. He knows that if someone caught him, they would probably think he was crazy, sitting there talking with his dead brother. But he doesn't care. He is crazy.

On those nights, Sabo sits in his room in the pitch dark with a stiff drink, the only light being the flame he creates with the devil fruit he inherited from his brother. He stares into the fire. Maybe if he looks hard enough, he'll see Ace in there somewhere.

And he talks.

Sabo talks about Luffy, how amazing he is, and how much he reminds him of Ace. He's stubborn as a bull, insanely strong, and fights for what he believes is right with no fear or hesitation. Luffy has such amazing friends who would lay down their lives for him without a second thought. He didn't really need Ace or Sabo anymore but that was okay. He's going to become King of the Pirates, an even greater one than Roger ever was. Their silly crybaby little brother is a god. His heartbeat is the drums of liberation. He will lead the world into a new era, one of freedom. Sabo could not be more proud of him, more honored to be his brother.

He talks about himself too. How insane it was that Dragon of all people in the world was the one who found him, Luffy's father and the leader of the Revolutionary Army. He tells him how hard he trained to master his haki and become as strong as possible. He explains that he is still living out his dream, the one he told them when they were kids. He's traveling around the world and secretly writing a book about his adventures. But that's not his only dream now. Sabo dreams of a world where he dismantles the World Government and the Celestial Dragons, freeing the people under their rule. He thinks that the Revolutionary Army can do that. No, they will do that.

Sometimes Sabo cries. About how much he misses Ace. How he wished he could have been there to save him. About how much pain Luffy must have been in as he watched the light slip from Ace's eyes. He misses him. He wishes Ace was there to smack him on the head and tell him to stop being such a crybaby like Luffy. What he wouldn't give to hear Ace yell at him just one more time. Just one more night passed out at Dadan's limbs wrapped up in each other's as they slept soundly without a care in the world. Those were such simpler times.

He talks about Ace too. About where Ace is. Is there an afterlife? What was he thinking when he died? Was he happy in his last moments? He wishes he could hear all of the stories of Ace's adventures. Where had he gone? Who had he met? What were the events that led to a scrappy kid like him ending up becoming a Commander of Whitebeard's crew? Did he find it, the place he belonged?

Sabo wonders out loud too. How different would things be now if he was still here? Would they all be together again like they were when they were children? Probably not, they all had their own goals. But they would always be there to team up and defeat any enemy that blocked the path of their brother's accomplishing their dreams. Just like they had always done.

After a while, he bids goodnight to Ace and extinguishes his flame, leaving him in the pitch black. Because even though he has the ability to make light and turn into literal fire, he wouldn't have that if Ace wasn't dead. He sits in the dark, letting the whiskey burn his throat as he thinks of one thing and one thing only: I wish you were here, Ace.

[mercurygray]

#76 broken pieces for whatever two characters you would like, please.

I have a brainwave that these two needed to share a scene - so here they are.

This was the third date this month.

It felt funny, saying that, that Molly was going on a date, but Billie wasn't sure she had any other word for when a fellow dropped by in a nice suit, picked up a girl in a nice dress, and the two of them went out to dinner.

A date. Could you even imagine? It was Berlin and the war was over and they were going on dates again, real dates, where you spent time cleaning yourself up first and the fellow actually had a front door to show up at. Not like they'd done during the war, where a date could be meeting a guy for dinner in the next foxhole, or sharing a blanket, or watching a fire. Any spare five minutes alone.

But here he was, on the front mat, shoes shined and hair combed. She wondered what they were paying him - his suit looked too nice for Berlin. Everything here was shabby after six years of war, and he looked out of place in the hallway. "Mr. Rosenthal." She opened the door and let him inside before returning to her seat at the table.

"Sergeant Mitchell."

"She's almost ready - she found a run in her stocking and had to change."

He shrugged. "We're not in any hurry."

Billie nodded, and returned cagily to her magazine, glancing up to follow his eyes around the room, taking in the small bits of art on the walls, some of it stuck up with tape, the calendar in the kitchen, the dishes in the drainer by the sink.

George Stout wasn't ever one for running a really military outfit, and the fact that they were Army without the Army meant private billeting rather than barracks. It was just the two of them in the apartment, though there were several other officers in the building, which was run by an absolutely ancient little old lady who knew very little English. (Molly was trying to learn German, just to get by a little with her, but the Army phrasebook wasn't getting them very far.)

He looked a picture, standing there in the front room - you could say that much. He would have looked even more handsome in class As, with that dark dark brown bringing his eyes out in full force and the mustache that made him look like Tyrone Power. An easy charmer, one of the gang would have said. But she'd known easy charmers before. What do you know about him, Mol? Like, really know? Apart from the blue eyes and the curly hair and the manners and the smile and the fact that he can't sing? He's been coming here for a month and what is he? A hotshot pilot and a lawyer and what else? What's he hiding? Where's the catch?

Because there's always a catch, isn't there? With a boy like that. He's too good.

Billie rose from her chair and moved to put her now-cold cup of coffee in the sink. "I don't think she ever told me where you're from, Mr. Rosenthal."

"Brooklyn - Flatbush."

Billie had a sudden desire to call up Ruth and ask her what she knew about flyerboys from Flatbush. "And you still have family there? Parents, siblings? Girlfriend?"

He nodded. "My mother, and my sister." He smiled a little. "And no girlfriend."

Notice I didn't ask about a wife. "You still close with them?"

His smile never wavered for a moment. "My mother writes me nearly every week. Sister less often, but she'll put a word in Mom's."

"And your firm, are they - are they taking you back, when this is over?"

"I'm sure they will be." He moved closer to the kitchen and looked her in the eye. "You know, I could provide personal references, if that would take less time, Sergeant. Former commanding officers, friends - my rabbi." He smiled at her surprise. "I'm a lawyer. I know what an interrogation looks like."

Billie squared up, her eyes meeting his with no hint now of gentle prying. If you thought the rabbi was going to trip me up, I'll tell you now I don't care. "I like having all the facts." And the fact is that I don't know you, Robert Rosenthal, and I don't like that.

"And the fact that I like Molly an awful lot?"

See, you say that and I believe you, and I hate that I do. "Lots of guys can say they like a girl, Mr. Rosenthal. Maybe even use the word love. Doesn't mean a thing later. I'm trying to establish intention and motive." There's been a war on. People say things they don't mean all the time. Isn't that why you have a job?

He was watching her with a kind of respect in his eyes, smile tugging at his mouth. "Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer, Sergeant?"

Billie felt off balance at the compliment. "The bar wouldn't have me."

He laughed at her casual brutalism, and glanced down at his shoes, considering his next words very carefully. "When you fly a bomber, the only guys you trust are the other nine in the plane with you. Imagine it's the same in a foxhole."

"After they've given you a reason to, sure."

"Guess I'll just have to work on that, then."

It was then, of course, when they were nose to nose and eye to eye that Molly walked in, beautiful in her dress uniform. "Billie Mitchell, are you interrogating him?"

Rosie stepped back, supremely unconcerned by all of it. "It's all right, Mol. We were just talking. It never hurt to have friends who care."

He calls her Mol. And he calls me Sergeant, because he knows we're not friends yet. That's what Ron did, too.

Billie met Molly's eye with a clenched jaw, almost afraid of what she'd find there. It's what you did for me, isn't it, care? And I never listened. But you're smarter and better than me, and you deserve better, too, better than broken promises and broken pieces of a heart. And if he is what he says, you deserve him, Molly. You deserve the world. And if he's not then I'll bury him.

"No," Molly said, softening a little, realizing what they were saying. "No, it never did." She sniffed and checked the fastening on her purse, fiddled with a button. "Will you wait up?"

Billie shook her head. "You'd better take the key. I'm not going out."

Molly nodded, grabbing the key and its chain from where it hung near the door and closing the door behind her as she and Rosie left. He would ask her, at dinner, what that had all been about, and perhaps Molly would tell him - or not. She fell in love with a guy she thought she knew. It ended like you think it did.

[vampiric-hunger]

𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖆 𝖎𝖓 𝖗𝖚𝖇𝖊𝖔, 𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖚𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖔

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2 - 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

⫸ pairing: Cazador Szarr/f!high elf reader

⫸ tags: no y/n used etc, POV second person, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, dueling, canon-typical violence, smut, dubcon, vaginal fingering, PiV, creampie, getting caught during sex.

⫸ story summary: Accompanying your father, the General of Baldur's Gate, has always been a duty that bores you near to death, but for first time you feel completely unnerved as you come to Szarr mansion. The family's patriarch is a strange man and so is his wife and son. Son, who seems unperturbed by anything, until he's left alone with you that is. Then and only then, Cazador shows emotion and what kind of a threat he is. You realize soon - behind those dark eyes there's something dangerous lurking and your future soon becomes inescapably intertwined with his.

work contains illustrations, credit at the end

⫸ word count: 7,403

⫸ author note: happily presenting chapter two! have to say, the fight i wrote in this chapter was probably one of the best things i have ever written, really proud of that one :) enjoy♡~

⫸ chapter list: [link]

“None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

1044DR

23 years later

Quill in your hand, a parchment in front of you on the desk. You’re reading the lines slowly, trying to decipher them because this report came from a soldier who’s been sent out to scout for possible enemy ambushes and it’s important. But instead of it being a code it’s just his handwriting that is simply awful. You lean in and frown, trying to read one word that looks nothing more than a scribble and grit your teeth because you’re losing patience. You and Cazador have been going at this the entire morning with no end in sight. General Cradith set you both to this task because, like a father of two unruly children, he thought you two spend too much time parrying with soldiers and not enough time familiarizing with less exciting aspects of your positions. In this moment you start to doubt if you really need or want your rank as a Captain.

While you internally lament your less than exciting predicament, your attention is drawn to a scribble of a quill. Sat at another desk just like yours, Cazador seems to be tackling his task without issues. You watch him finish whatever he is writing, sign it, quickly read it again, then roll it up and put it to the side. With early afternoon sun filling the room through open windows and sounds of bird songs, you once again wish you were outside instead of being stuck here. Beautiful weather to test the mettle of some soldiers, alas, unless your father deems you done with your work, you’re pretty much nailed to the chair.

Cazador, on the other hand, doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He reads through the following report, his dark eyes scanning the paper with ease, the quill held gently in his fingers. You remember when he first arrived to the standing army encampment. It’s a small town in its own right with utility buildings, a fortress and some civilians, set between Sow’s Foot and Whitkeep. So when Cazador first showed up, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle his hands looked and you quickly assumed he might not be as good at actual fighting compared to the impression he gave you that time in his family’s home. Yet when he held a sword, his grip firm and unwavering, you quickly saw that he’s more skilled than you realized. Your first practice fight with him ended up with you on your back, pinned underneath his boot, the tip of his blade at your throat and your father laughing.

“Don’t underestimate your enemies, I told you that before, Captain.” He chastised you, making you feel embarrassed that you lost against this Szarr brat, only because his hands and long, shiny hair misled you, making you think he’s just another pampered noble.

Cazador is good at magic too, you soon learned, making your father take him on a year-long assessment journey and by the end of it, he quickly offered this elf the same position you have much to your chagrin. Not only he put you on your back in front of General and your own soldiers, he also quickly gained the same rank as you. In a matter of mere couple years, to be precise. And yet only you seemed to have been annoyed by it. Soldiers that were assigned to Cazador appeared to be happy with his leadership because he is strict, but clear and proved himself already. A year and a half later, General Cradith sent out Cazador to a battlefield as his first test when a group of orcs threatened to pillage Rivington, a small settlement outside Wyrm’s Crossing. You haven’t seen him command and fight with your own two eyes, but your father sounded most impressed by Cazador once the dust settled.

So the years went by and while you both were clearly fit for your positions, General still was unhappy that you and Cazador seem to spend more time practicing fighting with your soldiers than doing paperwork that needs to be done. And you haven’t forgotten the humiliation you felt during that fight when Cazador won, but father didn’t let you get back at him. Two nobles fighting, according to him, will only sow discord among the soldiers. However, when your father was away you found ways to do it without anyone seeing and reporting back to him. And the truth is – Cazador seems to get better with each battle he comes back from, so you never know what to expect from him when on a rare occasion you two parry.

“Hey, pay attention.” Cazador’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you blink couple times to see that he’s looking at you with a bemused expression. “You’re ruining it.”

“What?”

With the end of a quill he points at something in your direction and you look down, then immediately frown. While you were too absorbed with your unhappiness of being stuck in the office, the ink from your quill dripped on the parchment you were trying to read just earlier.

Annoyed you put the quill into the inkwell and lift the paper to your eyes, inspecting how bad the damage is, realizing it’s just couple drops and seems none of them are obscuring the scribbles that are meant to be words.

“You should be better than this. I thought you were raised to be a General.” Cazador taunts with a chuckle and you glare at him over the paper, putting it down so that he can see your angry expression.

“Captain Szarr the Perfect speaks up.” You mock and he raises his eyebrows at you with a smirk.

“I consider myself more avid than perfect.”

“Fine, Cazador the Avid, why don’t you do all my work then if you’re so avid.” You mock again and notice that despite his arrogant smile his jaw clenches.

“Captain Sylven the Impatient.” He snaps back, somehow making it sting more because he didn’t even use your first name, as if he’s talking to a stranger despite the fact that him and you have been taught and trained by your father for years. “Or should I say Captain Sylven the Inferior.” You watch his smirk become a grin, somehow looking so sharp as if it’s meant to cut you.

You lose your patience in a matter of a second.

You jump from your chair and clench your fingers into fists as you look at Cazador with fury. Your heart is beating fast and you try not to forget to breathe while he leans back in his chair, arrogance in his face promising more mockery to come.

After a moment you lift your chin and coldly glare at him while you relax your fists. A small smirk even appears on your lips now. A moment passes, two, a silent standoff between you and him.

“I wasn’t the one living in a barn before General scooped me up like a frail dame.” You finally speak and watch Cazador’s face immediately become furious, but he doesn’t move. Usually you manage to provoke him into same angry responses you experience, but not this time it seems. He just stares at you with silent outrage that you can nearly feel scorching your skin, burn into your eyes.

But before anything else is said, the door to the office opens and you hear someone in armor entering. Recognition of your father’s voice comes before comprehension of his words.

“Get your armors on, the Duke is here and he wants a demonstration of our best in a fight. You will fight each other.” General walks deeper into the room as he speaks and you look at him, your anger forgotten.

“Me and Cazador?” You ask, surprised, and he nods, then looks at the Szarr, with you doing the same. Elf looks unbothered by these news, just stands from the chair and nods curtly to your father.

“Understood. I will report to the courtyard after putting my armor on. Swords?” He asks and General Cradith thinks for a moment, stroking his chin with his fingers, then nods.

“Greatswords. Duke is not a military man, but even he will be impressed.” He turns to you now. “Go, don’t keep him waiting.”

You nod as well and turn on your heel, leaving the room but a grin appears on your face as you walk out of the office. After insults like that you are going to love proving to Cazador once and for all that you’re a better fighter than he is, you are sure of it. And it’s simply because while you’re proficient in greatswords – he isn’t, preferring longswords because he delights in fighting on a horseback.

Not this time.

You know the victory is yours, you can almost taste it while you quickly find yourself in your room. You have a squire girl and after you inform her what needs to be done, she helps you put on your armor. It’s heavy plate but the weight of it feels familiar and comforting. After your helmet is placed on your head, the one that is adorned with black feathers, you pick up your sword and head for the courtyard. The sound of armor as you walk, the heaviness of your weapon as you carry it leaned against your shoulder, you feel confident, in charge. When you pass soldiers they salute you, when you pass servants they bow their heads. And you remember with joy – you are their future General.

A smile on your lips and assertive steps – that’s how you exit the fortress, squinting at the sun that shines to your eyes through the visor but only for a moment. Cazador is already waiting for you, his own armor polished, his helmet bearing red feathers, his sword stuck in the ground with his hand on the hilt.

While you walk towards him, you notice your father not too far off, Duke at his side, not to mention several dozens of soldiers who were quick enough to show up for the spectacle. You can’t contain your grin as you walk and finally stop in front of Cazador, keeping some distance as is per etiquette.

Silence.

You can almost hear flies buzzing, as if nobody is even breathing. Your eyes meet Cazador’s, dark inkwells that consume near all your attention. And then you hear a command, spoken in General’s voice.

“Ready!”

You move into position, moving your legs apart for balance, gripping the hilt of your weapon with both gauntlet-clad hands and narrow your eyes as you watch Cazador move in very similar fashion, his tall form that always towers over you, now getting into attack position with a grace of a cat. His armored hand gripping the greatsword and for a moment you notice his long hair, untied, being gently moved across the armor plate on his back, looking almost like a cloak.

Another moment pass, your muscles are tense while you ready yourself to move first, waiting for only one word, the permission. You can win this, you know it, you feel it in every fiber of your being.

“Begin!”

You move at the same time as Cazador, dirt spraying from your sabatons as you charge each other. The rush of a fight takes over.

With gritted teeth but still with a smile you lift your sword over your head for a smite, using its weight to aid you in bringing a shattering blow that Cazador barely avoids, turning on his heel to the side at the last moment. When your blade strikes the ground he moves in response, his own weapon swung not from above, but from the side and you see it coming, but know you can’t avoid it, so you duck. While there you use one hand to support yourself on the dirt and deliver a heavy kick to Cazador’s right greave, seeing it bend under your boot when he staggers backwards before he can swing his sword at you.

Quickly you jump to your feet, gripping the sword with both hands again and barely manage to block the incoming blow, metal colliding with a shrill noise as Cazador now tries to use his height and weight of his sword to push you back. Your eyes meet again and you can already feel the sweat on your brow. You dig your heels into the ground and grip your sword tight, but Cazador still manages to push you backwards, you feel your sabatons tilling rows in the dirt as you are slowly but surely pushed backwards. Your jaw is clenched so tight you can taste iron.

“I’ll win, Szarr.” You tell Cazador and see his eyes through his visor, it looks like he’s smiling.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He responds and it sends a shiver down your spine. In this moment – you are absolutely fulfilled, in your element, and with a worthy opponent to boot.

“But I am.” You respond.

And then you let go of the handle with one hand, letting Cazador push your blade against your shoulder plate, leaving indentation in the steel and looks like it throws him off guard because he doesn’t see what your intentions are before it’s too late. With a steel fist you deliver a blow to the underside of his jaw, unprotected by metal, and Cazador makes a sound at the moment of impact, then he staggers backwards, the tip of his blade sliding off your shoulder and falling to the ground. Next moment you watch blood drip from under his helmet onto the front of his breastplate and your eyes meet his in which you see surprise.

You don’t waste a moment, you attack again and swiftly. You use all the might you have in your arm and swing your greatsword at him, making him jump backwards from you, yet the tip of your blade scratches loudly across his breastplate. You pirouette, and when your sword comes around, you quickly strike your foot to the ground, stopping your spin as you bring the blade towards his neck, a blow that would decapitate him, but you know he’s better than getting himself killed and you’re correct, as Cazador pierces the ground with his sword for balance and lifts his armored arm right before the impact. The sound of metal against metal reverberates across the courtyard but you’re not done, this is your moment, this is your win.

You let go of your sword now, watching it fall as if in slow motion, but with now free hands you know you can finish this fast. A punch to Cazador’s forearm makes him release the grip on his own sword and yelp in either pain or surprise, then you move your other hand upwards, again to the unprotected part of his body that is the neck and you grip it, making Cazador let out a choking noise, before you deliver another punch to his side, were armor is thinnest, making him bend forwards.

That’s all you needed.

Using your own weight, enhanced by your armor, you bring Cazador down, making him drop on his back with a heavy thud, with you on top of him, straddling his armored form. With your hand still on his neck, you use free one to grab the bottom edge of his helmet and you tear it off with a near manic glee. His hair is disheveled and now splayed on the dirt, the bottom half of his face covered in blood and his eyes beginning to radiate with growing fury. He lets out another choked noise at the attempt to speak and finally grips at your gauntlet, trying to pry your arm away, his armored fingers slipping on metal.

“Let… go…” Cazador manages a strained growl, but you ignore him.

Victorious you use your free hand to grip the edge of your own helmet, pulling it off your head and letting it clatter to the ground in a cloud of dust while you grin at Cazador, now pinned under you. Finally, your fingers relent and he breathes in deeply, his eyes wide even if they are full of anger. But he looks beautiful, with his bloody chin and flushed, sweaty face.

You lean over him, still the same arrogant smile on your face. He doesn’t fight you anymore, he knows it is over as cheers and clapping suddenly erupts like an explosion.

“Red suits you, Cazador.” You tell him, seeing his cheeks flush even harder now, his chest heaving while his fingers remain gripping your gauntlet tightly. He says nothing, making your victory all the sweeter for it.

“Come now! Both of you! Duke wants to talk!” You hear General’s voice boom over the noise of soldiers still cheering and you chuckle slightly, then lean even closer to Cazador’s face.

“What are you doing?” He suddenly asks, his voice slightly coarse from the choking he received and while keeping your eyes on him you allow yourself a taste of his blood on his chin, letting the tip of your tongue drag against the point of his jawline, making Cazador’s eyes widen in utter shock. “What-“

“The taste of victory.” You tell him and straighten your back, grin on your face, while he stares at you in disbelief.

Without another word you get off him and when you stand on your feet you offer him a hand. Cazador still looks at you with utterly baffled expression but finally he frowns, then suddenly smirks and takes your hand, getting to his feet as well.

“Well fought.” He comments and you nod arrogantly at him.

“You too.”

You shake hands, as it is mandatory to finish friendly fights like this, then you both pick up your weapons and helmets. You tuck yours under your arm while Cazador carries his in his hand, heavy swords hoisted up and leaning against your shoulders in same fashion.

When you both stand in front of the Duke and General, you try to listen alertly but you can barely hear their words as you relish the victory, scarcely able to resist another glance at Cazador’s bloodied, flushed face like it’s a proof that you’re capable just as he is. Not that you ever doubted it, but his quick rise to rank of a Captain still slightly irks you. Not anymore.

Today - you are victorious. Today – you proved not only to yourself, but to your father and Duke too, that you’re a fighter, a warrior, a true soldier, worthy of General’s title when the time comes.

These thoughts spin in your head, making pride swell in your chest like never before and when you are finally dismissed you glance at Cazador, seeing his dark gaze studying your face with intensity. You allow yourself a smallest smirk, then turn and leave the courtyard.

Passing the soldiers who cheer on you, you smile as you walk back to the building, climbing the stairs and crossing the main war room until you suddenly hear a sound behind you, the unmistakable clinks of an armor. You stop and turn your body to look at who it is because the room is empty, wondering if it’s your father but no, you see that it’s Cazador, his waist-length hair draping around him and his eyes narrowed as he walks towards you with firm steps. You notice that somewhere along the way he lost his sword and helmet. You grin as you watch him quickly approach you.

“Don’t be sour, Cazador, you know that-“ You don’t get to finish as his hands move unexpectedly fast, grabbing the back of your neck and clasping leather clad palm of another right over your mouth.

Your eyes widen in shock at the moment of fear from his attack, not having a chance to even resist as the tall elf quickly drags you to the side, your helmet and sword falling to the floor. He pulls you to the door that leads to a smaller room where your father sleeps. Just as quickly you hear the door close and find yourself being slammed into the wall chest first. You watch the icon of The Red Knight drop to the floor as your face made it slip off the nail it was hanging on. A hand from your mouth is removed and you inhale deeply.

“Cazador, what in the hells are you doing?” You want your voice to be loud and strong but instead it comes out in a strained whisper, you didn’t have a chance to gather your bearings yet, caught completely off guard.

“Claiming my compensation.” A reply comes from the behind you, then you immediately hear something metallic drop, probably a gauntlet because soon your neck is released and you feel Cazador’s hot, sweaty fingers grip the same spot again, then another sound, another gauntlet.

“Compensation for what?! I won fair and square, you bastard!” You say louder this time and try to push off the wall but his grip tightens and your narrow your eyes from pain with a huff.

“You humiliated me.” More sounds of metal being handled and you are clueless to what Cazador is doing while you bid your time, thinking of how you can escape him.

Suddenly you feel his breastplate push heavily against the back of your armor, squeezing you inside of it as leather straps on your sides lose their tautness with pressure. And then there’s a breath against your ear.

“You did quite a number on me in the courtyard. I ought to claim a small compensation for that, surely. Not every day those who make me bleed keep their lives.” A low chuckle and hot air against your skin makes you blush. You try to move your eyes, to catch a glimpse of his face, but you can’t, the angle is impossible because of how he has you pinned against the wall.

“Just accept you lost, Szarr!” You hear a rustle, more metal noises and the hand on the back of your neck disappears. Cazador is sure you’re still trapped as he keeps squeezing you against the wall with his chest.

Then – a strip of fabric over your mouth. Caution forgotten you try to protest, only allowing the piece of cloth to slip between your teeth, muffling your words. And then it tightens around your head, preventing you from closing your mouth as it becomes clear to you now that Cazador is holding both ends with one hand to keep you silenced, like reigns on a wild horse. It’s probably his handkerchief, you think to yourself, a useless fact to know in this situation.

"I can accept defeat, what I can’t accept is you making a fool out of me in front of General and the Duke.” Cazador whispers against your ear and you feel his hand under the chainmail covering your rear, caressing it through your pants that you wear below your armor. Your cheeks flush harder but you don’t want him to have this victory and you angrily slam an armored fist against the wall, making him chuckle. “You are good with your sword, I can commend at least that. But I still want to teach you a lesson that no one spills my blood and walks away unscathed.” You pause, your breath catching in your throat as dread pools in your stomach. “And I always get what I want.”

You make a sound, close to an angry scream only muffled by your gag and sweat begins to bead your forehead again. You don’t know how far Cazador wants to take this, maybe he will stop here, after showing you that he can still overpower you, but you’re not as hopeful. And then you whine when his fingers grip your ass with firm possessiveness. Dread you felt just earlier dissipates and is replaced by something you wish it wasn’t – desire. Men are generally either scared of you because of who you are and because of who your father is, or they hate you. Cazador… Cazador is neither. From the moment you met him, this man treated you different than all the rest.

And now you wonder how many times he thought about fucking you, looking for an excuse to do so. In this moment you have to admit to yourself – you wondered it too, how it would be if you two ended up in the same bed, the thought making your insides burn not with dread you felt just a moment earlier, but with need. Yet your pride won’t let you admit it and once more you try to push away from the wall, only making him push his armored body against yours harder, squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“It will hurt more if you struggle.” He taunts and you make another sound, one that’s supposed to be angry, but it comes out more like a pathetic whine instead of a growl as your teeth clamp on your gag, it makes Cazador chuckle again, then the gag over your mouth tightens as he pulls at it, making your head arch backwards. “Look at me.” Cazador demands and you finally can see his face, so close to yours and with his chin still covered in dried blood, but his eyes are near shining with dark excitement. “Good, very good, I knew a soldier would follow orders.” He grins, making rage boil in your chest and you frown, trying to show him just how angry you are, but he only lifts his eyebrows at that. “I guess you choose pain then.”

The hand that’s on your ass slips up your lower back, finding the hem of your pants underneath your armor, inspects it, then moves to the front, finding the knot there meant to hold the garment in place. With one pull he undoes the string, then his hand moves to the back again and Cazador begins peeling your pants down. You protest as loudly as you can but all of it is muffled and his hand grips the ends of the handkerchief tightly before he presses the side of your face against the wall.

You growl around your gag in frustration, trying to move but being unable to, you can barely breathe as is and you bite down on the cloth with rage and then suddenly - embarrassment as Cazador’s fingers work your pants down your hips, as much as your cuisses allow, and then you feel his index finger slip between your legs, rubbing your folds as if testing how wet you are. The embarrassment you feel comes from shame because you realize - you are wet already.

Cazador chuckles and you can see his arrogant smirk in your mind’s eye as he keeps feeling wetness on his fingers, smearing them. Then he leans in closer and with his teeth playfully nips at the gag pressing deep into your cheek.

“I knew you wanted me deep inside you.” Cazador whispers in your ear, there’s a hint of malice in his voice and you are not sure if he meant the double meaning of his words or not, but they are still making you blush from shame and anger.

But then you whine, your eyelids droop as Cazador’s finger nudges at your clit, making your body shiver. Gods, you don’t remember the last time you were touched like this and you want this, you know you do, but no, you can’t let him have his way with you, not like this. So you slam your fist against the wall again in protest, except this time it’s weaker, less powerful and that makes Cazador laugh silently against your ear.

Suddenly you feel the gag around your head loosen but before you can even think of spitting it out, Cazador’s hand clamps over your mouth, securing the already drenched from your saliva fabric in place, muffling your voice even further.

“Quiet now, soldier, I don’t want anyone to hear you scream.” He murmurs in your ear before Cazador begins to rub your clit slowly, as if he knows exactly how to make your knees weak.

His palm muffles the words you’re trying to speak, the ones meant to tell him to back off, to stop, that he will pay for this, that you will kill him, but soon you give up, letting out only small pants against his hand as your body easily responds to his ministrations. Your palms grasp at the wall for purchase but you know you can’t move, how hard you are pressed against the wall makes your breaths more shallow, making your head begin to feel fuzzy, and combined with increasing pleasure you begin to feel like you’re in a dream. A nightmarish one or a pleasant one – that’s up to Cazador, you realize with distant dread.

Seeing you give up your struggles, Cazador arrogantly chuckles, his palm is slick with your saliva but he doesn’t let go.

“I knew you would like that.” He whispers in your ear, feeling how tips of them now blush together with your face, then his hand leaves you, giving your gently trembling body a moment of reprieve as you once more hear armor being handled.

The next moment you gasp as you feel scorching heat of his cock against the cleft of your ass, grinding against it and you whine again, not knowing if your whine is of despair or desire. You don’t know what you want anymore, Cazador is muddying the lines between desire and pride, making your head swim. Then his hand navigates between you and him, two fingers finding your increasingly wetter slit and he slips them inside, testing you.

His test pays off because your hips involuntarily buck against his fingers, making them push even deeper inside of you and you whine in despair of your own body betraying you. You’re now sopping wet and your cunt swallows his fingers with hungry ease, making you a shiver run down your spine. You feel Cazador press his lips against the side of your face and you feel his smirk as you hear his own breath slightly hitch when he feels wetness of your walls clench around his digits. You start feeling the elf to begin pumping his fingers slowly and steady inside of you, his hard cock still pressed against your ass. And then, a whisper.

“You want more, don’t you, soldier?” Cazador whispers, arrogance oozing out of every word and you bite on your gag again, not wanting to admit it. You shake your head in last attempt of defiance and it makes him laugh. “I don’t think I believe you.”

Elf’s fingers now leave you, making you exhale with small relief, but then his palm leaves your mouth and once more, before you can think of it, he secures the gag around your head again with one hand, pulling at it so that he can look at your face. He sees your heavy-lidded eyes and you, in turn, see his taunting grin. You gave up fighting already, you both know that, he won.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” Cazador promises and with other hand he pulls at your hips, making you arch your back uncomfortably because your cuirass is unyielding but he still positions you just as he wishes and you get to watch his face when his eyes dart down, then a moment later you feel the tip of his cock nudging at your cunt.

You swallow and you’re not sure yourself if it’s from despair or anticipation. Cazador’s eyes snap back to you and he smiles, but his smile has no softness in it, just a mocking edge. And then he watches as he begins pushing his length into you, he watches your face as the near forgotten pleasure claims your mind, showing itself clearly through your expression, through how your eyelids droop even more and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Hm.” Cazador sounds pleased while he takes your body with his cock, pushes it into you inch by inch until he’s fully buried within you. He leans to your face again and your world fills with his smirk and the malicious glee in his eyes. “Submission suits you, little soldier.” A taunt, callback to one of your own in the courtyard, and you moan with shame and anguish, but it’s only for a moment, only until Cazador begins to thrust. You forget your humiliation when lust takes over your mind.

You try to remain silent at first, but his thrusts quickly pick up the pace and all you can hear is his armor slamming against yours with a ringing loudness while you feel him deeply in your core each time he drives his length to the root. By your ear you hear Cazador’s restrained grunts without noticing how you are moaning in response, your voice still muffled. He keeps your head turned to him so that he can watch your expressions and you see the sadistic joy in his eyes be replaced with pure passion, elf’s expression losing the sharp edge and his parted lips betraying the pleasure he’s feeling in this moment.

“Just like this, do not dare moving.” He commands and you don’t even think of disobeying him, your palms and chest still firmly pressed against the fall while the Szarr heir pounds into you as if nothing else matters in the world. “This is… what you get… for making me… shed… blood…” Cazador’s words are punctuated by his groans that he releases with each snap of his hips and you whine at that.

You feel hot, almost melting from heat, as you feel trapped in your armor but you don’t even think of trying to move away anymore. Finally your eyes close and you submerge in the feeling of satisfaction. Then with sudden realization you spit out now limp cloth from your mouth, at which point Cazador released it you have no clue, but now you notice that he’s not squeezing you against the wall with his chest anymore, instead you feel his hand under the front of your cuirass, gripping your right breast and fondling it with authority, as if every inch of your body belongs to him.

You wet your dry lips with your tongue and press the side of your face against the cool wall as you moan, not having a single thought to speak, all of this is too much in the most wonderful way and you hear a low chuckle rumble inside Cazador’s chest.

“Didn’t expect you to enjoy this that much.” He says with bated breath and coarse voice, but despite his words he can’t hide how much he is enjoying this himself. You let your chest slip down the wall just a little bit, making Cazador grip at your breast as if he’s anticipating you to try and escape, but when he realizes what you’re doing, adjusting your body for him, he lets out a breathy groan. “Yes, just like that.” It sounds like he’s speaking through clenches teeth and his fingers pinch at your nipple through the fabric of your undershirt, making you yelp a little louder.

Then suddenly you realize he’s close and you wish for him to go on for longer, to fuck you a little harder, you are not far behind him in this chase for bliss and it’s as if Cazador reads your mind. His hand disappears from under your breastplate and now he grips your hips with both hands as he begins pummeling against you with enough force to make your head spin.

“Gods, yes!” You cry out with sweat dripping down your face and your eyes closed as you begin to feel first waves of pleasure pool between your legs as his cock strokes you in the most delicious way. You don’t think you ever had this much pleasure with a man.

“That’s it, little soldier, you are mine.” You hear Cazador’s strained chuckle but you don’t care.

With a gasp and a moan you come, your body contracting and stiffening in waves as your orgasm surges through you. Somewhere distantly you hear Cazador near growl when your cunt clenches over his cock, making him climax too and milking him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck!” You hear him exclaim in a moment of bliss, something you very rarely hear him say, and you mewl while he uses his length to pound into you until your pleasure begins to fall.

Finally Cazador stops and you hear him panting heavily behind you, then chuckle despite his state. You can barely comprehend what just happened, needing a moment or two to gather yourself back together so you both stay as you are, letting seconds pass.

“If it were a battlefield you both would be dead.” A voice comes from behind you and it feels like a slice of a razor through your mind.

Immediately you become alert and straighten your back, pushing Cazador off you, then turn to see who intruder is. A moment, then two, and finally you recognize the face: long grey hair with white streaks, sharp features and eyes that left a lasting impression even from the small miniature you saw couple decades ago. This man, who you only saw a tiny painting of, now stands by the open door, his arms crossed on his chest and his red eyes focused on Cazador who moved the moment you pushed him off.

Both you and him quickly pull up your pants, the task not done as fast as either of you wish with armor and chainmail in the way but done nonetheless while the grey-haired man seems to be patiently waiting. Cazador doesn’t wait, while still trying to tie the string of his own pants underneath his cuirass, he glares at the intruder with so much hate you don’t think you ever seen in him before.

“What are you doing here, Vellioth.” Cazador demands to know and the man grins, his smile sharp and predatory.

“What do you think Donnela would say if she saw you like this? Tsk tsk tsk.” Vellioth chastises Cazador and you finally finish with your pants, pulling your gauntlets off as you stare the man down.

“Who let you in?” You ask in a commanding tone, now stepping forward. Not only barely anyone is allowed into the main war room, this man also invited himself into your father’s quarters. You realize that the noises and the voices probably made him look, but you can’t justify a civilian like him trespassing in the first place, no matter the reason.

“General Sylven. I asked him where to find Cazador.” Vellioth replies and you glance at Cazador, seeing how his expression is twisted with anger despite the sweat and post-coital blush still present on his face, making you realize that you must look exactly the same.

“You had no right to-“

“I didn’t interrupt, did I? I let you both finish this little display of honorable nobility.” Vellioth interrupts, making you even angrier with his rudeness.

“Get out, now!” You point at the open door and the man just raises his eyebrows at you, obviously not intimidated by you whatsoever.

“I need to speak to Cazador first.” Elf says calmly and Cazador finally moves, bending down to pick up his discarded gauntlets.

“Then speak.” He demands but Vellioth just laughs.

“No, I need to speak to you in private.”

You glance at Cazador, seeing his clenched jaw and his eyes focused on Vellioth, then he finally smirks.

“Very well then, wait for me in the courtyard, I need to finish here.” He gestures to the door in a relaxed and dismissive manner, but Vellioth grins wider.

“I thought you were already finished.” Vellioth replies with snark dripping of the last word and you raise an eyebrow at his insolence.

“Go, unless you want to be removed by force.” You respond calmly, finally with your anger and embarrassment under control, and Vellioth looks at you for a moment, his scarlet gaze taking in all of you.

Finally he nods and unfolds his arms, pushing his hands into the pants’ pockets before he looks back at Cazador.

“Don’t keep me waiting, boy.” He says and with that he departs, his footsteps quickly vanishing as he leaves the war room.

But you do wonder why he called Cazador that and you remember him mentioning that this Vellioth is somehow important to his aunt, or his mother, or whoever she is to Cazador. You get a feeling that this man is Lady Szarr’s lover because what other reason he would have to address Cazador this way, the way his own father did when you saw them in their family home, if not because some sort of upper hand. Vellioth doesn’t look much older than either of you, you have to admit, maybe six decades older, maybe even less and yet he acts like he can command Cazador around. This puzzles you.

You snap out of your musings when Cazador turns to you and you pay attention to his furrowed brows and cold expression, but after a moment of looking at your face his features relax and he smirks, stepping closer, grasping your chin with his fingers and making you upturn your face to him.

“Well, we may have been interrupted, but I am not done with you, Lady Sylven.” He speaks to you in a low, seductive voice and it catches you off guard, making you raise your eyebrows at him.

“I thought that was payment for bloodying your face.” You reach up and rub your thumb against his chin, flakes of blood coming off easily now and Cazador chuckles.

“My blood is expensive, more than you would think.” He responds and leans closer, you think he’s about to kiss you, but instead he leans to your ear into whisper. “And I think I need another compensation from you for that.” A pause as your breath catches in your throat. “And you did enjoy it, did you not?” Cazador’s face returns in front of you and you swallow dryly, new blush beginning to color your cheeks. Was he always this flirty? You can’t recall, but you can’t recall many things right now, not as you look deep into his dark eyes.

“Yes.” You hear yourself respond and Cazador smiles, victorious.

“I thought you did.” He pauses as if thinking and his gaze darts to your lips, then back to your eyes, and seems he makes up his mind because he kisses you, pressing his lips heavily against yours.

You feel yourself melting and you gasp ever so slightly against his mouth, allowing him to slide the tip of his tongue past your lips and run it alongside your upper front teeth before he pulls back.

“I’ll find you later. I have to deal with Vellioth first.” Cazador promises and you swallow heavily, your heart beating at the back of your throat then you nod, completely captivated by him in this moment and that makes him smile. “Good, very good.” Elf’s thumb rubs against your bottom lip for a brief moment like he’s considering another kiss, but this time he decides against it and steps back, releasing your chin and turning his back to you.

Without another word Cazador leaves the room, carrying his gauntlets in one hand and you watch him go, wondering what in the hells just happened and what does this mean for you from this point on.

But you can’t deny the pull you feel. When Cazador leaves the war room, you exit your father’s quarters closing the door behind you, and pick up your sword and helmet still littering the floor, while you feel Szarr’s seed seep out of you, soaking your pants, making you bite your lower lip. Lost in your thoughts you head for your own room, passing through the door that is one way out of three to lead you to officers’ personal rooms and you can’t help but wonder – for how long you have been blind that this was coming? A moment of unleashed lust transformed the dynamic between you two nearly completely, making you feel like you have been a fool to the obvious this entire time.

Still, you know this complicates things, very much so, despite how excited you feel to see Cazador later. You two will need to keep this secret, of that you are sure.

But you are both good at keeping secrets.

For better or for worse.

⫸ end note: thank you @sadist69 for wonderful illustration♡~

[cosmichighpriestess]

Chosen Ones, Cursebreakers, Black Sheep turned into Golden Child, you were never the black sheep you were always the Golden child disguised as nothing and now you really have done a lot of inner work on yourself and you think no one noticed but the entire Universe noticed, witnessed and felt the change you made within. You impacted the entire Universe by choosing forgiveness and removing limiting beliefs from your consciousness. Never think your light doesn't matter. Your vibration, your essence, your unique light is so needed otherwise you wouldn't even exist because creation doesn't make mistakes.

But many people you know are not used to meeting someone like you with boundaries and pure authenticity. They are used to people going along with the status quo, they are used to people agreeing with them, getting away with using them, no equal give and take, listening to their drama, their finger pointing, their negative, limiting mindsets, codependency, and they are used to people who have low standards for themselves who do not love themselves and have low self esteem. And those people are all worthy of love and you tried to show them didn't you?

You on the other hand, chosen one, you have high standards for yourself, and you always had the mentality of quality over quantity. But many people lied to you about their true intentions with you and their true character, which was manipulative and you chose to see the best in them regardless of how badly they hurt you, tried to control you, belittle you, downplay your gifts, gaslight you etc. Some of you almost died several times from their abuse. But the Divine saw it all. Heard every conversation said about you and every lie told about you. You thought the Divine forgot just because you forgave them? The forgiveness was for YOU my love, to heal yourself and to know yourself as love, your true self, to shift timelines for your benefit to reach your highest self. On the lower timelines they are still being abusive to another version of you, yes. Please send that version of you all the love and wisdom they need through your heart center. You think the Divine forgot about those versions of you and them abusing you relentlessly without reason?

These people from your past lower dimensions of consciousness had every intention of using you, abusing you and discarding you when they were done with you because they couldn't control you. Yes they may be ignorant, blind to who you are, and unconsciously hurting that version of you. But they don't see the army behind you. You are uncontrollable and untouchable, especially now as you've advanced and ascended and blocked people from accessing you. All they can do is watch you. That is all. They can't hurt you anymore. But, the Divine is furious on your behalf of what they did to you when you were a blessing, a gift sent to help them heal on their own journey. They didn't want your help.

They wanted to ignore healing themselves and abuse you instead because they had false, negative distorted thoughts about you that were all lies sold to them from the ones who seek your downfall and you were a threat to them because they didn't know how to take accountability for their toxic, lower vibrational actions and your light exposed their darkness. See, what they don't know is that you're going to get everything you ever wanted and more. All your dreams are coming true. But they never believed in you and never saw you through a clear lens. Always forgive them, always send them love because they need it the most, if they are projecting onto you and others, especially now.

You are very protected at all times. Always remember, Angels and demons are not the same as humans. They not only work together to bring justice to us but they revel in it. We don't understand how they can destroy lives and bathe in the blood of their enemies. I don't understand it because I come from a realm of unconditional love, compassion and light. Everyone held the same level of compassion as me. In the higher dimensions. So do, pray for your enemies in the lower timelines, they do still exist but they can't touch you because you're too high. Light a candle and pray for them because justice is being served on a silver platter just for you and what they chose to do to a divine one when they refused to heal and treat you with the respect you always deserved. I love you, please hold no more pain from the past you're not going there.

[blood-mocha-latte]

damp - hilldane drabble

for an anonymous ask || request an edit/drabble || i… don’t know what this is. i call it ‘rie accidentally projects a lot onto two characters simultaneously and accidentally makes herself cry’ and also 'rie needs to stop obsessing about keaton st james poems before they Consume her'

9 LINES ABOUT EITHER ROMANCE OR DEATH

The damp, damp dark seemed to find Andy always wanting, always in a limbo between humanity and something else. Something more, something less. A change, but never one big or small enough to be important.

Eddie sat by him, carving a stick with his knife, warm at Andy’s shoulder.

“Ya ever think love stories will be told about people like us?” He asked. Andy shrugged. He knew the answer that Eddie believed. The same one most men like them believed. A story that ain’t ever worth telling. That wasn’t the answer Andy wanted to give.

“Maybe one day.” He said, watching the way the wind shifted through the palm fronds, the men laughing and talking and playing around in the sand and around the camp. “If it’s a good story.”

Eddie snorted. His knife slipped, and he nicked the pad of his thumb. As he held it up to his lips to suck on the cut, he said, “or a tragic one.”

1. It guides our every action.

Andy walked in front of a tank, and didn’t have to turn around to know that Eddie would follow him. Like a soft string that was tethered to his heart with steel, he never had to think too hard about where Eddie would ever be.

He watched as Eddie bent over, pistol loose in his grip, and talked lowly to the army tanker. Andy didn’t need to see him to know how his eyes flashed on certain words, how his lips twisted around others. 

Talkin’ and killin’. Sometimes Andy thought it might be the same deadly dance.

The army tanker bowed his head, and Eddie turned on his heel and back to their boys, gripping them by their arms, pulling them to their feet. Dusting them off, helping guide them Away. 

Andy wondered if the seraphim of his mothers bible could even hold a candle to Eddie Jones.

He stood in front of the tank until Eddie was done. He watched the treads of the tank, its gun, the crew that he couldn’t see but stared down anyways. 

He’d probably let the damn thing crush him, if it would buy Eddie more time, help more of their boys.

2. Do you remember when we rode the train home from the ocean with salt dried in our hair, and yet, somehow, your mouth still tasted so sweet as i kissed you goodnight on your porch? while the dark-winged sedges sang?

“C’mon, just one.”

“No,” Andy laughed, crossing his legs under him to sit in the shallow foxhole with Eddie, who's smile was wide and eyes even brighter. “You're drunk.”

Eddie laughed, and it was warm and free. “Turns out, the more Saki you drink, it does not taste better.” Andy smiled, leaning against loose dirt and feeling the warmth of the setting sun across his face. 

“You know, I never would've guessed.” He said dryly. Eddie laughed again. He held the near-empty bottle by its glass neck, and extended it to Andy, shaking it slightly.

“Probably should drink some all the same, though.” He said, and Andy couldn't tell if his pupils swallowed his irises because of the drink or something else. “Just to make sure.”

“Nah.” Andy said lightly, in reference to the Saki. “I've got all the proof I need.”

Eddie smiled and, after looking over his shoulder as if a conspiracy, cheeks flushed red and eyes ink dark, he whispered, loudly, “just one kiss, huh, Skip? ‘M probably drunk enough that it's run off on you.”

Andy watched him seriously, if only for a moment, if only to see the way Eddie leaned against the shallow foxhole again and smiled at him with bitten-red lips and dark, happy eyes.

“Well, you could be stone-cold sober and I could still get drunk off you.” Is what he ended up saying, and Eddie's laugh was warm and bright and it made Andy want to reach for him.

“Hopefully I taste less shitty.” Is what Eddie said back, and drank the rest of the Saki in one go. 

3. i dream about you all the time.

Eddie loved, loved, loved Australia, with such a fervor that Andy almost forgot about taking him back home entirely to focus instead on buying them a house Down Under.

They sat in a darker corner of the bar, other marines shouting and singing and drinking and dancing with laughing women. 

Eddie sat with light eyes and a whiskey in front of him, running his index finger along the rim of its glass. 

“I wonder what it's like in the middle of Australia.” Eddie said thoughtfully, his hand stilling. “I know it's wild, but I'd like to know how.”

Under the table, their knees knocked together, and Andy risked hooking his foot around Eddie's calf, downing the rest of his own drink. “I’d guess somewhat like how the west was, before Lewis and Clark got there.” He said, the whiskey burning down his throat and settling in his chest, curling around his heart.

Eddie hummed, finished off his own drink. “I heard from a woman at a corner shop that they tried to send their own Lewis and Clark out there.” He said. “But nature doesn't want them out there. It's just… meant to be wild. Meant to be sand and dark and stars.”

Andy thought about that, for a moment. About a place that can’t be tamed by man, not really. Not like back home, in Lawrence, or even like their camps along every island the Marine Corps sends them to. Just really, truly wild. Home to no one but itself and those who were there first.

“It sounds nice.” He said.

“Yeah.” Eddie said back.

He downed the rest of his whiskey in one go, picked up his and Andy’s empty glasses and tilted them towards the door. Andy huffed, pushing his chair out and standing up.

“Thought I was the one that made orders.” He said dryly. Eddie smiles, small and barely there, the corner of his mouth ticking up and his eyes brilliantly, brilliantly bright.

“Yeah.” He said, slowly. Like a joke. “Don’t get too used to that, Skip.”

4. i’m so constantly hungry sometimes i feel as if i’m nothing but ache

They traded the cigarette back and forth, and it was gone entirely too quickly.

Andy turned to watch Eddie, just out of the corner of his eye, just like he always did, and watched him stub the smoke out against a rock.

“You did what you had to do.” Andy said softly. 

The sun, still sleeping along the horizon, wasn't showing herself. In her absence, shadows stretched across Eddie's face, making him seem older. Haggard.

“I know.” He said. His voice was quiet, his voice slightly off. He swayed slightly, where he rested on his knees, and scrubbed a hand down his face. 

Andy turned to face him fully. Eddie was close enough that he could reach the hand not covering his eyes easily, tangling their fingers together and linking their pinkies.

“When this is over,” He said, “I'm going to take you to the park just outside my neighborhood, and we can watch the sunset there instead, and not worry about this. About any of this.”

From the way Eddie looked at him, Andy knows he didn't believe him. He still tightened his grip in Andy’s hand.

“Yeah.” He said. His voice was rough, like he'd been crying. He'd given his entrenching tool to Andy – it still had blood and brain matter across the flat edge of it – and wouldn't take it back. They both knew the boys were worried now, about having nightmares. They were having their buddies wake them up every fifteen minutes, so they couldn't fall too deep into it. 

Eddie didn't say anything else, but Andy nodded anyway.

“One day,” He said, “I'm going to take you home. And you don't have to believe it, because I do.”

He went back to watching the sunrise, and smiled when he felt Eddie's chapped lips press to his knuckles.

5. every sentence i try to write starts with you and ends with my heart wanting to burst open, less like gates during a flood and more like a peach growing on the vine. so ripe, so ready for the fall.

“I read the book about Huck Finn, once.” Eddie said, one day, while they led their platoon down a water-swollen, muddy crevice. He was quiet, after that, and Andy looked at him sideways, keeping his eyes on his feet and the treacherous path in front of them. 

“Yeah?” Andy asked, after a moment, to prompt him. Eddie blinked, like he'd forgotten he'd spoken at all, but nodded after a moment.

“Yeah.” He confirmed. “When I was thirteen. It was hard as all hell to read, it took me almost a year to get through the damn thing. But I read it. Was real proud, too. Gettin’ through that big book like that.”

“Yeah.” Andy said, trying to remember anything about the book. He'd read it, what seemed like ages ago, but trying to remember its contents or words was like trying to recall the face of a long gone childhood friend. No memory, only feelings. “Did you like it?”

Eddie was quiet again.

When he finally spoke, his eyes stayed on the ground, boots sinking four or five inches into the mud with every squelching step. “I did.” He said, vague. “But my daddy—” 

He stopped, face doing something complicated, one of his hands twitching on his rifle as if, by habit, to have fingertips ghost along a scar. 

Andy half-turned, looking over his shoulder and counting the helmets behind him. He counted them one more time before turning back again. By the time he did so, Eddie’s expression had smoothed back out, eyes ahead.

“He wasn't as proud that I'd read that book as I was.” He said, quietly. “He didn't — I guess he didn't much like what… what Huck Finn was. Or maybe how Tom Sawyer was. I don't know.” 

Andy was quiet. He didn't say sorry. He knew Eddie hated that. 

“I'll have to read it again sometime.” Is what he said, after a long moment. “So we can talk about it.”

Eddie huffed a soft laugh, and Andy, as always, was angry so quickly it made his head hurt.

He imagined a thirteen-year-old Eddie Jones, reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn whenever and wherever he could, a finger tracking the words and his mouth moving silently around them, working steadily through the pages, sentence by sentence. 

He imagined the kind of father who couldn't be so goddamn proud of his son for that, who wouldn't be able to see much past his own beliefs, like rotting teeth in a crying child's mouth. He felt, rather guiltily, a wave of gratefulness towards his own father at the thought. 

The anger passed as quick as it came. It always did. 

“I'd like that.” Eddie said, and Andy tried to remember what they were talking about, in the split second he'd gone somewhere else. “I'd like to talk about Huck Finn with you.”

Andy wished he could let go of his rifle for just a split second, if not to just knock his knuckles against Eddie's.

“I bet I could scrounge one up by next week.” He said instead, just to see Eddie's mouth curl into a smile, and it would have to be enough.

6. i bring up your name any time i eat black raspberry ice cream with someone who isn’t you.

“I'm a shitty writer.” Eddie began out of nowhere, and Andy looked up from where he was trying to clean clotting sand out of his rifle barrel. Eddie wasn't looking at him, his face turned towards the blood-red sun. 

“You're not so bad.” Andy said. Eddie wasn't, was the thing, for all he pretended to be illiterate. It made boys with similar experiences, like Snafu Shelton, laugh; and boys like Eugene Sledge, with enough money to drown in, uncomfortable. 

It just made Andy smile.

Then again, everything that Eddie did made Andy smile. 

“I can't spell for shit.” Eddie said. “You're the only one that can read my handwriting.” 

That, at least, was true. Andy shrugged.

“I like rewriting your reports.” He said. Eddie waved a hand, dismissive.

“Whatever.” He said. “The letters are always fucking moving around, that’s their fuckin’ problem.” Andy smiled. He looked back down to his rifle and continued to unclog it. “My point is that I can't write a letter to save my life.”

Andy shrugged again, but kept his eyes focused on the rifle stock. “I can write a letter for you, if you want.” He offered. Eddie snorted.

“Nah.” He said. “I'm just… well, I’m glad that we're together, here. You know? Because if we weren't, I'd want to write you a letter, and then you'd just be wondering who in the hell gave their blind chicken a pencil.”

Andy’s chest felt warm, like there was hot coffee spreading throughout his veins, and he huffed. “Your writing isn't that bad.” He said. 

Eddie turned to look back at him, for the first time, and the bright horizon dyed the side of his face a brilliant orange. His lips were twisted into their same ever smile.

“No.” He said. “But I'm glad it doesn't need to get better. I'm glad I have you for that.”

And with that, he went back to watching the sunset and Andy went back to his rifle.

Eddie leaned against him, when it was too dark to do anything but be quiet and sleep. Andy took his hands and pressed his lips to his fingers and thanked God that he was able to translate what they were able to show.

There were no artillery barrages, no death, that night. It felt like God had heard him.

8. do you remember when we went running through the wet city streets late at night, how we glowed rose-pink in the shop-lights. how we held hands and laughed and thought we’d never feel this happy again?

“D’you think he'll be alright?” Andy whispered into the dark, Eddie's curls brushing warmly against his jaw. 

Eddie shifted against him, head resting on Andy’s shoulder, and said, “I don't know.”

Andy stared straight ahead. Both of Eddie's hands were tangled with one of his, and he brought his other hand around to run his index finger along the ridges of the others knuckles. “I've never seen it that bad, before.” He murmured. 

Eddie sighed. It was weary, and heavy, and Andy closed his eyes to the melody of it and thought of their park, the one that Eddie's never even been to. It only helps somewhat.

“What matters,” Eddie said, slowly, like he was waiting for Andy to really understand what he was saying before he continued, “is that you got him off the line. Better for him, better for the other boys.”

Andy lifted their tangled mess of hands from his lap, resting his forehead against them. Eddie shifted against his shoulder to press a kiss to his jawline. 

“Maybe countin’ blankets is like counting sheep.” He said, and Andy leaned further into him. Eddie bore the weight without any effort, but Andy still worried about it being too much. He always worried about it being too much. 

That's what causes combat exhaustion. That's what causes men to break apart and start counting things they couldn't see.

“Eddie.” He said, just to say it, against the back of Eddie's hands, to his calloused fingers and warm skin. Eddie's hands tightened around his.

“I know.” Eddie murmured back. “But it's… it's okay. We're… we're right here, you know? Right here together. Here and in the park and wherever else. It’s okay.” 

Andy didn't say anything. He just turned his head and buried his face in Eddie's hair, rough with ocean spray and curled with humidity.

9. it consumes us.

As Andy turned around, he almost knew what he was doing. The rational part of him knew that no one would be there, just at his shoulder. Not ever again.

Least, no one he could ever know and love the same.

But the rational part of him died two days ago.

So Andy turned around anyway, maybe wanting to say something over his shoulder to someone that wasn’t there, and between one split second and another that never came, he could almost see Eddie over his shoulder, eyes intent and bright. Could almost feel his hand in his.

[harveybwabbit92]

The Dark that sparkles in the light: Ultraman Belial x Afab! Reader

chap 2

Note: (forgive me forgive me for any grammar errors and any missing words I wrote this at almost 12 am and half drunk off of Black Fly. So I was very drowsy!~)

-----------------

"Okay, R/n. You're a big girl you can do this" you say looking at your frazzled reflection which stared back with a skeptical. "who are you kidding?' look as you hid inside your bathroom. It's been a day since you found that weird doll. Belial, as he calls himself at first his presence intrigued you more than it scared you.

You tried ask him questions he'd answer though very reluctantly... You had feeling he liked it better when he thought you were scared of him. You weren't scared just caught off guard! However that soon changed when Belial decided to give your home a remodeling with his mind... Using telekinesis he started tossing things around and chasing you with objects; which how you ended up hiding out in the bathroom for the last (checks your watch) 6hrs... when you noticed it was quiet now, too quiet.

*"Had Belial given up?"* You thought and moved away from the sink and cautiously opened the bathroom door to peeked around for any signs of the 12 inch terror, you swallowed a lump in your throat and slowly opened the door fully and stepped outside to observed the damage around you home, it wasn't too bad actually. All Belial really had really done was move some furniture around and chased you around with a trash can which had spilled all it contents out in the process; leaving a trail of garbage in your hallway.

Speaking of...

When you couldn't see Belial anywhere in the hall you reluctantly made your way to the living room; you froze finding Belial standing near a storage closet staring at his reflection in the long mirror you had hanging on the door. He almost seemed to be in shock? "....Why do I look like this?" (Belial looks like a cross between his early style and his Reiblood form.) he said suddenly causing you to blink. "What?" you say incredulously was...was he not supposed to look like that? You wondered and cautiously stepped out of cover. "Isn't that what you always look like?" Belial's eyes dimmed somberly as he shook his head. "And where is this place?" he asked again you were confused by his questions.

"This is Earth."

"Which Earth?"

"What do you mean which Earth? Is there another Earth I'm not aware of?"

"So, this world hasn't figured out dimensional travel yet? Isn't that Unfortunate."

"Excuse me?" You huffed suddenly feeling insulted as Belial moved away from the mirror. "Who protects this world?" he asks ignoring your agitation. "....I dunno the army, the government?" You say with shrug trying not to lose your temper at the sudden role switch Belial's put into play. "No, I mean against monsters or galactic invaders, you humans always seem to have an organization that deals with them."

You paused thinking for a moment wondering how Belial knew about that? and why he'd want to know about old history?

"There was the SSSP, but they went defunct years ago..." Belial seemed at a loss when you said this. "Defunct, why?" he pressed and all you could do shrug. "There was nothing to fight, ever since they defeated Bemular nothings attacked Earth, so the government shut it down." Belial seemed put off by this. "What about the Ultramen?" You told him there were none since this Earth was clear of monsters not one has ever shown up again.

"My guess is because the peace treaties we have with aliens." You proved a point by turning the TV on the News and the reporters which consisted of a human male and female Alien Fanton they were talking about the recent typhoon that happened a few days ago at least the damage caused by it, but not one word about the strange red lightening phenomenon that brought Belial here.

Weird, maybe you were the only one who saw it? But that didn't seem likely, the news then switch to an outside shot of the street showing more aliens living among humans helping to clean up the debris from the streets and were going about their everyday lives.

Belial didn't know what to feel about this, he was used to seeing humans and aliens going at each others throats, the idea of cohabitation was foreign concept to him, and whats more... He looked down at his hand, what was this pathetic form he was forced into? The last thing he remembered was fighting Geed....Then waking up like this. Then there was you... What was your role in all this, were you the one who did this to him? Belial watched you clean up the trash in the hallway he saw you looking pathetic almost ready to cry trying to wipe something called nail polish off the walls.

*"It's unlikely..."* Belial sighed then tried to grow he focus his energy try picture himself giant, suddenly an energy discharge overtook his body and Belial was hit by a wave of pain. He howled and fell over causing you jump away from the wall and run over to him in a panic! "Hey, Are you okay?" You asked concerned reaching for him only for Belial swipe at your hand. "Don't touch me!" He barked causing you to back off he shuddered as he pulled himself up you were about snap at him and ask what his freaking problem was? until a gurgling noise broke the tension...Belial put his hand on his belly looking very distraught.

"What was that?"

" Uh,....I think it's your stomach."

"But I d-....Why does it make that sound?"

"Cos' You're hungry, when the last time you ate?"

Belial looked at you oddly muttering an "I don't know." You asked if he wanted something to eat again he answered "I don't know." You still hadn't gone grocery shopping since the incident, all you had at the ready was apples, so you cut up a few of those and set them down in from Belial who glared at the plate suspiciously.

You assumed he thought that you poisoned the apples or something so you took one of the slices and ate it just to prove it was safe. After that Belial reluctantly took one of the apple slices, which totally looked like a watermelon wedge in his hands due to his small size.

He took a bite out of it, his eyes brightened up as he quickly ate the entire slice in seconds, You then watched on in awe as Belial proceeded to finish off the entire plate as a red luminescent tongue licked the juice off his hands. "Wash your hands in a sink you animal." You huffed picking him up Belial hissed at you to unhand him as you carried him to the bathroom and made him wash his hands much to his annoyance before hopping off the bathroom counter and going back to the living room to do what you assumed to continue to watch TV .

{pov switch]

While Belial was busy, R/n went clean up all the trash the alien had thrown around during his tantrum, before long it was time for bed but not before R/n went to take a shower; while she was finishing up, the y/ht (your height) woman failed to notice her bathroom door had opened until she pulled the curtain back to see a wide eyed Belial staring up at her. "You're a woman?!" he blurted out stunned before R/n let out an ear piercing scream.

[acourtofthought]

In ACOWAR and at the start of ACOMAF, there were many hints that Feyre was always destined for the Night Court, regardless of her simultaneously falling for and nearly marrying someone in Spring.

I’d painted around the knobs of Elain’s drawer, the crackling flames I’d painted around Nesta’s, and the night sky—whorls of yellow stars standing in for white—around mine

And above that, perched in a frozen mountainous spread of darkness and stars, the sprawling, massive territory of the Night Court. There were things in the shadows between those mountains—little eyes, gleaming teeth. A land of lethal beauty. The hair on my arms rose.

Behind me, a shadow lurked—no, watched. I didn’t dare turn to look at it, to see who might be within that shadow, observing, not as the wolf stared at me across the clearing.

I looked at the pool of glittering starlight and let out a heavy breath. I needed to change the subject. “What would happen if I were to drink the water?” Tamlin straightened a bit—then relaxed, as if glad to release that old sadness. “Legend claims you’d be happy until your last breath.”

Up and up, building to a palace in the sky, a hall of alabaster and moonstone, where all that was lovely and kind and fantastic dwelled in peace. I wept—wept to be so close to that palace, wept from the need to be there. Everything I wanted was there—the one I loved was there—

Celebrating a winter holiday in a place that was permanently entrenched in spring hadn’t done much to improve my general lack of festive cheer.

A night breeze floated through the open windows, ruffling my hair, drying the cold sweat on me. The dark sky beckoned, the stars so dim and small, like speckles of frost.

“Welcome to the Night Court,” was all Rhys said. It was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.

So why is that same setup, only in reverse starting in Night Court yet hinting at Spring, being ignored for Elain?

“I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,” I said, sawing and sawing. “Little roses and begonias and irises.

Nesta hid the devastation well. The frustration. “What can I get you, Elain?” Only with Elain did she use that voice. But Elain shook her head once more. “Sunshine.”

She was a rose bloom in a mud field. Filled with galloping horses. “Don’t be afraid of them,” Nesta said beneath lowered brows. If Elain was a blooming flower in this army camp, then Nesta … she was a freshly forged sword, waiting to draw blood.

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. THE ONLY bridge of connection … that knife.

Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green—the light, vibrant green of new grass—so many birds singing and such warm, buttery sunshine

But Elain … The Spring Court had been made for someone like her. Too bad her sister refused to see her. Nesta would have told Elain to visit this place.

Her sister’s delicate scent of jasmine and honey lingered in the red-stoned hall like a promise of spring, a sparkling river that she followed to the open doors of the chamber.

In ACOTAR, once Tamlin allows her to see, hear and smell what he does, the first scent of Springs magic that Feyre notes is jasmine.

Elain in black was ridiculous

the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her.

but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.

Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball,

Thanks to @acourtdelaluna for inspiring this post ❤️

[middleearthpixie]

After the Fire ~ Chapter Thirty-Six

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield. 

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done. 

The council continues their questions, only now it’s Thorin in the hot seat…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Thorin, Balin, Thadrid, Nafas, Dáin, Skalmar, Dís 

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 4,027

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @ggfamert @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @quiall321 @frosticenow @dianakc

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Thorin let his mind wander as he idly swept his fingers along the auburn silk of Jasna’s untamed curls. Her head rested against his chest, her fingers gentle as they skittered across his skin. Lying there in the warm grass with her, with the sun upon them, was the most peace he’d known in years. The warm breeze danced along them, rustled the leaves overhead and the grass upon which they lay, the soft rush of the river sounded in the distance, and she no longer seemed troubled by what she’d said to the council. Good. He didn't want her to dwell on it any more than she absolutely had to and as far as he was concerned, if the worst-case scenario happened, they would find a home in Ered Luin, or somewhere else, and he’d make certain they found time to lie entangled in each other in a sun drenched field or yard. It had a way of making problems seem very distant.

Her fingers slowed as she murmured, “Thorin?”

“Mmmm?”

“What are you thinking about?”

He smiled although she couldn't see it. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She stirred, lifting her head to gaze upon him with sleepy green eyes. “Try me.”

“I was watching the way the sunlight plays along your hair. It almost changes color depending on that light, from dark red to brilliant copper and there are so many shades between.” He swept his fingers along her cheek, tucking several long curls behind her ear. “It reminds me of fire, the way the light dances and the strands go from gold to russet.”

A hint of color rose along her cheekbones even as she offered up something of a shy smile. “You were looking at my hair.”

“I told you you wouldn’t believe me.” He caressed her cheek, her skin so soft and smooth beneath his rough fingertips. “And I was also thinking how nice this is, how peaceful. I just like laying here with you, enjoying the way you feel against me, the peace and the quiet and it’s been a lifetime since I’ve had either.”

Her eyes softened as they met his. “If I could, I would give you back all you’ve lost.”

“You already have, amrâlimê,” he murmured, his fingers slipping into her hair, the silken strands warm against his skin. “I care not what the council decides. It matters not. This is what matters to me now, and what will matter to me tomorrow and the rest of my days.”

“Thorin, I would not ask you to give up—”

“You’ve not asked me to give anything up,” he told her, shaking his head. “I’ve been both a king and a nobody. One is no better than the other and both have their good and bad points. But I am not about to let a group of dwarves who have no idea tell me who I can or cannot spend my life with. I didn't come this far, I didn't survive all of this, for that to happen, for them to tell me which woman is acceptable. I can decide that for myself.

“Besides,” he smiled as he gently eased her onto her back and covered her, “there is always the chance you’re pregnant. I mean, unless your courses have come since you’ve been here and I just don’t know about it.”

“Was I supposed to tell you?”

“No. Not unless you were late. And then, I’d hope you’d tell me because you wanted to, not because you felt you were supposed to.”

“You needn’t worry, dwarf,” she said softly, tracing her forefinger along his jaw. “When the time comes you’re to be a father, I will absolutely tell you. But as of right now?” She shook her head. “I’m not pregnant.”

“In time, I suppose. It will come soon enough.”

“Mahal willing, as you’d say,” she told him with a mischievous grin.

He just gazed down at her. Did she have any idea how beautiful she was? Somehow, he didn't think so. She so often failed to see just what she offered to the world, and he wished he had some way to prove it to her, to convince her she was so much more than she seemed to think. 

“I love you,” he said simply, fighting the urge to close his eyes as she continued stroking the curve of his chin. 

“And I love you.”

“Then no more foolish talk about you asking me to give up anything,” he said, letting his lips brush hers.

“Thorin?”

Balin’s voice floated across the field and Thorin smiled as he eased off Jasna and got to his feet. “Let me see what I’m needed for.”

She looked up. “I’ll give you three guesses, but you’ll only need one.”

“Don’t look so worried. I’ve faced things far more frightening than a group of crochety dwarves.” He winked. “Stay right here. I’ll let you know if I’m being summoned.”

With that, he turned and started down the gentle slope toward Balin, who shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but the council has requested your presence.”

Thorin sighed, glancing over his shoulder up toward Jasna, who got to her feet and started toward them. It had been such an idyllic afternoon, one he hated to see end, especially this way. “I’ll have you know, you’ve interrupted a very peaceful moment for us.”

“Thorin, it’s a great risk you’re taking. Out in the open?”

“Far enough away from prying eyes,” Thorin told him sternly. “More or less. And besides, we did nothing, so there’s no risk this time around.”

“This time around.” Balin let out a wry chuckle, but then his smile faded and his countenance grew serious. “Tell me, does the council know you’ve been sleeping with her?”

He shook his head. “It is none of their business with whom I have relations.”

“They might not see it that way.”

“Balin, I love her. I intend to wed her. Whether we are intimate now or wait until then has no  bearing on anything and it changes nothing.” Thorin glanced toward Erebor. “Have they said what they wish to see me for?”

“A few more questions they wish to ask you.”

“How did it go with Óin and Narnerra?”

“They think highly of the lass and outlined all of the reasons why. And I think that will help her.”

Jasna crested the hill then, a hint of color in her cheeks as she joined them and slipped her arm through his. “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything im-im-important.”

“The council wishes to see me.” Thorin turned to her to find her gazing up at him with worried eyes. “Wipe that look from your face, amrâlimê. All will be well in the end.”

Although she smiled, doubt swirled in her eyes, and as much as he wished he could absolutely guarantee everything would be just fine, the truth was, he could promise nothing of the sort. He had no idea how this was going to end. And while he’d made his peace with his decision, should the council refuse to grant an amendment to the law, that didn't mean he was happy with it entirely. He’d worked so hard to retake Erebor, had very nearly given his own life for the cause, and to lose it for something like wanting an archaic law updated didn't sit well with him.

But, as he reached down to cup Jasna’s cheek with one hand, he knew he’d made the right decision, should it come down to it. 

With that, he reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. Hers tightened about his and when he met her eyes again, he saw the fear swirling through those beautiful irises. With a slight shake of his head, he murmured, “Everything will be fine, mesmel. Trust me.”

“I wish I could be as sure as you. But I’m scared, Thorin.”

“You’ve no need to be.” He gave a gentle tug on her arm and as she came up against his side, he released her hand to ease that arm about her shoulders. “I promise you, you don’t.”

They made their way back to Erebor and just outside the War Room, he paused and turned to Jasna. “Go and do whatever you would be doing on a normal day. I’ll come find you when I’m finished and I’ll see you back home. Balin, if I’m held up and it starts to grow dark, see Jasna home for me?”

“You know I will, laddie. And I’ll take Dwalin for extra muscle.”

Thorin smiled. “Good.” He turned back to Jasna, then bent to capture her lips in soft kiss. She curved a hand against his cheek, her fingers gentle as they moved over his beard. When she pulled back, he whispered, “Everything will be just fine.”

She didn't respond, but stepped back as the door opened and Dáin poked his head out. “Are ye goin’ ta grace us with yer presence, Cousin?”

“I’m coming.”

“Not tha’ I blame ye.” Dáin looked over at her and winked. “I’d rather be kissin’ a pretty girl as well.”

“Hush,” Thorin punched him in the shoulder, “and mind yourself.”

Dáin chuckled as he backed into the War room and Thorin took a deep breath, then followed him. The council said nothing as Dáin came around to return to his chair and Thorin moved to stand before them. “You wished to see me again?”

“We did,” Thadrid replied with a slow nod, tapping his pen against the table. “There were a few more questions we had for you.”

“Well,” Thorin looked from one face to the other, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, “I am listening.”

“Why do you feel we should allow this amendment to be written, why we should do away with a law that has served us well for centuries?” Skalmar asked, folding his hands to rest them on the table.

“Why? Because I feel the king has earned the right to choose his own bride, regardless of the circumstances of her birth. We trust the king to make all types of decisions, most of which will in some way affect everyone in Erebor, or every clan in Middle Earth. And yet, you do not trust me to make this one personal decision? The one decision that I would never make lightly, nor would I make impulsively and you are concerned I might be what? Under an enchantment of sorts? That I might be being coerced or blackmailed or something equally nefarious? So tell me, why is my judgment being called into question now, over this?

“The law should be changed because it’s outdated and unnecessary. And just because it is old and has been around for centuries doesn’t by default make it a good law. When called upon, Jasna Stoneham put aside her own training, her own feelings about dwarves—whatever they may have been—put aside her own losses and tragedies, to help us. Because of her, I am here. Because of her, my nephew Fíli is walking under his own power. Because of her, Kíli survived his first night in the infirmary. And that is not me exaggerating. That is the truth.”

“And you think that she deserves to the Queen of Erebor as a result? Do you see it as something she is owed?”

“Of course not,” Thorin told him with an emphatic shake of his head. “That’s ridiculous. Do you take me for so great a fool that you think I would base a decision as permanent and binding as marriage on so asinine a reason?”

“Tell us about Miss Whitbow,” Nafas broke in, “and why she is no longer deserving of the promise you made to her?”

“Because I made no promise to her at all. She and I were never officially betrothed. I hadn’t proposed to her. We weren’t even a couple. She is a close friend of my younger sister, and over time, became a friend of mine as well.”

“But,” Skalmar glanced down at the parchment before him, “she was under the impression you would propose to her. And you would have, had the quest to retake Erebor not been dropped in your lap. Isn’t that correct?”

Thorin hesitated. They would no doubt use his answer against him, but if he lied, they might have asked Miss Whitbow the same question and then they would know he lied to them, which would also work against him.

He glanced over at Dáin, and then as the dwarves at the opposite end of the table, dwarves whose names he did not know off the top of his head, and nodded slowly. “Yes. I believe I would have. But, it would be moot, for Ered Luin is not Erebor and I was not king.”

“How would you describe the nature of your relationship with the dwarrowdam you’d planned to marry originally?”

He narrowed his eyes as Thadrid. “We were friends. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Friends, you say. So, there was never any physical contact between the two of you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Physical contact. You know,” Thadrid smiled, “a hug, a kiss…”

“Yes, there was. But—”

“To what extent?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You said she was a friend and your exact words were we were friends. Nothing more and nothing less. Isn’t that right?”

“It is, but—”

“So, to what extent was your contact with her?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Did you hug her? Kiss her?”

“I might have.”

“Did you have intimate relations with her?”

Thorin knew what Thadrid fished for, and with a smile, he said, “Why do you wish to know?”

“Answer the question, if you don’t mind?”

“I did nothing with her beyond an occasional hug.”

Thadrid’s smirk told Thorin the dwarf didn't believe him. “Is that so?”

“It is. You can ask her and she will tell you the same. As I said, she was a friend of my sister’s, a friend of my family.”

“And what about you and Miss Stoneham? Have you engaged in physical contact with her? Hugs? Kisses? Handholding?”

“I have, yes. I’m in love with her. It’s only natural I should want to touch her.”

“And to what extent was that contact? Since you claim you are in love with her?”

“Claim it? Aye, I do claim it, because I am.”

“So, to what extent is your contact with her?”

“That has no bearing on—”

“And have you and Miss Stoneham engaged in intimate relations?”

He went still, his gut kinking despite the fact he wholeheartedly anticipated being asked this. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Have you?”

“It is none of your business if she and I have or haven’t engaged in anything. And that has no bearing on the archaic and frankly insulting nature of that foolish law.”

“Thorin,” exasperation wove through Thadrid’s voice, his pen going still, “have you slept with the girl or not?”

He looked from Dáin to the others, and then, with a low sigh, nodded. “I have, yes.”

“I see.” Thadrid’s thin lips disappeared as he pressed them together and resumed tapping his pen. 

Skalmar and Nafras both looked surprised by this admission, and somewhat horrified by it as well. Thorin held their stares easily as he added, “I love her. She is my One.”

“A dwarrow’s One is never anything other than a dwarrowdam,” Nafras replied shortly.

“Nonsense,” Thorin said flatly. “She is mine. And I’ve known it from the first time I touched her. From the first time she touched me, the first time her hand brushed my shoulder, stroked my hair. She calmed me when I was but a hairsbreadth from death, comforted me when the pain became unbearable and the nightmares made sleeping impossible. She listened to me even when I did no more than offer up a litany of complaints. She cared for me and continues to do so to this day. Jasna is my One. And as far as I am concerned, she is my wife, and she became so the first night she and I were together. And I care not that the law does not consider her worthy of me. The law is wrong. I am not worthy of her.”

He wished he had some way to capture the looks of utter surprise on each face, including Dáin’s. And as he took in those looks of surprise, he smiled and chuckled, saying, “Why do you stare at me that way? You’ve met her. You’ve heard her. And you are mad if you do not see for yourself what I see.”

Dáin cleared his throat. “I dinna need any time ta think on this. My vote is ta change the law. I’ve seen Miss Stoneham at work. I’ve seen our kin scream at her and insult her and she doesna think twice about healing them just the same. I’ve seen her with Thorin, when he was first brought inta the infirmary, along with those lads who fought alongside him and fell alongside him. I’ve seen her with him now, and yer mad if ye think she’d no’ make a fine queen.”

Thorin looked over at Dáin and offered up a subtle nod of thanks. Then, he looked back to others, only to find them all unreadable. Thadrid tapped his pen against the back of his hand. “You may go now. We will let you know when we’ve made our decision, but know this, I am not compelled to vote in favor of changing the law. I think you are being reckless, Thorin Durin, and thinking with the wrong head where Miss Stoneham is concerned.”

“You’re wrong,” Thorin told him flatly. “I’ve rushed into nothing. I’ve been reckless about many things, but not this. And I regret nothing. You vote as you see fit. But you are wrong, Thadrid. Very, very wrong. Excuse me then, and I’ll leave you to your deliberations.”

He turned and strode from the room without a look back, but once the door closed behind him, he sighed and swore softly beneath his breath. Now he understood why Jasna was so convinced she’d ruined everything. 

At the end of the corridor, he rounded the corner and there, he stopped and sank against the wall, his head back, his eyes closed. Life was much simpler back in Ered Luin. Harder in some ways, but there, no one would have thought twice about his courting Jasna. No one would have cared if he married her. 

Once more, retaking Erebor tried him to his core, only this time, it wasn’t his life that was in danger. Just his throne.

Just his throne.

He pushed away from the wall and made his way up to the great room. He didn't care how long the council took. He didn’t care if they ever came to a decision. He’d done all he could and now it was out of his hands.

Dís was in her usual chair in the far corner of the Great Room, her embroidery hoop in one hand, needle throwing off flashes of light as she poked it through the linen. She looked up as he came into the room, lowering the hoop. “Thorin? What is it?”

“The council is deliberating on whether or not I am fit enough to chose my own bride and whether or not she is fit enough to be considered such.” He stumped over to the chair alongside hers, on the other side of the small, two-tiered table where a goblet of wine stood. “And I think I made a mistake in telling them I’ve slept with her.”

She offered up a long look very similar to one he’d seen from their mother when he was much younger and he and Frerin had gotten into some sort of mischief. And accompanying it was her, “Mahal, why would you admit such a thing? And why did you feel the need to tell me?”

He shot her a look. “You asked.”

“I didn't ask that.” She set the hoop on the table behind the goblet. “Why would you tell them something so personal?”

“They asked me.” He sank into the chair with a low groan, leaning his head back against the worn velvet. “I could have lied, but that would have made me feel as if I was shamed by what I’ve done with Jasna and I’m not. I feel no shame at all. It felt right. It feels right.”

“Thorin, I do not want to hear any of this. Spare me, if you’d not mind.”

“Dís,” he turned his head toward her, “I love her. And I’m not going to hide that, or be embarrassed by it. They asked, so I told them and somehow, I’ve the feeling they already knew and maybe they expected me to lie. I don’t know. I don’t care. I’m not hiding this.”

She sighed softly. “Do you think they will hold it against you?”

“Honestly? Yes,” he nodded, “I do. I think they will absolutely hold it against me.”

“And if you had to do it again, would you lie about it?”

“No.”

“Then you did the right thing.” 

He let his eyes close. “It would be far easier if Thráin were here. I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“If ’Adad was here, this would be a nonissue because he would never allow a daughter of Man to marry into this family, either.”

His initial response was to argue with her, to tell her that of course he’d accept Jasna, that she would have won him over in time. But the truth was, Dís was right. Their father would have never approved a match between the future king of Erebor and a daughter of man. He would never have allowed Jasna to set foot within Erebor’s walls in the first, no matter how desperately they might have needed her skills. A low sigh leaked thorough his teeth. “You’re probably right.”

“But, you don’t know that the council will vote to keep the law as it’s written, either. Especially since you’ve already consummated your relationship with Jasna. And it doesn’t have to be a unanimous vote, remember. A simple majority is all you need.”

“I suppose I’ll know soon enough.”

“And you are ready to live with whatever they decide?”

He nodded. “I am. Jasna and I have discussed it and I’m at peace either way.” 

“And how does she feel?”

“What?”

“You heard me. How does she feel about what you’ve decided?”

“She insists she does not wish to be the reason I abdicate, if it comes to that. She fears I’ll come to resent her in time.”

A small furrow appeared between Dís’ dark brows. “And what did you tell her?”

“What do you think I’ve told her? Dís, if the choice comes down to the crown and throne of Erebor, and being forced to marry a woman I don’t love versus giving up said crown and throne and marrying Jasna? I will give this up for her.”

“You are certain of that?”

“More certain than I’ve been about any other decision I’ve made in a long time.” He sighed softly as he rose from his chair. “If anyone needs me, too bad. I’m going to see Jasna home. I think I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.”

He didn't wait for Dís to answer, but crossed the Great Room to the infirmary, where he paused in the doorway as he spied Jasna with Salig, who was one of the dwarves injured in the forges. She looked up as if having felt his gaze alight on her, and as she did, she smiled, tucked a wayward curl behind one ear, and ducked back to Salig and whatever it was he was saying. Thadrid was mad in his thinking. Jasna was what Erebor needed in a queen and even if she wasn’t, Thorin knew she was what he needed. And that was not about to change any time soon, regardless of what the council decided. 

[christian-perspectives]

Trust The Lord, For He Still Rules

I trust in the Lord for protection. Psalm 11:1 Has a trusted friend ever given you good advice, but it just didn't feel right to you? In Psalm 11, David received that type of advice, probably from a close advisor. We don't have a clear historical setting of the event David faced in this Psalm. But he followed up his comment in this verse by repeating the advice he had received. So why do you say to me, "Fly like a bird to the mountains for safety! Psalm 11:1 I'm sure this advisor gave him sound advice, but it just didn't sit well with David. Even in his youth, he chose to face danger instead of running from it. Look at what he told King Saul. But David persisted. "I have been taking care of my father's sheep and goats," he said. "When a lion or a bear comes to steal a lamb from the flock, I go after it with a club and rescue the lamb from its mouth. If the animal turns on me, I catch it by the jaw and club it to death. 1 Samuel 17:34-35 Young David wanted to convince Saul to let him go up against Goliath. When Goliath saw the Israelites send a boy out, laughing, he vowed to kill him. But David didn't face the giant alone. David replied to the Philistine, "You come to me with sword, spear, and javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of Heaven's Armies—the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. 1 Samuel 17:45

Our Enemies Prepare for Battle

In the second verse, David acknowledged the wickedness of his enemies and their preparations for battle. He also revealed their battle plan. The wicked are stringing their bows and fitting their arrows on the bowstrings. They shoot from the shadows at those whose hearts are right. Psalm 11:2 In plain words, he told us that wicked people will try to destroy the righteous. David, however, repeatedly put his total trust in God, as we can see in these other Psalms. - End the evil of those who are wicked, and defend the righteous. For you look deep within the mind and heart, O righteous God. God is my shield, saving those whose hearts are true and right. Psalm 7:9-10 - You have rebuked the nations and destroyed the wicked; you have erased their names forever. Psalm 9:5 - The wicked think, "God isn't watching us! He has closed his eyes and won't even see what we do!" Arise, O Lord! Punish the wicked, O God! Do not ignore the helpless! Psalm 10:11-12 - Light shines on the godly, and joy on those whose hearts are right. Psalm 97:11 The wicked one still hunts the children of God. He still shoots his arrows from the shadows; yes, the shadows called sin. But like David, we too, can keep our trust in the Lord. David faced his enemies and fought them with swords and spears. He often overtook them or sent them on the run. Unlike him, we fight an unseen enemy. For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. Ephesians 6:12

Don't Fear the Enemy, Trust the Lord

The shadows our enemy hides in are called deceit and deception. And trying to fight him on your own only spells disaster. The Lord provides His armor for our use when we trust Him. A final word: Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on all of God's armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil. Ephesians 6:10-11 As we continue to examine Psalm 11, we come to a pivotal verse not only for David but also for us. But the Lord is in his holy Temple; the Lord still rules from heaven. He watches everyone closely, examining every person on earth. Psalm 11:4 Someone once said, "Has it occurred to you that nothing ever occurs to God?" We can trust Him and know that the Lord sees everything we do and everything done to us. When something happens to you, good or bad, God doesn't say, "I'm sorry, I didn't see that." No! He closely watches everything about everyone. That includes you! In his first epistle, Peter told us to give all our worries and cares to God. In other words, trust Him because the Lord cares about you. Continuing in Psalm 11, look what else David said. In verse 5, he says, "The Lord examines both the righteous and the wicked." Then, he divided the two groups, describing how the Lord felt about them. First, he mentioned the wicked. He hates those who love violence. He will rain down blazing coals and burning sulfur on the wicked, punishing them with scorching winds. Psalm 11:5-6 I wouldn't want to fill the shoes of anyone in that type of love/hate relationship, especially with those consequences. They sound somewhat like eternal hell. Finally, he talks about the virtuous.

The Lord Loves Justice

For the righteous Lord loves justice. The virtuous will see his face. Psalm 11:7 Let's define the word virtuous. The dictionary says that a virtuous person conforms to moral and ethical principles. One person defined it like this; "Virtuous is "good" with a halo." Even though it differed from ours in many ways, David's life also had many similarities. David had enemies; we have an enemy. Wicked people surrounded him; they surround us, too. David might have been tempted to run, but like him, where would we run to? David knew how to trust the Lord. We too, can put our total trust in the Lord as well. Lord, we trust you because you closely watch over our every move. As you rule from your throne, thank you for protecting us from the wicked one. Check out these related posts about putting your trust in the Lord. - When Out of Your Comfort Zone, Trust God - How to Trust God in Difficult Circumstances - Put Your Trust In The Lord - Trust In The Lord, He Will Never Fail You - Don't Worry About Tomorrow - How To Trust God When You've Had Enough Read the full article

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (446): Tue 6th Jun 2023

Up fairly early this morning as I had to take my bike over to BDS in North Shields for it's annual six month servicing. This is the kind of stuff automobile owners normally consider an inconvenience but I don't mind it because it gets me out of the house and I like pottering around North Shields while I wait for the work to be done. For someone who loves to people watch so much having a bike is ideal because you can have a little wander and try to find new and interesting places then not have to worry about getting trains or buses when you've had enough. I might start picking a random location (within a reasonable distance from my home) then looking for local cafes nearby and spending the afternoon there in order to get out there and expand my horizons a bit. I dropped off the bike and headed into town, stopping off at a cafe to read more of my book Resurrection Men by Ian Rankin. I've been hearing the name Ian Rankin for a while but this is the first book of his that I've ever read. I'll be honest, the fact that every single charity shop you go into there are normally about three or four Ian Rankin books has always led me to believe that the books aren't that good or else why would so many people be giving them away? Unfortunately by skepticism prove d to be well founded because this book is quite boring and I found myself skim reading before long. My main takeaway was how shockingly bad the dialogue is in this book. Here are a few examples: Rebus: People keep calling him my friend Siobhan: He’s not? Rebus: Take away the r and you’re getting close Siobhan: The evidence is pretty thin isn’t it? Rebus: Thin? You could use it as a pizza topping This is the kind of dialogue I'd expect to find in the 1960's Batman TV show not a crime novel from 2005. I'll press on but I'm already looking forward to finishing this one as fast as I can and moving on to the next one. While I was sat in a pub with a non-alcoholic Koperburg I got a call from BDS saying that the bike was sorted an hour ahead of schedule so I headed back. After I'd thanked the guy for his work he told me that whoever had fitted my new chain had done it wrong because the rear tire was completely out of line with the front tire. Typical, just when I think I've befriended someone who knows their shit and can help me out when I'm in a jam it turns out that he can't even fit a tire back on. Well anyway at least it's fixed now and should be good to go until at least September for it's next servicing. Once I got home I chilled and (skim) read my book for a while before showering and picking out an outfit as I had a gig tonight in the form of KISS! I saw these legends in 2017 but that gig was somewhat marred by the fact that I had to  travel five hours down to London in a fucking heatwave to see them. Luckily this time they were kind enough to put on a gig at an arena only a few miles from my home so I couldn't exactly pass on the chance to bid farewell to them. I wanted to wear my red leather jacket but it's been a while since I've taken it out of the wardrobe and it appears to have been ravaged by moths (interesting band name) so I had to wear a different leather jacket as well. The good news being that this jacket is normally too small for me to fit into but this time around it fit just fine meaning that this diet has actually worked. The doors opened at half 7 but they were being supported by a couple of local bands and I didn't want to spend an hour politely applauding a bunch of chancers so I went to Five Guys for a veggie sandwich while I listened to Chris Jericho talk to the producers of Dark Side of the Ring about the upcoming season. After I finished my food I headed off to the arena, took to my seat and was delighted to see that I had arrived just after the support acts had ended and the real show was about to start. The lights dimmed, the big KISS Army logos on the curtains were illuminated and a booming voice came over the speakers proclaiming "Newcastle: You wanted the best? You got the best! The hottest band in the world: KISS!". I joined my fellow Geordie Kiss Army members in welcoming them to the North East one last time and over the next two hours was treated to some of my favourite KISS songs including Detroit Rock City, Shout It Out Loud, Lick It Up, God Of Thunder, I Was Made For Loving You & Rock And Roll All Nite. As happy as I was to be in the presence of one of the most iconic bands of all time for one last hurrah I was aware that there seemed to be a bit of lip synching and possibly even "instrument synching" going on because throughout the show the singers lips (especially Gene's) weren't correlating with the lyrics and it didn't look like Paul Stanley's fingers were anywhere near the guitar. Also Paul Stanley's singing voice sounded the same here as it did back in the 70s. How's that even possible? He's seventy one years old for Christ's sake. Even though there may have been some foul play and trickery going on I didn't let it bother me because just the fact that I was seeing them was enough for me. I really wish I’d gotten into KISS when I was a kid rather than my late teens because my childhood would have been a lot more fun but better late than never right? I know that in many ways KISS are a ridiculous band but when they first emerged the idea of a band being about more than just the music was unheard of then. Before KISS a musician was someone who stood still on a stage strumming a guitar and singing song after song. KISS were some of the first to adopt on stage characters and have their performances be accompanied by effects and pyrotechnics. I know these are seen as gimmicks by music snobs but I think it's a case of a band wanting to give the audience their money's worth and make that band seem larger than life. This was an amazing gig and as the band belted out Rock N Roll All Nite one last time while confetti emptied from the ceiling I joined them in singing until my vocal chords hurt but it was worth it in order to thank the band for all they've contributed to my life and to music in general. This gig was a little bittersweet because although I was having a blast in the back of my mind I was constantly aware this was the final time I would be rocking out with the hottest band in the world. As the band left the stage for the final time I felt sad but also happy that I got to see them in my neck of the woods. RIP KISS. 1973 - 2023 (or until one of them gets a big tax bill they need to pay off)

[crowsandmurder]

I posted 925 times in 2022

That's 920 more posts than 2021!

221 posts created (24%)

704 posts reblogged (76%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mayxthexforce

@multistoty

@bchemianrhapscdy

@swsource

@hayden-christensen

I tagged 899 of my posts in 2022

Only 3% of my posts had no tags

#✖  [character: anakin skywalker] - 377 posts

#✖ [padme] - 174 posts

#multixfandomxmadness - 154 posts

#✖  [character: darth vader] - 142 posts

#v: jedi knight [around aotc] - 112 posts

#✖  [meme] - 100 posts

#anakin  ✖ (photos) - 80 posts

#✖ [sabé] - 77 posts

#v: i am what you made me [darth vader] - 77 posts

#multistoty - 67 posts

Longest Tag: 112 characters

#but he did have one random thread that has led to like his biggest ship i have for him and it's not with a padme

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Anakin was more than ready to finish all the trials, to finally be given all the responsibilities.  He had more than proven he could handle himself time and time again. How many times had he bailed Obi-Wan out of trouble? He had saved him time and time again, but he felt that his master and even the council sometimes, were holding him back.  They didn’t even know everything he’d been through..the nightmares he had.  There were battles, but he did his best to be the best Jedi he could..no matter how difficult it could be, at times. Being a Jedi was never easy.  It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he was meditating this morning, and he could feel someone watching him.

        Opening an eye with a raised eyebrow, he spoke, “You know, it’s not polite to watch someone and not say anything at all.”

19 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

#4

[ Continued from HERE -- > @bchemianrhapscdy​ ]

Gazing up into his eyes, Padme could feel how her heart started to beat faster. It was something she felt for him to. knowing she could never feel the same for anything else what she felt for him. It seemed foolish, to fall for the first guy that had crossed her path. But ten years had passed, and the little boy she had adored and cared for so much had become a man. Someone who knew what he wanted, and that he would be fighting for it. He was brave, far braver than she could ever be. And the way he had charmed himself right into her heart so quickly was frightening. Still, Padme knew to love was to get hurt. Maybe not now, maybe not anytime soon. But one day. Both were living a dangerous life, not to mention what they did was forbidden too. But their love was stronger than that. And she knew she would do anything for him.

“This is our language. To impress our love.” her hands moved up, softly cupping his face. “I know that we will survive everything. Together. Even when dark times are coming our way. We will stay together.” she smiled. No matter what the future hold for them.

Anakin knew that the darker times were coming, that as much as he wanted to fight the fact that they were coming, they were. He and Padme had spent as much time hiding away from the world since their wedding as they could, but tomorrow, he had to go back to Coruscant.  He had his Jedi Knight trials, the day after tomorrow. He had also heard rumblings that if he passed, he would be made a General and given an army of Clones.  He felt like he had been a Padawan forever, and now, he was looking at possibly being a General?  When he had brought Padme back to Naboo a couple of weeks ago, things had been different. They had been in love, but it was different. Now, they were married.  

They both knew he had to leave the next day, but had been trying not to think about it. He had told 3PO and R2, to leave them alone for the night. He wanted to spend the evening with his wife, and only his wife.  He leaned into her touch and he closed his eyes.

“I know we will, my angel.  We will always be together, even when we are apart. Know that I will try to get back to you, as often as I can, and when I am in Coruscant, I will spend as many nights with you, as I can. I can’t imagine being apart from you at all, after the time we’ve spent here. It’s been completely amazing, spending time in Naboo, falling in love, getting married, the time since then, everything we’ve done since then, even the things we have done outside of the bedroom, or shall I say, the things that involved clothes? We didn’t always stay in the bedroom. These past few weeks have been the best of my entire life.” 

See the full post

20 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

#3

@lethalwound​ 

      Anakin had been fairly quiet on the ride back to Naboo, to escort Senator Amidala home.  Why he was even referring to her as Senator Amidala in his head was beyond him. She was Padme. ​She had been Padme, since he was a boy, when she was letting her decoy be Queen, and she was playing the role of handmaiden. But, that was so long ago.  They had been through so much together, recently.  He had been tasked to protect her from being killed.  She had been there for him, when his mother died, and they had faced death together in that arena in Geonosis.  He would never forget her words, before they went into that arena.  “I truly, deeply love you.”   After that, everything had turned to chaos.  There was the arena, the battle, the fight with Dooku, which cost him his arm.  He sat here now, slightly flexing it, able to feel some sensations, but they had said he’d feel more, over time

     Once they arrived back at the lake house in Varykino, he saw her start to grab her luggage and he stopped her.  “I can still carry luggage, milady.”  He didn’t know why he was being so formal, again. Maybe it was because, he was worried that it had all been a dream, that she didn’t really love him.  She had fallen asleep on the ride back here, and this was the first time they were actually alone, other then Threepio and R2, of course.  Taking them up to her room, he was about to put his own in the guest room, when he saw her, a vision of beauty always.

      “You are so beautiful. I’m just going to put my bag in the other room and you’d like to be alone, just tell me. I don’t know where we stand after the other day. My missing arm kind of derailed us.”  

28 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#2

I’m not a droid // Vader & Sabé

@multixfandomxmadness

t’d been 8 years or so, since Anakin Skywalker, turned to the dark side, since he had truly become Darth Vader.  The duel with Obi-Wan was harsh.  He had his times that he had him, but unfortunately, his master had gotten the best of him. His master had managed to wound him in a way that could and should have been a mortal wound for many.  But, his midichlorians and the dark side kept him alive.  He had burn scars all over, a few on his face, and sometimes, he did have to wear a helmet, to help him breathe. It wasn’t all the time. Sometimes, he could go without it for several days, sometimes longer, sometimes, only hours. But, he had embraced the dark side, once he found out that Padme had not survived.  He had sworn his fealty to the Sith Lord before that, only to save her life. He hadn’t wanted to do what he did to all of the children and others, but it was for her.  But then, it had all gone wrong, and he had accidentally killed her.

As the years went on, more and more of the dark side had seeped into his pores, as he became more Darth Vader and less Anakin Skywalker.  Very few knew his true reality, because he was never without his armored suit, in public.  It was a statement, a statement of power.  But today, he was out Jedi hunting again. Sometimes, he actually took to the streets, his dark cloak behind him, looking for Obi-Wan.  

He sensed something behind him, the force. He did not have time for inquisitors now.  But, then he heard chatter. Wait, were their children arguing if he was a droid?  He whirled around, looking at them, thinking about drawing his lightsaber but thought better of it, still feeling the force coming off of them. Normally, he’d have killed them automatically. 

“I..am..not..a..droid. Should you all be off playing and harassing someone else? You all could be droids, for all I know.” 

39 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

EVERYONE is all over Hayden now talking about how he is THE ANAKIN SKYWALKER and THE DARTH VADER.   Some of us remember that’s not how you all were before.  Some of us remember the hate.  Some of us have loved Hayden as Anakin since BEFORE Attack of the Clones.  

Love all the Hayden love but maybe y’all never should have shit talked Hayden to begin with?

66 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nityarawal]

10/22/22

"Angel's Truth"

Morning Songs

I Just Found Out,

My Uncle Was Attacked,

By His

Stepson In Maui!

Why Do Cops

Allow Such Grooming,

He Came From France,

A Product Of Estrangement!

His Mom Fled A

Violent Man, And

Came Back To America!

Almost 50 Years

Ago!

She Died Of ALS,

In Mikael's Arms,

Nearly 10 Years Ago!

She Deeded Her Son A

Piece Of Her Land

To Caretake For Her

First Firstborn,

In Final Days!

When Kids And I Visited,

2 Months Before,

She Danced, Did Yoga,

Painted Everyday!

She Watched Us Swim

In Crystal Pools,

Loved Us Like Mamma

And Grandma,

Played Chess With

Children,

Portrayed Them,

Little Faeries,

In Oil Paintins',

Maui Landscapes

Indigenous Divine!

Lahaina Galleries!

Ohhh….

How Could Mikael,

Have Such A Mother?

Compared to Blessed

Mary?

She Could Stop

Crimes!

How Could Such A

Divine Women

Bare A Son

To Be Suspect 

Of Murder?

What Drugs Did His

French Father Groom

Him On?

Mr. Pharisien,

To Be A Mean Monster;

Troll, Militia, Who Beats

Elderly?

Vomiting, Too Sick

To "Testify" In Court!

Was He Dosed On Meth,

Heroin, Or Fentanyl?

Will Cops "Suicide" 

Him, Like Other

5 

With An Epi Pen,

To Hide Lies?

Maui Jails

Are Having Hollocaust!

(We See You From Afar!)

I Love You

I'm Sorry

Forgive Me

Thankyou

Please- Ono Pono

Hawaiian Prayers!

Empathy!

Why Does Government

Allow Such In-House

Grooming? So Many

Boys' Abused To Murder-

Moms' Have No Control

In French Courts,

Or America!

It's A Global Issue!

No- Not Just #Iran

California Has Cruelest

Marine-Run Courts, UK,

Hawaii

Grooming Militia!

Was Mikael A French Navy Soldier?

Marine, Or Just "Mafia"

Son? Will We Have To

Deal With His French

Pappa Now, Or Other "Militia?" Soldiers,

Domestic In-House Terrorism,

Just Like Salman Rushdie Suffered,

Blamed on #IranianWomenLivesMatterSoldiers

Fatwa

Why Are American 

Spies, Used By Your

Officers, And Brokers-

Attys Breeding Capitalistic Crimes?

Attempted Murder

Verified! Suspect

Of Haiku Homicide-

Accidental

Or Not!

Still Being Forever

Investigated! Hopeless 

Department Of Justice,

FBI, Don't Tell Me Maui

Cops Lie!

CIA Never Figures Anything Out!

Cases Continued for Infinity,

Bribes,

Interjected, Pleas!

Wars,

Now Peace!

Tell US Truth about 9/11

And World War III!

DA Get It Right,

And Stop "In-House

Family Crimes!"

Not A Good Idea

To Welcome Estranged

Family- Siblings-

Groomed By Militia

Army! In A Genocide!

Children Need Mom!

It's Not Right!

Parent Alienation,

For Cambridge 

Analytica World War 3,

Political Spies!

Everyone's Hatin'!

On A Politician,

Wants Someone To Blame!

Charge Attys,

Grooming Monsters!

Brokers, Like Shane Stewart

And Their Militia!

At Idyllwild Realty, Coldwell

Banker! 

And Sotheby's Rancho

Santa Fe!

Did Mikael Work For

Coldwell Banker?

A British #PrinceOfPegging

MAPs (AKA Minor Attracted

Peoples!)

Ponces!

Was He Raped By

His Dad, Orgies Of Nonces,

Of Court?

Mr. Pharisien?

Beat- Groomed-

Into Mafia Crimes,

On Gag Orders?

Did He Answer

To Gay Druglords

That Ply Brokers And

Attys With Bribes?

Did He Take "Hit"

On A "Plea" Bargain?

Too Sick To "Testify,"

Papers Said-

Barfing Up Nazi Drugs!

Why Hasn't Mikael

Been To Court?

Will Cops "Suicide"

Him Now, For What He's

Done? To Hide Latest Crimes

He's Suspected Of?

Will He Die 

On Gag Orders? Will 

He Ever Get Sober?

Will His Father Ever

Be "Charged?"

Mikael Learned To

Murder, Not From 

His Mother-

I Guarantee!

One Night Men Threatened

To Rape Her, And 2 Small

Children Hitchhiking Home,

Babies Slung On Hips!

"You Don't Want To

Do That," She Told

Them Firmly,

A Hand On Their

Shoulder,

And Prayed!

Mother Mary Appeared,

Mother Divine Protected Her,

Light Descended

Rapists Were Crying-

At What They Almost

Did!

Melted!

Demons Flew

Away- Boys'

Apologized

In Divine Subservience- Walked

Her Home, And Offered

To Help Carry Her

Bambinos- Down A Rough Dark Dirt

Road On A 

Rainy Night!

It's Never Too Late,

To Turn Around!

Sometimes Addictions

Cloud, Even Best Minds!

Give 'em Rehab-

What Their Father

Couldn't- Mothering!

Healing For Grooming!

Rehabilitate

Them "For Real!"

Nip These Grooming

Spies In America!

Tax Dollars

Won't Pay For Militia

Land Steals Anymore!

No More Land Lemons,

Alligators

Sold Without Water,

No More Starter Wives

Murdered On A Bribe!

Last Breaths With

ALS, In Mikael's 

Arms, Could've Been

"Wrongful Death!"

But Her "Angels" Are

Here! To Tell 

The Truth,

Now!

Now!

Now!

Now!

Oh!

Now!

Aho!!!!

Nitya Nella Davigo Azam Moezzi Huntley Rawal 

https://linksharing.samsungcloud.com/f1YmUq40U11O

[nobody-knose--archive]

i seem to have this tendency irl pertaining to talking about media. wherein every time anything like tv, movies, music, et cetera is brought up i’m sure to have something to contribute to the topic, but it isn’t ever something that i actually care about. it’ll be something i’m capable of talking about & don’t feel negatively towards & that’s it, not an actual interest of mine, not something i give thought to, not something i have major feelings towards, so on, so forth

[dixonsmonroe]

Lowkey In Love

Summary: You go on another few dates with Bucky, your relationship taking a next step. You’re both cautious; but sometimes a risk is worth it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3.6k

Author’s note: some people requested a follow up to Lost and Found, so here it is. i advise reading the first part to avoid any confusion in this part! thanks for reading. :)

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), fluff, Bucky and reader being nervous and adorable, brief Bucky POV, Sam Wilson appearance because I love him and couldn’t keep him out of this story 

*****

It was supposed to be a busy day at the salon. You had appointments booked back to back pretty much all day. You got into work and Rina immediately gave you the biggest smile as you settled into your station.

“So,” she raised her eyebrows suggestively. “How’d it go?”

All the girls instantly turned to you, needing details. It wasn’t like you to keep these things on the downlow, and the girls were starving for some good new gossip.

“How’d what go?” Jasmine asked. 

“Did you have a date?” Layla piped up.

You tried not to blush and rolled your eyes with a smile. “Yes, I did. And it went amazing.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

You cleared your throat, not wanting to give away Bucky’s whole history. That was his story to tell, and you wanted to respect that. Besides, to you he was just a normal, sweet guy who took you on the best date you’d been on in a while. Maybe ever.

“He’s actually my upstairs neighbor,” you said. “He used to be in the army. Gomez is obsessed with him already.”

There was a chorus of ‘awwws’ from them all, and you couldn’t stop the stupid grin on your face.

“Got pictures?” Jasmine asked.

“No,” you replied. “And he doesn’t really do social media. He’s kind of an…old man when it comes to technology.”

“What’s his name?”

“James,” you thought about him, about his smile, his gentlemanly nature. You thought about his hold on your hips as he had kissed you the night before.

Your first appointment came in then, and you greeted them and brought them over to your chair. The day actually went pretty smoothly, give or take some typical stressful moments. When you were done with work, you went out for drinks with the girls like you did every Friday.

At around seven PM, your phone buzzed. Your grin told them exactly who had texted you.

“Is it him?” Jasmine tried to peek over at your phone. 

“Let the girl have her privacy!” Rina said. 

You read the text.

“You free tomorrow night? After King Kong yesterday I think I need to watch the rest of those movies”

You bit your lip and texted back.

“I’m free, we can have a marathon if you want :)”

“awesome, come by at 7? gomez is invited too.”

Your heart fluttered. You were excited; both at the fact that he actually texted you, and also that he didn’t care that it had only been a day since you saw each other. You always thought the whole ‘wait this many days’ before you call someone for a second date was ridiculous. He wanted to spend more time with you, and that got your heart racing. 

The next night you got home from work, the girls sending you knowing farewells, wishing you luck. You set your purse down on your bedroom chair, and kissed Gomez on the top of the head. He was curled up on your bed, purring when he realized it was you. 

“Okay, I’ll only be gone for a little while, so no mischief,” you said to him. You turned to your closet and changed into a nice sweater and some leggings. You texted Bucky that you were home, and would be up soon.

As you were leaving your apartment, you turned to say goodbye to your cat, when you watched a little dark blur run past your feet. 

“Gomez!” You called and shut your door. You ran after your cat, who you found sitting right outside of Bucky’s door. “Seriously?”

He seemed content, meowing loudly.

The door to the apartment opened and Bucky smiled. He laughed as Gomez rubbed up against his legs before entering the apartment.

”I’m so sorry, he has no manners,” you said, embarrassed. 

“That’s fine, I told you he was invited,” Bucky shrugged and shut the door behind you.

You looked around the place. It was small, but cute. There was a fuzzy blanket thrown over the back of the couch, and there were a few framed photos on the walls. One was of him and Steve Rogers from back in the 40s, when they were overseas. There was another of him and Sam Wilson on a boat, what looked like a candid shot of them laughing at something. Bucky’s smile was warm and real, and the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Your place is nice,” you said. 

“Thanks,” he replied. “I don’t usually have people over, but I’ve been trying to decorate more. Make it feel more like home.”

He grabbed you both drinks and handed you yours. “So, which movie do we start with?”

“After Kong Skull Island is Godzilla: King of the Monsters,” you said. “I don’t love it as much as King Kong, but it still stands.”

You both took your seats on the couch, when you heard a loud meow and the sound of paws trotting across the hardwood floor. Gomez jumped on the couch and was immediately all over Bucky, rubbing his face against his hand until he started petting him.

He smiled and scratched Gomez under the chin.

It made you melt inside how much Bucky genuinely loved cats. Gomez loved absolutely everybody, and seeked attention from whoever would give it, but he had a bond with Bucky quicker than he’d ever had with anyone besides you. 

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking of getting a cat,” Bucky said.

“Really?” you said, tossing some popcorn into your mouth. “I can give you the number of the rescue I got Gomez from. They were super helpful.”

He looked lovingly at your cat. “How’d you know he was the one?”

You grinned, remembering that day. “He sort of chose me, I guess. I went in looking for a cuddly cat, one that would hang out with me. I met a few that were sweet but didn’t exactly click. Then I met Gomez, and he was the biggest ham I’d ever met. He put on a show, rubbing up against me and purring super loud. Anytime I talked to him, he would meow back. The volunteers at the shelter said he was always sweet with people, but they had never seen him so enamored with someone. I took him home that day.”

Bucky looked down at Gomez, who was now curled up contently on his lap.

“I’ll take the name of that rescue,” he said.

At the end of the night, he walked you to your door, like the gentleman he was.

“So, I have to leave for work for a few days,” he said. “But when I get back, there’s somewhere I want to take you if you’d wanna go?”

You tried to be nonchalant, but it made you feel warm inside that he was already thinking about taking you out again.

“I’d like that,” you said. You kissed him and turned to walk down the stairs. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will,” he gave you a small smile.

***

It was difficult for Bucky not to be safe on this trip. It was just a meeting in DC where stuffy politicians argued about the state of the country. Sam did most of the talking on their behalf, but Bucky had to be there as support. He and Sam were partners, and he needed to show face. It was also supposed to help keep his image in a positive light.    

While he and Sam were on the jet back home, he was fidgeting the whole way. He must have been smiling at his phone like an idiot when a text popped up from you, because Sam cleared his throat.

Bucky looked up. “What?”

“Something’s had you all antsy and oddly cheery,” Sam smirked. “Or someone.”

Bucky felt his face heat up and tried to hide it. He didn’t make eye contact with Sam. “Maybe.”

“Really?” Sam smiled. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“It’s nothing, Sam,” Bucky stopped, correcting himself. “Well, it’s not nothing, it’s hopefully something, but it’s…new. I don’t know.”

“Who is it?”

“My downstairs neighbor,” he replied. He grinned thinking about you. “I found her cat for her and we went on a date.”

“Good for you, man,” Sam said genuinely. “I’m glad you’re giving it a shot.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to be careful, I haven’t done this in a while,” he said. “I don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You’ll be fine, Buck,” Sam said. “You deserve this.”

***

Bucky didn’t get back until three days later. He had texted you a few times, and you enjoyed the conversation. He had sent you a picture of a black cat that he saw, and you texted back jokingly saying how Gomez wouldn’t appreciate him hanging out with other strange cats. You found yourself missing him, and the girls at work lightly teased you about it. You missing someone was never a good sign in your case; it usually ended with you getting hurt, or more often, you hurting them due to lack of chemistry. You were hoping this time would be different.

That feeling was only reinforced when he got home, sped down the stairs from his apartment, and knocked on your door.

You opened it after looking through the peephole, and resisted the urge to throw your arms around him when you saw him.

When he leaned in though, you couldn’t help but squeeze him back. You kissed and it felt sweet, like the beginning stages of something wonderful. You pulled back and smiled at him.

“How was it?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Boring. A lot of political leaders droning on and on about god knows what.”

“Sounds awful,” you said. He closed the door behind him and sat next to you on the couch. 

“I’m just glad to be back home,” he said, kneeling down to pet Gomez, who was doing figure-eights around his legs.

“So, that thing you mentioned before you left,” you said. “What is it? It’s been killing me, you left me with such a cliffhanger.”

“It’s called a surprise,” he grinned.

“I don’t know if I’ll survive,” you groaned dramatically and he laughed. 

“Then how does tonight sound?” he asked.

“I think that sounds great,” you smiled.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said. 

“How do I have to dress?” You asked. “Is it fancy?”

He weighed his options. “Not really, there’s not really a dress code.”

“Got it,” you replied. You supposed you could work with that. “I’ll see you at six.”

He went back up to his apartment and you started looking for something to wear. You eventually decided on a sundress and nice shoes. It was only two, so you had time to kill. You decided to get some stuff done around the house.

Later on, you got ready to go out, and really thought about your feelings. You were a little nervous; you didn’t want to hound him or ask for all his attention, but he always found a way to send you a cute or funny message when he was gone. Rina had made fun of you for how much you blushed when you opened his texts. It was a little ridiculous, you hadn’t felt this way since you were a teenager. And to be honest, it seemed like he really liked you too.

When he knocked on your door, you said goodbye to Gomez and left.

You got a cab, which he told to bring you downtown, and it dropped you off in front of an art gallery.

“What’s this?” You asked with a smile.

“An old coworker owns this place,” he said. “She displays shows every month. There’s a painter I think is really cool, and you said you were a painter, so I thought maybe you’d like it.”

You smiled wide and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it.”

He blushed and took your hand as you walked in. It wasn’t too busy, but there were a good amount of people milling around. You admired the artwork on the walls; it took you back to being in school, all the shows you’d go to. You hadn’t done that in a long time, you hadn’t really done any art in a while.

“I miss it sometimes,” you said honestly as you stared at a piece with a lot of yellow in it. 

“Painting?” He asked.

You nodded. “I used to do it all the time, even after I got out of school. Now I don’t remember the last time I painted.”

“Maybe you should start again,” he shrugged.

“I do need pieces for a show in a few months,” you heard a voice behind you and you turned to see a blonde woman standing there. 

Bucky introduced you. “This is Sharon, she owns the gallery.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled. “This place is beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she replied. “Gives me something to do. Bucky told me you paint, any interest in showing your stuff?”

“Oh, uh,” you glanced at Bucky then back at Sharon. “I haven’t made anything in a really long time.”

“Well, art’s a little like riding a bike, right?” She shrugged. “If you ever get back into it, let me know. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

Sharon walked off to greet other guests and you sighed. 

“Sorry if I put you on the spot,” Bucky said sheepishly. “Sharon’s always been a little…forward.”

You smiled. “It’s no problem. I’ll definitely think about it.”

You spent a little longer at the gallery, and eventually went back to his place.

When you got back, you laid on his couch together, watching a movie. You were barely paying attention, only thinking about his arm that was over your torso as he lay behind you. You had felt the tension since you left the gallery, for some reason him noticing the little things about you made you feel like he was the real deal.

You’d been dancing around it for a while, never wanting to make the first move. He’d been a gentleman so far, never going any further than making out. 

But now you were ready, and you were about to find out if he was too.

You turned to face him and nuzzled your face into his neck. He took a quick breath in and lifted your head up to kiss you. You ran your hands up his chest and gripped onto his shoulders. 

You took his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles, then one on his lips. Your mouth trailed kisses along his jawline and down to his collarbones. Your hands were now grabbing at his shirt, and his hands pulled your hips up against his. 

His hands traveled down to your waist and then your lower back. He hesitated before moving any further, so you pulled away and nodded quickly. His hands went to your thighs and he climbed on top of you. You couldn't help but arch your hips up into his. He groaned softly into your mouth, and brought his hips down to yours. He was kissing your neck, trailing them along your collarbone, and back up to your jaw. 

His hands traveled up to your breasts, and you pulled away and moaned. He kissed all around your collarbone, your hands going up to tangle in his short hair. He put his hands under your shirt and rested them on your hips.

You looked at him and kept his hand in yours, and continued kissing him. 

“Bedroom?” He asked.

You nodded, he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed, head on the pillows and him lying between your legs. You hiked your leg up over his hip and just looked up at him. He was so beautiful, his jawline sharp and gorgeous. You continued making out, hands wandering, until you flipped over and climbed on top of him. He pulled your shirt up and over your head, tossing it to the floor. You reciprocated by doing the same, trying not to stare too long at his abs. You leaned down to kiss his collarbone and across to his shoulders. You reached his left shoulder, and laid a kiss there, lips on cold metal. You took his hand again, placing a kiss on his knuckles. You saw him visibly swallow, and for a moment you were afraid that you made him uncomfortable.

Instead, he pulled you back down to his lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, hands moving up and down your torso, just feeling you. 

“You are,” you kissed him and unbuttoned his jeans. You pulled off the rest of your clothes and he was back on top of you. You reached down and wrapped your hand around his dick, moving it up and down slowly. 

He closed his eyes and hung his head. “Fuck.”

You loved the sounds he was making, the shaky breaths and short quiet moans. His right hand reached down to rub your clit and your back arched off the bed slightly. He did that for a little, following the sound of your moans and your encouraging words while he worked you until you were completely wet for him.

“You ready?” he asked. 

You handed him a condom from the nightstand drawer and nodded. “I am.”

He rolled it on and slowly entered you. He let out a breath of relief, and you whined out at the feeling. You hadn’t done this in a long time. It was definitely an adjustment, but quickly felt very good.

He stopped when he noticed the look on your face and how your hands gripped his shoulders. 

“You okay?” he asked, sounding a little panicked.

“Yeah, hey,” you put your hand on his jaw and gave him a soft smile. “Just need a minute.” 

He kissed you on your lips, your neck, your chest, until you gave him the go ahead.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you said. 

He slowly started moving, just enjoying the feeling. He was a little nervous, not having done this in so long.

“Oh my god, you feel so good,” you said, building his confidence a little more.

“Yeah?” he breathed out. His face was in the crook of your neck, and he decided he wanted to hear how good he made you feel for the rest of his life.

“Yeah,” you moaned out, lightly pulling at the short hair on the back of his head. That sent sparks up his spine, and he let out a groan louder than he meant to.

He picked up a little bit of speed, setting a rhythm that you fell into easily. He felt so good, almost like you fit perfectly together. 

“Oh, fuck,” he moaned out. “I’m getting close.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and kept him in you. “Me too, please don’t stop.”

He rested your foreheads together and pushed into you until you both hit your breaking point. The feeling of you clenching around him, it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and it sent him over the edge.

When you came down, you breathed heavily against each other’s lips. He kissed you sweetly, and you rubbed your thumb over the stubble on his cheek.

“Goddamn,” you breathed.

He chuckled and rolled off of you. He got rid of the condom, and you cuddled up against him, hand over his chest, tracing circles around his dog tags.

You laid there in bliss for a while, just enjoying being together. You listened to his heartbeat, the steady sound of it keeping you calm.

“Stay the night?” he asked. 

“Of course,” you kissed his forehead and mindlessly he wrapped his vibranium arm around you. It was warmer now, comforting, and you settled into his side. 

The next morning, you woke up to him still lightly snoring next to you. He looked content, at peace.

He peeked one eye open and smiled at you. You chuckled and kissed him softly.

“Morning,” he pulled you into his side. 

You sighed contentedly. “Good morning.”

You heard his phone buzz from his jeans pocket across the room, but he ignored it. He curled around you and you nuzzled yourself into his chest. Your breathing slowed, and his heartbeat was even and steady. 

His ringer went off on his phone and he groaned. 

“Sorry,” he said and sat up. He picked his jeans up and took the phone out and answered. “What, Sam? It’s early.”

You watched as annoyance turned into stoicism on his face. He nodded and listened intently. Finally, Sam let him go and he let out a sigh as he hung up the phone. 

“Everything good?” you asked.

He laid back down on the bed and faced you. “Yeah, I just gotta leave for a few days for work.”

“Gotcha,” you said, a little disappointed but you tried not to show it.

He put his hand on your jaw and kissed you. “I’d like to call you while I’m gone, if you’re okay with it. I don’t want you to think I’m just up and leaving after last night.”

“Bucky, I know,” you replied, thumb tracing circles over the hand that was on your cheek. “I would love for you to call me, even if you only get a few minutes.”

He smiled warmly. “Want breakfast? I don’t have to leave until tonight.”

“I would love breakfast,” you replied, stretching and following him to the kitchen.

Even though he had to leave again, you knew now that you could get used to nights like last night. And when he unknowingly made your bacon exactly how you liked it, you knew you could get used to mornings like this as well.

[bing-bang-bingo]

- 4x3: c. 40:00 Cas comforts Dean after Mary makes a deal w/ Azazel

- 4x7: 15:50 Dean stops Sam from shooting Cas, then Sam mentions that he’s “heard a lot about him”

- 4x7: 39:00 Cas tells Dean he prayed he’d save the town, then he tells him about his doubts and Deans future troubles

- 4x10 & ???: Dean calls “last night on Earth” his best line. He uses this line on Cas

- 4x10: 27:15 “Castiel has this weakness. He likes you.”

- 4x10: 32:50 Cas looking jealous and sad when Dean kisses Anna

- 4x16: 7:30 Cas tells Dean he got in trouble for showing emotion and getting to close to Dean. 8:20 “I would give anything not to have you do this”

- 4x16: 39:00 Cas warns Dean to be careful while Dean is in the hospital, they discuss the first seal and saving Dean from hell

- 4x18: 31:30 Cas tells Dean how to save Sam from Lilith even though he’s not allowed to interfere

- 4x20: 38:00 Deans face when Cas tells him he “learned his lesson when he was in heaven”

- 4x22: 30:40 Cas considers rebelling for Dean. 33:00 He does. 35:20 He fights multiple Archangels for Dean

- 5x1: 5:45 Dean denies Cas’ death 8:25 “I learned that from my friend Cas you son of a bitch”

- 5x1: 31:00 Cas saves Sam and Dean from Zach

- 5x3: 6:10 Cas-“I need your help because your the only one who will help me”

- 5x3: 10:20 Dean fixes Cas’ tie and jacket

- 5x4: 38:50 “Don’t Ever Change”

- 5x8: 38:20 Dean makes Gabriel bring Cas back, then makes sure he’s okay

- 5x13: ?:?? Cas won’t let Dean meet with Anna because it’s not safe

- 5x17: 30:30 Cas and Dean discuss what it’s like to have a deadbeat dad

- 5x18: 25:15 Cas kicks Deans ass for trying to sacrifice himself

- 5x21: 3:50 Cas and Dean bickering like and old married couple then Cas gives Dean a heartfelt apology.

- 6x17: 18:55 “No you’re confusing me with the other angel, the one in the dirty trench coat who is in love with you.”

- 6x17: 38:00 Sam: “So you killed 50,000 people for us?” Cas: *looks at Dean*

- 6x19: 25:20 Bobby reassures Cas that they’ll be back soon, Cas acts like a worried and disappointed wife.

- 6x19: 36:25 Cas yelling “Dean!” when Eve bites him

- 6x19: 40:00 Dean is the only one who doesn’t think Cas is working with Crowley (he’s wrong but it’s sweet)

- 6x20: 4:50 Dean v v worried, “But Cas you’ll call right? If you get into real trouble?”

- 6:30 Crowley implies that Cas is distracted by Dean and tells him he reeks of the Impala.

- 7:20 Cas says that Dean taught him how to care and what to care about. Then Cas saves Sam (for Dean)

- 13:15 Cas says that the worst part of working with Crowley (basically his sworn natural enemy) is that it hurt Dean and that he hated lying to him.

- 25:20 Cas refuses to ask Dean for help because he has “sacrificed too much” even though it means Cas could die.

- 26:00 Crowley tells Cas he has a way for everyone to get a happy ending “with all possible entendres intended” while Cas stares longingly at Dean.

- 33:00 Dean is close to tears when he learns that Cas is working with Crowley, Cas says he did it to protect Dean.

- 35:25 “Dammit Cas we can fix this!” “Dean it’s not broken!” He then tells the boys to run from the demon cloud and Dean gives him the saddest look in the world before being forced to leave him behind.

- 38:00 Cas watches Dean sleep. “I’m doing this for you Dean. I’m doing this because of you!”

- 6x21: 22:40 “I do everything you ask. I always come when you call and I am your friend. Still despite your lack of faith in me and now your threats I’ve just saved you yet again. Has anyone but your closest kin ever done more for you?”

- 6x22: Dean to Cas- “Don’t make me lose you, too.”

- 7x2: 5:35 Dean nearly cries on screen when he thinks Cas is dead

- 7x17: Cas says “I remember ~you~” as soon as he regains his memories.

- 7x17: Cas ask why Dean didn’t tell him all the horrible things Cas did. Parallels the conversation Karen and Dean had about telling Bobby she remembered him killing her and her telling Dean that he had never been on love before.

- 7x21: The face Dean makes when he sees Cas again plus the prolonged eye contact when Cas says Deans name.

- 7x21: Hester telling Dean that when Cas first saved him from Hell he was lost- parallels- Lucifer/Jess saying she was dead the moment she met Sam.

- 7x23: 8:50 “Go ask him. He was your boyfriend first.” Meg to Dean about Cas

- 7x23: 32:45 “I’m sorry but I’d rather have you, cursed or not.”

- 7x23: 36:50 Cas steps in to protect Dean despite spending the whole season avoiding fighting and saying he won’t fight.

- 8x2: 25:00 Cas ran away to keep the Leviathans away from Dean. Dean refuses to leave purgatory without Cas.

- 8x7: 20:30 Deans reaction to seeing Cas all cleaned up.

- 8x7: Dean convinced himself that it was his fault Cas was still in purgatory because he’s a sweet idiot boy who hates himself

- 8x7: 35:00 The whole Dean and Cas conversation about purgatory and Cas doing stuff that puts him in danger.

- 8x8: 12:30 Cas just casually going through Deans stuff and Dean not saying anything.

- 8x8: 13:00 Cas offering to watch over Dean while he slept

- 8x8: 15:15 Dean talks to Cas about feelings and heaven even though Dean hates talking about feelings.

- 8x17: Cas fights Naomi’s mind control for Dean

- 8x23: 22:50 Dean and Cas sadly discuss Cas closing the doors of heaven and say goodbye

- 9x1: Dean prays to Cas and tells him he isn’t mad about the angels falling.

- 9x1: Cas’ first instinct is to explain himself to Dean then to come help him.

- 9x1: Dean begs Cas to “for once, look out for yourself.”

- 9x3: 36:45 Dean to Cas after Cas came back from the dead “Don’t you ever do that again!”

- 9x6: Literally just Dean trying desperately the whole episode to hang out with Cas

- 9x10: 26:00 Dean and Cas talk about how Cas is doing and Dean offers him a rare sincere apology. Plus the “I prefer the term ‘trusting’. Less dumb, less ass.” dialogue

- 9x18: Cas’ little smile when Dean makes a joke about Honor Bars and Cas is just so happy to hear his voice.

- 9x18: Metatron’s illusion of Gabriel calls Cas Dean’s boy-toy

- 9x18: Cas can tell something is wrong with Dean, then Cas yells at Dean about getting the Mark of Cain

- 9x22: Cas chooses Dean over all of Heaven once again

- 9x22: The Cas and Dean conversation about the three of them being enough when an army wasn’t and Cas giving up an army all for Dean

- 9x23: “I’m blaming you for taking Cas’ grace.”

- 10x1: 5:00 Cas about Dean- “I miss him.”

- 10x2: 9:00 Cas’ reaction to learning that Dean is a demon

- 10x3: The conversation between Dean and Cas at the end of the episode. “You look terrible” “You on the other hand, your looking good.”

- 10x5: Deans reaction to Cas and Dean actors hugging and holding hands

- 10x5: “Put as much sub into that text as you possibly can.” *looks directly at fake Cas*

- 10x9: 15:00 Cas tells Dean he’s a good role model. Then asks him if he’s okay and when Dean lies and says he is he pushes it further. Dean makes Cas promise to kill him if he goes Dark

- 10x22: Dean and Cas fight and parallel Cain and his Wife.

- 10x23: Dean sees Cas’ bloody face in the mirror

- 11x1: Cas being more worried about Dean than himself even though Cas is under a spell that will kill him.

- 11x2: Dean calling Cas and stressing out when he doesn’t answer

- 11x3: Dean trying to coax Cas out of the attack dog spell, refusing to fight back when Cas was attacking, freaking out when Cas took a minute to wake up, refusing to let Cas heal him (because he “had it coming”), and refusing to let Cas apologize (because “there’s nothing to apologize for”).

- 11x10: “Dean, I came as soon as you called.” Also: “Stick your tongue out.” Dean-*does*

- 11x11: Dean realizing that something is wrong with Cas (while he is possessed by Lucifer)

- 11x11: Mildred says that Dean is pining for someone else(probably meant to be a reference to Amara, but she told him this after he had seen Cas for the first time in a few days.)

- 11x14: The sadness on Deans face when he realizes Cas is Lucifer and then his determination to save Cas

- 11x15: Dean getting kinda dark when he talks about what he’s willing to do to save Cas and he prioritizes saving Cas over bearing Amara.

- 11x17: Dean once again prioritizing saving Cas over saving the world. Sam reassuring Dean that they’ll save Cas (even though Dean didn’t say anything about what was upsetting him)

- 11x17: The camera zooming in on Dean after Michelle says that there is no normal after losing the man you love.

- 11x18: Dean refuses to put Lucifer in the cage or let him fight Amara while using Cas as his vessel.

- 11x18: The difference in the way Dean looks at Lucifer vs at Cas

- 11x18: Dean about Cas: “Lets go find that idiot and bring him home.”

- 11x19: Dean has been looking for leads non stop for a week since Amara took Cas

- 11x21: Amara uses Cas’s heart to find Dean, then shows Dean images of Cas beaten and bloodied to convince him to turn against Chuck

- 11x23: Dean’s face when he realizes Cas is back and Lucifer is gone.

- 11x23: Dean tells Cas he isn’t stupid and that he always helps

- 11x23: Cas: “Dean are you okay? How do you feel?”

- 11x23: Cas hugging Dean super tight before he goes off to die. Dean entrusting his life’s purpose (look after Sam) then thanking him for everything.

- 12x1: Cas seeing that Dean is alive and hugging him while his voice breaks.

- 12x1: Cas taking the job Dean have him very seriously

- 12x2: Dean adorably venting to Cas about his mommy-issues

- 12x3: Dean- “Morning sunshine want some coffee.” Cas- “No thank you.”

- 12x7: “Well at least I don’t look like a lumberjack.” They are such husbands

- 12x7: “Engaged in what Cas? killing you?”

- 12x8: Cas being so worried about what happened to Sam and DEAN that Kelly escaped.

- 12x9: Mary-“You left them!” Cas- *voice breaking* “Dean told me to go!” Also, just Cas looking so hard for them.

- 12x9: Cas blaming himself for Sam and Dean being taken

- 12x9 Cas knowing how long the boys have been gone down to the hour.

- 12x9: Cas’s voice and eyes when he hears Dean’s voice on the phone.

- 12x9: Cas killing Billie because “You mean too much to me” and “The world needs as many Winchesters as it can get.”

- 12x10: Poor Sam having to deal with Cas and Dean while they fight like an old married couple.

- 12x10: Dean immediately telling Ishim to go to hell when he insults Cas

- 12x10: Sam telling Dean to go to Cas when Dean thought Cas was in trouble

- 12x10: Cas immediately believing Dean about Ishim even though they’re mad at each other. Dean about to let Ishim kill him to save Cas.

- 12x10: Ishim comparing Dean and Cas’s relationship to Ishims relationship with his human lover, then saying he was going to cut Cas’s human weakness

- 12x11: “And Cas is my best friend.”

- 12x12: Dean about Cas- “My shy but devastatingly handsome friend here...”

- 12x12: Dean stressing out and voice breaking as he tries to comfort poisoned Cas

- 12x12: LITERALLY TOLD DEAN THAT HE LOVED HIM WHILE CAS WAS DYING

- 12x12: *looking at Dean* “I love you.” Then adds “I love all of you”

- 12x12: Cas- “Run.” Dean- “Cas, no.”

- 12x12: The look Dean gives Cas when he won’t stop staring at him after he’s healed.

- 12x14: Dean says some very harsh stuff to Mary after finding out the reason they Cas almost died at the lake house was because Mary was working for the British Men of Letters

- 12x15: Dean could tell something was up with Cas after talking to him for less than a minute, over the phone.

- 12x18: Sam trying to make Dean feel better about not hearing from Cas.

- 12x19: Dean literally always acting like a scorned wife when Cas comes back after long periods of time

- 12x19: Dean made Cas a mixtape

- 12x19: Cas- “I ~needed~ to came back here with a win for you.”

- 12x19: Cas- *gesturing between Dean and himself* “You mean... we?” Dean- “Yes, dumbass, we.”

- 12x23: Dean screaming for Cas when he attacks Lucifer and trying to chase after him forcing Sam to drag Dean back through the rift. A direct parallel to Dean pulling Sam away from Jess and the fire in Pilot

- 12x23: Dean kneeling next to Cas’s dead body looking up at the sky completely devastated.

- 13x1: Dean couldn’t bring himself to say dead when referring to Cas

- 13x1: Dean PRAYED to GOD to bring Cas back

- 13x1: “We just lost ~everything~. And now you’re gonna bring ~him~ back.”

- 13x1: Dean personally wrapping Cas’s body and giving him a hunters funeral.

- 13x1: The look of complete devastation on Dean’s face when he burns Cas’s body.

- 13x3: Dean refusing to help save Jack because he blames him for manipulating Cas and getting him killed.

- 13x4: The Empty to Cas: “I know what you love, what you fear. There is nothing for you back there.” He loves Dean and Cas fears that Dean doesn’t love him back.

- 13x5: Sam being worried about Dean who has given up all hope since Cas died.

- 13x5: Dean being so distressed thinking Cas is gone forever that he tries to kill himself

- 13x5: Dean seeing Cas alive again and they both have tears in their eyes.

- 13x6: Dean hugging Cas and saying he’s been gone for “too damn long”

- 13x6: Dean being immediately happier and nicer to everyone once Cas is back

- 13x6: Cas saying “Yes. Yes, he does” (in response to Jack saying Dean really likes cowboys) with the tone of an exhausted spouse.

- 13x6: “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear.”

- 13x6: Dean made Cas watch Tombstone with him.

- 13x6: Dean and Cas dresses like cowboy husbands.

- 13x6: Cas saying “I’m your huckleberry” to Dean in a deep accent and Dean looking away.

- 13x6: Their undercover names are Russel and Kilmer

- 13x14: The whole scene where Cas and Dean fight Gog/Magog and act like an old married couple.

- 13x14: The angry, dark look Cas gives Donatello when he tries to kill Dean

- 13x16: “Dean has him by the thigh!” Cas, jealously: “He ~what~?”

- 13x16: “and that includes the Cartwright twins.” Cas, again jealously: “what did you do with the Cartwright twins?”

- 13x19: Cas angrily confronting Naomi about forcing him to kill a bunch of Dean clones.

- 13x21: Cas secretly sliding Dean more pizza when Mary and Sam left the room.

- 13x21: Cas having to hold Dean back from going after Sam. Dean would have beat the shit out of anyone else who tried to stop him.

- 13x23: Cas trying to stop Dean from giving himself to Michael even if it meant losing Sam AND Jack

- 13x23: Cas sitting alone in the bum jet with tears in his eyes after Dean left

- 14x1: Demon: “How is it you lost Dean. I thought you two were joined at the... everything.”

- 14x1: Dean trying to save Cas from Lucifer then vs Cas trying to save Dean from Michael now

- 14x3: The look that Dean and Cas give each other when Dean comes home.

- 14x9: Cas almost being happy seeing Dean happy. And then having to force himself to not be happy so he doesn’t die.

- 14x12: Cas being phased at Dean for wanting to put himself in the box with Michael forever

- 14x14: Cas is the only Dean will let talk to him about Michael and be honest about how Dean feels

- 14x14: “No, it’s on us.”

- 14x14: Cas’s voice breaking when he talks about the possibility of Dean dying one day.

- 14x18: The pure self loathing in Cas’s eyes when he feels like he failed Dean by not telling him about Jack’s soul.

- 15x2: “You asked ‘what about all of this is real?’ We are.” THE MOST ROMANTIC LINE EVER. (Plus later Eileen and Sam have the same conversation but they get to kiss because homophobia)

- 15x9- 20:00 Dean said that they lost everyone they cared about, then added Cas specifically. Then he says “I had to bury him” not “we”

- 15x9- 23:00 Dean cries when he can’t find Cas. Then he prays to him and apologizes for letting him go. He falls to his knees praying to him and fully crying

- 15x12: “I created the world.” *shows Destiel*

- 15x15: This time when Dean sees Cas leaving the bunker, he stops him. (In reference to Cas saying “you didn’t stop me” when Dean got mad at him for leaving)

- 15x16: This is the the only version of Cas that rebelled for Dean. This universe is literally being saved repeatedly because of Cas’s love for Dean

- 15x18: CAS CONFESSES HIS LOVE TO DEAN then goes to mega hell for being gay

Anyway, Cas loves Dean and Dean LOVES HIM BACK, OKAY?!?!? Feel free to add more

[edenmemes]

ghost of tsushima starters

❝ promise you’ll remain the good man i know. ❞   ❝ only fools have no fear of death. ❞   ❝ i am very much alive. but my patience is dying. ❞   ❝ i’ll make sure you are remembered. as a great warrior...a wise leader. ❞   ❝ the strength we need is all around us. ❞   ❝ the past cannot hurt you. ❞   ❝ this whole journey, and i never asked your name. ❞   ❝ fear drives you to be stronger. fight harder. ❞ ❝ sometimes...our only choice is to walk away from everything we know ❞ ❝ we do what we must. that is why you and i are both survivors. ❞ ❝ i can do good! i just...need practice. ❞ ❝ may your next life be more peaceful than this one. ❞ ❝ i knew it was too good to be true. ❞ ❝ i'll see what i can do. but if you’re lying to me... ❞ ❝ you’re too comfortable with that power. ❞ ❝ don’t ever try to kill me again. ❞ ❝ turn your back on a foe...and you will die with a sword stuck in it. ❞ ❝ youre not slipping away that easily. ❞ ❝ just stay closed. keep your sword sheathed. and let me do the talking. ❞ ❝ the things i saw still haunt my nightmares. ❞ ❝ i dont even know if you're real. ❞ ❝ victories don’t have to feel good. ❞   ❝ killing your own family...it’s harder than you could ever imagine. ❞   ❝ it’s safer for everyone if i just disappear. ❞   ❝ next time, leave some glory for the rest of us. ❞   ❝ peace doesn’t always come quietly. ❞   ❝ some people respond to kindness. others require a glimpse of steel. ❞ ❝ i am nothing if not honest. ❞ ❝ stop using people, and start thinking about how you can help them. ❞ ❝ you’ve had your vengeance. don’t stand in the way of mine. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to do it alone. ❞ ❝ not all words need to be spoken. ❞   ❝ there is time yet for revenge. i will savour their cries of pain when that time comes. ❞ ❝ i have learned to love the cool, damp dark. ❞ ❝ the last thing i saw was faces filled with hatred, rage... ❞ ❝ you didn’t think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you? ❞ ❝ we will celebrate when this is all over. ❞ ❝ what’s wrong with you? one moment we stand shoulder-to-shoulder, the next you’re ready to cross blades. ❞ ❝ a warrior learns from their mistakes, or they are buried by them. ❞ ❝ remember your training...and never leave my side. ❞ ❝ well...i guess this is goodbye. ❞ ❝ your visions will grow worse, driving you to madness and death. ❞ ❝ i can only pretend for so much longer. i’m not like these people and never will be. ❞ ❝ i loved you all my life, but i could never work up the courage to tell you. ❞ ❝ the proud do not last, and the mightiest of us perish like dust before the wind. ❞ ❝ you’re a vision of mercy. ❞ ❝ not bad, but only half-good. ❞ ❝ we make a good team, don’t we? ❞ ❝ an archer’s aim relies not on eyes...but on body, mind, and spirit. ❞ ❝ this is my fight. i don’t need your weapon. ❞ ❝ being right doesn’t always make things better. ❞ ❝ there is nothing easier than to prey upon the vanity of ambitious men. ❞ ❝ you weren’t looking so good. i let you rest. ❞ ❝ your intentions this time were...better than usual. ❞ ❝ what are you not telling me? ❞ ❝ trouble sticks to you like shit on rice. ❞ ❝ it’s strange being back after so many years...everywhere i look brings back memories. ❞ ❝ only a child expects perfection of their elders. ❞ ❝ when this is all over, what will you do? ❞ ❝ you are ruled by your emotion. ❞ ❝ is this how you want to be remembered? ❞ ❝ perhaps great men share all the aspects of their lessers, but more. great wisdom, but even greater cruelty. ❞ ❝ i cannot imagine the burden a leader like you must bear. ❞ ❝ our greatest enemies are the greatest teachers. ❞ ❝ death’s shadow embraces me. hand in hand we walk. ❞ ❝ breathe. you can’t fight if you hold your breath. ❞ ❝ i know you well enough by now, my friend. ❞ ❝ i can’t go back...to what i was. before this. ❞ ❝ i hope you one day forgive me for the choice i made. ❞ ❝ the wounds you dealt my spirit will never heal. ❞ ❝ why did you turn away from me? ❞ ❝ if you can keep moving forward, so can i. ❞ ❝ it’s a bad idea to sneak up on me. ❞ ❝ promise me something. don’t become like me. ❞ ❝ let me undo the damage i’ve done. ❞ ❝ ...and you want me to clean up your mess. ❞ ❝ the path ahead may take a lifetime, but i will walk it with you. always. ❞ ❝ whatever you believe i’ve become, i will always be your family. ❞ ❝ i wouldn’t be here without you. ❞ ❝ i’ll hunt you past the horizon if i must. ❞ ❝ can i count on you to do what needs to be done? ❞ ❝ that’s over now. you’re here. with me. ❞ ❝ i thought i’d lost you, i should’ve known you’d never give up. ❞ ❝ you can’t continue down this path. ❞ ❝ be careful. demons are everywhere and they fear nothing. ❞ ❝ corpses can’t answer questions. ❞ ❝ you deserve greater respect than this. ❞ ❝ it’s just like the stories my father told me. ❞ ❝ what you become tomorrow is your choice. ❞ ❝ just ask the last man who questioned my sincerity. you’ll find his head covered in flies out back. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t have lied. i still would have helped you. ❞ ❝ we came this far. we’re not turning back now. ❞ ❝ how do we survive if we don’t trust each other? ❞ ❝ without my help, the fear and pain will overwhelm you. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, we don’t retreat. ❞ ❝ the stories are true. i’ve never seen anyone fight like you. ❞ ❝ see how the enemy fear you? you are a true warrior. ❞ ❝ you want to share a drink...with me? ❞ ❝ maybe you should’ve just ran away. like you always do. ❞ ❝ good people have nothing to fear from me. ❞ ❝ your promises are just like you. worthless. ❞ ❝ as you wish, since you asked so sweetly. ❞ ❝ i know better than to argue. ❞ ❝ i hope i can find quiet places like this one, untouched by war. ❞ ❝ we grew up together, but you threw it all away. ❞ ❝ it was so chaotic. i felt you grip my wrist and then nothing. ❞ ❝ desperation can bring out the demon in the best of men. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to leave without you, but...i can’t stay. i hope you understand. ❞ ❝ a grown man, and you still can barely sit still. ❞ ❝ and i heard you had no sense of humor! ❞ ❝ knowing and doing are different. ❞ ❝ trouble follows me everywhere. ❞ ❝ indulging violence weakens the warrior...like too much food or drink. ❞ ❝ i can always tell when you want to ask me something. out with it. ❞ ❝ i am proud to fight beside you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t nurse you back to health to watch you throw your life away. ❞ ❝ all i want...all i need is to start a new life. ❞ ❝ look twice and shoot once. ❞ ❝ i think they’re afraid of you. you can be...intimidating.. ❞ ❝ you don’t even try to hear me. it’s like talking to a stone. ❞ ❝ so you try to kill me? have you lost your mind? ❞ ❝ you’ve sacrificed everything. for revenge. ❞ ❝ we can’t let anger consume us. or blind us to our friends. ❞ ❝ there is only one way this ends. ❞ ❝ i gave you everything. and you threw it away. ❞ ❝ do not question my integrity again. ❞ ❝ your father would be proud. ❞ ❝ the worst one can do is take advantage of their own people. ❞ ❝ you follow trouble. you should ask yourself why.  ❞ ❝ some of my favourite memories happened at this place. ❞ ❝ i told you this was a bad idea! ❞ ❝ keep fighting. we need people like you. ❞ ❝ are you the one who finally kills me? ❞ ❝ a warrior’s most important weapon is themself. lose control, and you risk defeat. ❞ ❝ first, get some rest. this is killing you. ❞ ❝ see that? i told you. there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ i hope the skills i gained through hardship can be of use to the people here. ❞ ❝ you have skill...but you nearly died rushing into battle. ❞ ❝ in the midst of battle, true leaders must stay rooted, stand firm. ❞ ❝ every time i get in a mess like this, i’m as scared as the time before. ❞ ❝ don’t be the next to disappoint me. ❞ ❝ save what we can, but know that everything passes away. ❞ ❝ i hope you understand, this is just a job. ❞ ❝ that’s a sad way to look at the world. ❞ ❝ seeing you like that...i’m still shaken up. ❞ ❝ sit with me a moment. ❞ ❝ doubt and indecision have destroyed armies. ❞ ❝ it’s so painful to...see you weighed down by sadness. ❞ ❝ on the slim chance some good comes of this...lead the way. ❞ ❝ you fought well, but we’re finished. ❞ ❝ the warrior’s mind is quiet but alive, like rustling bamboo. ❞ ❝ i’ve trained with a blade since i could walk. ❞ ❝ the visions...they’re still happening. ❞ ❝ in our world, being intimidating isn’t a bad thing. ❞ ❝ you have a talent. it’s time you use it, for the sake of our land. ❞ ❝ i've tried to teach you all i know...but you act more like a poet than a warrior. ❞ ❝ your path leads to madness and death. ❞ ❝ that’s twice you saved my life. ❞ ❝ these people stay because they believe in you. ❞ ❝ i didn’t choose this life. it was my only option. ❞ ❝ you came at me like i was your mortal enemy. almost broke my arm! ❞ ❝ i could use your help...in the fight ahead. ❞ ❝ you can be a little rough, but you have a good heart. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to kill you, stop! ❞ ❝ what’s wrong? afraid i’ll get more famous than you? ❞ ❝ war brings out who we truly are. ❞ ❝ take care where you place your faith. ❞ ❝ you seem lost in thought. ❞ ❝ i was getting tired of waiting for you. ❞ ❝ without my wisdom, you will lose your soul to madness. ❞ ❝ peace is an unattainable dream...but a dream worth fighting for. ❞ ❝ i’ve killed a thousand men. every death was sweet. ❞ ❝ what is the point of prayer when we are doomed? ❞ ❝ you’re like your father in more ways than you know. ❞ ❝ if you want my respect, earn it. ❞ ❝ and how many wars have you fought? ❞ ❝ you’re quite the butcher with that sword. ❞ ❝ people who sow chaos must be punished. ❞ ❝ i can’t help but wonder if you enjoy the violence. ❞ ❝ i kill only to protect our people. i think about that every time i reach for my sword. ❞ ❝ i'm sorry if my lack of skill offends. ❞ ❝ it’s the first time in days i haven’t felt like i was about to die. ❞ ❝ you fought like an animal...or a demon! ❞ ❝ there’s nothing more painful to me than a perfect bow...ineptly used. ❞ ❝ victory is won by warriors, not weapons. ❞ ❝ i couldn’t leave you to die. ❞ ❝ i made my choices. even knowing what they’ve cost me, i’d make them again. ❞ ❝ when’s the last time you slept or ate? ❞ ❝ you don’t get to give up. this land needs you. ❞ ❝ oh you pretend we are different, but we fight for the same thing. ❞ ❝ there are still places of beauty to remind us of what truly matters. ❞ ❝ true mastery begins where individual ego ends. ❞ ❝ a warrior faces danger with courage and resolve. this is how they endure. ❞ ❝ those stories...they're not entirely true. ❞ ❝ even the youngest warrior needs a full belly and a rested sword-arm. ❞ ❝ bad men are good at hiding their true natures. ❞ ❝ there is nothing left for me here. my hope is lost. ❞ ❝ i did what i had to. for you. ❞ ❝ forgive my manners. i spent all my time alone. ❞ ❝ is that any way to greet a visitor? ❞ ❝ if you continue down this path...you’ll be no better than the enemy. ❞ ❝ i am grateful for the times we share...but, i always want more. ❞ ❝ you lived your life in a castle. it made you soft. ❞ ❝ i used to know what i fought for... ❞ ❝ face them as a warrior with honour. not a monster. ❞ ❝ i don’t take lives, but i am not a coward. ❞ ❝ i wonder if i’ve crossed a line. ❞ ❝ you can’t expect everyone to understand what you’re doing, or why. ❞ ❝ your methods were brutal...impulsive...without honour. ❞ ❝ there’s plenty to fear without worrying about folktales. ❞ ❝ i hope you’ll find peace again soon. ❞ ❝ you do what you need to survive. and yet you despise others for doing the same. ❞ ❝ is that your excuse? your reason to kill? ❞ ❝ we have to keep pushing. even if it costs us our lives. ❞ ❝ cowards without honour deserve no mercy. ❞ ❝ i’ll fight beside you until the end. ❞ ❝ whatever happens, your forgiveness won’t change who i am. ❞ ❝ why should we settle for scraps when we deserve to be legends? ❞ ❝ only cowards strike from the shadows. ❞ ❝ the proud do not endure. the greatest of us fall in the end. ❞ ❝ perhaps some good will come of this. ❞   ❝ you will see nothing but death to the end of your days. ❞ ❝ legacy is more than a name. ❞ ❝ im sorry. i know what it means to lose family. ❞ ❝ one day we'll escape the endless wheel of suffering. ❞ ❝ is that a 'thank you'? ❞ ❝ i know what it means to be hunted. ❞ ❝ you personify fury and regret. ❞ ❝ that's all right. i want to hear you dig your own grave. ❞ ❝ either way, we’ve got nothing to lose. ❞ ❝ i’ve done what i can. the rest is up to you. ❞ ❝ forgive me, but you look fatigued. have you endured much hardship? ❞    ❝ i hope you find true honour in your next life. ❞ ❝ you deserve nothing less than death. ❞ ❝ this is foolish. surrender, and you can live. ❞ ❝ i too have pride in family. and i know what it’s like to live in their shadow. ❞ ❝ you were gone so long, i knew you were in trouble. ❞ ❝ so many of us here owe you our lives. ❞ ❝ what's wrong? what did they do to you? ❞   ❝ you’re lucky to be alive. ❞ ❝ i know your language. your traditions. your beliefs. which village to tame and which to burn. ❞   ❝ i cannot lose you again. ❞   ❝ i don’t seek revenge. but i will fight for peace. ❞   ❝ we will meet again soon. until then...travel safely. ❞   ❝ this is war --- not a test. ❞ ❝ we can save our home together. it doesn’t have to be like this. ❞ ❝ fear is a weapon. don’t let them use it against you. ❞