#ask responses.

like venom it spreads, bitter-tasting guilt filling up and drying out the captain’s mouth. the way his teeth grit and his nostrils flare indicating more than words ever could.  there  is  no  telling  who  keeps  the  other  standing:  two  sets  of  hands  pulling  desperately  at  fabrics  and  skin,  vulnerability,  a  magnetic  force  towing  them  together.  vengeance  dwells  deep  beneath  an  exterior  of  flushed,  jaded  skin,  feeding  off  suffering.  he  holds  onto  edmure  for  fear  of  letting  it  control  him  and  having  impulse  override  his  senses.  there  is  nothing  he  can  do,  not  now,  for  he  does  not  have  the  power  to  breathe  life  back  into  decaying  corpses,  he  can  only  add  to  their  number.  coarse  thumbs  traces  across  either  of  the  younger’s  cheeks,  regret  staining  his  voice,  ‘  they  won’t  be  back,  no matter  how  long  we  spend  weeping  for  their  fate,  they  won’t  be  back.  all  we  can  do  is  make  sure  that  they  are  never  forgotten. ’   

☁ or ♣         touch memes | accepting | @mostlylows​ . ♣ : slowly pulling them into your lap to curl up and cuddle          

                As the months flew off the calendar, Ashley found himself growing closer to his employer. Days at a time had been spent at T.J.’s residence, mostly due to the fact that the other discovered his affinity for a quality bath, glittery bath bombs included. The veteran had emerged from the bathroom, the sound of draining water faint against the piano that filled the room. He wore the robe T.J. had purchased for him, boxers beneath for modesty’s sake. 

                Sitting on the floor next to the couch, Ashley felt the plush rug between his fingers. Part of him wondered if he’d ever adjust to the luxury products T.J. owned, and the other part wondered if he could stay forever. Hair still wet and glitter-filled, he leaned his head on the edge of the couch, letting out a content sigh. 

                He hardly notices the piano music stop, barely registers the man who sits next to him. A hand on his arm, another on his leg, and he’s melting into the touch. Another soft sigh passes his lips, body leaning into the warmth of T.J., a laugh bubbling in his throat as he feels tugging on his limbs. Their late night talks had revealed much ; secrets Ashley would only tell a friend. One of those was his affinity for sitting on laps. 

     things you want to hear | @terrifiesall​ | accepting.

                ❝ i got you a coffee. ❞

                 Exhaustion runs heavy through Ashley’s soul ; days and weeks without sleep often left him feeling like a zombie. He’s not far from one, all things considered. Lids heavy as he skimmed the newspaper, reading but not absorbing any information. Just something that made him feel more human, made him look more human. 

                 Footsteps approached and he peered up from the paper, gaze fixating on the not-so-grim mask that death wears. Yes, he knew her well, for he and death had clashed time and time again. First he had thought her to be an angel, never quite able to carry him to the gates, but he soon realized she was something else.

                 Maybe not death, but he always saw her when his body was on the verge of dying. However, his soul always remained. 

pensively, fingers comb through overgrown bristles; the captain’s body slacking comfortably back in his chair. whether  he  is  verging  anger  or  soon  to  erupt  with  laughter  is guesswork,  his  expression,  perpetually  hardened,  idle  as  can  be  when  the  other  speaks.  but  his  words  do  resonate,   spark  an  interest that  doesn’t  immediately  show,  prompting  words  that  pushes  beyond  indifference,  ‘  there  are  few  men  who  are  solely  good, ’   admitting  as  much  requires  a  strength  of  character  that  flint  finds  both  rare  and  admirable,   ‘ and  men  who  deem  themselves  good  are  often  far  worse  than  those  that  do  not.   they  are  the  ones  who  make  the  rules  by  which  you  and  i  define  ourselves.  good  or  bad  does  not  matter  to  me ──  it  is  the  singular  that  matters, actions,  whether  considered  good  or  not,  are  what  matter. ’

bell-like laughter proves infectious, adversing his dullness is the brightness of her being. when  he  bares  his  teeth  with  her  it  is  not  to  ward  off  unwanted  company,  it  is  not  the  usual  snarl,  but  a  genuine  grin  that  she  incites,   ‘ life  on  the  moon  sounds  like  a  miserable,  lonely  affair, ’   though  there’s  some  appeal  to  the  thought,  he  has  no  imagination  to  take  it  further:   his  feet  are  too  firmly  grounded  in  sand,  waves  of  harsh  reality  crashing  up  against  them:   ‘  knowing  you  i’d  say  you  would  find  a  way  to  bring  moonlight  wherever  you  go. ’   with  that  he   leans  forward,  just  enough  that  he  can  take  her  hand  into  his  own,  squeezing  it  lightly:  ‘  your  people  would  miss  their  fierce  young  queen.  you  best  stay  here  for  a  bit  longer.  ’

temperate,  the  stinted  smirk  he  wears;  there  to  mask  an  incipient frustration  at  being  kept  in  the  dark. his  fingers  tap  lightly  at  the  arm  of  his  chair  as  he  looks  decidedly  into  familiar  dornish  hues,  ‘  if  we  are  waiting  for  westeros  to  prick  up  its  ears,  we  are  facing  rather  a  long  delay. ‘  it  is  not  that  he  does  not  understand,  all  men  must  have  their  secrets,  but  he,  in  particular,  hasn’t  the  time  to  sit  negotiating,  however  pleasant  the  sparring  partner,  under  dorne’s  sun  for  days  on  end.  the  testing  of  his  patience  sure  to  meddle  with  fairness  of  his  judgement, ‘ i  seek  to  aid  you  in  this,  my  lord,  but  before  i  can  do  so,  there  can  be  naught  unspoken  between  us.  every  detail,  however  grim,  must  come  to  light. ‘ 

           bodhi’s hands wrap around the metal container, feeling the warmth of it leaching into his fingers. by this point the rest of the team had flowed around them and boarded the ship, leaving the two of them alone. it wasn’t the first time, but it still felt odd to do this without cassian, but orders were orders, and cassian’s was to stay behind till his hip got better ( a direction bodhi wholeheartedly agreed with but never mentioned out loud ). 

         the corner of his eye crinkles, a smile darting across his lips. they’d been receiving mysterious food parcels packed into their kit for each new mission with stuff that was far more substantial than regular ration packs. this feeling of being watched for would definitely catch up to him when he was alone. ❝ i was wondering if i was left out of the mysterious food pack roster this week. ❞