#blakbonnet

Winning? Is that what you think it's about? I'm not trying to win. I'm not doing this because I want to beat someone, or because I hate someone, or because, because I want to blame someone. It's not because it's fun, and God knows it's not because it's easy. It's not even because it works, because it hardly ever does. I do what I do, because it's right! Because it's decent! And above all, it's kind. It's just that. Just kind. If I run away today, good people will die. If I stand and fight, some of them might live. Maybe not many, maybe not for long. Hey, you know, maybe there's no point in any of this at all, but it's the best I can do, so I'm going to do it. And I will stand here doing it till it kills me. You're going to die too, some day. How will that be? Have you thought about it? What would you die for? Who I am is where I stand. Where I stand, is where I fall. Stand with me. These people are terrified. Maybe we can help, a little. Why not, just at the end, just be kind?

❤️❤️❤️

Rainbow princess

In another life, Stede preferred nighttime to day. 

At night he could be alone. Well, he had to share a bed with Mary, yes, but he could feign sleep, and therefore it was easier to imagine he was alone. All nice and quiet and peaceful. No expectations to speak of. And then he could drift off to sleep as he rotated through some of his favorite fantasies in his mind — captaining a pirate ship, going on adventures on the high seas, swashbuckling in a fab red swishy coat and some smashing leather boots, oh, and maybe even a sash so it’d twirl all around him as he leapt to and fro, and…

Anyway!

Point is, Stede loved nighttime, because it was the only time he could fool himself into thinking he was happy. There was nothing he looked forward to more than putting on his nightcap and tucking himself into bed for a long night of dreaming.

But now? In this life?

Stede loves the morning.   

He loves the way the sun’s rays stream into the window of the bedroom he shares with Ed. He loves stretching out his arms and wiggling his fingers to get some circulation back into them before he pulls Ed into a tighter embrace. He loves the sleepy little noises Ed makes as he settles himself into Stede’s chest. He loves gently running his hand through Ed’s hair and seeing if any more silver strands sprouted overnight. 

He loves placing gentle kisses on whatever part of Ed he can reach — the top of his head, above his eyebrow, on his cheek, on his nose, down his neck and back up again. 

He loves how Ed feels wrapped up around him, all warm and languid and liquid, like a big, gorgeous cat sunning himself in love. But in a way that doesn’t sound weird. Because that does sound weird. A bit. 

But still. 

Stede loves mornings.

All nice and quiet and peaceful. No expectations to speak of. 

Just love.

Ed rolls over in Stede’s arms, taking one of Stede’s hands as he does. Smiling, Stede turns his focus to the new area of skin Ed very kindly bared for kisses. He peppers soft kisses all over Ed's back, gentle and sweet, each one a reminder to Ed:

Hello, my love.

I’m here.

I love this life we’ve built together.

We’ll get our first guest at the inn some day.

You’re beautiful.

You’re wonderful.

You’re mine.

And then Stede feels Ed pull his hand to his lips, and Ed presses a kiss there, and Stede squeezes his hand back.

“Morning, love.” Ed’s voice is still raspy with sleep, just one more thing Stede loves about the mornings. “Have a good night's sleep?”