If I Can Hold You Again, I Won’t Let You Go.

Susan did not see Peter in battle for years—arriving to his stand against Jadis almost too late, catching up while he picked himself up from the torn earth, on the other side of the conflict when the remnants of Jadis’ army tried their luck at the Cair. Sure, she knew he fought and killed, just as she did, just as Edmund and Lucy did—and oh, how Susan loathes that last part, but Lucy had been the one to find the first assassin in their halls and there was nothing to be done about it now. There was entirely too much death in their first year, Susan thinks, the fairytale shine of Narnia soon breaking apart and leaving a country and people in desperate need of rest and time behind. It took her days to get the blood out underneath her and Lucy’s fingernails, and she knew Peter had just as bad a time with Edmund next door. With a lump in her throat, Susan wondered often if this was to be the rest of their lives: washing themselves clean of battles that were forced upon them by a world far too big for their hands to hold. But even then, with the bloodied waters between them all, she never truly saw Peter in battle. A slain Maugrim who had about as much a part in his own death as Peter’s shaking sword did, a witch that Susan never saw die, assassins that ended up on the moth-eaten carpets she had found in old storage rooms; things that should give her pause but she simply couldn’t consider for long with all there was to do. They had killed to end up where they were, and Susan knew deep down that they would have to kill to stay, too. Now, standing with her bow held tight and a quiver empty of arrows, a sword at her side she has yet to finish learning how to swing, Susan finds herself in a pocket of tar-slow time. Here, she stands with a muddied hemline and their castle once more under siege—unknown foes, but foes all the same—and there, across the way, with his hair longer than Susan has ever known him to have, Peter lets out a roaring laugh. Rhindon is far out of sight, a glaive taking its place in Peter’s steady hands. Even from afar, Susan feels it in her bones when Peter’s swing launches an enemy’s torn body across the field. There are bodies, horror-frozen faces, the stench of blood and bile. The steps to the Cair will perhaps forever bear the stain of this assault. They have lost people they held dear. Susan has wept enough to fill an ocean. And Peter laughs. With storm-eyes, bloodied tongue, and bared teeth, her older brother wages joyous war.

Mourning Bucky After His Death in 1945

(Inspired by^ this channel is wonderful, their ambiences always get my head in the right place for writing: beware, angst)

You got the news late, when the Commandos came back from the mission...and there was one missing. They didn't need to say a thing - the gap in their ranks, and the look on Steve's face, said it all.

Being a nurse, you couldn't stop to feel the pain or even really process it. But once the rush ended, and you stepped into the quiet street, everything fell on you at once. Tears poured, and your heart felt like it could burst. Bucky usually picked you up when your breaks came. His absence hit you like a truck.

Instead, you walked along the street in a thin army uniform and shivered all the way. A bitter wind blew through Brooklyn this time of year, but the cold you felt had little to do with the weather.

Somehow, your feet brought you to the old docks where Bucky worked through the summers. That was years ago, now, and seemed like a different life. You couldn't help but smile, recalling the laughter and choice language that used to fill the air.

Once, when you began to realise the full extent of your feelings, you came to the docks and watched him for the whole day. Instead of hiding away how you felt, you relished in it.

Sixteen was a hell of an age to fall in love, especially in the thirties. But reciprocated love...it blossomed and bloomed so beautifully. With Steve, your brother, you and Bucky built a life together.

It was always Steve who talked about their future...without him. The sickly boy never expected to live past thirty, and, despite how painful the idea was, neither did they.

Never in a million years did you imagine Bucky going first.

You couldn't hold it anymore. The sobs ripped out, and you sank to the ground by the water. One hand tightly clasped the other, a cold, glinting ring pressing into your skin. A promise, a commitment...now nothing but a memory. The life you talked about, planned so dreamily, even in the face of the war, gone. Destroyed in an instant.

Deep hatred and a desire for vengance reared its head in you. Bucky always said you and Steve were too alike. But the decision already cemented itself in your mind.

When Steve crashed the Valkyrie, no one was left behind. Two days before, you had vanished on a mission in Switzerland - presumed dead. He had nothing, not even Peggy, really, to keep him on Earth.

Little did he know, that the two sweethearts had been reunited. And Hydra would make good use of them both.

help this is way too accurate

San Francisco Details (Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, 2014)

D E V O T I O N

I swear, this man comes into my shop, flashing that cheeky grin of his,he's gonna get away with ALOT.

*Gods my crush is getting worse. Someone help me*

what if the new pope is problematic :/

listening to strange trails is not enough. i need all that shit to happen to me.

after a lifetime of hearing about aragorn but not reading the books or watching the movies, genuinely nothing could have prepared me for his actual introduction. the hobbits picked this man out of a dumpster. he is a textbook softspoken angst prince and he is covered in dirt and he probably smells so bad. he’s the coolest man alive and is so casual about it. his number one skill is Knowing Where They Are and his number two skill is Having A Horrible Destiny That Torments Him. tolkien got it in one i’m afraid aragorn son of arathorn you are the guy of all time