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June 26 2017

We spoke all night in tongues,
in fingertips, in teeth.
— Robert Hass, from “Spring” 
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@piraticalwit (from here)

The quiet question broke into his thoughts and Killian shifted, turning toward the man at his side with a quiet huff of breath. He was sticky, damp with the sweat that coated the bare expanse of his stomach and pooled along the hollow of his neck, and he let out another quiet exhale, reaching up to brush tired fingers through his bedraggled bangs. “ Do you think it is? Wrong, I mean?” He sat up slightly, raising one brow in question and doing his best to keep blue eyes trained on Guy’s face … a feat he was sure to fail. Teeth bit at his bottom lip, sucking it back between them as he mulled it over, did his best to think of the right words to say before he shrugged it off, laying back down so his head rested on his lover’s chest. “ I was meant to find you, yeah? Or you were meant to find me, I guess was the way of it. But either way… all this? It doesn’t happen by chance.”

Fingers caressed the demon’s side gently, playing a ticklish rhythm along his rib cage before ghosting back over his stomach and chest, tweaking one nipple slightly. “Me vows be damned, your … damnedness be damned .. “ Lips twitched at the terrible word choice but he priest plowed on, determined to make his point. “ Its us. Me with you. Together, yeah? That makes it right within itself. Us, this … it could never be wrong.”

In truth, when he’d posed the question he’d been contemplating whether Killian might be feeling any pangs of remorse over the sudden physical twist their relationship had taken, and the words had slipped out almost unbidden in his weary state. But once it had been asked, Guy realized he needed to hear the Irishman’s answer, to know whether he thought they were wrong for being here like this.

He had to know if he was just another sin for which the priest would one day do penance…provided he lived long enough to ask for forgiveness.

Shaking off the dark thoughts, the demon considered what Killian had asked in return, hesitant to reveal too much of himself in case he was alone in feeling the way he did about the younger man. If it was just physical attraction and a healthy dose of lust on Killian’s part, it would be better if Guy played things closer to the vest…at least he could salvage some pride, if not his heart.

“I’m not a good judge of right and wrong,” he murmured, allowing the faintest hint of a smile to tug at his lips as he met Killian’s gaze in the dim light of the moon. “Obviously.”

Reacting unconsciously to the gentle touch along his ribs, Guy flinched, catching the other man’s hand and bringing them up to his mouth to press a kiss against Killian’s fingertips, lingering there for a moment as the answer he’d needed to hear so desperately finally fell from his lover’s lips like rain upon parched barren soil.

“Us. Together.” Guy spoke the words as if he was tasting them, letting them play across his tongue before he raised his free hand to trail down the still-damp length of the Irishman’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall with each breath and the subtle shift of muscles beneath warm, taut skin. This was the only truth he needed to know, the only benediction that mattered to him, and he’d be damned a second time before he’d give it up.

“You’re right, it doesn’t happen by chance.” Guy’s voice was little more than a whisper, his fingers hesitating only a moment in their rhythm as the words that followed spilled forth on a raspy, shaky sigh. 

“I love you.”


He was doing better than he had expected he would … apparently pure bloody luck could account for just as much as skill when it came to pool … a fact the Irishman was mentally thanking the heavens above for. Gone were the nerves that had accompanied the idea of such a date - what if he looked like a bloody inept idiot? -  and even navigating the cue with only one hand was something he had quickly become accustomed to. The older man seemed to be struggling just as much as he was, their skill levels evenly matched, and Killian breathed a sigh of relief; shoulders relaxing in a release of tension as he let out a laugh, shrugging good-naturedly at his missed attempt.

Tongue pressed to the inside of one cheek as he rocked on the balls of his feet, shifting his weight in a nervous anticipation as blue eyes roved across the bar, doing his best to look anywhere but at Guy’s ass. It was a bloody losing battle. Flushing slightly and clearing his throat the younger man reached for his beer, using the excuse of a long swallow to cover his mild embarrassment. He almost choked at the feeling of lips brushing against his ear, a new sort of anxiety coming over him that had nothing to do with pool and everything to do with the tightening in his jeans. 

“ I- uh.” He coughed, spluttering on the beer he had mis swallowed and doing his best to maintain any ounce of dignity without making a fool of himself. “ I - “ His cough continued, fist reaching up to pound at his chest as he shook his head, cheeks blooming red once more. “Bloody hell.” Finally in control of himself the Irishman turned, blue meeting blue as lips curved upwards in a crooked grin. “ With you askin’ like that, how could me answer possibly be anything akin to no?”

The plan for the night was supposed to have been casual, but the nervous tension that seemed to stretch between them as the evening went on had been anything but casual thus far. Guy had blushed more in the past two hours than he had in months, yet despite that he was enjoying himself more than he could ever remember on a simple date.

But then he’d opened his bloody mouth, making the stupid remark about Killian being his Valentine of all the juvenile things to ask, and Guy had wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor in his embarrassment. What were they, primary school students? Could he think of nothing better to say than something a first grader would ask of their crush?

Apparently not.

Deciding it was better to just run with it and make it seem as if he’d intended to be flirtatious and charming rather than childish and silly, he gave Killian a crooked grin as the younger man choked on his beer, reaching up to pat him on the back until the spasm passed. The grin widened when Guy got his answer, the flush on his cheeks having nothing to do with humiliation and everything to do with genuine pleasure.

“Yeah? In that case, I’m the luckiest bastard in all of London,” he murmured, allowing his hand to linger on Killian’s back, fingers tracing the ridge of his spine for a moment before turning to take his final shot, sinking the last ball with only the barest of attention paid to the table. He glanced back over his shoulder, dimples flashing when he noted where the Irishman’s gaze had been lingering, and as he straightened once more the pool cue was set upon the table dismissively.

“It’s gotten crowded and noisy. Would you like to get out of here, maybe go for a walk?” Guy suggested, one brow arching as he caught his lower lip between his teeth, moving ever so slightly closer to Killian until he could feel the warmth radiating from the other man’s body. “Unless you can think of something else you’d rather do…?”

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June 25 2017

@piraticalwit (from here)

Brows furrowed in puzzlement at the short declaration, head cocking to the side as he studied the man before him in bewilderment. “ Hunted?” He stilled his steps, slowing to a stop as he took note of their surroundings, unconsciously gearing up for a fight. The peaceful gardens and lush greenery of the nighttime park no longer held any draw for him and Killian tensed, testing the wind and peering into the shadows lest this new threat catch them unawares.

The area was quiet, no strange noise other than the occasional hoot of a lonesome owl and the vampire relaxed, though only just. There was no threat currently present, no inkling of some other vampire hot on their trail and the Irishman turned towards the watcher with a frown, shaking his head in vexation. “Hunted by what? One of mine? Cecco?”

A low growl escaped him at the question, thoughts already turning to the painful death that awaited the more volatile member of his coven. The younger vampire disapproved, had been more than bloody vocal about his displeasure at what he called his leader’s new pet … but the fool was more reckless than the immortal had given him credit for if he seriously meant to threaten the love of his leader’s life.

Fingers reached for Guy’s own, tightening around the younger man’s palm, almost bruising in their force and he pulled him along - anxious for the safety of walls and the steadiness given by answers. “ Tell me everything.”

He hadn’t meant to offer the news to Killian with such a blunt delivery, but how exactly did one go about telling their significant other that there was every chance that they might not live to see another birthday in a delicate manner? It wasn’t as if he could work it into conversation so that the vampire wouldn’t notice. 

Killian noticed everything.

Hurrying to correct the notion that he’d been betrayed by one of the coven, Guy gave a quick shake of his head, allowing the other man to capture his hand as he was pulled along down the street. There was an almost gratifying edge of panic to Killian’s actions that the Watcher had never seen before, something that spoke of a very real and primal fear, and despite the chill that had been lingering along the nape of his neck since he’d gotten the news, Guy felt a flicker of warmth upon seeing the immortal’s obvious concern.

“It’s not one of yours. I don’t know who they’re going to send, honestly…” Swallowing hard to quell the waver in his own voice, Guy followed the vampire into the relative safety of his own flat, watching as Killian bolted the door firmly behind them. “The Council. They know about us.”

Moving into the dimly lit living room, the Watcher settled himself on the sofa and allowed his gaze to linger upon Killian’s face, seeing the mixed emotions that flitted across the handsome, troubled features. “I’m sorry, love. I knew there was a chance they might come after me. Anyone who leaves the Council essentially betrays them, for all intents and purposes…and they don’t take betrayal well at all.” 


Dawn had not yet broken over the horizon when the summons had come; though the faintest glow along the skyline meant that morning was not far away it was far too early for any normal business, a fact that set Sir Guy’s teeth on edge and left a knot of tension in the pit of his stomach. Nothing good ever came of late night requests for the Master at Arms to come to the throne room with all haste.

His arrival was met with a relieved sigh from the King and a quiet sob from the Queen, along with a flurry of activity on behalf of the castle staff, anxious voices calling for supplies to be brought to the courtyard and for men to be roused from their slumber. Sidestepping the chaos as he made his way to the dais at the far side of the room, Guy sketched a hasty bow to the seated royalty, a frown creasing his brow when he saw the tear stains upon the cheeks of the Queen.

“You sent for me, Your Majesty?” The concern in his voice was genuine – anything that warranted such a reaction at this time of night had to be a grave matter indeed, and Guy found himself casting a quick glance around the throne room, the absence of one notable figure leaving him even more ill at ease than he had been. “Sire…where is the Prince?”

The soft weeping of the Queen grew louder with his question, and the King turned and patted his wife’s hand for a moment before rising and stepping closer to his Master at Arms.

“I knew sending for you would be the best course of action,” the King murmured, pausing before Guy and placing a hand upon the leather-clad shoulder, the acknowledgement both startling and telling. “My son is gone. A servant found his chambers empty and his bedcovers cold…” The King’s voice, usually strong and steady, wavered slightly as he broke off, swallowing past a lump in his throat before he could speak once more. “I fear he has been stolen away in the night…perhaps by those who would stop the wedding before our countries might be united.”

Remaining silent for a moment, Guy processed the information he’d been given, one hand resting upon the hilt of his sword as he considered the possibilities that lay before him. Finally he gave a slow nod, sympathetic blue eyes lifting to meet those of the King as he straightened to his full height.

“I will find your son, Your Majesty. I only request that I am given leave to do so on my own.” Casting a narrow glance toward the Captain of the Guard, the knight’s voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper and he leaned closer to his liege. “Until I am certain who is behind the Prince’s disappearance, I would have my search kept secret.”

Despite every fatherly instinct in his body telling him to send out search parties far and wide, issuing forth every soldier who had ever ridden under his banner, the King agreed reluctantly, knowing that his son would be in the best of hands. If anyone could find Killian, it was the stern, black-clad knight who rode out alone on his ebony destrier before the sun had even cleared the tree line.

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“ Oi! Watch it!” He backed up at the demand, gaze warily focused on the detective’s outstretched hands., body already coiling at the torture he knew was sure to bloody follow if the man was allowed to get his hands on him. Stepping backwards once more he took refuge behind the couch, talking fast in hopes to distract his pursuer. “Zombies are zombies though, yeah? They run really fast and eat your fuckin’ brains out. Who wouldn’t be sorta freaked out, you bloody git?” So focused was he on the impending tickle torture, the Irishman hardly gave a thought to the confession, shrugging good-naturedly as he side stepped around, doing his best to keep the furniture between them. It had been stupid to tickle Guy first, the thought there might be retaliation hadn’t even crossed his mind, and he mentally cursed himself, tripping over one foot in his haste to stay away.  “ I guess sayin’ I’m sorry wouldn’t exactly make you give up, huh?”

An almost predatory grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth, gaze narrowing on his prey as he watched Killian, the younger man doing everything in his power to evade capture by his would-be tormentor. The quick mental calculation that determined the best course of action was unconscious, honed by the years of training that had been drilled into his head, self-preservation and instinct kicking in despite the lighthearted atmosphere that existed between the Irishman and the detective.

That calculation sent him lunging for Killian, but rather than darting around the sofa as the other man might have expected, Guy made a detour over the back of the couch, long legs clearing the hurdle with ease. Strong hands grasped his husband’s arms, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest as Guy pulled Killian toward him, holding on despite the younger man’s struggles.

“Might as well accept defeat gracefully,” the detective suggested, fingers already searching out the spots along Killian’s flanks that would send the Irishman into paroxysms of laughter, sharp blue eyes flashing with humor. “Beg for mercy and I may be kind…but probably not.”

bold what applies to your muse: strengths vs. weaknesses!

tagged by: no one. I stole it from the dash.
tagging: @piraticalwit @nimueries @hangtherules @thecodekeeper @hclliday @leadkiss @madameserpent @dxdger @mohiican @trickstercaptain @voiceofourteeth @likehiisfather @beruthielthequeen @crimeblogger and idk whoever else wants it

s t r e n g t h s :

caring | merciful | brave | determined | forward | flexible | cheerful | wise | clever | humorous | spirited | lighthearted | mature | strong | sentient | generous | loving | calm | calculating | rational | unselfish | controlled | tactful | nurturing | protective | independent

w e a k n e s s e s :

panicky | cowardly | thoughtless | rash | stubborn | intransigent | negative | temperamental | scatterbrained | grim | dull | unwise | unstable | weak | irrational | awkward | greedy | over-protective | over-sensitive | rude | selfish | explosive | tactless | clingy

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this user has multiple sclerosis


June 24 2017


i could kill you if i wanted to, be honored i didnt.

June 23 2017

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June 22 2017

My dash is an incredibly stressful and toxic place to me right now, and there have also been some personal issues with a couple of people who have taken it upon themselves to believe the absolute worst about me, which has shaken me to the core and left me wondering why I’m even here, especially if people I once considered friends are so easily able to think that I would do what they accused me of doing. 

Because of these things building up this week, I’m really not in the headspace to be able to deal with anything more right now. I’m stepping away from Guy for a bit, as well as my other blogs. Apologies to those still waiting for replies or starters. I just can’t right now, but hopefully soon. 

Be good to each other.

They say ‘time heals,’ but even now I know that’s a lie. What people really mean is that eventually you’ll get used to the pain. You’ll forget who you were without it; you’ll forget what you looked like without your scars.
Claudia Gray, A Thousand Pieces of You

June 21 2017

Your scars tell a triumphant tragedy.
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June 20 2017



I love battle couples ok.

Fighting side by side. Trusting each other completely. Trying to protect each other. Casual banter in the middle of a fight. Their teamwork. Sparring each other to keep their skills sharp. Getting uncontrollably angry if the other gets hurt. Kissing each other when they’re victorious.

I seriously have a thing for battle couples.

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