#SACRIFICE ?????

[maaruin]

#you can maybe argue bail made fewer personal sacrifices in the sense that bail didn't let go of his morals as much

At that point we do reach sacrifices that are difficult to compare. Luthen Rael sacrifices his morals, knowingly. Bail Organa sacrifices his entire planet and the people who live on it, unknowingly (but he must have known that his actions put his planet at risk of reprisals).

It seems a little hilarious to me that they have Cassian making the argument that the only reason any of them are here, the only reason the REBELLION exists at all, is because of Luthen... and he's saying it to BAIL FUCKING ORGANA.

I'm sorry, but while I am happy to accept that Luthen did do a LOT of things to keep the rebellion alive and likely recruited quite a few of the people on Yavin to this cause himself and trained them up, there are just as many if not more who are there explicitly because of BAIL ORGANA.

Bail Organa who began fighting the Empire the moment he showed up at the Jedi Temple the night of Order 66 and turned around to save any Jedi he could and then became a GETAWAY DRIVER as Yoda went to assassinate the Emperor and then proceeded to agree to take in Anakin Skywalker's child in order to hide her from the Empire.

Bail Organa who has literally been shown helping recruit the entire Ghost Crew and likely brought on the entire Phoenix Squadon and theoretically the entire Gold Squadron. Bail Organa who was the one who helped Riyo Chuchi try to fight for clone rights. Bail Organa who saw Ahsoka Tano on Naboo for Padme's funeral and immediately turns around to offer her a chance to join the rebellion which she does eventually choose to take. Bail Organa who eventually does allow his own DAUGHTER to join the rebellion and run missions when she's old enough.

You cannot convince me that somehow Luthen Rael is MORE responsible for the creation of the rebellion and its existence and people's involvement in it than Bail Organa. You can't.

[veenomorph]

Alright, at this point I’m following I don’t even know how many Cult of the Lamb artists so it’s time to post a piece I made a while back. Hope y’all like it :)

[thesecondhandwoman]

The way Isha was so content with her sacrifice, closing her eyes and smiling in her final moments, actually hurts me. And she is only like that because she was thinking about Jinx: how she saved her, how she took her in when she was left for the streets of the undercity, how she was able to constantly follow her around and get inspired, how she was able to fulfill the loss of her inner child, and finally how she was able to save her and the other people (Vi) she loved from dying.

That, my friends, makes this really heart wrenching, and what hurts even more is that she was a child. She was particularly Jinx’s child, and we can see that in the way Jinx looked the most frightened when Isha was captured, or the way she saw how she grabbed her gun, stuffed it with hextech, and pulled the trigger (all while being held back by her sister despite her tries in running to Isha, crying and screaming).

[ourslutfactory]

Me when I’m feeling like my hottest self

[belamercado]

While I can't have you, I long for you. I am the kind of person who would miss a train or a plane to meet you for coffee. I'd take a taxi across town to see you for ten minutes. I'd wait outside all night if I thought you would open the door in the morning.

- Jeanette Winterson

[reality-detective]

“We’re all involved in spiritual warfare” RFK Jr

This generation’s failure to keep the children safe will be remembered well into the future. We have a chance now to redeem ourselves and do something to protect their mental and physical health.

Bobbie is right, we need to stop focusing on what divides us and “that’s only going to happen when we start loving our children more than we hate each other.”

I AM remaining hopeful 🙏 that "We The People" as a whole unified revolution will do the right thing 🤔

[eugenedebs1920]

“We are unique among the world’s armies. We are unique among the world’s militaries. We don’t take an oath to a country. We don’t take an oath to a tribe. We don’t take an oath to a religion. We don’t take an oath to a king, or a queen, or a tyrant, or to a dictator, or to a wannabe dictator. We don’t take an oath to an individual. We take an oath to the Constitution, and we take an oath to the idea, that as America, we are willing to die to protect it.”

“Those values and ideas are contained within the Constitution of the United States of America which is the moral North Star for all of us who had the privilege to wear the cloth of our nation. It’s that document that all of us wearing that uniform swear to protect and defend against all enemies, foreign, and domestic. Those who sacrificed themselves upon the alter of freedom the last two and a half centuries of this country must not have done so in vain. The millions wounded in this nations wars did not sacrifice their limbs, and shed their blood, to see this great experiment in democracy perish from this earth. No. We the American people, we the American military must never turn our backs on those who came before us. We will never turn our back on the Constitution. That is our North Star. That is who we are, and that is why we fight.”

General Mark Milley

[makingsenseofwhathappened]

[obsessionavecdescouteaux]

She’s beautiful in an angelic sacrificial lamb way. An easy kill, desperately needing her throat slit.

[ex0skeletal-undead]

The Tribute by milirine

[thewindowofthesummerhouse]

Jeffrey Catherine Jones

[unbfacts]

[aventurineswife]

HEYYYYYYY if I can may I ask for Aventurine, Sunday and Dan Hang protecting reader when they get badly injured protecting them please ( I’ve been desperate for some angst and comfort recently with them 😭😭 )

“If I Fall, Let It Be for You”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Protectiveness, Sacrifice, Vulnerability, Emotional Conflict, Guilt, Platonic or Romantic Love, Selflessness, Inner Struggles.

Warnings: Graphic injury, Blood, Violence, Desperation, Guilt, Emotional distress, Death-related themes.

A/N: Hope you like this!! 🫣

The battlefield stretched before you, a blur of smoke and chaos. You had acted on instinct—throwing yourself in front of Dan Heng to block a strike meant for him. The blade tore through your side, pain radiating through your body as you stumbled.

“[Name]!” Dan Heng’s voice, usually so calm and composed, cracked as he caught you in his arms. His eyes widened, a rare display of emotion breaking through his stoic mask.

You gave him a weak smile, your hand clutching the bleeding wound. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

His jaw tightened, and his grip on you was firm yet trembling. “You should never have done that.” There was an edge to his voice, sharp and laden with guilt.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and you felt yourself fading.

“Stay with me,” Dan Heng ordered, his voice softer now but no less desperate. He cradled you closer, his usually steady hands pressing against your wound to stem the bleeding. “You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

He carried you swiftly to a safe spot behind the ruins, shielding you from the chaos. His spear, Cloud-Piercer, stood guard nearby, its sharp tip still dripping with the blood of your enemies. Dan Heng tore a strip of fabric from his coat, fashioning a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Why?” he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on your pale face. “Why would you put yourself in harm’s way for me?”

You managed a weak chuckle despite the pain. “Because I care about you, Dan Heng. Even if you keep pushing people away, I won’t stop protecting you.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, his usual reserve cracked. “I don’t deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done… everything I’ve failed to prevent.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. “You’re worth it to me.”

Dan Heng’s eyes softened, guilt and sorrow mingling with something deeper—something he had tried so hard to suppress. He didn’t speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He leaned into your touch, his fingers brushing your hair as if trying to commit every detail of you to memory.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, his voice low but resolute. “Not again.”

Dan Heng stayed by your side, his spear within reach, ready to defend you from any further threat. The battle raged on around you, but his focus never wavered. He wasn’t just protecting you now—he was protecting the fragile hope you had given him, the chance for something beyond the weight of his past.

And in his quiet way, Dan Heng vowed to repay the trust you had shown him, no matter the cost.

The echoes of the gunfire still reverberated in the empty corridors, a cruel reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. Aventurine stood frozen for a moment, the world around him slowing to a crawl. The usually confident smirk plastered on his face had vanished, replaced by a rare expression of raw, unfiltered fear.

You lay crumpled on the ground, your blood pooling beneath you. You had thrown yourself in front of him, a human shield against the sniper's bullet that had been meant for his chest.

“Why?” Aventurine whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you, his gloved hands hesitating before pressing against your wound. His pristine, gold-adorned sleeves soaked in crimson as he tried to stem the bleeding. "You absolute fool. What were you thinking?"

Your eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on your lips despite the pain. "Because I knew you'd never let yourself be hit," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're too important... too smart to take risks like that."

Aventurine let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "And yet here you are, bleeding out because of me," he muttered, his tone laced with guilt and frustration. "You're supposed to stay out of the crossfire, not throw yourself into it like some kind of martyr."

The mask he wore so effortlessly in high-stakes games and political negotiations shattered in that moment. He was no longer the composed strategist, the man who always had a plan. He was just Kakavasha—terrified, helpless, and desperate to keep you alive.

“Stay with me,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he pulled out his communicator and barked orders for immediate medical assistance. “You don’t get to leave like this. Not here, not now.”

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against his cheek. "I trust you, Aventurine," you whispered, your voice faltering. "You'll fix this... you always do."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I’m a gambler, not a miracle worker," he admitted softly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "But if there’s one thing I never bet against... it’s you."

The minutes felt like hours as he stayed by your side, murmuring reassurances that neither of you believed. His mind raced, calculating odds and outcomes, but none of his usual strategies could guarantee your survival. For the first time in years, Aventurine felt powerless.

When the medics finally arrived, he refused to leave your side, riding with you to the emergency unit despite their protests. As the doors closed behind them and the sterile lights flickered above, Aventurine made a silent vow.

No matter the cost, he would ensure you lived to see another gamble, another day by his side. Because without you, even victory would feel like defeat.

The clash of blades and the sound of explosions filled the air, but Sunday’s focus was solely on you. The two of you had been ambushed, and though he had held his ground, one stray attacker had slipped through his defenses, aiming for his unprotected flank.

You hadn’t hesitated. You’d stepped in without thinking, intercepting the blow meant for him. Now, you lay slumped against a ruined wall, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.

“Why... why would you do that?” Sunday asked, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you. His eyes, usually so calm and composed, were wide with panic. He pressed his hands over yours, trying to stop the bleeding. The glow of his halo seemed dimmer, as if it mirrored the dread coursing through him.

“You needed protecting,” you gasped, a weak smile crossing your lips. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“Foolish,” Sunday whispered, his tone a mixture of frustration and anguish. "I am the one who should be protecting you." He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gloved hands trembling. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

Your hand reached for his, squeezing weakly. "You’re worth it."

Sunday’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his dignified mask crumbled. "No one is worth losing you," he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not even me.”

The world around the two of you seemed to fade away as Sunday focused solely on keeping you conscious. He whispered soft reassurances, his usually formal tone replaced with a raw, desperate plea. “Stay with me,” he urged. “I’ll fix this. I swear it.”

Using his limited healing abilities, Sunday poured his energy into stabilizing you. The effort left him visibly drained, his face pale and his breaths labored, but he refused to stop. "I’ve seen too much suffering," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I won’t allow it to claim you."

As reinforcements arrived and medical aid was administered, Sunday stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. When you were finally safe, he let out a shaky breath, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

"You risked yourself for me," he said quietly, his eyes softening. “But know this: I will never allow you to come to harm again. You are too precious to lose.”

In that moment, you saw a side of Sunday he rarely revealed—a man burdened by the weight of his ideals, yet willing to fight against them for the sake of someone he cherished.

[donteverchxnge]

and the crazy thing is spn really added a whole scene with cas and dean alone at a bar, having a sentimental moment, while they watch cupid matchmake a delivery woman and a male bartender but actually it turns out to be the bartender and a GUY sitting at the bar. A gay romance. As if we are NOT going to read into that.

[fentanylaced]