#Stewards Department

[seilon]

guess who’s Overqualified

[directactionforhope]

"Starting this month [June 2024], thousands of young people will begin doing climate-related work around the West as part of a new service-based federal jobs program, the American Climate Corps, or ACC. The jobs they do will vary, from wildland firefighters and “lawn busters” to urban farm fellows and traditional ecological knowledge stewards. Some will work on food security or energy conservation in cities, while others will tackle invasive species and stream restoration on public land. 

The Climate Corps was modeled on Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps, with the goal of eventually creating tens of thousands of jobs while simultaneously addressing the impacts of climate change. 

Applications were released on Earth Day, and Maggie Thomas, President Joe Biden’s special assistant on climate, told High Country News that the program’s website has already had hundreds of thousands of views. Since its launch, nearly 250 jobs across the West have been posted, accounting for more than half of all the listed ACC positions. 

“Obviously, the West is facing tremendous impacts of climate change,” Thomas said. “It’s changing faster than many other parts of the country. If you look at wildfire, if you look at extreme heat, there are so many impacts. I think that there’s a huge role for the American Climate Corps to be tackling those crises.”  

Most of the current positions are staffed through state or nonprofit entities, such as the Montana Conservation Corps or Great Basin Institute, many of which work in partnership with federal agencies that manage public lands across the West. In New Mexico, for example, members of Conservation Legacy’s Ecological Monitoring Crew will help the Bureau of Land Management collect soil and vegetation data. In Oregon, young people will join the U.S. Department of Agriculture, working in firefighting, fuel reduction and timber management in national forests. 

New jobs are being added regularly. Deadlines for summer positions have largely passed, but new postings for hundreds more positions are due later this year or on a rolling basis, such as the Working Lands Program, which is focused on “climate-smart agriculture.”  ...

On the ACC website, applicants can sort jobs by state, work environment and focus area, such as “Indigenous knowledge reclamation” or “food waste reduction.” Job descriptions include an hourly pay equivalent — some corps jobs pay weekly or term-based stipends instead of an hourly wage — and benefits. The site is fairly user-friendly, in part owing to suggestions made by the young people who participated in the ACC listening sessions earlier this year...

The sessions helped determine other priorities as well, Thomas said, including creating good-paying jobs that could lead to long-term careers, as well as alignment with the president’s Justice40 initiative, which mandates that at least 40% of federal climate funds must go to marginalized communities that are disproportionately impacted by climate change and pollution. 

High Country News found that 30% of jobs listed across the West have explicit justice and equity language, from affordable housing in low-income communities to Indigenous knowledge and cultural reclamation for Native youth...

While the administration aims for all positions to pay at least $15 an hour, the lowest-paid position in the West is currently listed at $11 an hour. Benefits also vary widely, though most include an education benefit, and, in some cases, health care, child care and housing. 

All corps members will have access to pre-apprenticeship curriculum through the North America’s Building Trades Union. Matthew Mayers, director of the Green Workers Alliance, called this an important step for young people who want to pursue union jobs in renewable energy. Some members will also be eligible for the federal pathways program, which was recently expanded to increase opportunities for permanent positions in the federal government...

 “To think that there will be young people in every community across the country working on climate solutions and really being equipped with the tools they need to succeed in the workforce of the future,” Thomas said, “to me, that is going to be an incredible thing to see.”"

-via High Country News, June 6, 2024

--

Note: You can browse Climate Corps job postings here, on the Climate Corps website. There are currently 314 jobs posted at time of writing!

Also, it says the goal is to pay at least $15 an hour for all jobs (not 100% meeting that goal rn), but lots of postings pay higher than that, including some over $20/hour!!

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - November 1-7

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles on Patreon!

1. Climate Initiatives Fare Well Across the Country Despite National Political Climate

“[California voters approved] a $10 billion bond measure to boost climate resilience across [the] state[…. Hawai’i] voters cast their ballots in favor of establishing the [climate] resiliency fund, with money for the project coming from existing property tax revenue.“

2. ‘You have to disguise your human form’: how sea eagles are being returned to Severn estuary after 150 years

“[… To avoid imprinting,] the handlers will wear long robes and feed the young eagles chopped rabbit and other meat with bird hand-puppets. […] Williams hopes that restoring eagles to the top of the food chain in the estuary will create a more balanced, thriving ecosystem.”

3. 10 states voted on pro-abortion referendums. 7 of them passed

“New York voters overwhelmingly approved the Equal Rights Amendment, adding [… among other characteristics] gender expression, pregnancy, and pregnancy outcomes to anti-discrimination laws. […] In deep-red Missouri and Montana, voters also enshrined abortions protections in their state constitutions.”

4. Giant rats could soon fight illegal wildlife trade by sniffing out elephant tusk and rhino horn

“”Our study shows that we can train African giant pouched rats to detect illegally trafficked wildlife, even when it has been concealed among other substances[.…] They can easily access tight spaces like cargo in packed shipping containers or be lifted up high to screen the ventilation systems of sealed containers,” Szott explained.”

5. Sarah McBride wins Delaware U.S. House seat, becoming the first out trans member of Congress

“McBride spearheaded Delaware’s legislation to ban the “gay and trans panic” defense as a state senator [… and] helped to pass paid family and medical leave, gun safety measures, and protections for reproductive rights.”

6. Critically endangered Sumatran elephant calf born in Indonesia

“Indonesian officials hailed the births and said they showed conservation efforts were essential to prevent the protected species from extinction. […] Sumatran elephants are on the brink of extinction with only about 2,400-2,800 left in the world, according to the World Wide Fund for Nature.”

7. Sin City is Going Green

“[Hotels there] have conserved 16 billion gallons of water since 2007, thanks to […] replacing grass with desert-friendly landscaping, installing water-efficient taps across all properties, and reusing water at aquariums and in the Bellagio Fountain.”

8. Gray squirrel control: Study shows promise for effective contraceptive delivery system

“[… T]he feeders have a very high level of species-specificity. […] The bait and monitoring system developed and tested in the study demonstrated that […] “spring was the only season tested where female squirrels were more likely to visit bait feeders than males. Spring coincides with a peak in squirrel breeding and is therefore a good time to deliver a contraceptive."”

9. Returning Grazing Land to Native Forests Would Yield Big Climate Benefits

“[… S]trategically regrowing forests on land where cattle currently graze […] while intensifying production elsewhere could drastically cut greenhouse gas emissions, with little hit to global protein production, a new study shows.”

10. Interior Department Strengthens Conservation of American Bison Through New Agreement with Canada and Mexico

“Approximately 31,000 bison are currently being stewarded by the United States, Canada and Mexico with the goal of conserving the species and their role in the function of native grassland systems, as well as their place in Indigenous culture.”

October 22-28 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[fairy-lights-and-blobs]

I have someone at like a story idea where Danny is like Princess Yue from Avatar last Airbender

Danny is the physical body for the ancient of space sometimes they just form in the infinite realms and get a physical body along with it and sometimes I just get an essence and have to wait till a body comes along to actually gain consciousness

Danny is that body but the idea is the Justice League is trying to make peace with the infinite realms and the council of ancients have decided let's do a deal we give you a the high Prince of the infinite rounds he stays with you for a month and if he comes back with good news of you humans we will not go to war with you

And the Justice League trying to keep peace agree they were not expecting to see a white hair teenager wearing a heavy layer traditional Komodo with a crown that has mini planets circling around his head to go along with the crown

And Frozen bits of Lazarus water floating around him to add to the exquisite that the boy carries himself with

Danny besides to base his personality off of Dora and princess Yue so no one can connect normal human Danny Fenton to High Prince Phantom Of The Infinite Realms Young Ancient Of Space

Also I just have to crack site of Danny looking at the Lazarus pits that the bats have in the cave because he's staying with them first and going it's a bit Rusty but I can work with it

Proceeding to use the Lazarus pits to make him a pair of pajamas or Danny acting like he doesn't know anything that much about the human world and it's just going along with most things

Danny Phantom acting like a Proper Prince from ancient times it doesn't understand modern teenage things just a mess with Justice League

The Justice League trying their best to appease to a teenager well also trying to stop the US government from starting a war that they will definitely not win

Oh boy, you had a real big brain time with this one :)

The Justice League had been tasked with temporary guardianship over Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne of All, Steward of Stars.

Adored by the consciousness of the very Realm he will eventually rule over, it would fall upon Earth's best heroes to keep him safe for one entire month, and not a second less.

In exchange, loyal Halloween, also know as Fright Knight, and the King's armies wouldn't take action against Earth as a whole for the actions of one group falsely calling themselves government agents. "Let the Justice League actually deliver said Justice" had been the Prince's comment during a meeting of the Ancients. Before the Ancient Space had been through the cycle of rebirth this last time, there had been no heroes to protect the Living. Only their many divided leaders.

As Danny Fenton, they had caught whispers of the Bat on the rise, of a little Bird to follow after. Of a human, blessed by Hermes who always arrived on time. Of many, many more to follow, taking up arms to fight for Earth and her people, in defense of Justice. As Phantom, newborn half-ghost, and rising Ancient of Space, they heard of many departed souls that sang praises of the heroes, who forgave them for not making it in time, who were happy to have met their favorite before the embrace of Thanatos took them.

If this "Justice League" truly stood for Justice as they claimed, then Phantom would take a chance and trust them.

A week after the accord had been signed by the three leading members of the Justice League, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, gathered in a meeting room to welcome the arriving Prince and his Council.

The first sign was the way the temperature dropped, followed by the sygils painted on the wall by Constantine and Zatanna lighting up toxic green. Bleeding inwards in a lazy spiral, the glowing light swirled into a spinning rift between dimensions, out of which walked Firght Knight himself, settling to the side of the portal, and standing at attention, ready for the rest of the Council to appear.

As the light from the portal became a pale, icy blue, a hand in a white, claw-tipped glove appeared from the portal, the hand's owner following after it, while the loyal Knight moved to bring his elbow up, so Prince Phantom could grab it and let himself be led out of the portal. The fact that the Prince's Fright Knight rested his free hand against his side, instead of the pommel of his sword, was a good indicator that they expected Phantom to be welcomed and safe here. They would do their best to ensure their trust was not unfounded.

Upon first glance, as the ghost of the hour floated out of the portal, the most attention would be paid to the Crown that sat on the teenage-looking ghost's head, all iridescent metal with little miniature planets orbiting each spike.

The Prince looked around the room, evaluating each of the three League members present, almost silent, if not for the way his long,almost elfin ears twitched, making the chains attached to them jingle pleasantly, little galaxies hanging from the metal and swirling lazily. A quietly howling star filled the silence, until Phantom turned to chirp at the portal, calling in the rest of the Council to step forth.

Not all of the Ancients gathered, this time. For the handoff, only those that Phantom named as family would be present. Frostbite, Pandora, Lady Dorathea and Clockwork.

Frostbite, the Yeti and Pandora, Guardian of Hope, the main caretakers, as his parents. Clockwork, one Brother of Space, now Mentor and Grandfather. Dorathea, Cousin and confidante, who insisted that Danny arrive in the best fashion to be found in his Lair. And through all his past turns of the cycle of rebirth, Danny had accumulated fashions uncountable, for his Fraid to enjoy.

Today, Dora had insisted to dress him up in a black kimono, specifically the one that faded from black, to dark blue into pale icy blue. Snowflakes slowly fell all across the length of the cloth, turning a formal piece of attire into a moving art show, as snow fell in lazy patterns with each step Danny took.

"Batman. Superman. Wonder Woman. Thank you for your kind offer of hospitality while I remain in this Realm." A furry hand on his shoulder led Phantom to sit in the closest chair, thumb nudging gently against a freckled cheek in silent support as the Yeti almost glowed with pride for his boy.

"It is nice to see you well, Prince Phantom." Wonder Woman took the lead, as was the usual when discussions between the three main Justice League heroes involved the more divine or supernatural aspects of the world. "We have some ideas for who will host you for the duration of your time here, and were hoping you might give your opinion."

The plan was for, at least initially, to have Batman host their guest. Both Clark and Diana knew the Dark Knight of Gotham would be a better fit for a Prince's stay.

Clark, with his irregular schedule as a reporter and his sons, and Diana with her work as a museum curator, were both too busy to host him. Bruce, on the other hand, would have the space needed, the free schedule needed to care for a teenage royal, and, most importantly, other teenagers already in his care, to help the current youngest of the Ancients acclimate to the modern Era, and specifically the Gotham lifestyle.

One signed contract later, and Danny floated in front of the Zeta tubes, feeling the rumble of working machinery, the humming of electricity which Danny knew deep in his bones and Core, would always recognize what killed him in this life while keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Right now, Danny was just Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne and Rising Ancient of Space. Fenton could take a break from his crazy parents and their fixation on ghosts, and Jazz didnt need to spend her entire day worrying about him and smothering him in affection.

Highly advanced machinery was an interest because it was new, not because he wants to take it apart and see what makes it tick.

Thus, misdirection in place, Danny's Core studied the signals coming from the portal frame, and the rift just beyond, waiting to open.

"Your Highness, are you ready to go?" Ah, that would be Batman, standing at his side and watching him. He sounded...soft. The ghosts of Gotham always spoke of how soft Batman was towards children and, Ancient or not, right now Danny was, for all intents and purposes, a teenager.

A dead teenager, and that was bound to tug at the Bat's heart.

So, with a big smile, and big, curious eyes, Danny turned to face the Dark Knight and curtsied just as Dora had taught him to.

"I am indeed ready. I wonder what kind of home Gotham's favorite Knight lives in!"

"Before we leave, I should tell you, there will be others there. My children are a chaotic bunch, but they will be curious about you."

"Of course, no Bat is truly complete without his colony. You speak of them with pride. I will trust your judgement. So long as no one asks me how I died, or anything too personal, I won't take offense to being questioned by your children."

Stepping through the now active Zeta Tube set all of Danny's ectoplasmic nerves on end for a second, a slight feeling of too much settling in his bones at the difference between this and the portal that had brought him to the Watchtower.

Stepping out of the Zeta, Danny shook the pins and needles from his hands, blinked at the lighting change, and stepped into...a dark cave, full of very advanced tech that his inner Fenton pitched to get their hands on, and several small fluffy bats chittering above, watching the newcomer with judgemental eyes for a few seconds. Chirping a greeting at the gathering of eyes settled their agitation.

Clearly, good manners worked with Bats of all kinds.

"This way, Prince Phantom." Distracted by the Bats above, Danny had missed Batman ducking into a changing room and walking out as Bruce Wayne, Beloved Prince of Gotham, and all around Himbo Dad.

Mimicking Fright Knight previously, Bruce held his own arm up so Danny could hold onto it as he was guided to an elevator out of the Cave. He even pretended to stumble just slightly over the step out of the platform, looking around at the actually quite cozy but also really big office the elevator doors opened into.

"I thought people didn't live in castles anymore? Is the Knight of Gotham the exception?"

The eye roll and fond sigh had Danny cheering internally. The man DOES have a sense of humor! Not a fruit loop, after all!

Maybe this will be a fun little vacation.

Maybe, just maybe, Danny can hope that the GIW problem will be resolved, and he won't have to go to war against the Living...

Perched in the rafters above and spying on her dad and the pretty boy they'll be hosting, Cassandra Wayne almost stumbles at the sheer force of the sudden Hope-Glad-please don't be a dream that blankets the entire Wayne manor.

[deadpresidents]

Formal Presidential Proclamation Announcing the Death of President Carter

December 29, 2024

By the President of the United States of America A Proclamation

To the People of the United States:

It is my solemn duty to announce officially the death of James Earl Carter, Jr., the thirty-ninth President of the United States, on December 29, 2024.

President Carter was a man of character, courage, and compassion, whose lifetime of service defined him as one of the most influential statesmen in our history. He embodied the very best of America: A humble servant of God and the people. A heroic champion of global peace and human rights, and an honorable leader whose moral clarity and hopeful vision lifted our Nation and changed our world.

The son of a farmer and a nurse, President Carter's remarkable career in public service began in 1943 as a cadet at the United States Naval Academy. He later served in both the Atlantic and Pacific fleets before becoming a decorated lieutenant and being selected to join the elite nuclear submarine program.

After his father died, he shifted from active duty to the Navy Reserve and returned home to Plains, Georgia, to help manage his family's peanut farm. He worked hard stewarding the land while leading his community as a church deacon, Sunday school teacher, and board member of a hospital and library. His deep faith inspired a passion for public service that led him to be elected State Senator, Georgia's 76th Governor, and ultimately President of the United States.

As President, he understood that Government must be as good as its people -- and his faith in the people was boundless just as his belief in America was limitless and his hope for our common future was perennial.

With President Carter's leadership, the modern Department of Education and the Department of Energy were created. He championed conservation, and his commitment to a more just world was at the heart of his foreign policy, leading on nuclear nonproliferation, signing the Panama Canal treaties, and mediating the historic 1978 Camp David Accords. His partnership with Vice President Walter Mondale is one that future administrations strived to achieve.

Following his Presidency, President Carter advanced an agenda that elevated the least among us. Guided by an unwavering belief in the power of human goodness and the God given dignity of every human being, he worked tirelessly around the globe to broker peace; eradicate disease; house the homeless; and protect human rights, freedom, and democracy.

Through his extraordinary moral leadership, President Carter lived a noble life full of meaning and purpose. And as a trusted spiritual leader, he shepherded people through seasons of pain and joy, inspiring them through the power of his example and healing them through the power of his guidance.

As we mourn the loss of President Carter, we hold the memory of his beloved Rosalynn, his wife of over 77 years, close in our hearts. Exemplifying hope, warmth, and service, she and her husband inspired the Nation. The love Rosalynn and President Carter shared is the definition of partnership, and their devotion to public service is the definition of patriotism.

May President Carter's memory continue to be a light pointing us forward. May we continue to be guided by his spirit in our Nation and in our world.

Now, Therefore, I, Joseph R. Biden Jr., President of the United States of America, by the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, in honor and tribute to the memory of President James Earl Carter, Jr., and as an expression of public sorrow, do hereby direct that the flag of the United States be displayed at half-staff at the White House and on all public buildings and grounds, at all military posts and naval stations, and on all naval vessels of the Federal Government in the District of Columbia and throughout the United States and its Territories and possessions for a period of 30 days from the day of his death. I also direct that, for the same length of time, the representatives of the United States in foreign countries shall make similar arrangements for the display of the flag at half staff over their embassies, legations, consular offices, and other facilities abroad, including all military facilities and naval vessels and stations.

I hereby order that suitable honors be rendered by units of the Armed Forces under orders of the Secretary of Defense.

I do further appoint January 9, 2025, as a National Day of Mourning throughout the United States. I call on the American people to assemble on that day in their respective places of worship, there to pay homage to the memory of President James Earl Carter, Jr. I invite the people of the world who share our grief to join us in this solemn observance.

In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand this twenty-ninth day of December, in the year of our Lord two thousand twenty-four, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and forty-ninth.

JOSEPH R. BIDEN JR.

[speaknow-sw]

THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : kissing, deaths, injuries, stitching, descriptions of battle, stabbing, fluff.

A/N : 7.1k words damn I can’t get enough of these two and it’s only chapter 5 💀. Anyway y’all are thirsty asf for this fic so here’s chapter 5 that I sprinkled with some ✨DRAMA✨ to sent y’all into orbit. MAMA IS FEEDING YOU TODAY !!!

꧁ Chapter 5 : The Enemy Hides in Lies ꧂

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

The dawn breaks soft on battered lands,

A fleeting peace in trembling hands.

Yet love, like spring, begins to grow,

A fragile bloom through frost and woe.

The great hall was a theater of shadows, the flickering torchlight casting distorted shapes along the walls as nobles gathered around the grand oak table. The air was heavy with the scent of wax and wine, but beneath the surface, an invisible current of tension rippled through the room. Anakin stood at the head of the table, his posture commanding, his eyes sharp. Every face he looked upon was a puzzle to be solved—a potential piece in a game of betrayal he was only beginning to decipher.

Count Aulbry was the first to speak, as Anakin expected. The man always seized the moment, his voice a blend of false concern and barely veiled condescension. "My lord, your victories on the northern front are, of course, commendable. Few could have led our armies with such skill against Wallace and his men."

There was a pause, artfully calculated.

"But it does leave me wondering… Has our focus on the Scots left the kingdom vulnerable to other threats? A prolonged absence of leadership often invites… instability."

Anakin’s expression remained stony, though his grip tightened ever so slightly on the armrest of his chair. "Instability arises when men forget where their loyalties lie, Count," he said, his voice low but cutting. "Is there something specific you fear, or are these merely idle musings?"

Aulbry smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "Idle musings, perhaps. One cannot help but notice certain… tensions in the southern provinces. Grain shipments have been delayed, and a few towns have reported unrest. A minor matter, I’m sure, but in times of peace, even minor matters deserve attention."

The mention of the grain shipments was not new to Anakin—he had already received reports from his stewards—but hearing it from Aulbry made the matter feel calculated, as if the Count was laying a trap with his words. Anakin’s gaze swept the room, noting the subtle shifts in posture among the other nobles. Whispers had begun to circulate in court—whispers that spoke of dissatisfaction, of plots brewing in the shadows.

"Minor matters, indeed," Anakin replied, his voice measured. "Rest assured, I have already taken steps to address them. The people will not starve under my watch."

"And yet," Aulbry pressed, "it is curious that such disruptions would occur now, so soon after your triumphant return. It almost seems as if—"

"Almost seems as if what, Count?" Anakin interrupted, his tone cold and final.

Aulbry hesitated, his smile faltering for the briefest moment. "Only that perhaps certain… elements may be testing the limits of this fragile peace. We must all remain vigilant, my lord. Especially you."

The words hung in the air like smoke. Anakin held Aulbry’s gaze, his silence more oppressive than any retort. When he finally spoke, his words were deliberate. "Vigilance is a duty I take seriously, Count. Perhaps you should do the same."

Aulbry bowed his head slightly, but Anakin saw the flicker of frustration in his eyes. The Count was testing boundaries, pushing at the edges of loyalty and decorum. And he was not alone.

The meeting concluded with the scrape of chairs and murmured pleasantries as the nobles filtered out. Anakin remained seated, his eyes following each man and woman as they departed. Only Aulbry lingered, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached the head of the table.

"My lord," the Count said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "I hope you do not take my concerns as criticism. I only wish to see the kingdom prosper under your leadership."

"Prosperity does not grow from doubt, Count," Anakin replied, standing to his full height. "If you truly wish to see the kingdom flourish, you might begin by trusting the men who fight to protect it."

Aulbry’s lips twitched into a tight smile. "Wise words, my lord. I shall take them to heart."

Anakin watched as the Count left, the tension in the room finally breaking with his departure. But the unease in Anakin’s chest did not fade.

Later that night, Anakin stood on the battlements, the cold wind tugging at his cloak. Below, the village was a patchwork of flickering lights, its quiet hum a stark contrast to the silent storm raging in his mind. He could feel it—an undercurrent of unrest threading its way through the kingdom, subtle but insistent. The signs were everywhere: delays in supplies, vague reports of unrest, the growing boldness of men like Aulbry.

War had taught him to trust his instincts, and they were screaming now. He did not yet have proof, but he knew—knew—that something was amiss.

The crown weighed heavier on him with each passing day. He had fought for peace, had bled for it, but peace was proving to be a battlefield of its own. The enemy was not an army but a shadow, shifting and elusive. And shadows, he knew, could only be banished by light.

He rested a hand on the hilt of his sword, its familiar weight grounding him. He would find the truth, and when he did, there would be no room for mercy. For now, he would play their game, but he would play to win.

The castle felt colder tonight, the stone walls seeming to echo every hesitant footstep you took. A fire crackled in the hearth of your chambers, but its warmth did little to ease the chill that had settled deep within you. You sat at your desk, a blank sheet of parchment before you, the quill in your hand trembling as you contemplated what you were about to do.

How much could you tell him? How much should you tell him?

The betrayal weighed heavily on your chest, a burden you could no longer ignore. Your father’s plans had become clearer with each passing day, his letters to Count Aulbry a chilling reminder that you were nothing more than a pawn in a game of power. And yet, to expose him would mean condemning your family—your blood.

But Anakin...

Anakin, with his unyielding strength and sharp mind, had become more than just a reluctant husband. He was your partner, your protector, your anchor in a world that seemed to shift beneath your feet. The thought of betraying him, even through silence, filled you with a guilt so fierce it was almost unbearable.

You dipped the quill into the ink and began to write, the words flowing out in a code you hoped he would understand.

"Beware the hand that offers peace but hides a dagger. Trust not the smile that does not reach the eyes. The enemy within wears the guise of a friend."

You hesitated, then folded the parchment carefully, sealing it with wax. The message was cryptic enough to avoid suspicion should it fall into the wrong hands, but you prayed Anakin’s sharp mind would unravel its meaning. 

The castle’s long corridors seemed quieter than ever that morning, the weight of your secrets pressing down on every step you took. You carried a tray of tea in your hands, the porcelain rattling faintly against the silver as your fingers trembled.

Anakin had returned just days ago, his presence both a comfort and a torment. He was closer now than ever before, yet the chasm between your love and the truths you withheld felt insurmountable. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word only deepened the ache inside you.

You paused outside his study, steadying yourself before entering. The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, revealing him hunched over the table, his broad shoulders tense as he studied the maps and reports before him. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting golden highlights in his dark hair.

When he looked up, the weariness in his expression softened instantly, replaced by something warmer. Something reserved for you.

“You shouldn’t carry such things yourself,” he said, standing quickly to meet you. His voice was firm, but the faint curve of a smile betrayed his gratitude.

“And yet I wished to,” you replied with a small smile of your own.

You crossed the room to set the tray on the table, your movements deliberate, though your heart raced with the anticipation of what you were about to do. As you placed the tea before him, your fingers brushed his—just a fleeting touch, but one that sent warmth spiraling through you.

“You spoil me,” he said, his tone quiet but tinged with humor.

“You deserve spoiling,” you replied, your words light but sincere.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and you could feel the weight of his attention. Your breath hitched as you stepped back, sliding the folded note beneath one of the maps. Your hand hovered for a moment, but then you turned, ready to leave before your courage faltered.

But Anakin’s hand caught yours, his grip firm yet tender, halting you in your tracks.

“Stay,” he said, his voice low, but with a quiet insistence that left no room for refusal.

You hesitated only a moment before nodding, allowing him to guide you to a seat beside him. The distance between you closed, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the world beyond the study’s walls forgotten.

For a time, there was only silence between you, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. You could feel his presence beside you, solid and grounding, yet there was an unspoken tension in the air—a weight neither of you could name.

Finally, he broke the quiet.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, as though confessing a forbidden truth. “More than I realized I could.”

The words struck something deep within you, and you turned to face him fully, searching his face for any trace of doubt. There was none—only sincerity, tinged with a vulnerability you had rarely seen in him.

“I missed you too,” you admitted, your voice trembling. It was the truth, but it felt inadequate to capture the depth of your longing.

Anakin reached out then, his hand brushing against your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. The callouses on his fingers spoke of battles and hardships, yet his touch was softer than anything you had ever known. You leaned into his hand, your eyes fluttering closed as you allowed yourself a moment of reprieve.

When his lips met yours, it was slow, almost hesitant, as though testing the fragile bond that had formed between you. The kiss deepened, carrying with it an unspoken promise—a vow neither of you could yet put into words.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“There’s so much I don’t say,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “But you have to know—”

“I do,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his chest. Beneath your palm, you felt the steady beat of his heart—a reminder of his strength, his humanity. “I know.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply sat there, the world outside the study forgotten. You wanted to tell him everything, to unburden yourself of the secrets that threatened to consume you. But fear held you back—fear of what your revelations might do to the fragile trust you had built.

Later, as he returned to his work, his attention fell on the maps and reports scattered across the table. His sharp eyes caught the folded parchment tucked beneath the edges of the papers, and his brow furrowed as he reached for it.

From the doorway, you watched as he unfolded the note, his gaze scanning the words you had written. His expression darkened slightly, his fingers tightening around the parchment.

He looked up then, his eyes meeting yours across the room. There was no accusation in his gaze, only a quiet question—a plea for understanding.

You offered him a faint smile before slipping away, your heart heavy with the weight of what you had done. You prayed he would understand the warning you had left for him.

And you prayed, too, that the love you had begun to share would be strong enough to weather the storms that lay ahead.

The midday sun cast golden light through the stained-glass windows of your chamber as you sat by the desk, attempting to focus on a new canvas. But the brush in your hand felt heavier than usual, and the colors blurred together, your thoughts elsewhere.

Anakin had left at dawn for a hunt, his absence stretching like a shadow over the castle. You found yourself restless, unsettled by a creeping sense of unease that had lingered since his departure.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. One of the castle’s attendants entered, carrying a folded piece of parchment sealed with no crest. The lack of identification immediately caught your attention.

“This arrived for you, my lady,” the attendant said, bowing as they set the letter on your desk.

“Who delivered it?” you asked, but the attendant only shook their head.

“It was left with the guards at the gate, my lady. No messenger lingered.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the parchment, the faint scent of ash and wax clinging to it. Unfolding the letter, you read the hurried scrawl within:

“Beware the serpent that coils close to the lion. Tonight, blades will be drawn in shadows, and blood will stain the throne. Protect him, or all will be lost.”

Your breath caught. The words were cryptic yet chillingly clear—a warning of betrayal, danger aimed at Anakin, and treachery from someone within the castle walls.

The sound of boots echoed in the corridor outside, and you quickly folded the letter, tucking it beneath the edge of your desk. A moment later, Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped into the room.

He had returned to the castle only days before, bringing with him reports of the Scots' retreat. His presence had initially been a comfort, his calm demeanor reassuring amid the chaos of court politics. But as Anakin’s trusted right-hand man, his arrival had also coincided with a strange tension.

“My lady,” Obi-Wan said, inclining his head. “I trust the day finds you well?”

“Well enough,” you replied, though your voice betrayed the unease tightening your chest.

He stepped closer, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze steady but unreadable. “Anakin will return soon, I presume?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “He should be back before nightfall.”

“And yet, you seem troubled,” Obi-Wan observed, his tone casual but sharp. “Is there something amiss?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Could Obi-Wan be the serpent the letter warned of? Or was this paranoia taking root, fed by the growing web of deceit surrounding you?

“I have much on my mind,” you said carefully. “The court’s whispers, the growing unrest. Surely you’ve noticed it too.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his voice lowering. “The court is always restless. But if there is something specific troubling you, you need only say the word. Anakin would want me to protect you in his absence.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a pang of guilt through you, but the memory of the letter’s warning gnawed at your resolve.

“I’ll manage,” you said, your tone firmer. “Thank you, Sir Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment, as though weighing your words, before nodding and stepping back. “As you wish, my lady. But do not hesitate to summon me if you need anything.”

With that, he left the room, the door closing softly behind him.

You had just resolved to wait for Anakin’s return when a knock at the door startled you. It was one of the chambermaids, her face pale and her hands wringing nervously.

“My lady,” she said, “I thought you should know... Sir Kenobi and Count Aulbry were seen riding out together just now. They seemed... urgent.”

The words sent a chill through you. “Did they say where they were going?”

The maid shook her head. “No, my lady. But they rode toward the northern woods.”

Toward the royal hunting grounds.

Panic gripped you. Anakin had ridden there with the king this morning, and now his supposed ally and his most vocal opponent had followed, shrouded in secrecy.

You clenched your hands into fists, your mind racing. The letter’s warning, Obi-Wan’s strange behavior, Aulbry’s open hostility—it all aligned too perfectly. If they meant to harm Anakin, you couldn’t sit idly by.

The stable smelled of hay and cold earth as you approached, your breath visible in the crisp air. The stable master startled at the sight of you, his eyes wide with alarm as you strode toward the nearest horse.

“My lady, what are you—”

“Prepare her,” you interrupted, your voice steady despite the chaos inside you. “The mare, now.”

He hesitated, hands trembling as he fumbled with the tack. “It isn’t safe, my lady. You can’t ride alone.”

“Safe?” The word cracked from your lips, harsh and bitter. “Safe is a word I can no longer afford. Saddle her, or I’ll do it myself.”

His protests faltered as he moved quickly, his fear of disobedience outweighing his confusion. The mare was readied within minutes, her dark eyes reflecting your own urgency.

Your skirts snagged as you mounted, but you paid it no mind, gripping the reins and spurring the horse forward before the stable master could voice another word.

The wind sliced through you as the mare thundered over the frost-covered earth. Each hoofbeat echoed like the drum of war, steady and relentless, driving you closer to the woods. The trees loomed ahead, their bare branches clawing at the sky, and with them came the weight of your growing dread.

Anakin. His name was a heartbeat in your mind, a mantra that propelled you forward. You could see him in your mind’s eye—strong, resolute, his brow furrowed in thought as he stood apart from the world, carrying its burdens alone.

Would he believe you?

The question clawed at you as you rode, your fingers trembling against the reins. Would he see your desperation as weakness? Would he blame you for suspecting Obi-Wan, the man who had fought beside him in countless battles?

Or worse—what if you were wrong?

The thought was unbearable, but the image of the letter was sharper still. Its words were a call to action, and inaction felt like betrayal.

You pushed the mare harder, her breaths coming in sharp bursts as you entered the woods. The hunting party’s distant voices reached your ears, their tones hushed but unmistakable.

“Almost there,” you whispered, your words carried away by the wind.

The mare slowed as you approached the clearing, and you dismounted swiftly, your boots crunching against the frosted ground. The shadows of men and horses flickered through the trees, their forms half-obscured by the fading light.

You hesitated, your pulse quickening as you moved closer, the forest around you suddenly heavy with silence.

The words from the letter echoed in your mind, louder than ever. “Blades will be drawn in shadows...”

You glanced over your shoulder at the mare, now tethered to a low-hanging branch, and took a deep breath. The weight of what you had to do pressed against your chest like armor.

Somewhere in this forest, Anakin was unaware of the knife poised at his back. And you would move heaven and earth to ensure it never reached him.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

The foe you see is not the hand,

That strikes unseen, or makes its stand.

Deceit is woven through their guise,

The truest battle hides in lies.

The early morning fog clung to the trees like a damp veil, shrouding the forest in an eerie stillness. Anakin’s boots sank into the earth with each step of his horse, the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves resonating beneath the thick canopy. His mind wasn’t on the hunt, not really. He had ridden out on the king’s orders, ostensibly to track game through the thick woods, but every instinct in his body told him something was wrong. A nagging feeling of unease gnawed at the edge of his thoughts.

The cold air cut through his cloak, yet the discomfort of the chill was nothing compared to the unease stirring deep within him. He had tried to ignore it—after all, he had faced far worse than a simple hunting expedition. But it was there, a persistent presence, an itch under the skin that he couldn’t shake.

"Stay alert, Anakin," he muttered to himself, his breath misting in the cold morning air. His instincts had never been wrong before.

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the underbrush. Anakin’s hand immediately went to the hilt of his sword, his gaze scanning the surroundings. The forest was quiet again, unnervingly so. He heard the faintest snap of a twig, too far to his left to be a deer. His eyes narrowed, and his breath held as he dismounted silently, glancing at the trees above for any sign of movement.

The shadows were his enemies now. He couldn’t risk being ambushed.

He was barely aware of the first movement—a swift motion to his right, a shadow crossing his line of vision—before he heard the unmistakable sound of steel scraping against leather. A flash of cold metal, a blur of movement, and then—nothing.

It all happened so fast. He had learned long ago that the most dangerous threats were often the ones you couldn’t see until it was too late.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the blur of a figure darting toward him, and without hesitation, Anakin spun around, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. A man lunged at him from the trees, the assassin’s blade aimed at his side, but Anakin deflected it with a practiced swing, their swords clashing with a ringing sound that reverberated through the dense woods.

But then, as if from every direction, more figures emerged—six, no, eight men surrounding him. They were silent, fast, moving with the precision of a well-coordinated attack. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline surging as the battle instincts kicked in. Anakin’s eyes scanned the men, calculating, assessing, his hand moving as if it had a life of its own. His sword met the blade of another attacker, their weapons locked in a deadly struggle.

The noise of the fight was deafening—the clash of steel, the grunts of exertion, the sharp cries of men falling as they tried to overcome him. But there was something different about this attack. The men didn’t move like mercenaries; they moved with the fluidity of soldiers trained in the art of war, and they seemed to have been waiting for him. The very ground beneath him seemed to tremble with their numbers.

His breath came ragged, his eyes darting between enemies, trying to predict the next move. He didn’t have much time. The trees provided little cover, and every swing of his sword was an invitation for another blow. He gritted his teeth and blocked another strike, parrying to the side before slashing his blade through the chest of one man. His breath was heavy now, the sweat dripping down his brow despite the cold.

But then the realization hit him, cold as ice.

They weren’t after the hunt.

They were after him.

The words echoed in his mind, but he didn’t have time to process them. A sword sliced across his chest, just missing his vital organs. He staggered back, breath stolen for a moment, his blood staining his tunic. The rush of pain barely registered as his instincts kicked in, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword as he batted another attack aside.

One man dropped to the ground with a grunt, but that didn’t matter. There were still too many, and they were closing in, pushing him toward the dense underbrush. A few were already injured, but not enough to halt their assault.

The moon hung high in the sky, barely visible through the dense canopy of trees as the darkness swallowed Anakin whole. He had been fighting for hours now—bloodied, exhausted, but resolute. The twelve men who had attacked him had already taken down several of his own, and the forest felt like a battleground in hell. The night air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke. The forest echoed with the sound of sword clashing, of desperate men shouting orders.

But it was still quiet. Too quiet.

Anakin felt the familiar presence of danger creeping closer, but it wasn’t just the attackers that gnawed at him. His heart was pounding in his chest as he thought of you. His thoughts were filled with the images of your face, your soft voice calling his name, and he feared for you. He had never been afraid in a fight, not in all the battles he had seen—but this was different. He feared for your safety.

Where are you?

He couldn’t shake the thought. He tried to push it away, tried to concentrate on the men surrounding him, but it wasn’t easy. His body was aching, blood flowing freely from the multiple cuts across his torso. He had barely managed to keep the attackers at bay, and now, with each passing second, they grew closer. They had surrounded him.

With a burst of adrenaline, Anakin swung his sword again, cutting through another man, but his vision was starting to blur. His grip on his sword was weakening, but he could feel his determination growing stronger. I must survive, for her.

That’s when he heard it.

The sound of hooves, distant at first, but growing louder, faster. The unmistakable sound of a rider galloping in the woods.

No, not you. His heart raced even faster. He could feel your presence getting closer, but he had no way of stopping you.

He couldn’t keep fighting and get to you in time. But you were so close now, he couldn’t wait.

Meanwhile, you had galloped through the woods, panic clawing at your chest with every thundering beat of the horse’s hooves beneath you. You could hear the faint echoes of battle in the distance—the clash of swords, the guttural cries of men. Your blood ran cold. You urged the horse onward, desperate to reach him, to stop whatever this madness was before it consumed him.

The woods were a maze of shadow and mist. You couldn’t see through the trees, couldn’t hear over the thundering of the horse’s hooves beneath you. It felt like you were racing against time, but what was worse was the gnawing, suffocating fear in your chest.

Please, Anakin, please be safe.

As the sounds of the battle grew louder, you felt your heartbeat in your throat. You could hear the shouts of soldiers. Then, without warning, a shadow leapt out from the trees.

Before you could react, a man grabbed your reins, yanking your horse’s head sharply to the side. He lunged at you, sword raised high.

Your heart froze. You reached up instinctively, fingers fumbling for the tiny dagger you had tucked in your hair for moments like this. The cold metal of the dagger was a comfort in your hand, but it was nothing compared to the weight of the situation. The man’s face was twisted in anger as he raised the sword, preparing to strike.

Fear clawed at you, but you refused to let it control you. You slashed the dagger across the man’s arm, but he hardly flinched. The blow wasn’t enough to stop him, and the sword came down at you again, too fast for you to dodge.

But before the blade could reach you, a roar split the air.

“DON’T TOUCH MY WIFE!” Anakin’s voice thundered through the trees, furious and primal.

You barely had time to register his words before his form appeared in front of you, bloodied and furious. His sword cut through the air in a flash, knocking the would-be attacker aside with a force that left no room for mercy.

You didn’t have time to breathe, didn’t have time to think. Anakin’s eyes were locked on you, fierce and protective, but his face was pale, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His chest was covered in blood, and yet his gaze never left you.

He turned back to face the remaining attackers, his anger and pain mingling in a way that made your heart ache. You reached out, desperate to touch him, but as your hand brushed against his, he pushed you back.

“I said stay back!” His voice was hoarse, but filled with a raw, desperate need to protect you. “It’s not over.”

You watched helplessly as Anakin stepped forward, meeting the four men who had remained hidden in the shadows. Each strike was met with a new burst of agony, a struggle against the men who relentlessly attacked him. His movements were slower now, each swing of his sword weaker than the last. But even as his body betrayed him, his will never faltered.

The battle felt like it went on for an eternity, each second stretched thin by the raw tension and fear that swelled inside of you. You couldn’t watch any longer. It felt like you were suffocating under the weight of the moment. But even then, you saw him—he was still fighting.

And then, the final blow came.

One of the men drew his bow and released an arrow with deadly accuracy. You saw it happen in slow motion. The arrow soared through the air, and for a brief, horrified second, you knew what was about to happen.

It struck Anakin in the chest.

The sound that escaped his mouth was one of pure agony as the arrow buried deep into his lung. He staggered back, his sword faltering in his hand as he fought for balance.

“No!” you cried, rushing toward him despite the danger. But as you approached, you saw him fall to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. His face was pale, his lips already tinged with the blue of a wound too deep to ignore.

But even then, he didn’t give in.

“Anakin…” you whispered, dropping to your knees beside him. Your hands shook as you pressed against his chest, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

He looked up at you, eyes filled with pain but a fierce determination still burning behind them.

“I’m not dying,” he whispered between labored breaths, the words strained and weak. “I won’t leave you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you tore at the hem of your dress, ripping it to pieces to use as a makeshift bandage. Your hands were trembling, but you pressed the fabric to his chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

“I won’t let you die,” you said through clenched teeth, your voice trembling.

He took your hand then, squeezing it gently despite the agony that wracked his body.

“You’re all that matters,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ll live… because of you.”

His words, though weak, fueled your resolve. You kept applying pressure to his chest, watching as his color slowly returned, watching as he breathed deeply again, fighting the weariness in his limbs.

It was then that he finally stirred, groaning as he attempted to rise. He pushed himself to his feet with your help, his body shaking with the effort. Despite the pain, despite everything, he managed to stand tall.

“We need to get back to the king,” he said, his voice hoarse but filled with purpose. His gaze locked onto you, and for a moment, you could see nothing but the depth of his devotion in his eyes.

The two of you walked—no, staggered—back toward the camp, where the king’s men were gathered in stunned silence. As Anakin limped toward the center of the camp, still holding your hand, he confronted Count Aulbry. The nobleman, who had been so sly and quiet up until now, stood with a calm demeanor, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt.

Anakin’s voice rang out, cutting through the air like steel.

“Did you think you could hide your treachery?” he demanded. “Did you think this would break me? You were wrong.”

Count Aulbry’s face remained impassive, but his jaw tightened as he denied any involvement. Yet the doubt lingered in his eyes, a dangerous sign that made Anakin even more resolute.

“I will uncover the truth,” Anakin declared, blood still soaking his chest as he glared at Aulbry with unyielding determination.

The confrontation had only just begun, and Anakin was more resolved than ever to expose the traitor for what he truly was.

The dim glow of the campfire flickered through the canvas of the tent, casting soft shadows that danced against the fabric walls. You sat next to Anakin, the firelight tracing the contours of his tired face, his features drawn with pain yet softened by the intimate stillness that surrounded you both. His chest heaved with each breath, though you could see the slow but steady recovery beginning as you gently unwound the bandage around his chest.

His wound, though grave, had been patched up. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain in his eyes lingered. You had tried to banish the worst of it by offering whatever comfort you could, but you knew that a part of him—one that he would never fully reveal—was still at war within.

"You’re relentless," you whispered softly, carefully peeling back the fabric of his shirt. “These arrows... They always manage to find your most vital points.”

Anakin looked down at the wound, his gaze thoughtful but distant. He gave a half-hearted chuckle, though it was edged with a touch of bitterness. "It's almost as if they know where to strike, isn't it?" His voice was rough, with a quiet humor trying to mask the ache that still lingered in him. His hand gripped the edge of the cot, and you could see the tension in his posture, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.

“Or maybe it’s that you’re too quick to put yourself in harm’s way," you said with a teasing smile, the movement of your hands steady and sure as you replaced his bloodied bandage with fresh linen.

He chuckled softly, but his expression grew more serious as he leaned back against the pillows, his gaze never leaving yours. There was a weight to the silence that hung between you now, a heaviness that pulled at the edges of his soul. And you could feel it too—the depth of everything unspoken, the fragile trust between you now intertwined with something far deeper.

“You know, I’ve always thought I could protect myself,” Anakin began, his voice quiet, the words coming with a painful honesty that you hadn’t heard from him before. “But now… Now, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been so focused on fighting everyone else that I’ve missed something closer to home.”

Your hands stilled as you finished tying off the bandage. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. He looked vulnerable, even though he would never fully allow anyone to see it. The man who had always been a soldier, a leader, was now confiding in you—not just as a lover but as someone he trusted more than anyone else.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice soft, inviting him to share the heavy burden he was carrying.

His lips pressed together for a moment, and when he spoke again, it was with the weight of his suspicions, the quiet recognition that something was wrong—something much bigger than the battle they had fought.

“I think Count Aulbry... I think he’s behind all of this. I can feel it. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.” His voice was low, almost hesitant, as though sharing this part of himself made him more vulnerable than any of the cuts that marred his skin.

Your heart ached for him. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the sharp intelligence that had always served him so well in battle was now clouded with doubt. It wasn’t just the wound that pained him. It was the fear that he was no longer in control, no longer able to protect those he loved, especially you.

“Anakin,” you whispered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You don’t always have to carry the weight alone.”

He looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours as if looking for something—something that he needed but wasn’t sure how to ask for. His lips parted, but before he could speak, the silence between you was filled with the quiet rustle of the forest, the distant cry of a bird in the dark, the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.

“I’ve seen too many men lose themselves,” Anakin began, his voice distant. “Too many battles where it wasn’t the enemy I was fighting—it was what I had to give up to win.” He hesitated, as if weighing the significance of his words, before adding, “I’m beginning to wonder if the price of victory is too high.”

His words hung in the air between you like an unspoken truth, an ache that neither of you could escape. You knew what he meant. You understood the weight of his soul, the endless struggle of a man who had given everything—too much—and still couldn’t find peace.

“The price... is never too high,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. You leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his as you steadied his hand. “As long as we face it together.”

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. It was as though, in that moment, he finally allowed himself to breathe, to let the walls around him fall just a little. His eyes softened, a rawness there that hadn’t been present before, and it struck you like a physical blow. The tenderness in him, buried beneath so many layers of strength and duty, was finally being revealed.

Without a word, his hand slid to your cheek, the touch tender and intimate. The contact was slow, deliberate, as if he were memorizing the feel of your skin against his. He leaned in, and for a moment, you were suspended in the space between you, where the world seemed to hold its breath.

And in that moment, with the weight of the world hanging over them, the kiss came—gentle at first, as if testing the waters, as if seeking permission to finally release all that had been held in for so long. His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, the tenderness of it shocking in its simplicity. But that kiss was enough to set your heart on fire.

You responded without hesitation, pulling him closer, letting your lips meet his with a desperate kind of sweetness, as if you were both trying to breathe life back into one another. His hand slid to the back of your neck, gently urging you closer, the firelight dancing across his face as you kissed him deeply.

The world around you fell away as his warmth enveloped you. His lips were insistent, demanding now, as if every kiss was a promise, every touch a vow that he would never let go of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as if to reassure yourself that this moment, this love, was real.

You broke away for a moment, both of you breathless, gazing at each other with an intensity that made your heart ache. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours as the world outside ceased to matter.

“I never wanted to pull you into this,” Anakin murmured, his voice hoarse, a quiet confession. “This war... it’s not something I can protect you from. Although, I would fight in a dozen wars to shield you, my rose. In a dozen liftetimes… if I ever fail to protect you…I… I could not live with it. If you fall I fall, I swear it on my honor, on my blood and on the gods.”

You smiled softly, running your hand through his hair, feeling the dampness of sweat and blood still clinging to his skin. “You don’t have to protect me, Anakin,” you whispered, your voice thick with a tenderness that threatened to break you. “We protect each other. That’s what this is.”

His eyes searched yours, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitated. Instead, he pulled you closer, holding you tight against him, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. It was as though the world had stopped moving, leaving only the two of you in this space—this fragile, intimate moment where everything else faded into the background.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest. “You deserve everything, Anakin. Everything I can give.”

And in that moment, something shifted between you both. It wasn’t just love—it was trust. A promise that no matter how dark the days ahead might get, you would face them together. There was no fear, no hesitation now. Just the two of you, bound in this shared understanding.

You kissed him again, this time with the weight of everything you both held. The world outside could burn, and it wouldn’t matter. All that mattered was this—this connection, this bond that neither of you could name, but both of you knew would endure.

As you pulled away, Anakin’s eyes softened, a small but meaningful smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll face whatever comes, for you.” he whispered, his voice steady, yet filled with a quiet certainty.

And with that promise, you knew that no matter what storm might come, you would stand together, unwavering, your love a flame that could never be extinguished.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

In the silence, my heart stopped to bleed,

For her breath was the air that I’d need.

If she fell, the world would cease its song,

For in her death, my life would be gone.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I think in Skyrim people do know when you’re a killer. The law just works in such a way that it’s hard to convict people of a crime without a direct witness. Forensic investigation basically doesn’t exist. The guard clearly isn’t properly trained in detective work.

I say this for two reasons. One, when you secretly kill a friendly npc their family members know. They often have special lines the next time you talk to them, indicating that they hate you. Some npcs will also tell you that you have the look of a killer.

The other reason is that infamous quest blood on the ice. The second you do a teeny bit of investigating, the steward and town guard just believe you on flimsy evidence and the real serial killer doesn’t get caught until you directly witness him committing a murder red handed.

It’s clear that town guards mostly function as private armies and an attempt to intimidate people away from crime rather than an effective police force. So they’ve got something in common with real world police I guess but at least real world police have forensic departments.

It’s also established that various criminal groups have plants in the local militias/town guards. They’re easily bribed if you’re in the thieves guild, the skooma dealers in riften have plants, and if you finish the dark brotherhood questline some of the guards will start telling you “hail sithis”. They aren’t overly discrete about it either.

So basically Skyrim town guards are somehow even worse than real world police and everyone knows it. They’re basically just local armies shoehorned into also being law enforcement and that’s why everyone knows that you killed that random guy in Solitude but you still get to walk around as a free Dragonborn. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Pairing: Elrond x Fem. Reader (second person POV)

Themes: Soft | Smut

Warnings: Kissing | Penetrative sex | Public sex | Sex in an unusual location | Cream pie

Word count: 1.7k words

Summary: Elrond goes in search of his companion, and is greeted with a ball of snow instead.

Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

Divider by @estrelinha-s

Snow lay thick on the ground by the time Elrond and his warriors returned from the borders of Rivendell.

“Lindir!” He called out to his steward after he dismounted and gave over the reins of his horse to another elf. “Where has y/n gone off to this morning?”

Lindir, after having seen his lord and his men some distance away, left for the courtyard to wait for them. He bowed and offered Elrond a traditional welcome and said, “Lady y/n left for the woods just beyond the guest lodgings not long ago. You may find her by the pond, I think.”

“My thanks.” Elrond turned over his sword and gloves to Lindir and walked down the same paths you did. It was cold, but not unpleasantly so. His boots left little to no imprint on the snow, and the brazing winter air itself was invigorating. It carried with it the faint redolence of spruce and fir and pine. He sighed in contentment and turned to take a glimpse of his home. All of Rivendell looked different, like an enchanted keep in a wintery land.

“Melleth?” He cried and looked around. Of snow-covered trees and bushes, there were aplenty, but you were nowhere to be seen. “Where are you?”

Nothing but the wind answered him. “Melleth?” He shouted again. “What mischief are you up to now?”

A white ball flying in a perfect arc and exploding in a spray of snow and ice after hitting him on the back was all the answer he needed. Elrond smiled, and dusted the snow off of his cloak. Then another ball flew in from the same direction and hit him on the head with a soft thud. He turned to face the direction it came from, and crouched just as a third projectile came hurtling toward him.

Orcs are not the only things determined to test my patience. Elrond sighed, then smiled to himself and made his way down another path, resolute to catch you in the act.

There was nothing to be heard after that. No calls for you, no shouts, and no commands for you to show yourself. Elrond made no sound as he moved, and that put you on edge. He could be anywhere, and you would not know of his presence until he was right before you.

A hushed silence fell over the little copse you concealed yourself in. There were no animals moving about in the brush; they were sleeping in their little dens and caves for the whole of the winter. A bird sang, but there was no other sound beyond its sweet singing. Minutes passed, and still there was no sign of Elrond.

Where is he? You thought to yourself. Had Elrond returned to the main house and the Hall of Fire? Had he ridden out with his warriors again? Or was he out there, somewhere, biding his time until you revealed yourself?

Time drifted by as if in a dream. It grew colder and a little darker. And Elrond was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that he had returned to the halls, you left your hiding place behind an old oak tree and departed for home.

“And where do you think you are going?”

“Elrond!” You squealed, startled. Elrond had been right beside your little hiding place the entire time, waiting for you to appear. The smile that flashed across his face was smug and self-satisfied. “How did you know I was here?”

He tapped the side of his nose with his finger and said, “It was your fragrance that gave you away, meleth.”

You sniffed at your wrists and your hair. There was no scent to be found on your skin or your dress. “But I am wearing no perfume,” you said in protest.

“Twas not a perfume I smelled,” he smiled again. “It was the scent of you that gave you away.”

You flushed and looked away. Elrond laughed softly. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. Truly. I quite like the way you smell. Although,” he went on to add, “I do think it is highly unbecoming for the Lady of Imladris to throw balls of snow at unsuspecting elves.”

“Perhaps,” you muttered. Then you turned to face him, your eyes bright with curiosity. “You said you liked the way I smell. What else do you like about me?”

It was Elrond’s turn to flush, and not from embarrassment. “I see,” he commented. “You wish to know more about what I find desirable in you. Let me think. I quite enjoy your ability to find pleasure even in the simplest of things.”

“Such as throwing balls of snow at you?”

“Do not test me on that, melleth.”

“My pardons.”

He grinned, and walked toward you. “I also love seeing you like this: your cheeks all flushed from the cold, your hair all in a beautiful tangle, and this cloak is quite fetching on you. A pity it conceals so much. Or have I simply been away for too long, and anything appears alluring to me now?”

“Elrond!” You gasped in disbelief. Pale blue eyes lit up in amusement.

“I jest, melleth,” he said, coming even closer. “You are ravishing as always. Now, where was I?”

“You were speaking of my cloak,” you told him. Heat slowly bloomed in your cheeks when he reached out and undid the clasps of your cloak. “And how it concealed too much.”

“Indeed.” Skillful fingers unfastened each clasp one by one. The shock of cold air dancing over exposed skin left you tingling. Elrond delighted in this, for he had been away for far too long. He had missed watching such sensations flow through your body, and he found himself yearning to savor all of it again, here and now, even though the two of you were in the woods, and not within the privacy of your shared chambers.

“I relish watching you tremble beneath me,” he began, and drew your cloak away. “How you shiver when I run the flat of my hand over your belly. And your hair… I love how it flows around my fingers when I loosen your braids.”

He reached back and slowly loosened one braid, and another, and another. Your hair soon fell around your shoulders. Elrond was not done. His hand did indeed glide up your waist and onto your belly. It made you feel warm and feverish. You shuddered beneath him when that same hand pushed you back—back until he had you caged between him and the bark of a tree.

“We are out in the open,” you pointed out to him. “Someone could come upon us.”

“They will not,” Elrond assured you. “And we need not tarry needlessly. I have missed you, melleth. Let me have a taste of you, at least.”

He dipped his head and kissed the shell of your ear and the expanse of your throat. His arms slipped around your waist when yours twined around his neck.

“Just a taste?” Your blood was already roaring in your ears. Elrond lifted his gaze. His eyes were clouded with lust. “Or more than that?”

“More than that,” he echoed, “if possible. And like I said, we need not tarry needlessly.”

“I never took you for one who loves quickly,” you remarked. “But I do not mind this being the first instance you do so.”

His eyes gleamed wickedly. “Wonderful. Close your eyes, melleth. I will see to the rest.”

Elrond did indeed tend to it all, and so much more besides. His kisses drowned out your sighs and the soft moans that followed in their wake. He slipped an arm beneath your thighs and lifted you up, growling in your ear when he felt your legs wrap tight around his hips. He nearly crushed you to his armor when he kissed and kissed and kissed, and yet you barely felt the steel press against silk and bone and flesh. All your thoughts were consumed by him, by the strength in his arms and his back, and by the hot and sinful mouth that hammered away at any sense of restraint you had. 

“Elrond,” you sighed. Your hand slipped over his chest and down his belly, and beneath the silks underneath his armor. It was a trial, loosening the thin strips of cloth around his breeches, but you managed all the same. When you reached in and took him to hand, he nipped your throat.

“I see you are more than keen on me loving you quickly.” There was a sharp rip. Elrond removed his hand just long enough to move it between your thighs and tear at your small clothes. He touched you briefly, groaning against your neck when he found you already wet.

Elrond’s touch was as electrifying as his kisses. However, he did not continue with his ministrations for long. Another hunger rose to claim him, one that demanded to be satisfied. Elrond pressed his lips against yours, moaning in triumph when you guided his erection into the soft and welcomed grip of your body.

“I love this as well,” he gasped. “How you make me feel when you take me inside of you. Am I going too fast?”

“Given that we are exposed,” you countered and tightened your grip against his waist, his broad shoulders. “I would say you are not going fast enough.”

Elrond did not need to be told anything else. He set a tortuous pace, his armor now nearly cutting into your dress, while you clung to him like a burr. The discomfort of it all soon gave way to a bliss that slowly grew in your belly and spread until you saw nothing but a brilliant golden light flashing behind your eyes. Elrond shook when you sobbed against his shoulder and cried out his name. It was enough to unravel him, and with one last grunt, he spilled his seed inside of you.

Neither of you moved, even when an icy wind swept around the trees. Elrond continued to kiss you, this time with soft, quick kisses around your brow.

“We best return,” he said slowly, and more than a little reluctantly. He was shaking. His body was still caught in the aftermath of his release. “Lest Lindir or someone else comes in search of me. And the next time you wish to start a snowball fight, warn me first. I will be ready for you then.”

tags: @victoria-styles

[yesterdayiwrote]

I am going insane… how is George is the butt of the jokes when he did not start the whole circus???!! and why would he want to sit next to a person who called him all kind of names for a week?

I guess a congratulation is in order for redbull’s pr department because the way they spinned it, one would never know from the public comments that this is started from Max’s slandering comments

Yeah, this has got so far away from what started it as now its hilarious. You would think George just went and criticised Max unprovoked the way some people are talking about it.

Max said last week George should fuck off and not talk to him because he was hurt and disappointed by what he said and went on two separate rants about what a bad person he was. I'm sure George was equally upset and hurt by those comments. Not to mention that he's had a week of death threats and abuse in his social media comments to boot. I don't blame him for running his mouth about it.

But George's hurt is seen as emotional fragility yet Max's is plain talking? I don't care who people think is right or wrong, you've got to see the double standard in that at the very least.

Max was hurt and ran his mouth. George was also hurt and ran his mouth. They're both in the right and wrong.

I don't like how George's words are now being combed through and fact checked while Max's were taken at face value. Why is he being held to a higher standard in this? I can't say I'm really fussed if max was or wasn't swearing at the stewards. I do think whether he threatened to put him on his fucking head in the fucking wall is a little more relevant and seems to be being glossed over somewhat all of a sudden.

I probably would have personally just sat next to him and put it to bed, even if I think the situation being described is a bit high school. Equally, I think he's justified to feel more hurt about it than people are giving him credit for and not wanting to be put in that situation either. I don't think what he did is unreasonable.

[boltlightning]

James Norrington + (character of your choice) + 81. pen and paper? please and thank you!

81. pen and paper send me a prompt, get a drabble! ✨

Sirs,

It is with regret that I write to inform you that the Execution of condemned pirate Jack Sparrow, on this morning of May the Twenty-Eighth, has been thwarted, and the Fugitive escaped. The circumstances of the escape

Those involved in rescuing the pirate from his Ultimate Fate have been absolved

Governor Swann has granted Clemency to the naïve Soul that sought to

If an Investigation is necessary to

My personal estate will cover the damages to the fort and its equipment as wrought by the morning’s events. Enclosed is the Invoice of Damages and Receipt of Payment for your Edification.

Further business on this account shall be directed by my steward Mr Colebrooke as I depart at dawn with Dauntless to pursue the escapees. The King’s Justice shall be brought to the remainders of the pirates apprehended at Isla de Muerta in my stead.

I express my further Regrets regarding

The Fault lies not with the men who failed to apprehend the criminals, but with

I remain

Your obedient servant, Capt Cmdre J Norrington

Norrington sighs and sets the draft aside to dry, rinses and sharpens the nib of his quill, and pulls aside a clean sheet to copy the letter once more, omissions omitted.

(and, as is only fitting, here is my handwritten draft:)

[urabrask-the-hidden]

Xalior

Xalior is my own little custom plane in the multiverse of Magic: the Gathering, my beautiful baby worldbuilding project ready to be shared to the wonderful world of tumblr dot com. It is a three-color faction plane, where all ten shards and wedges are present. As well, the primary color of each faction is the last color in WUBRG order, much like how in Khans of Tarkir, the wedges were centered in the first color. 

The factions, called “Domains”, are regions shaped by the magic of one of Xalior’s dead gods, with which they share a name. The Domains of Xalior are as follows:

Khelos, Domain of Domination

Morax, Domain of Destruction

Rystan, Domain of Survival

Adient, Domain of Radiance

Ebrius, Domain of Enlightenment

Zalsu, Domain of Eternity

Igovic, Domain of Invention

Nyduul, Domain of Mystery

Orathir, Domain of Conquest

Venhi, Domain of Imagination

The Domains are led, in one way or another, by ancient, powerful beings known as the Chosen, favored by their god in life. 

There is no peace on Xalior. While some Domains are friendlier than others, and alliances are often a necessity, such relations are tenuous. The Domains are, as a rule, enemies.

A HISTORY OF XALIOR

Countless ages ago, a mighty planeswalker named Qol of Five Spirits breathed life into the Blind Eternities, and Xalior was born. Ten stewards they created, tasked with overseeing this infant plane and building upon it as they saw fit. But Qol did not depart into the Multiverse; for reasons yet unknown, they remained, binding themselves to Xalior as its Worldsoul. 

For millennia, Xalior was a simple, unremarkable plane, humbly occupying its small corner of the Multiverse. There was peace then; conflict, too, but it did not hold sway. The gods lived, and mortals were free. 

THE DIVINE WAR

This peace did not last. Could not last, some say. Centuries before the Mending, war broke out between the gods of Xalior. How or why it began was unknown even then, yet that did not stop the war from spilling into the mortal realm. None could escape this most dreadful of conflicts. 

Most modern myths and legends are set in this time, recounting the acts of the gods and their champions. Few tales from the Domains agree with one another, and each has their own story of how their god met their fate. Perhaps they died steadily over the course of the war. Perhaps it was all at once. All that is known is that they started the war, and paid the price. 

THE GREAT RESHAPING

Gods are not meant to die. They were an integral part of the world, and so when they fell, they essentially became the Domains, changing leylines and geography, forming these physical regions of the mortal realm which embodied some version of what each god stood for. The Chosen came to take power in their respective Domains, guiding its people in accordance to their god’s- or their own- will. 

And so Xalior has been rendered nigh unrecognizable, its lands shattered and people divided. It sits now at what many see to be a tipping point; time shall tell if hope remains, or if it shall succumb to the doom of its pantheon.

Xalior/Khelos/Morax/Rystan/Adient/Ebrius/Zalsu/Igovic/Nyduul/Orathir/Venhi/Hinterlands

[thesolaireslawyer]

Dria { Denebola (De - Neb - o - la) }

Everyone meet Dria the Department Inchoate Daemon!

If you know anything about me you know I like to color-code stuff! and Dria's chosen color is purple!

F4A

*DISCLAIMER* The lore and other things implied here are not cannon!

Backstory ~

Denebola never really liked humans empowered or not and she didn't understand how other daemons could grow to live with them.

however, at a more mature age, she was given a charge. it was uncommon however she was unaware it was requested by her steward.

The charge was a little girl named Drianne, she was gravely sick and wasn't expected to live past the age of 10.

Denebola would feed on her feelings of misery and sadness. while providing her with feeling of joy and serenity.

little did Denebola know the girl could see her. She found this out at the girl's 7th birthday. Drianne ran over and gave her a hug thanking her for the happy emotions and making her feel better in her sad situation.

and as she watched Drianne grow her distaste for humans changed.

By Driannes 14th she could no longer see Denebola; and because of that Denebola decided she was no longer needed. however, Drianne had one more gift for Denebola.

the nickname Dria.

Denebola was surprised by the act, and well that act changed her view of humans. and with that, she went to work at the department. she wanted to help kids like Drianne.

of course, when she went to work there she used the name Dria instead of her name given to her. She was proud to be a Starchild yes.. But Dria meant more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

BONUS INFORMATION

Coalesced 153 years ago

5'12''

has worked for the department for 88 of those years

Fully Certified (At 45 )

when not at work she spends most of her time in Aria, though she has grown a distaste for the people at the department minus Cam, Crux, and " Sweetheart ''

Was a part of the regulus situation, siding with Cam that he is still a threat. though she thought redeeming him was impossible.

During the inversion she almost unraveled, she offered to work security, and when the ward closed. it was too many emotions and learning of the later death of her charge did not help. However, she pulled herself together and helped guide others underground and heal what was needed.

'' Mother of the department ''

Had her first charge at 30

Drianne lived to the age of 85 years old before passing away. when she passed she was surrounded by family and friends. Dria was there as well. and that is what kickstarted her attempt to work at the department.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Visuals

Picrews

(Young Denebola )

( young drianna and Denebola )

(Current)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Nevys Sketches Of Her

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The lore and other things implied here are not canons!

My amazingly talented friend luc drew her and did an amazing job @dawnofiight

*DISCLAIMER*

Storyline!

Follow Dria and her listener '' Hun '' as they figure out what happened to their Gravitron roommate Novae.

In a story of lies and betrayal following Nevy's mini-redacted story! this is one of 3 storylines I have planned and want to intersect 😊

Dria will have an accent of some type- but I can't decide if It will be soft or very notable. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[freehawaii]

HAWAIIAN ANCESTRAL BONES AT RISK ON MAUI

Hawaii News Now - April 5, 2023

Tensions surrounding the planned expansion of a luxury hotel on Maui are rising. The Grand Wailea, a Waldorf Astoria Resort, has been wanting to expand for years. But protectors of ancestral bones, or iwi kupuna, say enough already. “I feel I was really called to do this. Like I was tapped on the shoulder and said, ‘come and help,’” said Clare Apana, head of Malama Kakanilua. Apana, along with Hooponopono o Makena president Ashford Kaleolani DeLima, are committed to protecting iwi kupuna on Maui. DeLima’s ancestors are from South Maui, where the Grand Wailea is located. “You feel this wind? This wind is gentle. That’s because my kupuna knows that I’m here speaking about them and trying to tell the truth,” DeLima said. DeLima, Apana and others say the Grand Wailea was built on sacred burial grounds. They are against the resort’s plan for expansion and renovations. “This is one of the areas where you find concentrations of burials. You don’t find this on any other property. You may find burials … but you don’t find burials in the concentrations that are on this property,” Apana said. The Grand Wailea wants to add 137 guest rooms, enhance its landscaping, pool amenities and restaurant facilities and improve its infrastructure. Maui Planning Department recommended approving the project with conditions in 2019. But last month, a Maui Planning Commission’s appointed hearing officer recommended that the Grand Wailea’s permits be denied until they can make “adjustments in the areas of traditional and customary native Hawaiian practices, traffic and water.” The permits are needed to complete the expansion. The resort says the project scope was reduced by nearly 40% to reflect community feedback and avoid ground disturbance in areas of archaeological or cultural sensitivity. “The hearing officer’s report was a welcome confirmation of Grand Wailea’s enhancement plans and commitment to being a good steward,” said William Meheula, counsel for the resort. “We agree with almost all of the recommendations, including that the project’s archaeological inventory surveys and monitoring plans that were approved by the state met the legal requirements, and have submitted a response largely supporting the report and demonstrating the project has satisfied the necessary conditions to proceed if approved by the Maui Planning Commission.” The hotel says its commitment to giving back is reflected in the more than $5 million donated to nonprofits over the last seven years. The resort’s managing director added that the hotel employs more than 1,200 people, and that the expansion will create hundreds more jobs. Apana and DeLima said all they want is respect. “The right thing to do is malama the iwi,” DeLima said. “Show respect and not only make money....”

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Sam Young

In the future era of Batman Beyond, Samuel ‘Sam’ Young acted as the district attorney of Gotham City.  He was a tireless steward of law and order who managed to navigate the frequently corrupt justice system in the city without compromise.  

Sam met Barbara Gordon when she was a detective with the police department.  Their mutual respect for one another eventually blossomed into a romance and the two eventually married.  It remains unknown whether or not Barbara ever told Sam about her past life as Batgirl.  Gordon would go on to become police commissioner while Sam was elected to district attorney and the two enjoyed a happy marriage.   

Young’s dogged pursuit of ridding Gotham of organized crime frequently put his life in danger.  While pursuing charges against the foreign arms dealer, Fyodor Davic, Young found himself targeted by the Society of Assassins who dispatched their deadliest agent, Curaré, to do him in.  Young was saved by Batman and Davic was successfully prosecuted and charged.  

Some time later, Young’s office drew up legislation to outlaw cosmetic splicing.  This put him in the crosshairs of the villainous Abel Cuvier who sent his agents to kill the attorney.  Once again Sam was saved by the Batman, the legislation passed and Cuvier was taken down.  

Despite the constant threats to his safety, Sam Young never wavered in his pursuit for justice.  He never donned tights or had a catchy codename yet was nonetheless an equal among the greatest heroes of Gotham City.

The legendary Paul Winfield provided the voice for Sam Young with the intrepid DA first appearing in the twelfth episode of the first season of Batman Beyond, ‘A Touch of Curaré.’

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Joseph Tests His Brothers

1 Afterward he commanded his steward, saying, Fill the men’s sacks with food, as much as they can carry, and put every man’s money in his sack’s mouth.

2 And put my cup, I mean, the silver cup, in the sack’s mouth of the youngest, and his corn money. And he did according to the commandment that Joseph gave him.

3 And in the morning the men were sent away, they, and their asses.

4 And when they went out of the city not far off, Joseph said to his steward, Up, follow after the men: and when thou dost overtake them, say unto them, Wherefore have ye rewarded evil for good?

5 Is not that the cup wherein my lord drinketh? and in the which he doth divine and prophesy? ye have done evil in so doing.

6 ¶ And when he overtook them, he said these words unto them.

7 And they answered him, Wherefore saith my lord such words? God forbid that thy servants should do such a thing.

8 Behold, the money which we found in our sacks’ mouths, we brought again unto thee out of the land of Canaan: how then should we steal out of thy lord’s house silver or gold?

9 With whomsoever of thy servants it be found, let him die, and we also will be my lord’s bondmen.

10 And he said, Now then let it be according unto your words: he with whom it is found, shall be my servant, and ye shall be blameless.

11 Then at once every man took down his sack to the ground, and everyone opened his sack.

12 And he searched, and began at the eldest, and left at the youngest: and the cup was found in Benjamin’s sack.

13 Then they rent their clothes, and laded every man his ass, and went again into the city.

14 ¶ So Judah and his brethren came to Joseph’s house (for he was yet there) and they fell before him on the ground.

15 Then Joseph said unto them, What act is this, which ye have done? know ye not that such a man as I, can divine and prophesy?

16 Then said Judah, What shall we say unto my lord? what shall we speak? and how can we justify ourselves? God hath found out the wickedness of thy servants: behold, we are servants to my lord, both we, and he, with whom the cup is found.

17 But he answered, God forbid, that I should do so, but the man, with whom the cup is found, he shall be my servant, and go ye in peace unto your father.

18 ¶ Then Judah drew near unto him, and said, Oh my lord, let thy servant now speak a word in my lord’s ears, and let not thy wrath be kindled against thy servant: for thou art even as Pharaoh.

19 My lord asked his servants, saying, Have ye a father, or a brother?

20 And we answered my lord, We have a father that is old, and a young child, which he begat in his age: and his brother is dead, and he alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him.

21 Now thou saidest unto thy servants, Bring him unto me, that I may set mine eye upon him.

22 And we answered my lord, The child cannot depart his father: for if he leave his father, his father would die.

23 Then saidest thou unto thy servants, Except your younger brother come down with you, look in my face no more.

24 So when we came unto thy servant our father, and showed him what my lord had said,

25 And our father said unto us, Go again, buy us a little food.

26 Then we answered, We cannot go down, but if our youngest brother go with us, then will we go down: for we may not see the man’s face, except our youngest brother be with us.

27 Then thy servant my father said unto us, Ye know that my wife bare me two sons.

28 And the one went out from me, and I said, Of a surety he is torn in pieces, and I saw him not since.

29 Now ye take this also away from me: if death take him, then ye shall bring my gray head in sorrow to the grave.

30 Now therefore, when I come to thy servant my father, and the child be not with us (seeing that his life dependeth on the child’s life.)

31 Then when he shall see that the child is not come, he will die: so shall thy servants bring down the gray head of thy servant our father with sorrow to the grave.

32 Doubtless thy servant became surety for the child to my father, and, If I bring him not unto thee again, then I will bear the blame unto my father forever.

33 Now therefore, I pray thee, let me thy servant abide for the child, as a servant to my lord, and let the child go up with his brethren.

34 For how can I go up to my father: if the child be not with me, unless I would see the evil that shall come on my father. — Genesis 44 | 1599 Geneva Bible (GNV) Geneva Bible, 1599 Edition. Published by Tolle Lege Press. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 18:30; Genesis 30:27; Genesis 31:32; Genesis 37:3; Genesis 37:7; Genesis 37:10; Genesis 37:29; Genesis 37:31; Genesis 37:35; Genesis 42:15; Genesis 42:25; Genesis 42:38; Genesis 43:2-3; Genesis 43:7; Genesis 43:9; Genesis 43:21; Genesis 45:1; Leviticus 19:26; Numbers 32:23; Deuteronomy 18:10; 1 Samuel 18:1

Genesis 44 Bible Commentary - Matthew Henry (concise)

[emperorsfoot]

Sometimes I DO like working at the my job. Today, a member of another department was short change for the vending machine and I had the change they needed. While I was digging in my locker for my coin purse, they read my Shop Steward bio on the Community board we have up in the break room and saw I had listed my favorite movie as Sky High and they had never seen it before but resolved to watch it because on me