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kingofthe-egirls · 9 months

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Hear me out, y/n and Zoro are working out, and they like train fight together and y/n wins somehow, Zoro gets all grumpy and pouts and y/n says that they will make it up to him, and Zoro being Zoro, gets an idea, and then rest is up to you my dear writer!!

ooooooooooo ok

SPARRING ROOM: ZORO x Y/N

(cw: sword fighting, sweet self indulgent combat descriptions, minor stab wound, etc., sword language, kissing)

(a/n: so i tried to focus less on just the stage directions this time, since i've been wanting to delve more into the narration and what's going on inside reader's head. snakelike imagery as well as a lot of "S" words. sometimes it felt a lil clunky but we made it through lol)

Songs: "Ain't It Fun" by Paramore, "Sexy Villain" by Remi Wolf

words: 1.9k

"That's my girl," Zoro says, strong hand on your back as you finish up your set of push-ups (thirty second reps with fifteen second breaks between). He lets you sit up, stretching out your back.

"Thanks, Zo," you say, pushing up to standing. You take a long drink of water, drips tickling down your chin and onto your sports bra. Zoro clears his throat, and looks away. You smile.

Swordsmen are so noble.

"Wanna fight?"

Zoro scruffs his hand through his hair, pushing up to standing himself. He towers over you, a good several inches. Maybe a full foot. You knock your forehead into his chest. Headbutting is your way of showing affection, kinda like a cat.

He scruffs your hair, too, from where it's pulled back into a messy ponytail. "Sure," he says, and moves over to the side of the crow's nest where his three swords sit against the wall. You watch the ocean way below, swishing and sparkling as it laps against the Sunny.

You bend to pick up your own rapier, the silver filigree wrapping around your hand comfortably in a decorated knuckle guard. The dancing tiger that stalks its way across the sweepings guides you to victory, all the way down to the rapier's gleaming point.

You swipe it through the air, relishing the swiftness and flexibility of your sacred blade. Nightingale. She is a snakelike, hissing thing that speaks to you in whispers as she flies. You pair her with a short blade, held in your other hand with no less care.

Meadowlark.

Swordsmen are always worried about the length of their swords: the bigger the better. Typical. What they don't account for, however, is the deadliness of a shorter blade. The duck and strike, the rattlesnake bite, the venom of your speed strikes straight through their lowered guard. They always overestimate themselves, since your opponents usually have a longer reach than you. But your rapier is not alone.

She bites.

And so do you.

Swordswomen do not play fair.

You grin over at Zoro, who's checking the edges of his blades so as not to cut you. Speaking to them softly, caressing their sides and gripping their handles like a lover. His voice rumbles lowly across the glossy wooden floor, sweetly beckoning the swords to follow him, obey him, let him rule over them as he spars with his friend.

You almost hear them rattling in his hands.

Purring to your own blade, you remind her sharp edges not to bite so dangerously, but not to go too easy on him either. It's a delicate balance, talking to your swords. She whispers back seductively not to worry, that she'll swing with accuracy but not deadly force. She sighs in your hand, shivering as she readies for battle.

"Easy," you murmur to her, and she sings. Meadowlark buzzes in your hand, adding the bass to her soprano. "Ready?" You ask Zoro, swiping your sword through the air. You stalk towards him, stepping carefully across slats of glossy Adam tree.

Zoro smiles wickedly, placing his white blade between his teeth. He cherishes the handle of Wado Ichimonji as if she were sweetness itself. His sister's spirit lives inside this sword. You respect his three-sword style, and have yet to beat him in a sparring match.

Swiftly, you bow.

Zoro returns the gesture, and brandishes his two swords aloft. Wado Ichimonji gleams in the sharp florescent lighting of the crow's nest. Swiping the air, you stalk around your opponent, noting his strong biceps and flexing center. He lowers his center of gravity, bending swiftly before leaping forward to strike against your guard.

You swipe away the sharp edge of Wado Ichimonji, ducking aside as Zoro lunges forward, sword tilted in his teeth. He steps away from you, just barely, so that your swift disarming counter strikes harmlessly against Sandai Kitetsu's guard. Sparks glint off where the strong metals meet. You swipe Nightingale across his side, but he dodges. You stumble forward, slightly off balance.

"Shit."

Zoro laughs, growling around the white-wrapped handle of Wado Ichimonji. "Start again," he says, standing wide with a lowered stance. Enma gleams sharply in his strong fist. You turn, stepping around in a circle as he counters your movement across the floor.

"Stumbling is never a good sign," Zoro says, swords snickering in their triangle shape. She is making fun of you in particular: the sword singing softly in his right fist. Smirking, even. Zoro matches her sneer as he closes the distance between you in swift, even strides.

"Stop it," you whisper, tightening your grip around Nightingale's sweetly wrapped handle. She has a soft, white leather made from a doe's hide. She is a flourishing, sacred blade.

"Stop what?" Zoro asks, clashing his two swords against your rapier overhead. Sparks fly down between you, and you just barely dodge out of the way of Wado Ichimonji's strike. His three-sword style is a bitch, sometimes. Stepping back, you catch your breath.

He swings, again.

Sweet Meadowlark counters the sharp edge of Enma, screaming across the sharpened steel. You grit your teeth, bringing your dagger all the way down to the hilt of Zoro's katana.

"Not you," you hiss out through a clenched jaw. Staring at Sandai Kitetsu, you push forward even more, enough to get Zoro to stumble backward. He counters, quickly. He faints with Sandai Kitetsu, before slashing sideways at your open side. You yelp, a sharp, high-pitched noise at the back of your throat. Zoro smirks.

"Swords are makin' fun of ya?"

Snickering, the three katanas all bear down on you from overhead. He's so fast. You grunt, blocking them with rapier and dagger crossed above you. He knees you in the stomach.

"Ouch!" You scream, winded. You stumble backward, clutching at your abdomen. You spit saliva onto the floor. Zoro chuckles.

He plants both feet on the floor, standing shirtless in front of you, with nothing but his leather pants and green bellyband. You're only in a sports bra and shorts, yourself. Swiping Nightingale through the air, you sprint toward him at full speed.

Fainting with Nightingale, you strike at Zoro's blind side, before ducking quickly and jabbing Meadowlark straight into his chest.

"Shit!" You squeak, ripping your steel dagger out of Zoro's bloodied chest. You hit right between the ribs, on the side with his good eye. Blood trickles down his abs in a scarlet ribbon. You smile.

Strike One: Y/n.

But the victory tastes sweet for only so long, as Zoro bears down on you with a counterattack. You dodge out of the way, but only slightly, as Sandai Kitetsu shears off a lock of your hair.

"Fuck!" You scurry backward, a rogue at heart, meant to strike and retreat as quickly as possible. Zoro stalks forward again.

This time, he twirls Enma in one hand before striking down viciously at you with a barrage of attacks. Slashes, stabs, lunges. Swipes at your side, especially the side where you hold shorter Meadowlark.

"Shut up," you tell his sassy sword, who's been snickering at you this whole time. She chides your balance, your sword play, the way you're standing with too much weight on your left side.

She glides snakelike against your dagger, bouncing off the side. Your arm stings with the recoil. Shit. You barely keep your stance in place as you're forced to shuffle backward. Sandai Kitetsu bites your upper arm, and you hiss.

"Stop dodging," Zoro commands you, striking the wall behind you, right next to your head. "You have to fight back, or else you'll be dead." Sandai Kitetsu giggles in his hand.

You're panting, sweating with exertion. Zoro's strikes are so strong. He's stepping away from you now, giving you room to breathe. You hate when he goes easy on you. Snarling, you charge forward again.

Zoro meets you halfway, growling in his throat.

Your swords clang together harshly, metallic singing reverberating throughout the room. You both back up, stepping in tune with the other's movements. He stalks around you like a tiger, and strikes at your backside. He hits you with the flat of Sandai Kitetsu's blade.

"You're weak."

He challenges you, and you see red.

It's a spin, a stab, and a dance backwards, before your vision clears. Zoro is grimacing, another bright red stripe decorating his bare chest. It's right above his sternum, and a little to the left.

He grunts, and charges after you.

Swinging at your weak spot, Zoro brings Enma down toward your side. You block the strong, sweeping arch with the silver side of Nightingale's cross guard. She resonates with the sound of the blow.

You both hold for a second, struggling to push the other's weight off.

Eventually, you let go with a huff.

"That's enough," you decide, whipping your sword through the air with a signature flourish. Zoro nods, sheathing his own blades.

"Good job," he nods, heading back over to the side to wipe his face with a towel. He throws it into the dirty clothes hamper that one of you will eventually take down to the laundry room when it gets too full.

"Yeah, right," you seethe, jaw clenched. "I wish I was anywhere near as strong as you. I can be fast, and invasive, but...," you raise your shoulders, and let them fall with a defeated sigh. "Sheer strength-wise, you've got me beat."

Zoro shakes his head, "You're not that far behind me, actually." He sits down on the bench, elbows on his knees with a canteen in his hands. He chugs a lungful of water, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"Yeah?"

You sheath your swords, and start a cool-down stretch routine. You lean over to one side, and then the other. You shake your legs in their sockets, trying to loosen up your hip flexors.

Zoro nods. "Not everyone can fend off Enma." He regards you steadily, his green eye flicking you up and down. You stretch your arms over your head. "Especially with a blade that flimsy." He smirks at your rapier, and you huff.

"She is not flimsy." You cross your arms, nose in the air. Nightingale hums in agreement at your side. Zoro sneers a laugh.

"Plus, you can understand sword language better than any other swordsman I've met. Not even Mihawk can hear his sword so well."

At that, you pause.

Your fingers flutter around Nightengale's hilt, and you grin. "Thanks, Zoro. That means a lot."

His face flushes, and he looks away.

"Well, yeah...," he says, gruff, before pushing off the bench to make his way over to you. He skims his knuckles over the outside of your arm. His fingertips dance along the diamond pommel of your sacred blade, and you gasp. He arches an eyebrow. "Feel that?"

You nod, stunned.

"That's the bond between a swordsman and his blade."

"Her blade," you correct, and he snorts.

"Rematch after dinner?" He pulls away, and leaves you aching. You stumble after him, a step or two. He turns, pausing, with his lips parted. Your swords are clattering at your side. He looks you up and down, a question paused in his mouth that you can't quite read.

"Kiss me?"

Zoro blanches, and for a moment you're stuttering, shocked at your own bravery, boldness, yours and his swords are all clamoring to be heard above the din of blood rushing in your ears, and--

Zoro cocks his head, smirking, and closes the distance between you.

He takes both your arms in his hands, holding you by the shoulders, and leans forward to place a kiss on your waiting lips.

"How's that?"

You smile like a little kid. "Perfect," you say, before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in to deepen the kiss.

You can't wait for the rematch.

#this is so hard #sword fights #hard to describe #zoro #zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro fanfic #one piece fanfic #zoro fluff #dumpster dive #kitty writes

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airlocksandaviaries · 1 year

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So, You Want to Write a Sword Fight.

Welcome to Your Local Sword Girlboy’s crash course on how to write a sword fight! We’re going to cover all the basics, from understanding context, to pacing, even some good ways to research! So buckle up gays, and let’s learn How to Sword.

First, what kind of sword are you wielding? There are so many different swords and forms and they’re all very different. But not only in the way you might think. Obviously the way the swords are held and wielded and the weight they have makes a difference how you write the battles, but even more so than that is TYPE OF FIGHT. Sabers, Epées, and Foils all have specific ways their bouts are set up and executed, and it has to do with a highly important cultural system of honor. Is this an honorable bout? Or a fight for survival? Or a fight for revenge? How much do these characters respect each other and how desperate are they?

This will affect the setup of the fight more than you think. For example, the target area. Or other weapons involved. If it is an honorable fight between two parties that respect each other, they will only hit on the front area of each others’ target, and will only make contact with their blades on each other. If it is a fight for survival, however, all bets are off. Any area on each others’ bodies is valid target area, and they might be more inventive while fighting, like slamming each other with the hilt, or using another improvised weapon nearby to win. It’s important to consider.

Now let’s talk about types of swords specifically. Sabers, Epées, and Foils are all incredibly light and whippy, and are held with one hand. They can be maneuvered very fast and can perform some very fast actions, and are GREAT for feinting (more on this later). They can change direction quickly with a whip of the fingers, and are usually used in very honorable bouts. Foils and Epées are for stabbing, while Sabers are for slashing opponents. All of these swords, though, use VERY small and quick movements. The fighter wielding one of these even makes themself smaller with a squatting stance and only one side facing the opponent. Everything is quick and precise. Footwork is key.

Rapiers and cutlasses are heavier, but still operated with one hand. These are favored by pirate types, and are used for slashing and sometimes stabbing. Another detail is that these can also be accompanied by a parrying dagger, held in the opposite hand as the Rapier and used for blocking the opponent’s blade out of the way.

Now the one you’ve been waiting for, longswords and broadswords (and lightsabers as well). These are usually two handed weapons, but can be one-or-two handed. They are heavier, and take more strength to control, but believe me when I say they are NOT clunky or slow. You CAN perform a feint with a longsword. I HAVE done it before (not successfully, but that’s just a skill issue on my part, let’s not dwell on it). The way these swords are maneuvered are with wider swings, for cutting OR slashing, and to protect the whole body. Footwork is important as well, but it’s terrible on the knees if you run too much with these (because they’re so goddamn heavy) so it’s not like you can run a marathon with a longsword like you can with a foil or saber. (of course if it’s a lightsaber all bets are off bc that thing is made of light and it's wielded by a space wizard so whatever).

Alright next. Let’s get GRANULAR. Let’s talk about very specific types of attacks and blocks and how to phrase this. Now, don’t worry, you don’t have to be a fencing expert to talk about the specific moves, because the audience will understand what you’re saying. It’s just about being specific enough to where you can paint a picture in their heads but not too specific to where the fight loses its suspense.

So, first, let’s talk about attacks and blocks, and what to call them. For any sword, extending the blade is holding it out in front of you. Thrusting is when you make a jabbing attack with the blade. And finally, lunging is when you throw your body forward with the attack, specifically throwing out your front leg and leaning into it, while keeping your body level with the floor to keep balance and make it easy to recover into a guard position.

Now for blocks. Pushing the blade out to block the opponent’s blade is called a parry. When you attack your opponent back immediately after taking their blade in a parry, it’s called a riposte. You don’t need to use this word, though, because I’ve found that just saying something like “They parried her blade and then thrusted towards her chest,” works quite well.

SIDE NOTE: if both of your opponents have the same pronoun set, I’m so fucking sorry. It doesn’t get any easier. It’s the Gay Fanfiction Dilemma, I’m afraid. But if you’re already versed in that, use the same workarounds for pronouns and titles for fighting as you do for fucking, it works pretty much the same way ;). (But PLEASE don’t be afraid to use their names. I promise nobody is going to kill you if you say the characters' names twice in a single paragraph. It’s MUCH better than having to read “the blond” or “the tall one” or “the younger woman.”) Basically, just use their names a lot. It’s quicker and I promise you it works.

Now where were we? Ah yes. Attacks and blocks. I already covered those, but surprise, there’s a secret third thing, and it’s my very favorite move. Feinting. It’s quite simple really, it’s an extension of the blade, a faked attack, to get your opponent to try to parry or block or move their blade, only to switch your movement to avoid their blade and attack them back. It’s fun and can be extremely effective, and it also can be used in many different types of ways. Any way you can get your opponent to try to parry your blade in one place, like a high or a low attack, expect where their blade is going to be, and then avoiding it works as a feint. Or you could engage the blade, and move it around with your own blade to get it away from your target area and slide in for a riposte. This is my specialty. And it makes a KILLER shiiiiiiing sound as well. It sounds confusing, but it can actually be written quite simply. Let’s give an example:

“A thrusted out their blade in a feint. But just as B’s blade leaped for it, A withdrew their arm and took B’s blade up in a quick engagement. They swung it around and metal scraped against metal as A pushed B’s blade away from pointing at their chest to a harmless position beside their thigh. Then, in the same flowing movement, blades still locked, A pushed their blade back up for a deadly thrust at B’s chest.”

Not bad, if I do say so myself. Although this comes from having executed that maneuver a hundred times personally. There’s still hope for you though, as a non-fencing sword writer, I promise! You just gotta research and read a bit. But more on that later.

Next let’s talk about footwork. It’s not the most important part of the fight, but it is worth mentioning every once in a while in your scene, just to give the audience a sense of space for where your characters are, especially if they’re in a precarious position like a mountain or a pirate ship. Remember that swordfighting requires a LOT of backwards and forwards movement on both parties’ parts, so give your characters lots of room!

That brings us to our next point. Pacing. Now, here’s something you NEED to know about real life sword fights. They are MUCH faster than you think they are. Most of the fight is pacing back and forth, trying to gain right of way (if you’re in foil), and testing your opponent to see where they’ll go. Just a few seconds of blade engagement, and then it’s back to pacing back and forth to see who’s going to jump first. Also some testing to see how trigger happy your opponent is but thrusting towards them and seeing if they’ll attack back or retreat. Basically, irl sword fights are just 70% foreplay and 20% actual stabby stab.

But this is not great for fun sword fight scenes! Remember it’s okay to stretch the truth, and focus on the swordplay actions, stretch them out as much as necessary. Especially if your characters are superhuman. Just consider throwing in a few moments of pacing and sussing each other out, I promise it’s worth it. Not just to break up the constant fighting, which can get tiresome, but also because characters get tired too! Superhuman or not, fighting is exhausting on all parties. It’s not unusual for two sword fighting individuals to suddenly break and have a moment of analysis, slowly circling each other. I promise it won’t break your tension, if anything it will just increase it.

Now let’s talk about how to ACTUALLY get better and writing these scenes. And no, I’m not going to say ‘practice.’ Because while practice is important, so is RESEARCH and OBSERVATION.

There’s many ways you can research and observe as a non-sword individual! First I recommend watching clips of actual sword fighting, specifically women’s olympic foil (because they have the most technique out of all the other swords and categories). Also, watching sword fighting scenes in movies is good. It’s a dramatized version, of course, but that’s exactly what we’re trying to achieve in writing. It’s good to watch the character’s perspectives as they fight, and how the action washes over us as an audience.

Finally, I recommend actually reading sword fights in stories. The best author for fantasy sword fights, hands down, is R.A. Salvatore. His books are super cool D&D fantasy quest stories centered around a badass but also cute and compelling Drow character who gets into sword fights ALL THE TIME. And nobody writes a sword fight like Salvatore. Reading his work has probably helped me more in writing sword fights than my actual knowledge of how to sword fight.

I hope this has helped somewhat! Or was just fun to read. Either way, I enjoyed writing it. I love writing sword fights and I love sword fighting and I love helping, so I was happy to make this. Also, I have lots more technical knowledge I would love to share on this subject, so if you have anything you want to know about how swords or sword fights work or how to write something, I’m open for asks! Even if I don’t know you! Feel free to reach out with a question or a comment, I’ll geek out about swords any day.

Anyway that’s it my writer friends and fellow sword enthusiasts, good luck and happy writing! <3

@veradragonjedi

#sword fights #writing tips #writers on tumblr #how to write a sword fight #fencing #foil #epee #saber #longsword #broadsword #airlocks writes #writing tutorial #long post

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marvelwitchergilmore · 11 months

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Dove

Summary: Oberyn Martell x Fe!Reader - You’re no more than the sister of a wealthy merchant and the daughter of an Innkeeper. You’re also unlike the other dainty ladies in your town. So, when you’re told you’re to be married off to seal the trade agreement your brother came to, you’re not exactly the happiest person in the world when you find out who it is.

Disclaimer: I haven’t finished S4 of GOT but I wanted to write this. Fluff, AU divergent, still within GOT world. swearing, sword fights, patriarchy pigs, (I can only apologise now if this is crap) not proof read, use of pet-names, marriage of convenience, friends to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of wedding nights etc. nothing explicit. make out towards the end...

The Agreement was made to prove that your brother, Matthew, was true to his word and honour and would not steal from his main supplier. Although, you wouldn’t be surprised if they thought him a little stupid since you would soon come to learn even he did not know who you would be married to.

Stupid Idiot.

By the time you landed, the sun was coming closer to the centre of the sky and you were ready to strangle your brothers. Honestly, you didn’t know who was more stupid. Your brother or whoever had signed the contract with him. Did they know you were a bastard of a highborn lady? That you had no knowledge of courts or needle-pointing. Sure, you could cook, but there had been plenty of times where your brothers had to take over to stop you from lighting the whole house on fire.

Nevermind.

You’d be gone by the morning after your wedding. You’d sail on the first boat out of the land and go anywhere else. You’d go anywhere else other than spend another second in the presence of some random man who had agreed to marry you without ever having met your brother.

Stepping off the boat, you already knew you stuck out.

You were dressed in simple clothing. A blue peasant dress with the cleanest white shirt you owned lay underneath. Meanwhile, others who stood by the docks and elsewhere from where you could see wore long flowing gowns, some leaving little to no imagination.

“Is this her?” you heard a voice ask before your brother reply.

“Yes, this is my sister.”

One of the other guards or servants - you didn’t really know who they were - stood in front of you. By this point, you had lowered the hood of your cloak showing the waves in your hair cascade down the back of you. Whoever he was, he began to lift a hand as if to touch you but you stopped him.

“Touch me and I will cut off your hand.”

“She’s feisty.”

Your brother scolded your name although you ignored him.

“Well, we can try and train that out of her.”

“You will do nothing of the sort.” you spoke firmly as you looked at the man in front of your brother.

The way they spoke to one another made you think that this was the man who had agreed to find you a husband.

Meanwhile, the man in front of you moved and stepped around you to walk to the ship. He came back moments later carrying your bags.

“If you would like to follow me,” the man in front of your brother said.

You didn’t feel like learning names. After all, you’d be gone by the day after your wedding. Perhaps you’d fake your death? That way your brother couldn’t get into trouble over “breaking his side of the agreement”.

You and your brother followed the man, who you’d come to learn was a Lord.

“My Lord, isn’t this the way to the palace?”

“Palace? Why are we going to the palace?”

“You are first to meet the Prince.”

“What on earth for?” you asked.

Your brother scolded your name again, but the Lord simply laughed. “Your brother has made a trade agreement with the Prince. Also, your brother is one of our biggest outside suppliers. You are both to pay your respects to him as he will to you.”

“Oh.”

By the time the doors to the main hall opened, all eyes suddenly turned to you and your brother and a walk through a room has never felt so long and so quiet.

“Just keep your hands by your sides and your mouth closed.”

“What for? I’m the one being married off.”

Your brother quietly pleaded your name. “I understand your frustrations.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Sister, please. The Lord said he would find you a suitable match.”

“You don’t even know who I’m marrying?!”

He spoke your name again. “I trust him. He has made many marriages.”

“Oh, good lord.” you rolled your eyes before you felt your brother's hand come across you and stop you in your tracks.

The Lord had stopped walking.

“Your highness.”

There were formalities exchanged between the two men before he turned around to introduce you both. Your brother bowed and, after knocking your arm, you curtsied.

“It seems her brothers have taught her more of their world than of her mothers, your grace.”

The Prince smiled. “That is alright. I’m sure her ladies will help her.”

“Ladies? What ladies?” you whispered to your brother.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath before looking at your brother. “Am I marrying royalty?”

“I-I do not know.” he said before speaking a little louder. “I’m sorry, your grace. But, why would my sister need ladies?”

“Did the Lord not tell you?” The Prince stood. “Nevermind. Your sister will wed my brother.”

“What?” your brother could already hear the anger slicing through your voice which did not help the situation.

“Oh, for the love of-”

“There are worse fates, sister.”

“For you and I both.”

“I can assure you he will make your sister very happy. She will be well looked after and will live in comfort for the rest of her life.” The Prince explained. “You are one of our most trusted Merchants. Your fortune is built not from birth or blood but by courage and intelligence and I can only assume your sister is of the same breeding.”

“Breeding?”

“I am sure she will do good by my brother as he will with her. Perhaps they can teach each other a couple of things during their time together.”

“Like what?”

Your brother shushed you.

The Prince soon gave instructions on what was to happen and suddenly a woman dressed in a golden gown, her hair blonde and thrown back, pulled at your arm and led you out of the hall whilst your head tried to remain on your brother.

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t bring my sword with me.”

That was the last thing you said to him and only him before you were pulled away and out of the doors.

From there, the day was spent having women rush in and out of a grand room which you had been told was all yours. They measured you for dresses, held fabric against your complexion, sighing every time it washed you out or was not bold enough.

You simply had to look at the fabric and know that you’d feel nothing but seen in them.

Sure, they were beautiful and rich. But you preferred something you knew would not tear when swinging around a sword. Though, you doubted you’d be able to do much of that.

It was only at sundown when everyone was rushing to set tables and help others that you managed to escape for a while. Your room was too big and despite its size, you felt like you were being swallowed whole.

You missed your home. You missed your room. You missed your father and baking in the kitchens as your brothers fought outside. You missed being able to walk outside and show them what they were doing wrong, only to send them all to the ground with your fighting style.

“Are we to expect your sister soon, Master Matthew?”

Matthew looked around nervously. “I have been told she is still taking everything in.”

“I suppose it is overwhelming, coming from such a small home.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Suddenly, from the other end of the table, Oberyn stood from his spot, wiping his mouth.

“Brother?”

“Please, eat without us.”

“Oberyn, leave her be.”

“I am simply going for a walk.”

Meanwhile, you were in the very back corner of the kitchen, flour dusted up your arms whilst the rolling pin pressed against the dough of the bread.

You didn’t look up but you heard someone enter before giving a command and the background noise of the kitchens seems to disappear within seconds.

“We have servants for that.”

You looked up and saw a man dressed in a golden robe walking towards you. You had seen his picture earlier that day, in the picture halls. You had asked worrying questions to one of the maids who had been helping you. She took you by the hand and showed you around some of the halls. She had also turned you to face his picture when you asked what he looked like.

“I like to do it myself.”

With the back of your hand, you pushed a stray hair from your face and continued to roll out the dough.

“You seem very independent.” Oberyn pointed out. “I saw you, earlier, in the hall. You seemed to be swearing at your brother. I take it you are not happy with this marriage alliance. Or perhaps it is me you are unhappy with?”

You hadn’t meant to, but you slammed the rolling pin down.

“Tell me, Prince Oberyn. How would you feel if you were pulled from the only home you had ever known. If you woke up one morning and found your entire family downstairs being secretive and quiet instead of their usual rowdy selves? Only to have them tell you that you are engaged and when you ask who, they cannot tell you for they do not know? Then, to have all your things packed and taken to a dock at first light where you sail for lord knows how many days before arriving and being told that you must behave in such a way that only makes you want to rebel and run away even more.”

“That last point I know somewhat of its feelings.” Oberyn said. “But the rest, you are right. I do not know what that is like.”

You broke your gaze from his, looking back to the dough in front of you. Your hands moved on their own, splitting the dough, rolling one half into a neat shape before scoring it with a knife.

“I feel the need to tell you that you are safe here,” Oberyn spoke your name and you looked at him. “You are free to walk where you want. You can write a thousand letters a day to your home and no-one will judge you for doing so. Your brother tells me you are the least lady-like woman he has ever known. I do not mean to offend, but I suppose you already think it true.”

You could only shrug. It was true. You didn’t know how to behave in a palace. You knew to use manners at a table, though you suspected they were vastly different compared to being sat at a beaten old wooden table at the Inn.

“I can have one of the maids teach you what you need to know. And I can promise you this, you will not always feel like a stranger on this land. One day, it might even feel like home. But, despite everything, I just hope that within this, we can be friends. Will you grant me that pleasure?” Oberyn said your name again and you couldn’t deny; there was something about the way he said your name. “Can we be friends?”

You thought about it for a moment, your brother's words echoing in your head.

There are worse fates, Sister.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing being friends with your future husband.

A week passed and within that, a lot had happened.

A maid, by the name of Summer, taught you the ways of the court and how the wedding would take place as well as helping you read over the past histories of the world. Most of it, you already knew.

“I may just be an Innkeeper’s daughter, but he made sure I could read and write just as well as I could cook and fight. Sometimes the pen can be mightier than the sword, he would argue.”

You had also found time to explore the grounds where you happened upon Oberyn training at a spot by the cliffs.

You had watched him from above for a while, Summer finding you and wishing to hurry you along.

“My lady, you should not have to watch this.”

“If you’re worried about me seeing violence, Summer, you must be forgetting I grew up with four brothers. I have seen my fair share of blood. Some of it my own.” you smiled before looking down as you heard your name being called.

You walked down the stairs with a nervous Summer before you found Oberyn stood at the bottom.

“You seem disgusted by my fighting?” he asked.

“Fighting? No. But how you fight? Yes.”

Oberyn smiled and squinted to shield his eyes from the glaring sun behind you. “Your brother told me you taught him a few things?”

“How long was this conversation with my brother?” you asked but Oberyn only chuckled.

“I had questions about my mystery bride. Forgive me for being curious.” From leaning against a rock, Oberyn presented you with a sword.

“Perhaps you could teach me a few things,”

“My lady-” Summer tried to protest but you simply smiled, taking the sword from him.

“It’s okay, Summer. If you feel the need to throw up, just simply look away. It’s what the stable boys used to do.”

From around your shoulders, you handed her your cloak and were only thankful that you had worn one of your own dresses that morning, rather than the Dornish choice.

Within a few swings of the sword against his own, Oberyn realised the seriousness of your fighting. This wasn’t a girl dreaming of being a warrior. This was a woman who knew what she was doing.

“I do not see many ladies fighting with a sword in their hand.”

“Good job I’m not a lady, then.”

“Where did you learn to fight like this? Your brothers?”

“My father actually.”

“Please, do explain. It’s not often a father teaches his daughter to fight like his boys.”

“Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning.”

And so you did.

“My, uh, my mother was high born. She had an affair with my father, only, she was married. So, when she gave birth to me, her husband brought me to my father. He took me in. He loved my mother despite everything. He was also the one who taught me how to cook. Always said a lady should know how to make a decent meal for herself.”

“But you’re no lady?” Oberyn echoed.

Your swords clashed together, and you cracked a smile.

“But I’m no lady.”

Your swords pushed upwards before you circled one another again.

“Anyway, when I was old enough, he taught me how to protect myself. Came in handy, too, for those men who could never seem to understand the word “no”, or “go away,” or “leave.”.”

“Everyone has a reason they begin to learn how to fight. Surely this cannot be the only one?

What was your reason?”

“What gives you that impression?”

“The look in your eyes,” Oberyn said. “The eyes are the window to the soul. And your soul tells me more.”

You contemplated it for a moment before smiling a little and continuing to fight against him. “There was a boy, outside of the governesses gates. He was being bullied so I stood up for him.”

“And your father?”

“When he found out, he was furious. Though, the child did continue to thank me.”

“Is he well?”

“No,” you said. “He died a few years later from an illness that no nurse across the whole of Westeros could cure. But he still thanked me for saving his life until his dying day.”

“And your father?”

“He asked me what I did and I told him. Then he showed me technique. A better one than I had used and by the time I was strong enough, I began fighting against my brothers. My father was widowed, six months before he and my mother began their relationship.”

“Did they go easier on you?” Oberyn asked you as he put some more power behind his swing.

“They tried.” you smiled. “But I gave them a hell of a beating for doing so.”

“I could only guess as much.”

The following movements, you could feel the scales tipping to his advantage only, with your experience, as he believed himself to be winning, you used his power against him until finally his sword was knocked out of his hand and he was leaning against a rock with the edge of your sword to his throat.

“Do you yield?”

“Yes,” he smiled with a breathy laugh. “I yield.”

You nodded, withdrawing your sword and lowering it.

“You are quite the swordsman. Or should I say swordswoman?”

“Thank you.”

“And an excellent fighter. It is a shame there is no opening for the KingsGuard.”

“Please,” you smiled. “This is my enjoyment. Only when you make something a job does it become work.”

“Well said, my lady.”

That was when a squire came running to alert you both that you were hotly called for in the main hall.

Whilst Oberyn kissed your hand, saying goodbye for now, Summer pulled you off towards your chambers where you washed down and changed your clothing before being walking, this time alone, into the main hall.

You had at least two dozen or more pairs of eyes on you as you stood clear in the centre when another Lord walked closer to you whilst, from the corner of your eye, you saw Oberyn sat at the altar with the other members of the council and his family.

A man, who you assumed was maester from his dressing, circled you as if examining every inch of you. He seemingly poked and prodded you a couple of times and moved your hair from your shoulder to move it behind you before rounding you and coming to your other side and just as he was about to touch you again, you spoke.

“If you touch me again, I will cut off your hand.”

Your eyes did not break from his, even when his eye line was distracted by Oberyn when he spoke.

“I would listen to her.” He said. “I’ve seen her with a sword.”

The man looked back to you until he saw not only the truth in Oberyn’s words but the truth in your eyes. From there, he slowly retracted his hand from your personal space and turned towards the Prince.

“She seems fit, your highness.”

“She has a name! She’d also prefer you to use it than talk as if she is not even in the room!”

The maester looked to you, for a moment, in shock. Then, he turned to his Prince who took a moment, looking to his own wife before looking back.

“She has a good point, Maester. She is right here, in front of your eyes. I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

So, repeating his words, the Maester, this time, used your name.

A few days later, the wedding took place.

It was a rather grand affair. Your father had sailed in for the occasion, walking you down the aisle. Vows were shared and by the time the reception came around, you couldn’t have felt more overwhelmed.

Sure, you had gotten used to the place since you arrived. But it didn’t feel like home. And now, it was your home. You were married to one of the Princes. You have become a Princess. No longer the Innkeeper’s daughter but Oberyn Martell’s wife.

Thankfully, however, when people were entertained with wine and spirits and entertainment, Oberyn pulled you from your seat and took you away from all the noise and bustle of the wedding.

Instead, the pair of you walked past servants who were ordered to remain quiet over your whereabouts whilst he led you into a section of the garden that was hidden away from almost everyone.

“Thank you.”

“I may like the wine, but it is not often I like the company of so many people.”

Every nobel of the land, you swore, was there. Them and every mistress and child they ever had.

Most of this time, alone, was spent in quiet solitude until.

“Dance with me.”

You looked up to your husband.

Husband. That would take some getting used to.

“What?”

“I can hear the music from here. Please, dance with me?”

Sighing a little, you rested your hand in his as he helped you up and together you both danced to the distant music.

Oddly enough, it was rather nice. To dance in the arms of someone who knew what they were doing. Though, you supposed fighting was a little like dancing. The movement rehearsed but just always in a different order.

“Tonight, you understand what is to happen?”

You looked up to him.

“You know what happens between a man and wife on their wedding night-”

“I grew up with four brothers, Oberyn. If you’re trying to be gentle on the subject, you should know there isn’t much I haven’t already heard.”

Oberyn cracked a smile before continuing. “The reason I bring it up is not to scare you but tell you, I will not touch you in that way, until the day that you ask me to.”

“And what if I never do?”

“Then…we will convince the Maester that you cannot bear my children and we shall have to adopt. There are many high borns who have not been blessed with children whether intentionally or not.”

You smiled.

There are worse fates, Sister

“Thank you, Oberyn.”

“I enjoy having you as my friend, as well as my wife. I’d rather have a lifetime of shared happiness than a night of misery.”

You smiled at him. “You’re a good man, Oberyn. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

“Though, there isn’t much I can do about the bed situation tonight, so we may share if you like. Though, I hope you don’t snore.”

“Not as bad as my brothers,”

Oberyn smiled, “I suppose that will have to do.”

Despite the initial awkwardness of sharing a bed, it wasn’t long until you fell asleep to the sound of the waves coming from the open windows and by the time you woke in the morning, you found Oberyn asleep beside you.

You watched him for a few moments before turning your head to the open windows where the light fabric of the curtains blew inside from the open balcony. He must have woken in the night and drew back the heavier curtains that had lay there last night.

10 days ago, you had been adamant on leaving. On escaping the morning after your wedding. Instead, you still remained in bed. And once Oberyn woke, you remained in bed talking to him as he explained the next few days to you and what would happen.

“And how long is it going to last? The honeymoon?”

“Until the next full moon.”

“A month?”

“Was there a full one last night?”

You thought back for a moment before nodding.

“Then, yes.”

However, what Oberyn didn’t tell you was that when he could not sleep last night and he stepped outside, his eyes remained on the sky and the full moon before he followed its light which he found gently landed on you and your sleeping beauty.

“Oh, and.”

You felt yourself laugh as Oberyn stood from the bed and quickly crossed the room and came back with some kind of red fruit which he called Pomegranate. Except, rather than eating its seeds, he removed some and crushed them until its juices dripped onto the bed sheets.

“To avoid suspicion.”

You hummed in slight delight as he covered both of your tracks surrounding the wedding night.

Over the next month, your friendship with Oberyn continued to grow and blossom. At night, you’d both sneak to the kitchens where you’d teach him what your father taught you.

Each morning, the staff would find either bread or small cakes baked especially for them and although there was no signature on the note, they had come to know your baking.

During the days, he’d take you to different places in Dorne, explaining its history and talking about his sister and other members of his family. Sometimes you’d watch him train and fight and most times, it would end with you stepping in and fighting against him.

And, finally, on the quiet days, he’d come and dance with you in the gardens until the day he asked you to teach him how to dance. You didn’t know much in terms of dancing but what you did have knowledge in was simple enough to teach.

Pressing palms together, you both stepped inside and back out, all the while slowly turning in a circle. You held the bottom of your dress out of the way of your feet as you did so.

As you both walked through the steps, you felt something change inside of you. Simply being under his gaze, you felt…nervous. Vulnerable. Like he could read the parts of your soul you didn’t even know you had yet.

And when he found a name for you…one that only he called you by…your feelings felt as if they were drowning and soaring all at once.

“I would like for you to formally meet my wife, my dove,” Oberyn introduced you to the second happy couple at a wedding you were both attending across the island.

The bride smiled at you and gave her greetings before the formalities of wedding and relationship talk began.

From there, he began to use it more often.

At first, you found it very apt. After all, you were the olive branch between The Agreement for Trade. But you came to learn it was more than that.

“In this messy world, you are my peace, my dove.”

Oberyn had told you that as speeches were made and you both sat together away from the head table. There were talks of how messy the world had gotten, it was nice to have a shining bright and hopeful future to come with the match of the bride and groom.

From there, you leaned into his body as his arm lay against the back of your chair. You took his hand that lay in his lap and held it before kissing his cheek.

It was after that you tried to keep yourself breathing. Any time you were close to him, your breath would catch in your throat and your mind would run wild - and at the most inopportune times. And when you would lie beside him at night, you could only think how easier it could have been if you had stayed awake past him and escaped.

Maybe then you wouldn’t have had to deal with your feelings for him.

For a week, months after the wedding you had attended together, Oberyn found himself waking each morning without you beside him. So, rather than wait for you, assuming you had gone to clear your head or gone to a lesson with Summer, he went in search of you.

He’d seen a change in you, the last couple of months. At first, he gathered it was a coincidence. Perhaps even an act. After all, you were both yet to consummate the marriage

but still had to convince people of your marital status.

But then he saw the look in your eyes when he had called you by the name he referred to you as to other people, in front of you.

Despite what your expression could hide with masterly skill - something you had explained your brothers had taught you as “a warrior should always be able to hide their emotions when in a battle.”. You had echoed this when sparring with him one afternoon in the setting sun.

Your hair was loose from the braids Summer had placed in your hair that morning and you still had soil and gravel under some of your nails from being in the garden earlier that day.

And, perhaps, to others, you would look a mess.

But he never found you more beautiful than how you looked when you were fighting against him or when you cooked with him. Your hair, usually neat, messy and your fingers and arms either dusted in dirt or flour.

So, when he found you by the waters edge one morning, away from the servants and the palace and simply in your own little world, he stayed back for a while and admired your form. How you danced across the floor, your sword swinging and slicing the air in front of you.

“I missed you this morning, my dove.”

You stopped your movements and slowed down. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Your mind would not rest?”

You tried your best to keep your gaze from him and he could tell. “No.”

“If you have a problem, is it not my job to fix that?”

“And what if you are my problem?”

You had clearly, to him, been arguing with yourself in your head as you fought the air with your sword. He was just happy he might finally understand the truth of why and might know if he was right in his thinking of why.

“Please, explain this concept to me.”

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“How so?”

“This! By doing…whatever it is that you are doing.”

“I am just standing here.”

“And that is half of my problem.”

“I am doing nothing.”

“You’re doing something.”

“Then, please, my dove, tell me what it is that I am doing.”

“I don’t know what it is! But it is something. You do something to be, Oberyn. You…confuse me.”

“Confuse you?”

“Yes, you confuse me. One moment, I am your friend. Next, I am your dove. At times, I do not care where you are but then I do. I care to know where you are and what you are doing. I go from liking you to hating your guts.”

“Why, my dove?”

“Because you are making this place feel like home to me.” you said. “When I first arrived, before I knew about you and about…everything, I was planning to run away. That the morning after my wedding, I would sneak on the next boat out of here and…fake my death. My brother would not have broken his contract and I could be free and not be somebody’s wife. But, instead of that, I spend every morning waking to your face and wishing that when you’d open your eyes you’d kiss me. You’d kiss me as if I was more than just your friend. That I was your wife.”

“You are my wife. You are my dove.”

“And that is another thing. I am your dove. I nearly slit a boy’s throat once because he called me sweetheart. But not with you. For some reason, with you, I wish to keep hearing it. I wish to keep hearing your voice talking to me, telling me stories, asking me questions, commanding your opponents.”

“So…you’re confused that you don’t wish to slit my throat? I think you’ll find I have that effect on people.”

“I’m being serious, Oberyn.”

“So am I, my dove.”

You found him walking closer to you but you could only keep your focus on the handle of your sword.

“First and foremost, I am your friend but there are times when…when I wish for more.”

“Why not tell me, dove?”

“Because I cannot get involved with-”

“We are married, are we not?” Oberyn asked.

“By alliance. Not…not by love.”

“My dove, look at me.” Oberyn commanded before placing a finger beneath his chin. And once your eyes met his, he saw clear into you. “What if I told you that had changed?”

“Please…don’t, Oberyn.”

“Why not let yourself fall? I know your feelings, my dove. I share them, too. Let yourself fall. I promise I will catch you.”

“Oberyn…”

“Let me kiss you. If you find your feelings stronger than another, then I will let you walk away. But if you don’t…stay with me.”

The last time you and Oberyn had kissed had been at your own wedding. But even then, it was quick. Simple.

This was anything but.

Despite his feelings rushing out of him faster than he could handle, the kiss was not violent. It was desperate. He was desperate. Desperate to prove to you that the feelings you felt were not only valid, but shared. That, for as long as you had been trying to put off and ignore the fact you were falling in love with him, he had fallen long ago.

In fact, the days before your wedding, he had fallen in love.

He already knew from the stories your brother had told him when asked that you were unlike any girl he would ever meet. And when he saw you in the hall, and saw you with the fury of murder in your eyes against your brother, he smiled. You were not soft or weak. Instead, you were only soft around those who you granted trust to. He was a first hand witness to that, in the late hours when you’d both lay on the bed together and he’d ask you questions of your childhood. You became relaxed and you laughed with him over tales of your brothers and everything they had done and the moments you had saved them. But, with that, you also told him of the darker moments, where you had to save yourself and your brothers or father would take care of the rest.

It was in those moments he wished he had met you sooner. He would kill anyone who tried to harm you.

He knew he found you attractive the first time you sparred together. The look in your eyes, the concentration, the fight you had. Not only were you a good competitor but an excellent partner.

Soon after that, he was long gone.

The way you handled the Maester. How you handled one of the guards when they made Summer uncomfortable under their gaze. He pretended not to see, but he did. He saw it all. And he couldn’t have been more in love.

By the time he pulled away, your hands were still locked onto his clothing holding him close.

“Do you feel your mind has changed, my dove?”

When he saw your reaction the first time he called you dove, he knew you were beginning to feel the same.

“Promise you’ll catch me?”

Oberyn smiled. “I promise, my dove.”

Pulling him back in, you kissed him once more only to feel his hands wrap around your back and pull you flush against him and yet you still felt far from him. He turned you slightly so your backside pressed against the lower wall where he lifted you to sit before leaning into you a little more as your legs wrapped around the back of his.

You were both thankful, though you doubted Oberyn cared much, that where you were, no-one usually came. For, despite your marital status, someone would still call your situation scandalous.

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butlerapologist · 1 year

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How the FUCK am I supposed to find another romantic asexual around my age with similar personality traits that is willing to date me for 8 years before tragically dying by the sword of my greatest enemy putting me on a quest for vengeance while the ghost of their memories haunts my dreams reminding me nightly of the love I once held for them until I finally kill the bastard who dared to harm them getting myself killed in the process finally able to rest for eternity in their arms in peace?

#asexual #asexual memes #ace #romance #I am taking applications #please when #I just want to worship my lover to the point where it physically sucks the life from me #it would be worth it to see them smile #sword fights #vengance #love

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spacevixenmusic · 1 year

Photo

Space Adventure Cobra (1982)

#space adventure cobra #space cobra #armaroid lady #sword fights #gif #flashing warning

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thefoxtrot008 · 2 days

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Dialogue Prompts

Alright, you guys. Here is part 8 of the dialogues list! It's pretty long, this time though these aren't categorized, so enjoy! :)

"This is the best possible outcome we could come up with?!" "I don't know how we keep getting ourselves into these situations."

"And we stand one grade A dumbass." "This is a dumb idea." "So, do it."

"For real, you just jinxed us for all the years to come."

"Don't talk to me unless you're coming to apologize!" "Well, don't worry! I won't"

"You befriended a cult?!"

"That was my bad eye anyway."

"Why is everybody crying? Nobody died."

"Only five visitors at a time!"

"Just in case I didn't get the chance to do it again."

"Thanks for pushing me out of my chair, I guess."

"Why do I have to compete if I didn't do it?"

"And how do you plan on skating by that conversation?"

"Since when did you get so hot?"

"I'm not dead!"

"What?! When did it happen? This is news!"

"Wow. Way to leave me behind."

"You'll have that scar forever, I'm afraid."

"What is more important here? Your freedom? Or theirs?"

"This is close quarters, no?"

"You broke up with him via a letter?!" "It was a detailed letter. Better than over the phone!" "Doesn't make it any better."

"We're going to be late, come on."

"He's just going to find some way to making this my fault isn't he?"

"You're supposed to hit the ball! Not miss it!"

"You'll be lucky if they let you try out again after what happened last year."

"What? You didn't think I was going to do all of this by myself did you?" "I've got to go and make a call." "I've got to go do uh... costume checks..." "Guess it's just you and me cowboy." "I've got to uh..." "If you stay, I'll buy you dinner." "I was gonna go to the bathroom."

"Stop fidgeting. You look good."

"You can look but don't touch."

"My husband's going to kick your ass." "I don't think you understand the severity of the situation."

"Are you sure that's the way it's supposed to go? That doesn't look good."

"I'll only have some of yours if you have some of mine."

"You know, for a thief, you're a bad liar."

"You two better get your stories straight. You better give me a reason as to why you're doing this."

"And what if everything doesn't go to plan? Hmm? There's always that possibility. What, you're gonna pick her over all of us?"

"Hey... uh... I thought you were uh... still mad at me." "Oh, believe me. I still am. But I uh..." "Can't sleep?"

"I can't live like this! Something is wrong. Are you going to tell me what it is?" "You have to ASK what is wrong? Shouldn't you know?!" "I don't, that's why I'm asking."

"Did you put batteries in it?" "Yea, I put batteries in it."

"You left because you got bored?!"

"Later, you and I are going to have a conversation you wish we never had."

"It's about time you guys showed up! Where the hell have you been?!" "We had... a technical difficulty."

"What?! We want to come!" "Not this time. Stay in the car."

"You wanna get out of here?" "Have you done anything like this before?" "No. But this is rather exciting isn't it?"

"So, all of these guys are your brothers?" "Yep. All eleven of them."

"It wouldn't hurt if you asked him." "No, he won't do it. He got out of the game years ago." "He'll do it if I ask him."

"Now, are you going to be a lady and tell me what the gig is?" "Now, where would the fun in that be?"

"And if I don't take it?" "Then this conversation never happened and we've never met... but I do hope, you'll reconsider."

"Any other questions? No? Good."

"Oh, don't let me stop you. Go ahead with the plan." "Glad we have your permission."

"And prey tell, what can you do sweetheart?" "I was hoping you'd never have to find out, but since you asked."

"No! Absolutely not! This is not happening!" "Stay away from my sister! About 10 ft from my sister!" "Quit looking at him like that!" "I can't help it if he's handsome!" "You can't tell me who I can and can date you're not mom!"

"I can handle myself. If he does anything to me, I'll beat him to a pulp." "That's my girl."

"Well, sweetheart. It's just us now. What exactly, is it that you wanna do?"

"Aw, babe. you were worried about me?" "That's all that you got from that conversation?!" "Admit it. You were worried."

"It won't go any other way. I swear, if we have to do this again, I'm gonna.."

"Thank you for staying and helping." "Eh. It''s no problem. Besides, it gives me more time to spend with you." "That was so smooth, I can't."

"You just got out of prison and you went to see him first instead of coming to see me? I'm offended."

"We'll need a crew." "We haven't gotten that far yet."

"We've got a proposition for you. If you're interested." "What's the target?" "holy shit." "it's a lot."

"hey. if you want this to work, this is what I need."

"I mean, if this is something that you want, we'll help you. but if you fail, just prepare to be the laughing stock again." "Bold of you to assume, I've recovered from last year."

"Why were they not present at the time of your discretion?"

"And this letter is for you." "Is it from lover boy? I bet it's from lover boy." "Oh, shove off! So, what if it is?"

"he was our captain, why aren't we getting these offers?" "maybe he likes me better."

"Yea, but you put em' in their place. I wouldn't have gotten off without you." "It's what I'm here for."

"alright. that's it. I'm out."

"What do you mean IF you offended me?!" "Alright!!! I'm sorry that I've offended you!"

"Tell him, that I need a little more space here." "Just apologize!" "Why me?! She overreacted!" "I'm sorry - I overreacted?!" "What?! Just when this was getting good." "Break up. break up. break up, please, for my sake, break up!"

"Oh, come on, love. We have to talk about this!" "Oh, now you wanna talk about this?!"

"Okay. Let's go. We've traveled with you all day, now you're coming with us at night." "But we can't see at night." "Sounds more of like a you problem, doesn't it?"

"I gave it to them." "And who are you to give it to them, when it's rightfully mine!"

"Do you have to go?" "Believe me. I don't want to my love, but I have to."

"I hope he realizes what he's doing." "me too."

"Would all of you please just SHUT UP!!!... he has something he would like to say!" "Thank you."

"I'll go! I'll distract them. I'm good at that." "they will tear you apart." "It'll be enough time to give you what you need."

"he's right. you can't go." "since when are you in complete agreement with him?" "since now. you could die or... or be severely injured you know that right?"

"while you deal with them, I'll go and grab the door." "don't let anyone else in!" "yea, okay."

"this is nice, your place. did you do it yourself?"

"just doing my duty as a good host!" "you seem to be taking this much better than your brother." "you're not supposed to eat that!" "how are you not freaking out about this?! they're destroyed our home, mind you!" "you always do overreact to everything."

"excuse me, but I will not have you insult my own brother in our own home. now, I must ask you to apologize, or to leave. you can find your hospitality elsewhere."

"she doesn't know what love is!" "then this might be a good chance for her to find out."

"you're siding with them!?" "I am not. I'm merely eating."

"you cannot stop this."

"nope. you cannot have one or the other. we come in a package deal. you get both of us." "what is the matter with you?! what makes you think I want to be apart of any of this?!" "this is what we've dreamed about since we were kids! you're telling me you don't want to be apart of this?!"

"you might be the only one to convince him of this."

"I want learn how to do that." "oh, I don't think that you could handle something like this, love." "pft. love? alright. someone hand me a sword so, I can kick his ass." "don't you dare you go easy on me." "believe me love, I won't. trust me when I say that." "five pounds on the girl, she loses." "you're on."

"I'd think twice before doing something like this." "I've already made up my mind. you're not stopping me." "alright. I'll step aside then." "that's right, you better."

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And.... that's a wrap folks! :)

#my writing #dialogue prompts #sword fights #the hobbit #brainstorming session #harry potter #everybody lives au #narnia

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