#i tried to watch river dale just to look at him

[littlegodzilla]

Fucking Redneck DarylxFem!Reader +18

Hi! I'm here again! This time I come with Daryl again. Thank you very much for the likes and comments that you gave me, I'm really happy that you liked my stories.

I hope you enjoy it as well!!

Fucking Redneck Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader +18

One shot. M. Smut.(Yes, again, I don't know how to write anything else)

N/A: I have a problem with Daryl Dixon season 2 and 3 so… this is what came to my mind. It could be another part from the first one shot I posted here the last week… more or less…(It should've been a long story but I don't feel ready for a long fic… sorry) and I tried to make Daryl more Daryl but I don't know if I succeeded... Sorry if he sounds weird or funny, I'm still developing him in my mind.

Sumary: Sophia is gone, Dale is gone. You didn't know any of them but it hurts anyway…

You are exhausted, tired, your whole body trembles, your hands, your legs. You gasp uncontrollably, you feel like your head is going to explode at any moment. Tears mixted with the drops of water and sweat that run down your face. You look at your hands and still see blood on them. But they’re clean. You immerse them back into the river water and rub your skin with desperation. You lost Dale that night and you can't get it out of your mind when Daryl took Rick's revolver and shot him to end his suffering. You didn't know Dale, you hadn't been in the group for revolver start, in fact even you don't consider yourself part of them. However, Dale was a good man, wise and kind, he didn't deserve to end up like that. Especially when he was right and one mistake caused the group to break up.

Your hands are starting to turn a reddish color because of how hard you are scratching your skin, the mud and small stones from the river are hurting your skin, but you don't seem to mind. You just want to stop watching Dale die, over and over again.

A hiss cuts through the air and the thud of a dead body falling to the ground, forces your head up. Not far from where you are, a rabbit has an arrow pierced from temple to temple. Damn Daryl Dixon, he had eagle eyesight and lethal aim. You don't need him there right now.

You were actually on your way home when it all happened, you were able to escape the checkpoints and return home in search of your parents, when you arrived they weren't  there and someone had looted their things. After giving yourself some time and allowing yourself to cry about it you had gathered what the people hadn’t  taken and went on your way. You were on your way out of town when you heard a shot, the piercing screams forced you to run in their direction and you discovered it was the Greene's house. That's how you met the Atlanta group, that's how you met Daryl Dixon.

You two have never had a good connection, for whatever reason, after you helped Hershel with his wounds, the man has never addressed you, not without growling or barking at the end of his sentences. You understand him being suspicious of you, you came out of nowhere, but you helped saving his life. At least he could stop snorting every time he saw you.

Now you’re frustrated, angry, devastated by everything that has happened and the last thing you need is his tough gaze on you. Of course things don't get better when he opens his mouth.

"What’re ya doin' here? ’s dangerous." And there it’s again, the snort coming out of his mouth.

"Not now…Leave me alone, Daryl..." You try to ask him, but his footsteps approach to you.

"Ya didn't know them, not Sophia, not Dale, don’t pretend to care ‘bout their deaths. Get up. You look stupid."

You have a temperament. You figured it out at the beginning of this whole zombie apocalypse thing. You've never been angry before, you've never yelled or argued with anyone, you've always been a calm, quiet person. You discovered that you could yell, and also you could hit people.

And that happens as soon as Daryl stops talking. You feel his hand grab your arm, ready to pull you up, but you roll over and turn away, with your fist clenched. You could punch him in the balls and leave Daryl lying on the ground, crying like a baby, but your goal is different.

His side.

Right where he wounded himself with his own arrow. You shoot your fist and hit accurately in his wound, it's already healed, but the area is still sensitive and you take advantage of that. Daryl screams in pain, lets go of you and cringes in pain, he takes a few steps back, letting go of the crossbow, touching where you hit him.

"Don't you dare tell me how I may or may not feel, you fucking redneck!" You yell angrily at him getting up, backing away from him.

You walk up to the rabbit, pick it up off the ground and pull out the arrow and throw it at the archer. You see Daryl holding his side, looking at you from the corner of his eye, his jaw tensing, enduring the pain.

You have a temper, but you're like champagne, once you explode and the foam disappears, you become nothing, and now Daryl's gaze, is giving you fear. You feel like you have to run away, right now. You walk away quickly, but you don't get very far.

Daryl has thrown himself on you, your bodies collide like two rocks, you run out of air as you fall to the ground. Daryl blocks your body with his. He grabs your wrists, above your head, rips the rabbit from your hands and throws it away. His gaze has turned a dangerous, dark, electric blue, his brow furrowed and his jaw so tight that you fear you'll see a trickle of blood spill from his lips at any moment.

"Tha's the second time ya've dared hit me..." He growls against your face and your body shudders.

Yes, this is the second time, the first time was several nights ago, before Dale's accident happened. You had found Sophia, Shane and the others shot all the dead coming out of the barn and the little girl caused a shock to the whole group, especially her mother, Carol. After that you witnessed the Greene family fall apart and the Atlanta group break apart, Daryl walked away from everyone, as if he wanted nothing to do with his companions.

The question of why you hit him was because Lori asked him for help, Rick and Glenn went looking for Hershel in town and she asked the archer to go get them. Daryl's answer was no. So she went looking for them by herself. Lori had a car accident, Beth went into shock, you went looking for Lori and when you found out this was Daryl's fault you went after him. Again, you were a champagne bottle about to explode. You were arriving at his tent when you see him arguing with Carol, since you came to the group you always thought that Carol and Daryl had a relationship, that he was Sophia's father and that's why he was desperate to find her, but apparently it wasn't, even the woman's presence seemed to bother the archer. He shouted something very close to her face and she instinctively took a step back. That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

You stood between Daryl and Carol and your hand shot out towards his face. The hit resounded violently, it had so much momentum that even the nedneck turned his face in the direction of the hit.

"Don't you dare speak to her like that again. Never." You say with a strong threat in your voice. "You're a complete asshole. These people love you, you're part of a group and you're just a fucking coward who's running away because he thinks he fucked up. They need you because you're important to them." You say again and you watch as Daryl's gesture slowly changes. "You can keep on out here acting offended and eating those nasty squirrels, but I swear if anything happens to Lori's baby, I'll break your face." You assure him, and again the froth is gone. You don't give Daryl time to respond, you grab Carol's hand and the two of you walk out of there.

After that, you don't know if because of you or because of what Carol told him before you arrived, Daryl made an appearance at the Greene house and rejoined the group.

"That's the second time you're an asshole." You grunt. "Get the fuck off me!" You scream again, but Daryl holds you tighter and places a knee between your legs to control your movement. His knee presses into your clit in his stride and you gasp.

You both fall silent after whatever that was came out of your mouth. Daryl's eyes fix on you once more and then roam your entire body. His knee presses again and your legs instantly spread apart.

Okay, he maybe is a fucking redneck and a total asshole, but you have eyes in your face and you know the man is fucking attractive. Thank you very much. And you maybe have fantasized about him once, but you certainly didn't expect this could happen.

Your breathing becomes agitated, your hands twitch nervously under his grip. His eyes continue to roam over you and when his eyes, black from the dilation of his pupils, bore into you, your whole body shudders and you get wet in your clothes and against his knee.

Oh God, you’re fucking dead.

“Ya really like tha, don't ya?” He says putting more pressure with his knee and your back arches in response.

You aren't quite sure what he wants to accomplish with that. You don't know if it's his way of embarrassing you, humiliating you or just the conversation has changed course and now you're really about to get laid. You don't know. And you aren't ready to regret it later.

You move once more under his body, his hand moves cleverly over yours and he holds your wrists again. He doesn't use too much force, he simply holds them there, above your head. Daryl's hands are big, short-fingered and thick, but he is strong enough to be able to manipulate you without any problem with one of them. You discover that his other hand is on your waist, practically all this time, but now he pulls your shirt up a little and that makes you aware of his existence.

“Daryl…” You gasp and you open your eyes in surprise. He's kissing you.

You're tight-lipped, your head spinning, your heart beating a mile a minute. His tongue brushes your lips and you finally give in. You open your mouth a little and he pushes inside with his whole body. His tongue bursts inside your mouth, catches yours, dominant, his teeth bite your lips, his tongue grazes your palate and you moan low. You throw your head back and he bites down hard on your neck; he bites, licks and sucks your skin leaving a reddish mark on the line of your throat. Your moan becomes prolonged and you clench your fists still above your head. Daryl's knee continues to press against your clit and now rubs lightly making the pleasure that expands with each rub more intense.

You moan louder and spread your legs wider. Daryl pulls away from you, releases your wrists and for a moment fear grips you. There it’s, now comes your humiliation. But to your surprise, Daryl pulls your shirt to pull it off over your head, you suddenly feel uncomfortable and try to cover yourself with your hands, but he avoids it, and he once again fixes his dark gaze on you.

"Don't do tha... I wanna see ya." Daryl says, but he releases your hands and traps your boobs over your bra, squeezing gently.

You bite your lip. Daryl unclasps your bra and his hands cup your tits and his fingers tighten on your nipples. You moan and arch, his mouth catches one of your breasts and bites down causing pain and pleasure at the same time. He licks and sucks your nipple at the same time as he twists the other one with his hand, increasing your pleasure. You arch back against the floor and your hand pulls the hair at the nape of his neck as he leaves your tit to kiss and lick your belly to the edge of your pants. Daryl lifts his head to look at you, you stare at him with bated breath and he spreads your legs apart, standing in between them, unbuttons your pants slowly pulling them down, pulls away from you to pull them all the way off and moves back up to you.

Your hands try to get rid of his vest and sleeveless shirt, but he stops you by placing your hands back on either side of your body.

"No." He tells you with a growl.

You don't insist, you free yourself from his grip and with your hand you caress his hard bulge above his pants. Daryl curses under his breath and pushes his hips against your hand. You smile, biting your lip. Apparently Daryl Dixon has needs too. You suddenly feel bolder. Now that you know Daryl is horny too, you aren’t going to miss your chance. You dare to take control, you sit up a little and your hand moves a little more against his erection, you hold it above the fabric of his baggy pants and he moans low. Your fingers unbutton his pants and in one tug you pull down his pants and his boxer briefs. His cock jumps out of the fabric and you take it fully in your hand, moving your hand up and down its length feeling it getting harder.

Daryl holds your chin and kisses you again with intensity, this time you reciprocate in kind, gasping against his mouth, tightening your grip on his cock a little more. Gasping against your mouth and pulling your hand away, Daryl lays you down on the floor once more and on the way, he rips off your panties and positions himself better between your legs. He lifts your hips up entangling your legs around his waist and his cock rubs directly against your folds, his cock spreading your wetness along its length while still moving against you, making his cock tip rub and slap against your clit, sending you little flashes of pleasure that force your hips to move against him wanting the contact to be more intense, but he doesn't increase the speed of his hips. Your mouth opens in a muffled moan as his fingers work their way inside you and the sensation blocks you. He continues to move against your clit but now his fingers also move inside you, in and out, slowly. You moan loudly, throw your head back and arch your back. Your nails dig into the hunter's knees in response, Daryl bends his fingers inside you, touching a spot inside you that makes your whole body jerk.

"Fuck..." You gasp in surprise and you can see a smug smile on his mouth.

You never thought Daryl was inexperienced, but maybe the thought crossed your mind that he was one of those guys who only sought his own satisfaction, but you were wrong. His mouth, his hands, his fingers, they know exactly where and how touch you and they are bringing you to the edge of your orgasm. You feel your skin go goose bumps, your fingers writhe and pleasure bubbles in your belly on the verge of overflowing.

Then his fingers stop.

Your pussy throbs, the emptiness he has left inside you makes you snort in frustration, but you don't have time to protest, his cock squeezes at your entrance and pushes slowly every inch into you. Daryl slips inside you with a guttural moan, he needs a moment, so do you, it's been a while since you've been with anyone and with the whole undead thing your attention to sex had almost vanished, so now you need to adjust to that old familiar feeling and you’re mentally grateful that Daryl prepared you earlier. Because he's well endowed.

You groan and dig your nails into his skin as he starts to slowly pull out of you, carefully, almost pulling out completely and then pushing back in. The cry of pleasure dies inside Daryl's mouth as he leans in to kiss you. His hand holds your head, gripping your hair tightly, his other arm grips one of your legs to pull you deeper and he begins to move fast and hard. A new moan comes out of your mouth, your arms wrap around his shoulders digging your fingers into his vest, you try to keep up with his hips, but Daryl seems desperate. His mouth devours you again and again, his fingers tangle in your hair pulling on it, his hips don't stop moving at that angle that gets you going crazy and the orgasm forms again, intense, in your belly.

"Daryl!" you moan in desperation and his mouth bites your ear.

"Cum...! Cum for me... I wanna hear ya." He whispers in your ear in a raspy voice and his lunges become more erratic and desperate.

He's on the edge too.

His hand releases your hair, finds space between your bodies and caresses your clit urgently. His face hides in the hollow of your neck and bites into your skin, demanding. And you can't handle it and scream. You moan loudly and arch on the ground, your leg digs into the small of his back, your toes crinkle and your nails dig into his vest once more, the pleasure coursing through you is so intense that for a second you think you might pass out. Daryl feels you tighten around his cock, the spasms of your orgasm causing your walls to trap him and squeeze him hard, driving him to the edge. With his face hidden in the hollow of your neck he moans with a choked groan, his hot breath makes your hair stand on end and in one last strong thrust he is locked inside you, cumming intensely, prolonging his own climax, making your body shudder once more at the hot sensation of his cum inside you. His hips move slowly again, delivering a few final thrusts until he finally stops again and slowly pulls out of you. Your breaths are ragged, sweat bathes your bodies, and you are filled with dirt from the riverbank. You feel your heart hammering hard inside your chest, you have your eyes closed trying to catch your breath, Daryl isn't much better than you, but he gets up first. You open your eyes as you hear him put his pants back on, his hands wipe the sweat from his forehead and face, he looks at you once, biting his lower lip nervously, he picks up his crossbow and picks up the rabbit from the ground. You remain sitting on the ground, Daryl turns to look at you.

"Never touch ma huntin' again." He tells you and disappears from there.

And that's it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you in the next story! I'm working on something about Trucker Norman...Let’s see what come up!

#norman reedus #norman #normanreedus #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon #daryldixon #daryl #daryl dixon x reader #oneshot #smut #twd #the walking dead

[callmeoops]

Light in the Dark - Chapter Three

A/N: It is so hard for me not to post chapters as I write them. I just finished chapter seven today and I’m like...yessss. Anyway, here is number three!

Warnings: Dixon Potty Mouth, violence, mentions of abuse

.--.

Things had become a mess when Olivia and Daryl made it back to camp.

Daryl was displaying for Olivia exactly how you could be mad about things at the news that Merle had been left on a rooftop in Atlanta. She couldn’t blame him. If someone had left her brothers up on a rooftop to die, she’d probably put a crossbow to their head too.

However, this was Merle Dixon they were talking about, and truth be told she wasn’t supremely upset that he’d been left behind. Though she was nice to his face, she thought him to be one hell of a creep, reminding her of her father’s friend, Tyler. She shuddered at the memory of him.

“Cold? Never thought someone from up north would be cold.” Dale teased her, giving her a nudge.

Daryl, T-Dog, Glenn, and Lori’s now-alive husband, Rick had left to go save Merle from the rooftop. That left Olivia to clean the animals that Daryl had left behind. Shane wasn’t happy about the number of members who went on the rescue mission, but Shane wasn’t happy about much.

Olivia turned and smiled at him, “No, just got a chill. Someone must be missing me.”

Dale laughed, “That what they say up north? If you shiver then someone’s missing you?”

The reality of the words hit her in the chest like a ten-pound weight. Somehow Dale saying them made the meaning click in her brain. The old man watched the smile slowly slip from her face, as a kind of horror replaced it before being carefully masked with bright eyes and a smirk, “It is! And if your ears ring then they’re talking about you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. He just placed a knowing hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

After she cleaned the animals and prepped them for dinner, Olivia was invited to help the women do laundry. She’d been down to the river with the girls a few times, but there was something special about being invited someplace. Even it was to a musky river to do chores.  

It was lovely to sit with the girls and work. She felt like how she’d always pictured high school could be. Just her, sitting with close friends giggling about nonsense. In this case, the nonsense was what they missed about the old world.

“What do you miss, Olivia?” Carol had asked her, a kind smile on her face.

She paused at the question, her hands carefully rubbing the fabric in her hands. A million things came to mind: her brothers, her stepfather, books, peace, the ability to be carefree…but those were depressing. The conversation had been so light and fun that she hated to ruin it. Instead, she said, “Honestly, I miss ice cream. Bet all that stuff is melted by now in this heat.”

“Leave it to the Wisconsin-er to miss somethin’ cold.” Jacqui nudged her with a wink.

“I miss my vibrator.” Andrea said dreamily, causing another round of laughter to ensue.

Carol looked at her husband, Ed, who was smoking a cigarette, and then back at the girls, “Me too.”

Olivia was caught between a gasp and a laugh, coughing hard as her lungs struggled to maintain a normal breathing pattern. Of all people, Carol was the last one she expected to admit such a thing.

Right on cue, manager Ed came over to break up the fun. Olivia watched Andrea try to fight fire with fire, knowing from experience just how well the situation was going to play out. Her stomach churned, body going cold with dread as Andrea threw some laundry at the man. Everything happened so fast that it almost felt like she was watching an action movie. Ed tried to get Carol to go back with him, causing all the girls to hold Carol back. The next thing Olivia knew, Ed had slapped Carol across the face and her own fist was connecting with Ed’s face. Someone gasped behind her, but all Olivia could focus on was the way the man’s head snapped to the side from the impact.

In the next blink, Ed was on the ground, Olivia’s hands outstretched as her conscious mind realized that she pushed him. The only reason she even got him to the ground was because he was in shock. Ed was taller, bigger, and meaner than Olivia thought she could ever be. Still, those thoughts rolling through her head didn’t prevent her from placing a hand on his chest while her fist reconnected with his face a second time, a third time, a fourth time. Until the man’s brain caught up with his body and he clocked her across the face, easily ten times harder than she figured she hit him.

She fell backwards, landing right on her back while one of the women screamed. Her eye and cheekbone had never felt such pain to them. It was hard to move the left side of face, feeling almost as if it was stiff.

Ed moved to stand, drawing Olivia’s attention away from her injury to the very real possibility that she was facing imminent death. He was enraged, face red from where she’d punched him, which only made him look angrier.

Carol shouted at him to stop, begging him to leave Olivia alone, which Olivia found sweet considering she’d thrown the first hit on the woman’s husband.

Before Ed could get much further, Shane appeared seemingly out of thin air, knocking the man on his back once more, and pounding into his face with a ferocity Olivia had only recently seen out of Daryl Dixon.

The scene was like a train wreck you couldn’t take your eyes off of. She wanted to look away, wanted to unsee the images of Ed’s face becoming more and more swollen and bloodied at Shane’s hands. But her body refused to cooperate. Her eyes were drawn to the sight in horror or amazement or sickening mix of both.

When Olivia was sure Ed was dead, or close to it, Shane stopped. Ed sputtered blood from every opening in his face while Carol rushed over to hold him, sobbing.

Jacqui had her arms around Olivia’s, gently tugging her up, “Come on, honey, we need to get something on that face. You’re going to bruise.”

She blindly followed Jacqui’s instructions, letting herself be drug away from the quarry. Jacqui led her back up to the RV, shooting Dale a look when he asked what happened. Olivia barely registered the woman opening up the first aid kit and shaking the instant cold pack that was inside.

“No,” Olivia croaked too late, “Ed will need it more.”

“Honey, if Ed was on fire and I had a glass of water, I’d drink it. Hold this on your face.” She wrapped it in a towel and gave it to Olivia, watching to make sure she did as she was told.

Later that night, after the cold pack had worn off and the food was devoured, everyone sat around the fire enjoying each other’s company. The Atlanta rescue group still wasn’t back, but Olivia was trying not to think about that. She pulled out her phone to send her nightly text messages, only to be slightly interrupted by Morales.

“Girl, you and that old man confuse me sometimes. It’s like a ritual. You text on your phone and he resets that watch.” Morales shook his head at her with a smile.

Thankfully, Dale saved her from questions by talking about the importance of time. She smiled listening to the man talk, sounding more philosophical than Olivia could ever dream of being. During Dale’s speech, three texts were sent off on the phone before screaming interrupted her. Her eyes flashed up at the sound, watching Amy’s flesh be torn from her body by a geek.

Chaos ensued for the second time that day. Olivia pulled her pistol from her holster, shoving the phone in her pocket with her other hand. Those who could grabbed guns, firing at the geeks. She stuck by Shane, aiming for the head, just as Daryl had taught her. Before every bullet she hesitated, terrified to shoot a living person instead of a geek by sheer accident. It was dark, people were screaming, the geeks were growling and moaning. It was hard to keep track of everything going on.

Then, from the side, more gunfire rang out, rifles instead of pistols or Shane’s shotgun. She whipped her head around to see what was going on now, but in the dark it was impossible to make out bodies or faces.

In her search, she missed the geek on her left until it grabbed at her arm. She screamed, pushing it away in order to stop the thing from eating her arm. Trying to get her gun at its head was difficult with her arms tied up in holding the walker away from her flesh. Her first instinct was to fire the gun and fire she did, but it was pressed at its chest, not at the head and the geek didn’t even move at the bullet penetrating the rib cage. Instead, the geek pushed farther into her, causing her to have to readjust her grip to keep it at a safe distance, and dropping her gun in the process.

“Shane! Dale! Help!” She shouted, using all her force to keep the geek from getting closer. Her feet were sliding in the mud and slippery grass, but she didn’t dare adjust for fear she fall and wind-up being torn apart like Amy had been. Tears blurred her vision as the ugly thing snapped its jaws and reached for her. This could not be how she died. It couldn’t.

Then, suddenly, the walker fell forward, causing her to finally lose her footing and fall on top of it. She screamed again, rolling off of the geek onto her back. A pair of hands reached out for her and she panicked, swatting at them frantically, “No! NO!”

“Ey! You’re fine, you’re fine, jus’ me!” Daryl got a good grip on her forearms and yanked her up onto her feet, pulling her into his chest while he fired another arrow behind her. “Come on!” He yelled at her to move as if she was going to run on her own, but he didn’t release her from his grip, practically carrying her towards the RV with the others.

Without a gun, she clung to Daryl, fumbling for the knife on her other side in case the geeks got too close. The final shots rang out and the group was left with nothing but silence.

Daryl lowered his crossbow, turning to look at Olivia. “Ya okay? Got to ya soon enough? Not bit?”

Olivia shook her head, trying to ask how he was, but Daryl went right for examining her anyway. Seeing that she was, in fact, bite free, he exhaled.

“Daryl, are you okay?” She asked again, a bit more firm now.

“’m fine. Wasn’t the one nearly killed, girl.”

Olivia sighed, squeezing her eyes shut, “I’m sorry.”

“For wha? Shit happens. Ain’t gotta be sorry. Jus’ glad I made it to ya in time.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Seeing as they were both okay and out of immediate danger, she figured it’d be safe to go get her gun.

In a second brief moment of clarity after the danger, her hands flew to her back pockets. “Oh my god. Oh my god. No, no, no!”

“What? Wha’s wrong?” Olivia’s panic sparked Daryl’s. He raked her body with his eyes, trying to see what he’d missed the first time around.

“I lost it.” Tears reformed in her eyes, as she ran out to where she thought she’d been when she’d lost her footing. “No, no, no. Please, please.” She pawed at the grass, pushing over geeks to search.

Daryl was right there in a second, crouched down next to her, “The hell you lookin’ for, woman? Wha’s wrong?”

“The phone.” Olivia clutched Daryl’s shirt. Raw fear set in her eyes, like someone had a gun to her head at that very moment. “It fell out of my pocket, I lost it.”

“Okay, okay, chill. We’ll fin’ it. S’round here somewhere.”

He stayed close to her in case someone missed a headshot on the geeks but was actually helping her search. Out of the corner of his eye he watched her pick up her pistol and shove it back in the holster. He shook his head. Lost the damn pistol but is freaking out over the phone that doesn’t even work instead. The girl made no sense to him.

Figuring the phone couldn’t be too far off from where she fell, he adjusted his position to look there. Sure enough, the little thing was buried in the grass by the geek that had nearly killed her.

He held it up, watching the screen turn on to reveal a picture of Olivia and three kid boys. Two of them shared Olivia’s blonde hair and blue eyes. The last kid, possibly the oldest judging by his face, was the only one with dark hair and glasses like the girl.

The youngest boy, Daryl guessed, who was blonde with shorter hair and a more rounded face couldn’t have been older than 10 from the looks of it. Olivia looked nearly unchanged from the picture to now, just missing the glasses she always wore which made him think the photo was fairly recent. Daryl briefly marveled at the unfamiliar sight of her without glasses.  

All of them were huddled together with their arms around each other to squeeze into the photo. They each wore bright smiles, much like the one Daryl saw from the girl ever since he’d met her.

“You found it!” Olivia’s shrill yell broke him from the picture. Her arms were around him in the next second, clinging to him like he was a buoy she’d found while lost at sea. Shaking hands took the device from him and she clicked the side button once to ensure it was still functional. Upon seeing that it was, she burst into tears again, burying her face in his shirt while she sobbed.

Daryl fell frozen. He’d never comforted someone before, wasn’t even remotely sure how to accomplish such a task. He settled on putting both arms loosely around her and rubbing her back. It felt…correct…so he went with it.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She repeated the mantra through her tears.

“S’nothin’.” Daryl muttered, still holding her close. The warmth radiating off of her was downright heavenly considering she’d nearly died on him. Even if he’d been a few seconds later, the night could’ve ended much, much different.

After a couple minutes she finally pulled back, carefully brushing the proof of her sadness away. It was the first time Daryl really focused on her face since his return, but he felt stupid for not seeing it earlier. “The hell happened to yer face? Walker getcha?” He tilted her chin up so he could get a better look at her bruised eye.

Olivia clammed up, immediately avoiding his gaze. “N-no. It’s nothing. It’s fine.”

“Sures hell don’ look like nothin’. Damn thin’s ‘bout as dark as yer arm. The hell happened?”

He stared at her, unmoving. She fidgeted with the phone in her hands under his sharp glare. She’d never been subjected to Daryl’s stubborn side before. “It’s not a big deal.”

“’Livia. Ain’t gonna ask again.”

Something in his voice told her that he meant it. “It was my fault, okay? I hit them first.”

“Someone hit ya?! Who the fuck touched ya?” Daryl looked around at the others, who were embracing loved ones or trying to cleanup as best they could, as if the culprit would light up for him in the dark.

“Daryl, it’s fine.” He rounded on her then, returning his heavy stare back to her bruised eye, “Ain’t fine. You crazy? Shane do this? I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

“No, Daryl!” Olivia jumped up to grab him by the waist, “Daryl, it wasn’t Shane.” She hissed. “Shane protected me.” This paused Daryl’s path just enough for her to get ahead of him, “I-it was Ed, okay? But it’s fine. I hit him first. I started that.”

“You fuckin’ kiddin’ me? For fucks sake, Livia. If ya gunna fuckin’ lie to me least make the goddamn story believable.”

“I did! I did! Ask the girls, ask Shane! I pushed him, then I punched him.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her, “Tha’s it. You just walked up to ‘im and did tha’? Nah. Dun fuckin’ believe it.”

“Well, no…h-he…he hit Carol and then I pushed him and-“

“Where is the sonnabitch? I’ll fuckin’ kill him righ’ now. Knew he was puttin’ his goddamn hands on her.”

Olivia pushed back against him but was not making good progress against an actual man. “No, no, Daryl! Shane handled it! Shane handled it! Seriously, he almost killed Ed, he got it. You should see Ed’s face, it’s…bad.” That was a vast understatement.

Something she said seemed to fizzle Daryl’s anger out because he stopped pushing against her. Instead, he opted to pace around in a small circle, taking short, panting breaths.

“Daryl, Daryl, please. Calm down, okay? This has been a really rough day for all of us. Please?” She tried to block the group with her arms, holding them slightly raised in case Daryl went in search of Ed again.

He gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes dancing between her and the rest of the group for a few minutes before he spoke. “Fine. But yer stayin’ close tonigh’. Hear me?”

She nodded quickly before Daryl could back out of his deal not to fight anyone.

They slept in the bed of Daryl’s truck that night, having stacked blankets along the bottom in an attempt to make it more comfortable. They didn’t quite succeed. Still, Olivia wasn’t going to complain. Despite the events of the day, the chaos and craziness and near-death experiences, she had never felt safer than she did that night with Daryl Dixon next to her.

.--.

Tag: @azanoni

#light in the dark series #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction

[writerman]

Barduil prompt? :) Thran getting badly injured during the BOFA and concealing it from everyone, especially Legolas because he doesn't want to stop him from leaving if it's what he needs. Bard's the only who notices because he's so gone on Thran that he finds himself always seeking Thran out in a room so he sees how he carries himself differently, but Thran denies being hurt even when Bard calls him out on it, but Bard won't let it rest...

Hallo. I am here with a response! It is 4:30am here and I am listening to Shirobon and vibing with my cats.

Please enjoy this, anon!

--------

When Thranduil returned from Ravenhill he was without Legolas but led a grief-stricken Tauriel through the crowds, with her hand clasped tightly in his. 

Bard watched grimly from a doorway, his children huddled into his side exhausted and shaken from the day’s events, unwilling to separate from their father when he gently eased Tilda’s small fingers from their vice-like grip on his bloodsoaked coat, all the while murmuring soft words and promises that he would return as soon as he could. 

When he found Thranduil he was in his private tent, the elf was holding himself up with the edge of the table with a large map sprawled over the majority of the surface, and to be honest, Bard hadn’t expected to be allowed entry. But the guards had ushered him in gently no words passing between them but insistent nudges guided the man into the tent and toward their king.

Upon hearing someone enter Thranduil straightens to his full height but Bard was quick to see the grimace, there and gone in an instant. When he turned to face him Thranduil was impossibly pale, more so than Bard had ever witnessed in the elf before. 

While he hadn’t truly spent much time in the presence of the King, aside from their first initial meetings when agreeing his work with taking barrels on his boat down the river, and of course, when he blazed in on his elk to ‘save the day’ with effortless grace, Bard knew he was absolutely in love with Thranduil. 

His feelings would not ever be addressed not out loud and certainly not with himself in the dark of night when he could not sleep. But it did allow him to be more observant of the elf whenever he might have been in the vicinity. 

“You’re hurt?” Bard took a hesitant step forward but nothing more though he was now close enough that when he reached out to Thranduil his fingertips brushed the cold metal of his breastplate. 

The metal was torn and jagged but his hand was angrily slapped away before he could inspect any closer. 

“The battle is done, there is no need for you to seek me out.” 

“My Lord, you are injured and you need to be attended to.” Bard didn’t want whatever fantasy of Thranduil he had built in his mind to be demolished by the blond while he was railed against the pain he might have been in. 

At this rate, the king would get sick, he was sure of it, yet it seemed there would be nothing he could say to have Thranduil relent and release his grip on his own ego. 

“You think that I would conceal an injury?” Thranduil snapped, the cool exterior he had placed so firmly before him had all but melted away and now he stood tall, imposing and heated with anger blazing in his eyes. “For what reason would I wish to elude healers and those here to attend to me?”

But he had to be lying… 

Eleven armour was excellent but the way it was torn open, Bard just couldn’t ignore it. 

“As I said, and I loathe to repeat my self, there is no reason for you to seek me out, Bowman. Take your leave and reap the benefits of the peace your little village now has. You are wasting your time here.” 

He was right of course he was but it didn’t make sense to Bard. Not with each twist and turn, each movement the elf made that came slower, and his expressions tighter as though gritting his teeth through the pain. 

There wasn’t a chance Bard was going to be able to live with himself if he just left Thranduil this way. Injury or not he had to know- and if he was wrong, which he truly doubted he was, it was fine because Thranduil and he would never meet again. 

Taking matters into his own hands, Bard strode forward and reached up unclasping the breastplate, it clanged dully when it hit the ground. Thranduil began to angrily demand answers but when Bard gently rested a hand to the bloodstained and tattered section of his robes just under his ribs his words were silenced with a hiss. 

“Why would you lie?” Bard didn’t allow the time for an answer as he tore open the robe to expose the skin under it. Angry, red and still weeping blood but it wasn’t deep as far as Bard could tell. 

“You tore my robe.” When Thranduil spoke his words rushed out quietly in a shallow breath, the pain evident now he could no longer lie to the bowman. 

“I’m sure you can have a new one made. It isn’t the end of the world.” Bard stepped away in search of something to clean the wound but found nothing in the lavishly decorated tent. “If your ego allows it maybe you can remove the robe so I can see what I am doing?” As he marched off, he thanks whatever Gods he could that Thranduil hadn’t just strangled the life out of him for his ill manners. 

One of the guards at the entrance of the tent went to fetch clean water and bandages with the express order that he did not mention it was for their king. If anyone asked Bard was the one injured. 

Returning with a bowl of water, cloth and bandages, Bard was happy to find that Thranduil had done as he was asked and removed the robe so that he stood in only his leggings and boots. It was a sight to behold even with the angry wound at his side. 

“Sit down and let me clean this for you.” Thranduil did as he was told, yet again, but he managed to grumble unhappily under his breath as he did so. Bard elected to ignore the whining and instead set the dish of water down on the floor as he knelt down to inspect the wound closely. 

“I don’t think this is a terrible wound but it definitely needs attention,” Bard spoke mostly to himself as he lifted a clean cloth from the water and wrung it out before gently patting the wound only stopping when Thranduil moved away. “Come now, the sooner it is clean the sooner you will feel better. I’ll give you something sweet as a reward if you sit still.” 

“I am not a child, Bowman,” Thranduil replied affronted but Bard could only laugh shaking his head as he once again dabbed at the elf’s skin. 

“You certainly act like one, if you don’t want something sweet, at least tell me what you refused to acknowledge this?” He gestured to the injury as he looked up to Thranduil. The elf refused to return his gaze and instead with his head held high he studied the roof of the tent intently (ha). 

“You have no idea what it is like to be king,” Thranduil paused his expression changing to that of a man with a sudden and surprising thought, “Though, I suppose you shall see soon enough.” 

Bard did not like the sound of that.

“Um, I’m sorry, what?” He tried to ignore the rising worry that settled in his chest as he unrolled a length of fabric to bandage the wound. This was going to be the hardest part seeing as he was now going to have to, essentially, wrap his arms around the elven king to get this done. 

“Well, you are of the line of Girion. The rightful heir of Dale, you will be king of this city.” 

“Aha, no thank you.” Bard’s face was on fire as he pressed his cheek to Thranduil’s ribs to properly bandage the king, who really didn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, he was smirking with undisguised glee near enough when he finally looked down at Bard. 

“Are we done here?” His voice rumbling through Bard’s cheek leaving him utterly speechless for a good few moments. 

Yes, yes they were and Bard was happy to get to his feet and scamper away but it seemed he was the only one with that idea and Thranduil caught him by the wrist pulling back round to face him. 

“You assume you can leave without allowing me to give thanks?” 

“Is it not thanks enough that you will remain healthy?” The answer, of course, was no and that was how Bard ended up in a gloriously warm bath with his back pressed against Thranduil’s chest, completely obliterating all his work to clean and dress the elf’s injuries. 

“Hm, but I think this is a better thank you, don’t you?”

Well, maybe.

#Barduil #Bard the Bowman #Thrandui #The Hobbit #writing prompts #Anonymous

[twdmusicboxmystery]

FTWD 6x08: First Analysis

Okay, let’s talk about this episode. 1) It SUCKED. 2) It also SUCKED. Anyone want to take a stab at what I’ll list for #3?

Why? Character death.

I’ll put all spoilers beneath the READ MORE. If this makes you at all worried about Beth’s return, read what I’ve written below. It will make you feel better.

***As always, spoilers abound for 6x08 below. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

Okay, so I’m sure you already figured this out, but John is probably my favorite character currently on FEAR, so I’m super-bummed that they decided to kill him off. And I totally didn’t see it coming. The screeners talked about something big happening in Fear, but I didn’t think it would be this. Yeah. SUCKS.

But let’s discuss, shall we?

Because there was and still is a lot of Beth symbolism around John, I know that’s going to unsettle people. I don’t want this to come across as me being worried in any way, but I’ve already gotten quite a few Asks and messages, so clearly others in the fandom are worried that because John dies here, it might mean Beth really did die, too.

Let me assure you, there’s nothing further from the truth. 

I’d like you to keep the following 6 points:

1.       It’s all about the attitude of the character in that moment. (A.k.a. the symbolism can change.)

2.       His death will spur on the current storyline and affect other characters.

3.       There is plenty of precedent for killing off true love couples. Unfortunately.

4.       This was a replay of Grady.

5.       John does not = Beth in this season. Morgan does.

6.       Major clarity on the Door symbol, and that’s freaking huge!

It’s all about the character’s attitude in the moment.

This is something I’ve addressed before when looking at the dialogue various characters have before their deaths. In most cases, they accept their deaths or become negative in some way. And that’s not to say that they all want to die or try to commit suicide. For example, Dale. He didn’t want to die and he wasn’t suicidal. But before his death, he said he no longer wanted to live in a world where they killed Randal. That’s basically, through symbolic dialogue, announcing his own death.

Another good example is Glenn. There was tons of Beth symbolism and even a lot of her dialogue around Glenn in S6, just before his death fake out. Now, clearly he didn’t want to die in 7x01, and he didn’t really say anything to that effect. But the point is, the hopeful, Beth symbols around him wasn’t present in 6x16/7x01 as it was in 6x03. So, the symbolism around a character can change if their attitude has changed and their heading toward their own death.

Do you see what I mean? While there has been lots of Beth symbolism around John and June in the past, in this episode and even a few previous to this, he became very hopeless and dark. You could say he parallels to S2 Beth who also tried to commit suicide. Not to S4/S5 Beth who was hopeful and determined to live.

Throughout the episode, Morgan gives John tons of chances to change his mind, and he refuses.

One more example and I’ll move on. Heath and Tara.

I’ll admit this symbolism is a little confusing, and I had to think through it several times to square it in my head. In 7x06, Tara fell off a bridge into a river, and washed up in a new community. She lived. Here, John falls off a bridge into a river and washes up in front of his own cabin. But he dies.

We’ve always attributed the Tara symbolism to Beth, yet John died here. But Tara DID live, so which is it?

Again, it just depends on the attitude. Before Tara went off the bridge, we saw her being positive and hopeful, while Heath was being super negative and hopeless. Tara lived. She found herself in captivity, but eventually escaped and made it home. Heath didn’t die in that case, but disappeared into the CRM. The point is, something bad happened to him because he was being negative and hopeless. And to this day, he’s never made it home. See what I mean? So, it’s all about where the character’s head is at. Unfortunately, John had given up.

And the other confusing thing is that he seems to get his hope back right at the end. The last thing we see him say is “It’s not too late.” But I think the idea is that it’s just too little too late at that point. If you follow the sequence of events back, it’s clear that if he hadn’t gone back to the cabin and tried to kill himself, he wouldn’t have been on that bridge and Lizzie—I mean Dakota—wouldn’t have killed him. So his death was the result of his own actions.

His death will spur on the current storyline and affect other characters.

This is something the showrunners really emphasize on TTD. And I won’t say I’m a fan of it, but we do have a precedent for it in the show. Glenn’s death kicked off AOW. Jesus’s death happened at the start of the Whisper War. The death of the pike victims spurred Carol to let Negan out to kill Alpha. So, while I wish they’d used someone other than John for this (cuz I heart him), this is something we’ve seen in other story lines before.

Will it happen with Beth? Well, I don’t think Beth will die at the beginning of the CRM war, if that’s what anyone is thinking. But I think someone will. I’ll talk more about this below, but for now, know that there probably will be a sacrifice of some kind. I actually kind of wonder if it will be Eugene. Only because of the Sampson template. I’ve said before that I think, like Sampson, he might do something to save TF, kill their enemies, and give them a fighting chance. But that remains to be seen, of course.

There’s even a line in this episode where John says, “this river has a way of bringing people back to life.” Clearly, that doesn’t apply to him. But I think it applies to the rest of his group who will “come alive” and finally fight off Virginia’s evil yoke.

There is plenty of precedent for killing off true love couples. Unfortunately.

Another reason I know this makes people nervous is because this is a true love couple with major symbolic ties to Bethyl. I get it. But actually, we’ve seen similar things with lots of other Bethyl proxy couples.

The one that first comes to mind is Sasha and Abraham. They had TONS of Bethyl parallels. They did get together and get some time together, though not much. Then Abe was killed off, and Sasha followed him a season later.

There’s also David and Betsy from S6. Admittedly, there were SUPER minor characters, but still.

The other big one is Glaggie. I’m not saying there were tons of Bethyl parallels there, except in the fact that they’re both soulmate couples and both have death fake outs. But the point is, TWD hasn’t exactly shied away from killing off soulmate couples.

So what does that mean for Beth and Daryl?

I’m really not trying to scare or depress anyone. I’m not saying they’re going to kill off either Beth or Daryl after she returns. My point is that pointing at John and June as a soulmate couple and trying to extend this death to Beth and Daryl doesn’t really work. This is just another beloved character fatality, and TWD has given us a LOT of those.

So might they kill Beth or Daryl down the line? I mean, anything’s possible, but I really doubt it. I’ve said this before, but they wouldn’t do all this epic foreshadowing just to pull a Morales, or make them “just another” tragic couple.

Plus, it’s Daryl. His romance was always meant to be epic and I really think they’ll both be standing at the end of the series (including the spinoff) whenever that is. So, it’s not something I worry about.

This was a replay of Grady.

I’ll go into this more tomorrow in my Details post, but there are specific things here that make it clear to me that this is something of a replay of Grady. For today, just look at it this way: we have someone falling off a bridge (Daryl and Carol did so in 5x06) and someone being shot (John and Beth). Walkers are also involved in a big way. The difference is that John dies while we think Beth lived. And we can be confident in that because, as I explained above, her attitude was exactly the opposite of John’s.

John does not = Beth in this season. Morgan does.

Keep in mind that, as I said above, John because S2 Beth here. He sort of retrogressed into hopelessness, and that’s why he died.

If anyone is a Beth proxy in this season of Fear, it’s Morgan. He’s sort of “come back from the dead,” reinvented himself, is searching for his lost love (Grace) who happens to be pregnant (child/baby symbolism) and in this episode, John even calls him a ghost.

I’m just saying.

Major clarity on the Door symbol, and that’s freaking huge!

Okay, this is the big one for me, and about the only real silver lining of this episode. This is something we’ve been stumped over for a LONG time. Specifically, since they were filming S5.

Review: while filming the lost ‘white cabin’ scenes we know Emily was in for S5, and which we still haven’t seen yet, Steven Yeun posted this.

It’s a picture from inside that white cabin, and he captioned it with, “Open the door!” but then deleted it. We never understood exactly what that meant. I think most people assumed it was a tease about what might be or what might have happened in that cabin.

But this episode with John is called “The Door.”

They have this whole theme in the episode about how John wants to close himself in his cabin and commit suicide. So, closing the door = death. Opening the door = life. 

My fellow theorists and I have been talking a lot about the cabin symbol as a tomb, since 10x18. We think Leah’s entire cabin represents a tomb. Which not only shows that she might be dead/a hallucination, but it represents Daryl being emotionally dead. Closing himself off to the living and indulging things that aren’t even real.

We’ve seen other examples of this theme as well. In S4, Carol and Ty tried to stay in the little cabin, rather than moving forward to find the others, and it resulted in death (Lizzie killing Mica).

Also in S4, Sasha tried to stop rather than pushing forward. It probably would have resulted in her death. Thankfully, she came around, and that led to her not only living, but reuniting with Tyreese.

@wdway also pointed out that we just recently saw Lucille this. She entombed herself in the basement, shutting the door and leaving a note. And while she was dying of cancer anyway, she didn’t wait for cancer to kill her. She took her own life. So she entombed herself and chose death.

John wanted to do the same thing in this episode. He didn’t get a chance to, but as I discussed above, that’s why he died.

But do you see why this is so significant. Steven posting the cabin with the “open the door!” caption is his way of showing that something about the cabin in how Beth lived.

Opening the door = life.

So while I kind of hated this episode and am super bummed about John, it does shed some light on a lot of the symbolism.

Tomorrow, I’ll talk more about the episode details.

Thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[saiilorstars]

Falling in Temptation

Previous chapters • Sequel to Stars Dance •  Fairy Tale Memoirs (Companion story)

Ch. 29: A Pond, a Williams or a Reynolds?

Fandom: Doctor Who // Pairing: 11th Doctor x OFC

Chapter summary: Tying up loose ends means the time has come for River Song to give up her daughter so she'll grow up to become the one and only Avalon Reynolds...who will travel the stars...and ultimately (and inadvertently) lead to her own mother's creation. And, to the Doctor’s misfortune, it’s his task to see it through.

Taglist: @ocfairygodmother​ @anotherunreadblog​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​ @stareyedplanet​ @perfectlystiles​

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message!]

A newborn baby girl gurgled as a nurse passed her to her mother. Her bright blue eyes were glued to her mother, whose eyes nearly matched, while she listened to her first poem.

'A little fairy comes at night,

Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown'

with silver spots upon her wings,

And from the moon she flutters down.

She has a little silver wand

And when a good child goes to bed

She waves a hand from right to the left

And makes a circle round its head.

And then it dreams of pleasant things,

Of fountains filled with fairy fish

And trees that bear delicious fruit

And bow their branches at a wish.

Of arbors filled with dainty scents,

From lovely flowers that never fade,

Bright flies that glitter in the sun

And glow-worms shining in the shade

And talking birds with gifted tongues

For singing songs and telling tales

And pretty dwarfs to show the way

Through fairy hills and fairy dales.

A little fairy comes at night,

her eyes are blue and her hair is brown

With silver spots upon her wings

And from the moon she flutters down'

"You remember that nursery song?" Amy questioned as soon as River finished the nursery. She sat on the side of the bed while Rory sat on the other side.

"Yeah," River nodded distractedly. She couldn't take her eyes off her beautiful baby in her arms. She so small. It was unbelievable to think who this baby would grow up to be.

"You're alright?" Rory asked her after a few minutes had gone by in silence.

"Father, I am beyond alright," River looked up with a smile. "Look at her, she's beautiful. And she's mine." As if to comment, the baby gurgled at them.

"I know she is," Rory peered down at the newborn with a similar smile. "But I also know, we know, what's coming…"

"And what's happened," Amy finished for him.

River had 'killed' the Doctor and as the law demanded, she was to be incarcerated as soon as the hospital discharged her. Her daughter's fate was still to be decided. Stormcage allowed for a child to remain with their parent until they were of age. River had yet to say what she wanted.

"Have you named her yet?" Amy asked as she reached over to toddle with the baby's small fingers. She looked remarkably like River did when she was a baby, except her granddaughter had that tuft of bright orange hair on her head.

"Well, Avalon," River nodded. "Because of her father. Oliver wanted her to be named after the Arthurian legend. He was such a nerd sometimes…" She felt the tears pricking her eyes but she pushed them away. She didn't want to cry yet, that was coming later. "And Harmony."

"For Melody," Rory smiled, knowing the story all too well. It was so odd watching it happen in front of him.

"Avalon Harmony...Pond," River knew exactly what was coming with that sentence and she laughed when Rory huffed.

"Uuh, no," Rory shook his head, "That would be Williams. She's a Williams," he looked at baby Avalon with a soft smile, "You're a Williams."

"Pond, she's a Pond," Amy said with a dead serious face.

"One would say she's a Reynolds," Lena appeared at the doorway, smiling softly at them. "And she's one wonderful, tough sister." River smiled at her and couldn't help. but try to peek around to see if someone else was with her. Lena shook her head. "Avalon's outside. She says it's too dangerous to be in the same place as her younger self. Plus, she thinks it's weird."

"No, that makes perfect sense," River nodded. That was actually very responsible of Avalon.

Lena came forwards and took a peek at the baby. "She's so cute. Hard to believe she gets a mouth on her later on." Her comment caused a series of snickers between them. "So, what are you going to call her?"

River pulled the pink blanket just a bit from the baby's face. She was falling asleep again. Such an innocent little thing she was. "Well, I want to name her as Avalon Harmony Pond."

"The newest Pond," Amy chuckled when the baby yawned. "And what a sleepy Pond she is!" She fiddled with the tiny hand resting over the blanket.

"What a lovely Pond she will be." The Doctor had arrived in the room with a familiar cot in his hands. Just looking at it froze Any and Rory but River only stared at it, close to tears.

It was getting time to decide; decide what had already been decided.

"Wait, what if...well," Amy started suddenly, exchanging gazes with Rory. "We were talking earlier, and...we sort of came up with an alternative."

Rory agreed with a nod, "We, um...we take Avalon in," he nodded to the baby, "I mean, we have a house, a life on Earth. We could take her and raise her and still bring her to you every day."

River took the alternative into consideration, but her eyes landed on the Doctor. He wasn't saying anything. This was all on her. "If she grows up with you two, her entire history will be rewritten. It's as the Doctor said. She needs to exist so that I can exist...and I need to exist, so that she can exist. We are one complicated space-time loop, aren't we?" Her sour smile helped nothing.

"I just don't want you to go through the same thing I had to," Amy curled her hand around River's arm. "Because that is not a pain you can get over. I look at you now and it still hurts to know that I couldn't raise you."

"I know...but time's already happened." Every time she came to the same conclusion, a deep pain stabbed her heart. "I'm choosing to give her up just like I already had. I am not abandoning my child, I am giving her up so that she can grow up with a much better life. She'll have a family with the Reynolds, she'll have siblings…" She partially looked up to see Lena smiling sadly at her, "She'll have a Mother in Emmalina Reynolds. She'll get to discover that she wants to write, that she would love to travel. I want her to have dreams. I don't want her to be trapped in my prison cell. She didn't commit a crime." And technically, neither had she but the world needed to believe otherwise.

"River, she didn't exactly have the best of lives living in leadworth," Lena felt compelled to remind River seeing as she herself was a big culprit of Avalon's stunted life in the small town. "She had to take care of me, she had to deal with the small headed people of Leadworth."

"I know," River sighed, closing her eyes. Tears still leaked through. "But it would still be a far better life than the one she would live with me until her 18th birthday."

"I guess that's it then," Amy said quietly, rubbing her hand down River's arm. "I'm very proud of you. And I'm very sorry."

River nodded. "Could I just have a moment with her please? Five minutes."

"Of course," Rory nodded. He gave her a side hug and got up from the bed with Amy.

Together, the others left the room but the Doctor left behind the small cot on the side. The only sound in the room afterwards was the small clock ticking and the occasional noises the baby would make.

"It's so unfair that we only just met," Rover said with a sigh. She carefully pressed the baby's hair down. It seemed like even as a newborn, Avalon had already inherited her mother's bushy hair. "But if there's one thing that I need you to understand it's that I'm not abandoning you. I'll always be in the corners, watching over you and making sure you're safe. Every time you wonder why you didn't fall, or why you fell asleep without a blanket and you wake up with one...it'll be because of me. I'll take the long way and wait for you to grow up so I can tell you who I am."

The baby slowly opened her eyes, as if she knew she was on the receiving end of a very important talk.

"I just want you to understand that I love you so much. I know things in Leadworth won't be easy but this is really the best pathway for you. You will be brave and you will be strong. And just so we're clear, if anyone tries to mess with you, you have my full permission to deal with them accordingly." River was able to smile when the baby gurgled. It was like she understood. "One day, you and I will be mother and daughter, I promise. You just have fun in the meantime, maybe travel the stars or something. I think you'd be very good at that."

She held her daughter close to her, careful not to squeeze her...but she wanted to soak up every moment she had. She couldn't imagine what her life would be like without her daughter and she wasn't eager to find out. She wished things could be different but their lives were never meant to be ordinary. The Pond cycle continued.

When the group returned it was a very silent moment. River held onto her baby as much as she could until the Doctor held his arms out for her. He despised being on the other end. He was taking a mother's child away, the exact thing he never wanted to do to either of them. He was responsible for Amy losing her own baby and now he was doing the same again. How terrible was he?

River ultimately let her baby go but it was almost like the Doctor had to rip the infant away because otherwise the moment would've happened for ages. As soon as the baby was in his arms, Amy and Rory grabbed River's hands. She squeezed them as she fought off the stream of tears going down her face. She looked up only once and it was in time to see the Doctor leaving the room with her baby. When the door closed behind him, she burst into sobs.

~ 0 ~

"Big brother, can I come with you?" Lena was already tailing the Doctor down the hospital hallways. The question was a formality.

"Why would you want to be a part of this, baby sister?" The Doctor was making quick strides down the hallway and Lena saw it. He was trying to get the hell out of there as if that would make everything less terrible.

"Because clearly present-Avalon can't be with you right now and Amy and Rory are with River! Someone's got to be there with you, otherwise you're going to blame yourself!" Lena finally understood what Avalon had been trying to do back in Leadworth. The Doctor on his own for 200 years was his own type of punishment that released all the dark, self-loathing thoughts. She didn't want that to happen, not again.

"Lena, I have to do this on my own."

"No, you don't!" Lena finally grabbed his arm to stop him just outside the hospital. He wanted to keep the TARDIS out of the hospital in case there were any Silence nearby. She slowly turned the Doctor around and briefly looked down at the cot in his hand. Baby Avalon was fast asleep again. "You're going to go back in time to see my dad just before I was born so you can give him Avalon. Obviously he can't see me but that doesn't mean I can't be there when you come back to the TARDIS. Someone's got to give you a big hug, right?"

The Doctor smiled softly at her. "Oh baby sister, you are too good for this world."

Lena took that as a "yes". She took his free hand and gripped it. "You're not alone anymore, remember? Avalon said so and you'd be a fool to fight with my sister...your wife." She winked at him and laughed at his reddened face.

They crossed the hospital doors and while Lena followed quietly in that time, she couldn't help make her last question. She could already see the TARDIS poking out from the alleyway the Doctor hid her in. "What's going to happen, now? With...all of us?"

"Well, I think it's time for me to stay away for a while," the Doctor said, "You know, just be quiet and not be too out there. Amy and Rory deserve some time off. And you, I think maybe it's time you started thinking about what you want to do. Didn't you mention that you wanted to be a teacher?"

Lena playfully rolled her eyes. "Maybe. I don't know. But what about Avalon? Present Avalon, I mean…"

"Avalon, well..." he took a breath in, stopping when it got to him. Lena watched him go through the struggle of making yet another decision about Avalon. "...I need you to give her a message."

"A message? Really?" Lena would not hide her disappointment that he's choosing not to face her.

"I'm not strong enough, Lena…please, can I give you a message for her?" Lena was halfway nodding when she shook her head. "Lena—"

"You should just tell her yourself," she folded her arms, wearing a much too smug expression on her face. It was odd, really, but the Doctor followed her gaze behind him and found Avalon standing in front of the TARDIS.

"Did you really think you could get away from me again?" She was smirking proudly. She saw this coming even before the Doctor arrived at the hospital. She wasn't going to let him go like that again.

Lena took the cot from the Doctor and smiled at him. "I'll just head into the TARDIS."

Avalon's smirk faded as she saw her baby self in the cot. Her heart wrenched at the sight. River had given her up and now she was on her way to live with her uncle and aunt...

"You can go see her," the Doctor said once Lena disappeared inside the TARDIS. His voice was quiet as he was unsure of what to say to her. "River, she's...she's fighting it."

Avalon nodded silently. Her thoughts and feelings towards River were all scrambled at the moment. "I'm sorry for her," she managed to say. "And yet I'm thankful for her. They were going to throw me into that suit. I was terrified…" She could remember everything now with the time lines being scrambled and merging at one point. River had made the choice to take her place in the astronaut suit. "She saved me."

"She loves you Avalon and regardless of how you feel about her, the truth is she did not abandon you. She didn't leave you like you thought." The Doctor watched her nod with a clear struggle on her face. She was fighting off her own tears. He pulled her into a hug. She let herself be covered in his arms while she rested her head against his chest. "You've been through so much, Ava. I'm really sorry. I don't think I'll ever finish apologizing."

"I wish you did because it's not your fault. It's Kovarian's fault." She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. "I love you, Fairy Tale Man. I married you. You don't run off on me again."

"I love you too," he cupped her face, wanting nothing more than to kiss her senseless for hours but once again Time was against them. "I have to go for some time." Just as Avalon opened her mouth to argue, he added, "The Silence is still out there, Ava, and they're watching. They would know that I'm not dead if you disappeared with me."

"But I don't want you to leave me again," Avalon gripped his jacket as if he would run out right now. "What if I never see you again?"

"I will come back for you," the Doctor promised her. "You are my wife and I love you. I cannot live without you. I have no idea how I'm going to do it, to be honest, but it has to be done in order for everything to work out."

"But—"

"It's not forever," he leaned his forehead against hers. "It's a...it's just a moment longer. Just hang on a bit more and then we'll be off together."

"Do you promise?"

"I swear it. Cross my hearts." The Doctor pulled away from her to show her how crossed his fingers over his hearts. She smiled at the gesture. "You have no idea where I'm going to take you but rest assured that it will be fantastic!"

Avalon knew it would be. She was a very impatient woman but if he truly meant for them to finally be together then she would wait. It kind of ran in her family after all. Waiting. "Okay," she ultimately said, nodding lightly. She swallowed hard and looked at him. "I'll wait for you but please don't forget me."

"Forget you?" The Doctor almost laughed at the absurdity. "Do you know why I figured a way to weasel out of a fixed point in time?"

"Because you wanted to stay alive?"

"Well, yes, but for you! You, Avalon, made me want to keep living!" He snaked an arm around her waist again and lightly swayed them. "You asked me to find a way and I did my very best to do so."

"A robot," Avalon mumbled and scrunched her face. "I kissed a robot."

"Yeah, that was...interesting," the Doctor admitted, preferring not to think about it. "But here we are and now I just ask for a tiny bit more time."

"Okay," Avalon nodded. "I'll be...somewhere, waiting for you."

"Travel a bit, darling, on your own. Leadworth was never for you. It was a pit stop. Go out and see something," the Doctor smiled at her, cupping the side of her face. "Do things. And write them down."

In another time Avalon would've refused that idea, whether because she would want to take care of Lena or simply because he wouldn't be there, but right now that sounded really good to her. She'd discovered far too many secrets, remembered such terrible moments, that to go back to Leadworth like nothing happened was out of the question. She needed to do something else, she just wasn't sure what it was. Yet.

"Can I just ask for something before you go?" she asked quietly.

"Anything," the Doctor nodded.

"We got married, and even though you were inside a robot of yourself...our kiss wasn't real. You haven't technically kissed the bride yet…" She purposely trailed off for him to finish the idea. She smirked as his eyebrows raised with realization.

"Oh, you are very right…"

"Aha…"

"Can't have that…"

She shook her head. "Nope."

The Doctor straightened up with his arms to his sides. He met her gaze with affection. "Avalon Reynolds — Pond — can I—"

"You may kiss the bride," Avalon nodded, her expression softening with nothing but love for him.

The Doctor didn't need more than that. He held her head and pressed a kiss to her lips. His fingers gently brushed her skin while their kiss deepened. It would be their last kiss for a good while but never the last one, and that's what he worked so hard for to get. They parted slowly and very little. If they spoke, their lips would still meet.

"The end: the epilogue," Avalon whispered with happy tears. This time she knew that it wasn't the end. It was just the break between stories. Their first one had ended and soon they would sound another one. She couldn't wait for that one.

"I have to go," the Doctor said. He was studying her, committing her to memory for the dark moments he would surely go through later on. He couldn't be alone but he would try really hard not to fall into the darkness. He had a princess to come back for.

"See you later," Avalon said, giving him one last kiss. "And stay away from pretty people."

The Doctor laughed. "Right. Same for you. No flirting, especially with that Jack Harkness!"

Avalon laughed with him. "Sure."

"The Sapling will be around."

"I think that'll do me some good...seeing my...our son," Avalon felt different saying that now. While the Doctor was gone, the Sapling would be their companion. He was the only creature in the world that was half her, half Doctor. Their child. And now more than ever Avalon would want him around.

The Doctor eventually let her go and started for the TARDIS. It was a bittersweet moment but far better than the last time they did this. He would come back for her. Avalon waited until the TARDIS de-materialized before turning to the hospital. She had someone to visit.

~0~

"You okay, big brother?" Lena asked once the TARDIS was off. She stood beside the cot when the Doctor nodded and walked over, directly coming for the baby. "She's awake. Kinda fussy."

"Hm, I bet she is," the Doctor mused on what kind of baby Avalon would be. Melody was a sassy one even as an infant, surely Avalon would follow in the same steps.

"Was this really your cot?" Lena asked after a few minutes passed by. The Doctor had just watched the baby with no indication of what he was feeling. He was being tough again!

"Yes," he nodded. "And, once upon a time, my kids' too."

Lena gasped and met his gaze with her widened eyes. "Really? So these were your first stars—" she gently touched the hanging mobile, smiling when Avalon squealed at it, "—and your children's too? Not to mention Melody's...and now Avalon's. It's like a tradition. Wonder if it'll keep going…" She purposely smirked at the Doctor and he did his best to avoid looking at her.

"Very funny baby sister," he murmured then reached inside the cot. "Come here you," he gently picked the baby up into his arms. He couldn't get over how small Avalon was. She was so innocent. There were no thoughts inside that little head of hers except for the basic ones an infant would have. This was surely her quietest moment ever.

Or so he thought.

Lena heard the baby gurgle and suddenly the Doctor was scowling. "Are you seriously making fun of me?" He asked the baby incredulously. "You are a newborn and you are still making fun of me?"

"What's happening?" Lena stared at him like he was crazy.

"Your sister is making fun of my bowtie," he frowned down at the baby. "That is not nice."

The baby gurgled again. 'You're too loud. My Mummy wasn't loud.'

The Doctor huffed. "Would you stop that? I will have you know that I speak at a regular volume!"

'Stop yelling!'

"I am not yelling! You're being mean, Avalon!"

Lena watched the conversation progress into an actual argument and she didn't know who to laugh at first. The Doctor, who was over a 1000 years old, was arguing with a newborn. On the other hand, a newborn who couldn't even hold anything had just picked a fight with a thousand year old man. That was certainly Avalon Reynolds.

The TARDIS hummed to cut the argument short. The Doctor rolled his eyes at the box but it was enough to snap him out of the argument.

"You are definitely Avalon Reynolds," he tickled the baby's stomach. "I've got a story for you, Avalon. Would you like to hear it?"

'My Mummy sang to me. Can you sing to me?'

"Uh, I'm not that good at singing. But you will be! One day!"

Lena watched him go towards the console, deciding to stay quiet as he had his moment with the newborn. He started telling her a fairy tale. She didn't recognize it but now that she thought of it, she did remember that Avalon really liked the fairytale of the Bean, the Straw and the Coal. What really warmed Lena's heart was when he started to sing for a little bit, a very tiny bit just for Avalon. It was a nursery, and if Lena was right, it was the same nursery that River sang to Avalon earlier.

'A little fairy comes at night,

Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown'

with silver spots upon her wings,

And from the moon she flutters down.'

It soothed the newborn self as the TARDIS started taking them to New Earth where they would meet a past version of Ryland Reynolds. The story was about to begin (again).

~0~

Avalon gently opened the door of River's room and found Amy and Rory hugging River. When River saw it was her coming in, her entire face lit up but it soon faded. Avalon wouldn't know if it was because she wasn't that baby anymore or maybe she was just mad at everything that'd been said on the pyramid.

There were no words that came to Avalon in that moment. It was truly the first time she was completely speechless. She had no idea how to act around River and much less in this moment. All her life Avalon firmly believed her biological mother abandoned her. It fueled her anger for years and years. It made her cling to Emmalina even more. What she saw right now was nothing like what she'd been picturing. River was desolate, her face stained with so many tears that her face shined under the room lights. She was clutching her parents arms, truly nothing like the past versions of River that she'd seen. Those versions were always so cool and adventurous, brave beyond belief.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Avalon said. She had barely come into the room, taking caution to stay away from River. She might not even be invited but River had yet to say anything. "I had no idea that this was the way things happened."

"That I wasn't going to abandon you?" There was a slight edge to River's tone but any anger she felt disappeared when she looked up and saw her daughter. She was all grown up. Her baby was gone. "I told you that I wasn't going to do it and I didn't. I gave you up because I wanted you to live happily."

Avalon's eyes flickered to Amy and Rory, their expressions bearing sympathy for both of them. They'd witnessed their daughter giving away her own daughter but they had also witnessed the chaos that their granddaughter had to go through because of that very choice.

"I'm sorry," Avalon bit her lip. She blinked rapidly when the tears started stinging her eyes. "It's always my fault bad things happen to people who care about me. I try to stop it but I just make things worse. All this time I thought I was better off without my mother and the reality is...you would have been much better off without me. All of you."

"That is not true," River frowned. Beside her, both her parents nodded with agreement.

"C'mon," Avalon continued. "If I hadn't existed then you could've just ran from the Silence. Kovarian would've had no leverage on you. Hell, Oliver would've stayed alive. I've been ruining lives even before I was born."

"Avalon, quit talking like that," Rory scolded but it just made her move onto him and Amy.

"Rory, you would've been a rich man if you hadn't used all that money to bail me out each time I got arrested. And Amy would've had less migraines if I wasn't around."

"Get over here right now," River demanded in such a hard tone that Avalon actually winced. "Sit!" She commanded and patted a spot on the bed. "Now!"

Avalon swallowed hard before coming over as directed. She took a seat at the foot of the bed.

"Now you listen. Push all that hair behind your eyes," River actually waited for Avalon to do so. "You are very loved. You have always been. You've got a difficult personality but we all love you senseless. I can't imagine my life without you."

"It's the same for us," Amy agreed. "How could I have gotten through my 4 psychiatrists without you? Or the first date with that one?" She jerked a thumb over at Rory.

"Yeah, and you were the best football player in the field," Rory chuckled. "Definitely the toughest. You've been my Ava way before the Doctor. I can't imagine what life would be without you."

"You're our baby Pond," River smiled softly. "Our new Pond."

Rory groaned beside her. "Williams, dammit. She's a Williams!"

Avalon chuckled as he got into an argument with Amy about it. "I'm a...Pond," she said slowly, letting the name sit in her mouth for a moment. It was an odd thing to see the trio before her and knowing she was truly part of their family. She was a Pond. The Doctor must have had a lot of fun with that. She almost rolled her eyes imagining the secret jokes he had with himself while she didn't know.

"How about we talk for a few minutes?" River suggested to her, though she did it quite nervously. Avalon, however, nodded within the second. It was only fair.

"Will you be okay?" Amy asked her as she got off the bed. River assured her that she would be. Her daughter was right there now.

"We'll be right outside," Rory promised them as they left the room.

"You're going to jail, aren't you?" Avalon's tone had turned meek when she asked the question.

"Yes, I am," River answered her. She wished she could touch Avalon but she knew that her daughter wasn't there yet. It'd be a long time before she was.

"But it's not fair, you didn't do anything."

"Shh, to the world, I have."

"But you took my place," Avalon bit her lower lip. "You did it so that I wouldn't have to."

"And I would do it again," River said, shocking Avalon with the level of determination she said it with. "Make no mistake of that. I'm only sorry for the pain you went through. I'm so sorry about Oliver. He was really excited about you, he loved you."

Avalon swallowed hard when she thought about her father. She has held him during his last moments of life. "Can I...ask how you two met?"

"Well of course," River smiled. "We were students at the university. He was failing mathematics miserably and he was studying in the library. He was so loud that I had to tell him to be quiet. Imagine me, telling someone they're being too loud." Avalon briefly smiled. She could imagine that happening. "Anyways, we bickered for a while and then suddenly he was asking me out for a cup of coffee. He loved this little coffee shop around the university. He played shows in it all the time…"

Avalon's face lit up with recognition. "I know! Uncle Ryland showed me videos of that place. I want to visit it soon."

"I'm sure the owner would recognize you. Oliver must have talked about you in his shows at least a dozen times." River's smile saddened as seconds passed by. "I didn't think I would ever have a serious relationship with him. I just went out on a couple dates with him. You yourself were an unexpected moment." Even when the Doctor had told her that one day she would become Avalon's mother, she didn't think it would happen while she was still in school.

"You mean you didn't plan for me?" Avalon asked quietly, her eyes lowering to the bed sheets. "I was like...a mistake?"

"No!" River snapped. "I said you were unexpected but do you really think that I would call you a mistake? That Oliver would call you a mistake? Avalon Reynolds, for a woman who's the first of her kind - who knows more than most of us - you are quite dumb sometimes." River slowly chuckled at her reaction. She saw Oliver's pout there for a second. "You are my daughter and by far the best thing I have done in this world."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes," River answered automatically, leaving Avalon silent. "You are the best of me. I only ask that you please let me be part of your life when you're ready."

Avalon wondered what that would be like. She'd spent so much time hating the fictional cruel birth mother she made up when the truth was from it. River wasn't cruel. She didn't abandon her, she sacrificed herself and gave her up to live a better life. "I...I think I would like that," she said slowly and watched the way River's face brightened. She was very hopeful and it was quite shocking for Avalon. "I don't think I'm at a place to call you 'Mum' though…" She was afraid of what River might do or say to that but she had to get it out before River made any assumptions. She knew now that everything she thought of her birth mother wasn't true but the fact was she had grown up far away from River, always seeing Emmalina as her mother.

River took it with a silent nod of her head. It was a fair starting point for someone who grew up thinking a certain way about her. She could work with that and maybe one day Avalon would call her 'Mum' too.

#ocappreciation #fd: doctor who #doctor who #11th doctor #river song #11th doctor fics #11th doctor imagines #dw imagine #dw fics #doctor who fics #dw imagines #dw fic #oc: Avalon Reynolds #fic: falling in temptation

[rattyoakenbitch]

the hobbit: “the greatest loss” ₊˚ ⸝ thorin x reader

❝i'm walking out on you for the last time... i was only lyin' when i looked in your eyes. now i'm cryin' diamonds like a river inside.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lykke li - so sad so sexy

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: thorin oakenshield x reader

warnings: angst, violence, mentions of death

summary: too lazy to add a summary. it’s gonna be sad, and that’s all you need to know.

This should’ve been a happy moment for Thorin. He completed the journey, took back his homeland, defeated his arch enemy and his dragon-sickness. He got his happy ending. But he only felt a pit of emptiness inside when he remembered you were gone. Gazing upon his riches, Thorin realized they meant nothing to him. His mind was only occupied with thoughts of you. That’s all that mattered to him; his One, and his real treasure. When Thorin recovered from his dragon-sickness, he was filled with rage upon finding out about your departure. How dare you leave his side? You swore to him that you’d never abandon him no matter what, especially in times like this. Were you really that scared of war?

No, you were afraid of Thorin. Suddenly it all came back to him, hitting him like a ton of bricks. He had tried to hurt you when all you wanted to do was help. Wearing a guilt-ridden expression, Thorin frantically searched the kingdom in vain and questioned The Company, who confirmed that you had left. The sound of your screams and sobs echoed in their head. They all knew what Thorin tried to do. About how he nearly killed you. 

"If you want to leave then leave! Go on, I won’t stop you!"

“Good! I serve kings, not cowards. You don’t belong on that throne.” 

Thorin’s eyes shot wide open. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”

“Why not? I think the word ‘coward’ suits you well. That’s exactly what you are. You’re the lowest you’ve ever been. You hide away behind your walls while your kin fight our war for us.” Thorin growled lowly as he descended from his throne, approaching you. As intimidating as he was, he didn’t scare you. You continued, “The Company trusted you. I trusted you. You lead us this far only for you to let us down. I regret ever meeting you. You’re not the Thorin I once loved, and I won’t stick around to watch you like this.” The mask of anger in your voice faltered as you poured out your emotions. Thorin didn’t bat an eye, his stare cold and emotionless. 

You had enough. Just before you could even turn you to walk out, Thorin held you back, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “I told you to leave, but you didn’t. I gave you the chance.. You were always too soft, never could fight for yourself. But nobody’s going to come and save you this time..” His free hand held you in place, preventing you from escaping as you thrashed around in his grip, gasping for air. You looked intently into Thorin’s eyes, watching as he seemed to battle with himself. He knew it was so wrong. Thorin never wanted to hurt you. Deep down, he didn’t want you to leave. He wanted to change, seeing how far he’d gone. But the other part of him was sick, full of hatred and greed. He would see you dead for disrespecting him. 

Thorin’s nails dug into your neck, his grip not getting any looser. “Thorin, let go,” you choked out, trying to pry his hand off your neck. This was it. You were going to die by the hands of the only one you loved. Your head became lighter and lighter. Your grip weakened and you let your hands fall by your sides, accepting your fate. “I still love you..” Suddenly, something in Thorin snapped. He threw you back onto the floor as you gasped for air, holding your neck. You looked up at Thorin, his expression changed. He watched you in disbelief, his eyes wide after realizing what he’d just done. But Thorin’s demeanor quickly changed, a maddened expression taking over his face. You picked yourself up and backed off, shaking your head. Your Thorin was gone.

“Get out and don’t come back. For your sake and mine.”

And you did. You left and never looked back. You found out about Thorin and how the Dwarves won the war. Years passed and slowly, The City of Dale, as well as Erebor, was getting rebuilt. But you never came to see it. Did you want to? Yes. But you couldn’t, as you were constantly reminded of what had happened there, and the Dwarf who came close to taking your life. 

There wasn’t a day that Thorin didn’t think of you. Days passed, each as agonizing as the last. Every night you would come to haunt Thorin in his sleep, your final moments with him replaying in his head. It was evident that Thorin would never be the same. He would have to live with guilt and regret, knowing he could never change what he did. He would never get to look into your eyes and say sorry. He’d grow old alone and die without ever telling you how much he truly loved you. Thorin had to face the greatest loss of them all.

#thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #thorin the dwarf #thorin thursday #thorin oneshot #thorin angst #the battle of the five armies #the hobbit #the hobbit angst #the hobbit fanfiction #rattyoakenbitch

[middleearthpixie]

Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Twelve

Summary: The Company leaves Rivendell under cover of night, and Thorin’s foul mood spills over as everyone seems to be in his warpath. If that’s not enough, there are goblins and orcs and Thorin learns that Azog the Defiler wants him dead.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Seren (female OC, formerly of Dale)

Characters: The Company, Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf, Goblin King, goblins, orcs, and Azog the Defiler

Rating: T

Warnings: Some battle violence and a raging forest fire

Word Count: 4,551

Additional Information: If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

@tschrist1

The Company departed under cover of darkness that night, while Gandalf was occupied at the White Council. Thorin was gruff as he barked at everyone to get moving, and warned Bilbo that he’d better keep up because they’d wait for no man or hobbit.

Bilbo looked a bit shocked by Thorin’s impatience and Seren bit back a smile as he muttered, “What is his problem?”

Her smile faded though, as her gaze alit on Thorin’s broad back, far up ahead of her. For one who made it a point of telling her nothing more could come of their relationship, he seemed terribly grumpy about it now. Of course, she understood that, because while ending it had to be done, there was nothing remotely good or happy about it.

In fact, as she stared at that broad back, she found herself wishing she could take her words back. But even if he was willing to see where things between them led, she couldn’t. As she’d said to Amara, there was that one thing he would want from her that she could never give him.

A child.

She’d long accepted her fate, and as she’d told Amara, she really did not ever long for children. She liked her life the way it was, and saw no need to change it. But at the same time, she found herself wondering what it would be like if she could have children. Silly, really, since it was a waste of time to dwell on that which she could not change.

But as they walked on through the night, leaving Rivendell far behind as they trekked towards mountains in the distance, it helped to pass the time, even if it was terribly unproductive.

Bofur fell into step alongside her. “How are you feeling, lad?”

“I’m fine, good as new, according to Amara.”

“Good.” He smiled as they trudged along. “It would’ve been a shame if we’d had to leave you behind.”

“That wasn’t happening, if I had any say in it.” She glanced up at Thorin once more. “Is he always this surly?”

“Thorin? Not usually, no. I mean, he’s not exactly the most carefree dwarf you’ll ever meet, but he’s grouchier than usual today. Wonder why?”

She shrugged. “Impatient to reach Erebor, is my guess.”

“Aye, we are on a short timetable.” He glanced around. They were at the end of the pack, with only Bilbo between her and Bofur and the rest of the Company. Then, to her surprise, he leaned closer and said, “Your secret is safe with me, lass. Just wanted to let you know.”

She stopped dead on the rocky path. “I beg your pardon?”

He stopped as well and faced her. “What I said. It’s safe. I won’t tell.”

For a moment, she thought her heart had stopped beating and she could only stare up at him. Thankfully, clouds clotted the night sky and blocked out the moon, which meant he couldn’t see how the blood drained from her face as she tried to laugh off his words. “What secret?”

He offered up a long look. “I overheard Thorin and Balin last eve. But, you needn’t worry, for I won’t breathe a word.”

“Overheard—“

“Seren! Bofur!” Thorin’s deep voice rang out through the mountain passage and echoed into the valley far below. “Keep up or stay behind!”

Bofur rolled his eyes. “Aye, he’s a right grumpy old fool tonight.”

Seren swallowed hard as they began walking again. “If you breathe a word—“

“I won’t.” He shook his head. “Not a one. I promise.”

Silence fell as they wound higher into the mountains, and while it was comfortable, she wasn’t at all happy that yet another member of the Company knew her secret. Bofur had overhead Thorin and Balin. First off, why were they discussing her and secondly, how many other dwarves had been privy to that same conversation?

She glared through the thick darkness at the massive, furry shadow that was Thorin. He would hear about his carelessness, as would Balin. Her secret was just that—hers. It wasn’t anyone else’s to share and they both should have known better.

As they walked on, the temperatures dropped and then, the skies opened. Rain poured down on them, made seeing almost impossible. They dropped to single file formation as the path wound up into the mountains and became far more treacherous. It was barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and every now and again, a dwarf would misstep and send rocks clattering down the mountain and out of sight.

Seren squinted through the downpour, to no avail. She could only barely see Bofur and he was directly in front of her. A sense of isolation, a hint of panic, nibbled at her insides with sharp teeth, and no matter how she told herself she was being a fool, that the company was right there with her, the urge to reach out an grab the back of Bofur’s coat nearly strangled her.

A loud, low rumble rent the air and they all froze, high up in the mountains, where the air thinned and visibility was zero, and someone up ahead (Dori, perhaps?) shouted, “Is that thunder?”

The ground beneath them rumbled this time and Seren stared off into the darkness, her jaw dropping at the sight of a giant rock formation rising as if from slumber. Rock giants? But they were only legend.

Weren’t they?

“The legend was true!” She didn’t know who shouted it, but they all gaped up as the rock giant ripped a boulder from the next peak over and launched it in their direction. It slammed into the mountain above them, raining smaller rocks and dirt down on the Company.

The ground shifted and without thinking, she reached for Bofur, who reached for her at the same time. The peak lurched wildly askew and if he hadn’t grabbed her about the waist and tugged her flat against him, she would have fallen into the abyss below.

“Hold on!” he shouted above the rain as their peak now snatched up a boulder to fire back.

“Kili!” Thorin’s shout rang out as the peaks swung away from one another and a third rock giant joined in the battle. Kili and Fili were on that third peak, and over Bofur’s shoulder, Seren watched as the first peak threw a punch (a punch?) into the second peak, which toppled right toward Thorin’s nephews.

The entire range shifted again and Nori grabbed the back of Bofur’s coat to keep him and Seren from flying off. The second peak drew back, the the third one tackled it, and then everything went still.

“Kili! Fili!” Thorin thundered through the rain.

“We’re fine!” Kili shouted back, and a cheer when up from the Company as a whole.

But then, Ori yelled, “Where’s the hobbit?”

“Help?”

They all stared down at Bilbo dangling from the side of the mountain, his grip loosening as Dwalin grabbed him by the wrists. Thorin leapt down to grab the hobbit and hefted him back up onto the path, growling, “You should have stayed behind. You have no place among us,” as he turned away.

Bilbo hung back as the rest of the Company passed by him, and Seren caught him by the arm. “He’s in a mood. He didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not so certain he’s wrong,” Bilbo said softly, casting a long look in Thorin’s direction. “I don’t belong here. I just don’t.”

“But if you go, that leaves me as the lone outsider. You don’t want to do that to me, do you?”

To her relief, he smiled. “They see you as one of them, though. You are not the outsider.”

“Of course I am. I’m of Man. They trust you more than they will ever trust me.” She sighed, swiping the rainwater from her face as they followed the others into the mountain cave. “He’s just under much pressure to reach Erebor before Durin’s Day.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” he confessed.

“It’s when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter show themselves in the sky together. The Dwarvish New Year.”

He looked up at her, his dark eyes puzzled. “How do you know this?”

“I was raised in Dale. At least, I spent my childhood there, before it was destroyed. We could hear the dwarves of Erebor celebrating it.” She looked up at Thorin, at the back of the cave, in conversation with Dwalin. “Believe it or not, even he celebrated.”

“I can believe it. I wish I could have seen him then. Happy and all.”

She didn’t miss the wistfulness in his voice, and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. This was more than a bit of hero worship, where the Hobbit was concerned. She smiled then. “I have seen it. He used to laugh easily, and dance without prodding. We were part of their Yule Celebration every year and you should have seen how the girls—dwarven and daughters of Man—flocked about him.”

“I can see that.”

She nudged him gently with her shoulder. “I have seen it. You wouldn’t recognize him.”

With that, she moved away, going deeper into the cave to get out of the rain. She shook it from her like a dog coming out of a river, and sank onto a flat rock, glancing over at Thorin. She had seen it, and it filled her with envy as she’d always wished so hard she could approach him. But she had never been brave enough, not after he’d so pointedly told her she was a child.

She leaned against the dusty cave wall, arms folded, and wished she could go back to the previous evening. Perhaps sleeping with him had been a mistake after all. She thought she could keep the physical separate from the emotional, but she’d seen him vulnerable, with his guard down, and now… she wanted to see that side of him again. It would never happen, of course, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it to happen again.

Bofur sank beside her. “That was quite a show out there, eh? I thought Kili and Fili would be crushed into jelly.”

She let out a tired laugh. “My mother told me stories about the rock giants, but I never thought they were anything but that—stories. I wish I could go back and tell her they are real.”

“Your mother is gone?”

She nodded. “Smaug.”

His smile faded, a seriousness coming to his blue eyes. “Oh, Seren, I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, but I’ve made my peace. It’s why I’m here, you know. It’s—”

“Bofur,” Thorin clapped him on the shoulder, “you take the first watch. I need to speak with Seren a moment.”

Bofur didn’t look happy, but nodded as he rose and moved near the mouth of the cave. Seren looked up as Thorin sank into his vacated spot. “Are you all right?”

“Me?” She nodded. “I am, of course. Why wouldn’t I be? I was at the end of the line, remember. Nowhere near the battle.”

“Still.”

“You need to take care,” she lowered her voice, “and not hover over me. I am not your responsibility, Thorin. I’m not yours to look after. The others will wonder and they will question your concern.”

Darkness flittered through his eyes. “I understand that, but you—much like our fool burglar—are almost a liability at times.”

She stared hard at him. “I am a liability?”

“You were the one in the Healing Room, remember.”

“Because I battled trolls, who flung me into a bloody tree, remember, and orcs, who tried to run us all down. Spare me the nonsense about my being a liability.”

He didn’t reply, but stood and stalked across the cave. She glared at him from where she sat for a few minutes longer, then moved to take out her bedroll, only to change her mind. It was too damp. She’d rather sleep on plain ground, and so made herself comfortable and tried to will sleep to come.

Little by little, the Company grew quiet and she managed to doze off. However, it was short-lived, as a low rumble rousted her and she sat up in time to see sand and dirt sifting through a sudden seam running along the middle of the cave.

The floor gave and her stomach whooshed as she and the others spilled from the cave into an enormous cavern, where they landed in a noisy, swearing heap, and she let out an oath of her own as Thorin landed square on top of her.

They all scrambled to their feet and she could only stare in absolute astonishment as hordes of goblins poured from nowhere to surround them and herd them along a narrow walkway at top speed.

She tripped, lost her footing, and righted herself by grabbing Bofur’s shoulder, and she didn’t miss Thorin’s scowl she Bofur caught her easily about the waist and said, “There ye go, laddie. I got ye. I won’t let go.”

A terrible din filled the air—shrieking and shouting and metal clanking out of tune—and Seren resisted the urge to cover her ears with her hands as they came up a slope and she stared in horrified fascination at the giant abomination that was the Goblin King.

He was at least twelve feet high, rotund and grossly fat, with a a double chin that hung almost to his belly, and bulging eyes that looked ready to burst from their sockets. As he sang and danced—if one could even call it singing and dancing—he stepped on, kicked, sat upon, impaled, any goblin in his path and simply sent them flying off into nothing.

The goblins stopped herding them, and every member of the Company (except Bilbo, who wasn’t anywhere near them, but had vanished somewhere between their landing and now) circled Thorin. Seren’s hand hovered at her sword, but didn’t draw it. Not yet, anyway.

“What have we here?” the Goblin King bellowed, his voice shrill and ear-piercing. “Kidnappers? Thieves? Assassins?”

“Worse, sir. Dwarves.”

The Goblin King’s eyes bulged even more. “Dwarves?”

The smaller goblin nodded. “Found them on the front porch.”

The Goblin King promptly ordered his minions to disarm them all and Seren bit back an oath as her sword and knives were stripped away and tossed into the growing pile. He then demanded to know what they were doing in his domain, which prompted first Balin, then Oín, and then Bofur, to attempted to explain their presence in Goblin Town, which only served to make the King angrier.

Finally, Thorin shoved by Oín and Seren, and the Goblin King’s eyes widened. “Well, well, well… look who it is. Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain! Oh,” a sly smile managed to make the ugly face uglier still, “I’m forgetting—you don’t have a mountain, and you’re not a king. Which makes you… nobody, really.”

From where she stood behind Thorin, Seren couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t miss how his shoulders stiffened. That tension only worsened when the Goblin King added, “I know of someone who is looking for you. Who will pay a pretty price for your head. And only your head, nothing attached. A pale orc, astride a white warg…”

“Azog…” Thorin’s voice was little more than a whisper of disbelief and now Seren knew the name of the orc who hunted him. “Azog the Defiler is no more. He was slain in battle long ago.”

The King’s eyes narrowed. “So, think his defiling days are done, do you?” To one of his minions, he said, “Send word to the pale orc. Tell him I have something he is looking for.”

One of the goblins chose that moment to lift up Thorin’s sword. The Orcrist glowed brilliant blue and he yelped and threw it down.

“I know that sword!” The King shouted, his eyes bulging once more, the veins in his neck protruding as his voice rose with each word. “It is the Orcrist! The Goblin Cleaver! The blade that sliced a thousand necks! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!”

The goblins pounced then and the breath whooshed from Seren’s lungs as two goblins knocked her down and stomped on her as they tried to get to her knives. She tried to throw them off, tried to free herself as a goblin yanked Thorin’s hair to jerk his head back and expose his neck to the goblin on his chest. The one bringing his curved blade down to sever his head from his shoulders.

An explosion of brilliant white light rocked the cavern about them and the air seemed to be sucked out as Gandalf thundered, “Take up your arms!” and blasts goblins in all directions.

Thorin leapt to his feet and grabbed the from of her tunic to jerk Seren to hers. She scooped up her knives, her sword, and spun about as the goblins attacked. Her blade sliced clean through the goblin that had sat on her, and she spun about once more to kick the second one clear off the walkway.

“Run!” Gandalf bellowed.

The Company took off after him, thundering across rickety rope bridges and as they crossed the first, Seren—bringing up the rear- turned and swung to slice through the ropes. The bridge swung free, toppling countless goblins into the abyss.

Arrows flew as Kili picked off one goblin after another, and as Seren raced toward him, he crouched, offering his back, which she used as a springboard to leap forward, and, with her knives, she took out two more goblins pinning down Dwalin. She gripped him by the wrist to haul him to his feet, and they chased after the rest of the Company.

She had no idea what walkway led where, and it seemed they ran in an immense circle when suddenly the Goblin King burst through a walkway in their path and said, “Aha! What are you going to do now, wizard?”

Gandalf blinked, then promptly poked the King in the eye with his staff, then slit his belly open with his sword.

Looking beyond shocked, the Goblin King nodded. “That’ll do it.”

Gandalf then slashed the Goblin King’s throat and he fell over dead. Unfortunately, his bulk was enough to tear the bridge from its moorings and the air rushed from Seren’s lungs once more as the lot of them went hurtling into the abyss.

Shouts and oaths flew about, and she was no less quiet, as they fell and fell, and then the cavern narrowed enough that the bridge rubbed against the walls. The noise was deafening, but it slowed their descent until they screeched to a stop only a few feet from the cavern’s floor.

A collective sigh of relief went up and Seren chuckled as Bofur said, “Well, that could have been a lot worse.”

Her laughter died, however, as the Goblin King’s rotund body crashed atop them and flattened them all. She lay smashed against Dwalin, who groaned, “You’ve got to be joking!”

Then Kili let out a panicked, “Gandalf!” and they all looked to see hundreds of goblins descending upon them.

They all scrambled to free themselves, tearing after Gandalf, who hollered, “Run, you fools!” once more, and Seren didn’t breathe again until they burst through opening leading from the cavern to the outside world. She stumbled over a tree branch, landed facedown, and skidded to a stop at the base of a scraggly pine tree.

She rolled onto her back and smiled up at the clear blue sky, at the fresh, cold mountain air that filled her lungs, and the fact that no goblins sat on her. A hand appeared before her. Kili. She grabbed it and let him tug her to her feet as Bilbo suddenly appeared before them. He never said where he’d vanished to, but did promise he would help the dwarves reclaim Erebor if he could because while he had a home, they didn’t, and he wanted to change that.

Those words struck a note with her. When this was all over, the thirteen dwarves she’d come to know would have their home back. Bilbo would return to his home in the Shire.

But where would she go?

Dwarves were a secretive lot and would never agree to allow a daughter of Man (if anyone else learned her true identity) to live in Erebor among them. Nor did she want to live with them. She was not a dwarf and would alway be an outsider there even if they did accept her.

Dale would still be abandoned and destroyed, and her inhabitants remained scattered to the winds.

She looked about at these men, who accepted her now, and who considered her an ally, but this was temporary at best. This journey would end. And the time would come when, once he reclaimed his rightful place—on the throne of Erebor—Thorin would look to take a wife, would look to sire an heir.

And she would be as she’d always been—alone, searching for her place in the world.

Her throat tightened and she swallowed hard to break that tightness.

Then she heard it. They all heard it.

The low growl of a warg.

Sixteen heads swiveled in the same direction and Seren forgot everything, even her own name for the moment, as she stared up at the enormous, scarred pale orc astride the white warg.

Seren could only stare, even as Thorin whispered, “No… it cannot be…”

The orcs attacked then and Gandalf shouted, “Into the trees!”

She scrambled up into the closest pine as the wargs thunder down toward them, climbing as high as she dared while Gandalf went to work igniting pine cones to be thrown at the wargs. He tossed two her way and she promptly fired them as well.

It did little good beyond setting the forest itself on fire. And as Azog came closer, she watched in horror as Thorin stared him down, then descended from his tree. She drew her sword, clinging to her branch with one hand as above her, Dwalin growled, “Thorin, no!”

He ignored Dwalin, marching straight toward Azog, who merely smiled and kicked his warg hard in the sides. The warg lurched, and slammed into Thorin to lay him out flat on his back. Seren tried to swing to another, lower branch, but the next one down was far out of her reach.

“Thorin!” She stretched as best she could as the warg turned back and lunged at him again, this time catching him in his jaws. Thorin’s shout of pain echoed far beyond the trees, far beyond Middle Earth from the sounds of it.

A low crack rent the air as well, and Dori let out a terrified, “Gandalf?!”

The tree, holding Dori, her, Balin, and Dwalin, began leaning out over the chasm. The weight of the dwarves, plus her, made it list inch by inch without stopping and now, there was no way to jump down. She could only hang there, sword re-sheathed, arms wrapped about the branch from which she hung, and watch as Thorin slammed into the earth and Azog, in the Black Speech, said, “Bring me his head!”

Another orc lifted his blade and Seren couldn’t tear her gaze from the scene as Thorin stretched his right hand, scrabbling along the dirt and stones and tree bits, trying in vain to reach the Orcrist.

“No!” Bilbo launched himself from his tree and with a flying leap, tackled the orc, then ran him clean through with his small sword.

Dori let out another scream as their tree gave way completely and they went hurtling down into the canyon. Air rushed past Seren’s face, too hard for her to actually breathe, and she could only hope it death didn’t hurt too badly.

The shrill cries came from nowhere and when Seren slammed hard to a stop, it was atop the biggest eagle she’d ever seen. Her fingers, of their own, twisted into the soft feathers as the eagle spread its enormous wings and glided on the downdrafts.

All around her, eagles snatched up dwarves and hobbits and wizards. They flew in formation, carrying their charges away from the snarling wargs and swearing orcs and Seren offered up a silent thanks as she pressed her cheek into those fluttering feathers.

It was Fili’s horrified, “Thorin!” that had her twisting about and her heart plummeted at the sight of Thorin, his face a battered, bloodied mess, clutched in an eagle’s talons. He hung limply, his eyes closed, his dark hair blowing in the wind, and tears stung her eyes.

“Oh, no…” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze from him even as her neck began to ache and the ache spread down into her shoulders. No. He had to be all right. He simply had to be all right.

They came upon a large plateau and the eagles, one by one, landed to let their charges off, then went soaring off into the sky. Seren rose on unsteady legs as Thorin’s eagle ever-so-gently let Thorin come to rest on the ground with them.

Gandalf hurried to him and Bofur came over to Seren, an arm about her shoulders as he said, “He’ll be fine. He will.”

She swallowed hard. “I hope so.”

Then Gandalf stood and relief nearly knocked her over as Thorin slowly got to his feet. He was battered and bruised as he looked about and for a moment, she thought he was going to close the distance between him and her.

But then, her heart sank once more as he instead asked, “Where is the halfling?”

Bilbo cleared his throat at stepped up. “I’m here.”

“You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden, that you would not survive in the wild, and that you have no place amongst us?”

Bilbo stared, along with the rest of them.

“I’ve never been so wrong in all my life.”

With that, Thorin embraced Bilbo and the look of joy on Bilbo’s face was enough to make Seren’s inside twist with brilliant green jealousy and fiery red envy. It wasn’t fair, really. And it was silly, as well. But, if she was totally honest with herself, all she wanted was to run up to Thorin and throw her arms about him, to hold him tight and thank the maker he was all right. She wanted to twist her fingers into his thick hair, pull him down to meet her kiss, and tell him how she felt about him.

And yet, the Hobbit had his attention instead.

Silly or not, immature or not, that stung.

Bofur gave her a gentle squeeze. “You should tell him,” he said in a barely audible whisper.

“Tell him what?”

“Seren.”

“There is nothing to tell, Bofur.”

“I’m not so certain of that.”

“I am.” She pulled away from him to move to the edge of the plateau. The setting sun streaked the sky pink and gold, and in the distance, a single mountain peak rose toward the sky.

The Lonely Mountain.

[ourmiraclealigner]

Already Gone

Hoosier Smith x Reader

Gif not mine! Credit to owner.

request: @stressedinadress

synopsis: After he enlists, (Y/N) and Hoosier discuss the future of their relationship + prompt #21 “If you cared about me, you wouldn’t do this.”

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long!

warnings: none

taglist: @floydtab @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mavysnavy @ivy-miranda-2390 @ya-yeeteth @rarmiitage @primusk @punkgeekchic @joesliebgott @weirdbiwitch @inglourious-imagines @wexhappyxfew @contrabandhothead @vintagelavenderskies @easy-company-tradition @meteora-fc @order-of-river-phoenix @immrsronaldspeirs

————————————

The heavy wooden door closed behind (Y/N), a shiver running through her body as the warmth from the house enveloped her. She took her shoes off as she glanced towards the clock on the wall in the hallway- a little past 6. With a shiver, she took her coat off, brushing the snow off of it before shoving it into the closet.

It was early December, but it felt like it had been years since everything had been normal. Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor days earlier, and it seemed like the country had completely shifted. All of the men (Y/N) had grown up with and worked with were leaving to fight in another country.

“Bill?” She called out as she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck. She had seen his car in the driveway, but hadn’t heard him.

“In the kitchen.” He called back, poking his head through the doorframe so that she would see him. With a smile she walked towards him, the smell of her favorite meal immediately enveloping her. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, catching a glimpse of a vase filled with red roses on the table.

“What's all of this?” She asked as she motioned to the stove and then to the flowers, worried she had forgotten an important date. She watched as he dried his hands on a rag and leaned against the counter, his body facing hers.

“Can’t do something nice for my girl?” Her eyebrows furrowed at his answer.

“You just never do something like this unless it's my birthday or our anniversary.” She retorted wearily, moving to help him set the table as he grabbed plates and silverware. He pulled out her chair and motioned for her to sit before going back to the stove to grab the pot.

“Let me do everything, sweetheart.” Bill mumbled as he scooped the meal onto her plate before moving to load his own plate up. “How was your day?” He asked as he took the seat across from her after putting the pot back on the stove.

(Y/N) let out a sigh as she took the fork in her hand. “Beyond stressful.” She mumbled before taking a bite of the food. Once she swallowed, she spoke again. “Dale left, so they’re adding some of his work onto my workload- I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep up.”

Bill nodded along, having sensed her stress as soon as she walked through the door. “Dale left?”

“Air Force. Left last night I guess.” She shook her head before speaking again. “I can’t believe all of these boys are just...enlisting. It’s so dangerous.” She trailed off, not noticing how quiet Bill had become as they finished the rest of their dinner in silence.

“I’ll do the dishes since you made dinner.” She offered as she grabbed his empty plate from the table and walked over to the sink. He stayed back by the table, half sitting on it as he watched her.

“I did want to talk to you about something, though.” He said softly, only continuing when she threw a glance back at him over her shoulder, urging him to continue. “I don’t want you to be upset.”

(Y/N) turned off the water and faced him, catching the seriousness in his tone. She grabbed a rag to dry her hands as she stared at him. “What is it?” She asked as her eyebrows furrowed.

Bill took a deep breath, his eyes still on hers as he tried to deliver the news as soon as possible. “I enlisted in the Marines yesterday. I ship out at the end of this week.” Silence fell over the room as he stared at her blank face, desperate to figure out what she was thinking.

“No.” (Y/N) finally said as if it was the most simple thing. She tossed the rag on the counter before turning back around to put away the clean dishes.

“No? What do you mean no?”

“You aren't going.” She answered, her tone still light as she tried to push the heaviness of the situation away. Her hands shook as she pushed a plate into the cabinet.

He let out a frustrated chuckle before trying to calm down. He didn’t want to fight with her when their days together were numbered. “Sweetheart, it's not that simple and you know it.” He said softly, hoping she was feeling the same way about fighting as he was.

“You aren't going to god knows where to be killed for a country that-” She stopped, forcing herself to take a deep breath, her hands gripping the counter. “If you cared about me, you wouldn't do this.” She said slowly, hoping her words would deter him, even though she knew it wasn’t likely.

“Can you at least look at me?” He begged, feeling his chest tighten at her words. She turned to face him, her eyes brimming with tears. “You know how much I love and care about you, but I have to go. I don’t expect you to understand, it’s just something I need to do.”

She shook her head and quickly wiped a stray tear that slid down her cheek. “If you go, we’re done.” She said desperately, hoping that what she was saying would change his mind.

“Don’t do that.” Bill pleaded, feeling tears brim his own eyes. “You know what the answer will be.”

She let out a huff as she looked away, struggling to hold her tears back as she shook her head. “Be careful over there, Bill, wherever you get shipped off to.” She watched him cover his face with his hands. “I’ll always appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

(Y/N) walked towards him, pulling his shaking body into one last tight hug before walking back to the door and pulling on her shoes and gloves. He watched from the kitchen, finding it hard to believe that earlier she was calling out to him as he made her dinner.

“Don’t do this, (Y/N), please.” He called out, but she was already gone.

#the pacific #the pacific imagine #hbo war #hoosier imagine #bill hoosier smith #bill hoosier smith x reader #hoosier x reader #hoosier smith

[idjitlili]

Swayze

Bard x modern!reader

summary:Imagine going out with Bard to a not very deep river with  ,when telling him about a little fantasy you have had since a child. thank you loteriel_greenleaf for helping me pick a character. xx

word count:1900?

warnings:uh muscles. a/n:sorry for not writing for like two days.

Okay ,okay ,okay so you have been in middle earth for like three years,how did you get here you ask? Yes fourth wall breaking ,can you guess who this is? Deadpool-no,okay anyways. You haven't got a fuck of an idea how you got here only that you dad pushed you into a swimming pool only for you to pass through that and fall into a freezing lake.

Your dad probably freaking out right about now,oh no wheres my daughter oh shit ,shes dead,no what she vanished ,damn I shouldn’t have called her a witch.

When you hit the lake you had lost consciousness,only to wake up a few minutes later coughing up water,laying on your side. Once you turned you eyes had went wide ,next to you a brown haired ,and eyed man sat kneels staring at you. Damn he was handsome with that long hair and mhmm face like gosh damn ,sexy. You were beyond confused ,as you looked around to only see ice and that you were on a bloody boat. "w-where is my dad?" you had spoken pretty well from just coughing up bloody water from almost bloody drowning. The man who was only dressed in a shirt no coat instead that was wrapped around your shoulders ,you were shaking so that definitely helped to be honest.

He had just looked at you confused eyebrows scrunched up ,"your dad? you fell from the sky ,I have no clue ,I want to know how in middle earth that is possible woman."

That's how your life got flipped turned upside down And you'd like to take a minute just sit right there,I'll tell you how you  become the prince of a town called dale. Well not prince maybe queen in a few years ,wink wink.  Anyways you began living with the bargeman you soon knew as Bard ,oh darn he was your will smith to fresh prince.

Anyways you would watch his kids,and in return he fed you and homed you,he even brought you gifts and  dresses.He would take you to the market ,and buy you anything you wanted ,he wasn't poor like he was when you both first met ,especially now he was king.

You had become very close to him and his children; Sigrid and Tilda would tease you saying that their father liked you ,you would tell them no you were just friends. Of course they didnt believe that ,Sigrid and Bain saw the blush upon your cheeks when their father brought you a gift ,or even compliment your hair or bread. You didnt know they would also tease their father ,telling him to get some guts and just tell you how he felt,of course he was nervous.

Dale was almost rebulit now ,you had been living with them for three years, you were starting to lose hope in Bard.

WEll were ,anyways it was like 1 pm on a sunday the kids were out at the library ,as they had homework to catch upon ,well only Tilda but she forgot so Sigrid was helping her. Whilst Bain was out with some of his friends ,doing who knows what. However you  had went  field near a swallow river ,unknownly to you Bard had followed you.You had sat on the edge of a rock bare feet in the swallow water.  You could hear the foot steps now ,making you turn abruptly grabbing a rock only to drop it ,turn your frown into a light smile when you see its Bard.

He lightly grinning,"damn,you followed me?what if i was going to an orgy?" you had teased the bowman/king dude,who scoffed at your words. "you getting it? when? " oyour mouth gapped at his words,your faced scrunched up in fake offence. "wow ,you state the obvious ,like how Bain will lose his virginity before me." okay so maybe you shouldn't have brought his son into this ,you were expecting an lecture but you got a light chuckle as he sat next to you,but didnt put his feet in the water.

"Miss y/n ,I did not know you were a virgin,for such a beautiful woman,thought you would have been courted in the time you have been with us." he had stated simply ,slightly shocked. Your heart sunk,it was clear he didn't want to court you then.  "how many times no miss just y/n/n,also who would I court Alfrid ,oh sorry he's dead, so no one." It wasn't a lie when you thought yourself as anything but beautiful ,in reality you were an angel with your looks even if you couldn't see that yourself.

"no matter what you say ,you are indeed attractive." he had looked at you will softly speaking you had just wiggled your toes in the warm water,it was a hot day,but you felt like it was going to rain later. Trying to hide the blush on your cheeks ,for a couple of minutes neither of you spoke,until you did.

"you know back in my world ,there was this movie,sorry movie is like a play but you can watch it on this box called a tv, they record the original ,its like millions of pictures - okay so its like play thats all that matters. AS a kid it was my favourite ,I would watch it over an over. It was called dirty dancing ,well yeah uh its exactly that well not really. A girl goes to this place for a holiday ,its like a camp where you can learn to dance ,anyways the many dancer gets pregnant ,but cant afford the baby so she gets doctor to get rid of it ,but he's actually a horrible doctor and she gets very hurt. This causes baby the girl who goes to this camp to take over the lead dancer role with Johnny,and he has to teach her. OOh and the dirty dancing bit well they end up doing the dirty to music ,and when I was eight I would re watch the scene over and over-" you try to explain to Bard ,when you saw the lake you thought of the lift ,but you were cut off by Bard.

"So you were 8 ? and you got arroused by a sex scene?! Who let you watch that! I cant imagine what you are going to be like when you finally-" you had gasped at his words ,shoving him playfullly. "hey,hey dont you imagine me like that ,can I get to my point?"you had questioned he had nodded ,shuffing closer to you again,your shoulders touching.

"Anyways ,there was a bit were they had to learn a lift for the dance and they practiced in a lake like this one,I have always dreamed about doing that,so yeah if you were wondering why I was out here ,I like to day dream."he had listened to your words intensely ,before stranding up pulling his jacket off. "W-what are you doing?" you had stood up carefully after him. "why dream of it ,when we can make it happen," your flashed red, you had let out a quiet "okay" as he pulled his boots ,and shirt off you tried not looking but hot damn he was hot. You would have loved if he had a dad body ,but no he was bloody muscular. Damn.

You looked away pulling your dress off swiftly, leaving you in your shorts and a corset in which you had reomoved leaving you in a vest from your home. Bard had looked away ,but why he was going to have to look at you in the water. "Come on." you had ushered grabbing his hand pulling him with you ,as you walked into the water. It was hot day but it didnt mean that water was warm ,it was bloody chilly. Soon the water was up to   Bard's hips when you had said this is far enough. You could feel the fish in the water as stood slightly away from him infront. "how does this lift go,hm?" he had asked looking at your face trying not to make you uncomfortable ,bro its not like the vest was even wet yet so it wasnt see through.

"well,uhm,you put your hands here-" you had walked forward, grabbed his rough large hands placing them on your hips where your skin was bare,from the vest was slightly cropped.  In which he had gripped them slightly. "then I put my hands here-" in which you placed your hands on his shoulders,though they only need to be there until you were off your feet."then when I slightly jump ,you lift me up and then I let go of you ,so its like I'm balancing." you had explained simply as you possibly could, he had nodded understanding in with what you had explained..

You had looked into his brown sorrow eyes,as he stared back into your e/c ones,sorta to make sure he was ready,and when it felt like you had been staring at him too long you had slightly jumpled. In response he had lifted you with ease ,you had brought your arms out to the side like you was a bird as you were held above his head. Bard had looked at you from his steady hands smiling before you had lost your balance falling down,also causing him to fall with you.  Submerging into the water just like how you had both met ,vest sticking to you and becoming see through. Bard had pulled you up so you were both standing in the water like before only super close and super soaking.

You were pushed up against his bare chest as his arms were around your waist."that happened in the movie,a couple of times before they got it." you had stated nervously looking into his big brown eyes ,his wet long hair dripping as did yours sticking to your skin."oh really? well I guess we must do it until we get it" oh how you wished to say thats what she said. Instead you had nodded at the smirking man ,who put his hands on your bare hips again.  

It only took you like seven more tries until you got it and when you did ,he had lowered you down ,wrapping your arms around his neck,whereas his were around your waist. You feet were off the river floor wrapped around him as you clung onto Bard ,grinning down at him,in which he smiled back. "thank you for that,Bard. You are the kindest man I have ever met ,first you save me from drowning in a strange world,then you home me and feed me ,then you make me fall in love with me ,in which I agree is the only bad thing becau-" before you could even panic in regret of your confession he had pressed his lips to yours.

"i love you too ,y/n/n" he had spoken quietly when you had broken the kiss,only for it to start pooring down with rain ,in which you had jumped from bard rushing out of the water ,him following getting dressed,to rush home to your children.

You were brought to middle earth to meet your patrick swayze,though you were so over the moon when you met that cutie hobbit dildo gaggins.

#bard x reader #bard x you #bard x y/n #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit #hobbit x reader #hobbit imagine #hobbit imagines #hobbit x you #hobbit x y/n #bard imagine #bard imagines

[5lazarus]

Dead Man Hiking

a gift from Beyond the Veil’s Masked Satinalia Exchange, that I wrote for @theprairienerd <3. It was fun to get out of solavellan hell, and it sparked a whole gen fic fest that I’m still working my way through. crossposted to AO3 here

Solas broods over what has been lost. Dorian interrupts, and Solas dangles hidden knowledge in front of him like a carrot. They both take the bait, because, as irritable and sad Solas can get, "he wants to give wisdom, not orders," and Dorian loves to learn.

They named his reach the Emerald Graves, a poetic name for a dismal end. Solas can taste the ashes of the lost in the air, and fears falling asleep. Where the Orlesians had ripped the forests from their roots and flattened the Exalted Plains, the rage dripped too deep into the soil of the Emerald Graves. A nobleman or two held estates. No one ever lasted long. Ghosts lingered in lichen and stone, canopy and leaf. Solas leans against a boulder and dips his feet in a creek that was once a road, two thousand years ago. He picks up a stone. At least the mica in the rock remembers. Not all of Arlathan is lost. “Oh, Solas.” Dorian walks over, glittering in the sun. His shadow covers him.

Solas places the smooth riverstone onto the boulder with a satisfying clink and looks up at Dorian. “Yes?” he says testily. It is not that he dislikes Dorian. He is too much a product of his own time and indulgence for Solas to take his swagger personally. But the Tevinter mage tries so hard to dazzle everyone he meets, and Solas is too tired to be amused by a human peacock. He knows he should not be so dismissive; he was young and anxious to impress once. But Dorian is almost likeable, and perhaps that is why he gets under his skin. They can discuss the finer points of mana fissure against Veil warp--and then Dorian will exclaim his surprise that he is following along quite fine, as if he had not written the equation to begin with. He does not see a mage. He sees a pair of pointed ears, and forgets that there is a brain between them. Dorian tenses. “Am I interrupting?” “Is there something you would like to ask me, Master Pavus?” He cannot help the ironic edge in his voice. Dorian flinches slightly at the title, but breezes onward. “Well, Messere Solas,” Dorian rolls his eyes, “you mentioned that the Graves have changed since you were last here. I was wondering what it used to be like, before the war. If you have lore to share.” “Are you appealing to my vanity?” Solas says, amused. “You do like to talk.” Dorian takes his response as an invitation and sits down next to him. Solas flares his nose. Dorian reeks of the Iron Bull and overpriced cologne. They call him unwashed, but at least he manages to wash away the scent of sex. To avoid the pungent bouquet of Dorian’s day, Solas gets up. Above the creek sits a stone ledge where the People placed one of his markers, the watching wolf. Where the waterfall is now, an eluvian once stood. Solas says, “Follow me. We won’t go too far from camp.” He grunts as he jumps down from the rocks and splashes across the creek. Dorian hurriedly follows, grimacing as his boots fill with water. Sera broke the waterproofing enchantment on them yesterday; Solas thinks, perhaps he irritates me more than I allow. I should not have let her figure it out; but he and Bull were so obnoxiously loud. They hike up the cliff in silence. Solas enjoys the feel of the grass under his feet. He loves the woods, and though he mourns what they once were, still he feels himself relaxing into the rhythm of the wind tousling the canopy of leaves, the roar of the waterfall guiding his step. He wonders aloud, “I wonder if there is a single place in the Dales that does not know a single human step.” He has shepherded the land Mythal granted him as best he could. Still the taint remains: the Blight unlocked, and all this death. Dorian glances at him curiously. “Not if you’re taking me there. Where are we going, anyway?” Solas says, “To the Watcher. The Dalish will tell you that he dates to their lost kingdom, a relic of the spirit-wolves the Emerald Knights called their companions.” He smiles ruefully. As fragmented and dissociative he was in the Fade, he tried to guide Ralaferin and the others as best he could. He misses them sharply, and touches his jawbone necklace to ground himself. “However, they are wrong.” “Oh really,” Dorian drawls. He stops, winded, and Solas waits as he leans against a tree to catch his breath. “And you know--how?” “Through my journeys in the Fade, Dorian. Where else?” It is not technically a lie. He does not like to tell deliberate untruths casually. He saves them for when they are necessary. Lying was a habit he grew out of as a youth, the hard way, and this body still bears those scars. He points to the wolf over the waterfall. They are nearly there now. Elnora had hid a staff under his paws; perhaps he would collect it later. “This statue dates to before the fall of Arlathan. Just before. I do not know how much you know of my people’s lore, but before Elvhenan fell the people worshipped a god named Fen’Harel, who took the form of a monstrous wolf. At least if you listen to Dalish legend.” He wonders how they thought he could get anything done without opposable thumbs. “They say he seeded his statues with an enchantment that could let him spy on his followers’ loyalties. They are wrong, of course.” Those Dalish fairytales assume he had much more time to cause trouble than he ever did, even as a bored sergeant in Mythal’s army. Though he has always struggled with paranoia, he never crossed that line, not even when Dirthamen ordered him to. “But this statue does have its own tricks.” “Old magic,” Dorian says. “Pre-Imperium, you say?” He visibly perks up. He staggers a few steps forward and marches up the ragged path. “What are you waiting for, Solas? Lead the way!” Solas smiles and slows his step to give Dorian time to catch his breath. He loves to teach and Dorian loves to learn: that is why it is impossible for him to stay annoyed for long. Dorian peppers him with questions as they hack their way through the undergrowth. He dodges the ones that make him hate himself and answers the ones that make him laugh. Under all that glittering, impractical armor, Dorian flaunts a sharp mind and a quicker tongue. Solas enjoys himself. Tevinter and then Orlesian expansion into the Dales is part of the Blight the Evanuris wrecked upon the world--he would prefer to wander these woods with his companions of old--but they are all dead, and he is a dead man walking with a quickling upstart. But of all afterlives, he knows, this is not the worst, and this can be fixed--and Dorian is not terrible company after all. They clamber up the last incline and stop at the Watcher’s base. Solas notices an offering of apricots left in a small bronze dish at the wolf’s paws. He helps himself to one. He loves the taste of summer fruit, and though it lacks some of the richness of the orchards of Arlathan, the apricot is delicious. Dorian looks askance. “Are you sure you should be doing that?” Solas says, “I would not let you do it.” “Right,” Dorian says, “it’s not sacrilege if you do it. And the Inquisitor doesn’t see.” Solas laughs. “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it,” he starts, but Dorian interrupts. “You don’t get a story,” Dorian says, lips twitching into a smile. “Now, speaking of, you promised me a story. So what does this statue do?” He gazes up at the Watcher’s impassive stare. Solas fords across the creek. The current is strong as it crashes down the cliff, but not enough to push him. He chooses his footing carefully, and then holds an arm out to help Dorian. Dorian, though, ignores him. He sketches a quick diagnostic into the air, blue mana flashing. “Hmm,” Dorian says. “The Veil is thin here. Who would have thought.” Then the Watcher’s eyes flash. Solas steps back. A spirit haunts the water, a reflection of himself, dreaming quiescent in the days of Arlathan’s fall. The spirit-wolf steps from the stone, snuffling at him curiously. Solas thinks: surely my fur was never so fluffy. I was decidedly unkempt in those days. One thing ages the spirit: it wears Mythal’s brand on its muzzle. It must have formed just after his apotheosis, but before June’s disastrous trip into the Deep Roads. The spirit says, in a voice not unlike his own, “Banal’nadas.” The Blight is inevitable. Nothing is inevitable. It cocks its head at Dorian. Dorian starts. He leans over, to peer into the wolf’s eyes. The wolf snorts and walks away into the sun of the woods, its footsteps leaving the river unrippled. It melts into the warm shadows of the forest beyond them. Solas sighs. He is living, or he is dying; he does not know which, but at least that spirit is now free. But the Dales have lost one more piece of its living history. Its purpose has been fulfilled. The Blight is inevitable. They walk back in silence, tired from the hike up the cliff. As they reach the campsite, though, Dorian turns to him. “You know, Solas,” he says, “that spirit had eyes like you.” “Like an elf, you mean,” Solas says dismissively. Dorian shakes his head. “No. Like you.” But before he can continue his questions, their companions notice them, and they are swept into the fervor of life around the campfire. Solas is glad to let the matter rest.

#masked satinalia exchange #prairie nerd #gift #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #dai #solas #dorian #solas & dorian #friendship

[collecting-stories]

Small Talk - Daryl Dixon

EPPP!! This is my FIRST EVER request. I am so excited.😁😁 So I wanted to request "You Are In Love" by Taylor Swift with Daryl Dixon, pretty please? 😊😍 P.s- Am I the only one who thinks this song is very underrated? - @ohmagawd-life

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And for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts - You Are In Love, Taylor Swift

“Don’t think I got one,” Daryl mused, digging an arrow further into the mud. Why you insisted on aggravating him with stupid questions was beyond his comprehension but he’d be lying if he said it really bothered him.  

You’d volunteered to take watch with him tonight while everyone else got some sleep. Winter was setting in and so were Lori’s terrible mood swings, agitated at everything so spectacularly that no one really wanted to be around her right now. To make it all worse the only shelter viable for the night was a rundown looking trailer in the woods. Daryl had jumped on night watch, if only to get out of the suffocating small trailer that you were all stuffed into. He took up a spot in the front of the trailer, sitting on the small porch and digging an arrow through the mud. It was quiet, and had been for the last four days but Lori was hellbent on moving instead of trying to rest and soon you knew you would run out of places to stay.  

“Mind if I join you?” You asked, closing the door and latching the screen before making your way over to Daryl. The sun was already set and the night was well under way. Rick was going to go on watch and you knew he was eager to get away from Lori, you could see it on his face, but you were eager to spend some time with Daryl away from curious eyes.  

He shook his head, a silent ‘I never do’ though he played the part of annoyed pretty well. Tonight he looked indifferent but he watched from the corner of his eye as you lowered yourself to sit next to him. It was starting to get cold and you had found a hoodie inside to wrap yourself in. Daryl reached over with one hand and pulled the hood up over your head, pushing your hair into your face.  

“Stop,” you laughed, nudging him with your elbow and pushing both hood and hair out of your face. “I bet you were that annoying kid who pestered people all the time when you were little.”  

“Don’t know what yer on about.” He replied, grinning as you jumped off the porch, wiping your hands over your sides. When you looked back at him he was holding the arrow he’d been digging with, waving it to indicate that he’d prodded you with it.  

“Seriously,” You huffed, climbing back up and putting some distance between the two of you.

Reaching over, Daryl grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled on it, indicating that he wanted you back beside him. You shuffled over, thigh brushing against his. The hand that was holding your shirt let go, smoothing along your back before pulling away to settle on dragging his arrow through the dirt again. You turned your upper body more toward him to rest your head on his shoulder and tucked your cold hands into the pocket on your hoodie. Daryl’s skin was cool beneath your cheek. While Daryl could just sit and watch and wait you were never able to keep yourself occupied, constantly shifting around. Even now you pulled your leg up, rest your knee against his lap and tucking your foot under your other thigh. Daryl knew you well enough to know in ten more minutes you’d be fidgeting again but he said nothing about it and just put a hand on your knee instead.  

“You think it’ll be cold in the morning?”

“How should I know?”

“You can track and stuff,” you shrugged, “figured you could like, read the weather and shit too.”

“Yer a pain in my ass ya know that?” He asked, tilting his head slightly and kissing the top of your hair.

“Hey,” you shifted slightly so you could look at him, “that’s a compliment, you should be flattered I think so highly of you.”

He only rolled his eyes. “Why’d ya wanna know?”

“Cause I saw a river not too far from here and I wanted to wash up.” You shrugged, “my hair is getting greasy and you could use a wash too.”  

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a little gross.” You reply, wrinkling your nose for effect.

Daryl shrugged, “then don’t sleep in my sleeping bag with me.” He said it matter of factly, like the sleeping bag was just an agreement between the two of you and not anything more but he would be terrified if you suddenly stopped sleeping next to him. He could go down a rabbit hole of possibilities when his insecurity really got the best of him and even pretending to be indifferent didn’t help. Was it bothering you? Were you going to sleep somewhere else? Would you stop going on watch with him?

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, “you’re lucky I like you so much,” you teased, “and that my feet get cold when I sleep alone.”  

“I got a pair of wool socks from the last house in my bag, if ya want ‘em.” He’d grabbed them from the master bedroom as Rick was calling everyone to head out. They looked hand sewn and he knew with the weather getting worse, your hands and feet would get cold faster.  

“You’re too good to me.” You insisted and it was too dark to see the faint blush that lit up Daryl’s face but you did feel the light squeeze he gave your knee in response. You snuck a quick kiss to his bare arm before turning away, “I don’t know how you’re out here without a jacket.”

“It’s over there.” He nodded his head toward the door behind you and you turned to find his jacket laying across the porch bench.  

“It’s cold Daryl.” You lifted his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders and hugging his waist.  

“Keeps ya awake, we’re supposed ta be watching fer geeks.” He replied, turning his head just enough to kiss your forehead.  

“Oh, that reminds me!” You pulled away, his hand dragging across your shoulders and back as you stood up, almost as if he was reluctant to let you go. And truthfully, he was.  

Daryl tried to act as indifferent as he could, knowing that the reality of this world didn’t guarantee anyone any sort of confirmed happiness. In the short time that he’d known you he’d lost his brother, Rick had almost lost Carl, Carol had lost Sophia, Andrea had lost Amy, and they had all lost Dale and Andrea. He was familiar with loss and he knew it was just a symptom of this world, so he was reluctant to let himself feel anything. But when he was with you it was impossible to keep up the charade of indifference. When he’d heard you pipe up to volunteer for night-watch with him, he’d been unable to stop himself from smiling.  

He couldn’t exactly remember when things between the two of you had started. Or when you’d gone from being just some girl at the camp and become more important to him than that. He thought it had something to do with the overwhelming amount of affection you seemed to have on hand. Daryl hated to admit it but he looked forward to the simple touches, a brush of your hand against his arm, a kiss to his cheek, the way you held his hand in your sleep when the two of you had started sharing a tent at Hershel’s farm.  

“Look,” you stood behind him, leaning over and dangling the carafe of coffee in front of him. “Coffee.”

“How long’s it been in there?” He asked, grinning as he took the container from you.

“I made it. Glenn made that fire earlier and I boiled some water for coffee. Keep us up.” You informed him.  

In another instant you were sitting down beside him again and he realized that not only had you gotten the coffee but you were now wearing his jacket over the stolen hoodie. You left another kiss to his cheek and huddled close again. Maybe more optimistic than Daryl you were not at all indifferent to him. Everyone knew that he was your favorite person long before he realized it. Glenn had teased you mercilessly over your crush when it was just that, silent yearning that he would maybe get the hint that you were interested in him. You weren’t entirely sure how you’d gotten here either, sharing sleeping bags and staying up late, you talked about silly things and he listened intently. It was a far cry from being too nervous to speak to him.  

You watched him swallow a gulp of coffee, biting your lip to stop a laugh when he grimaced, “sorry, I like it strong.”

“I’ll be up for another month now.” He commented, handing the container back to you.  

Once you had the coffee securely between your thighs Daryl wrapped his arm around you again, the chill of his skin raising goosebumps when you held his hand. “You should take your jacket, I don’t want you to be cold.”  

“I ain’t cold.”

“Yeah but you wouldn’t tell me if you were cold, you’d just sit there and freeze like the caveman from Scooby-Doo.” You replied. When he looked your way, incredulous and slightly bemused, you kissed him. “You have seen at least one episode of Scooby-Doo right?”

Daryl shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I used to watch it all the time with my best friend Ally. It was about a talking dog who used to solve like, crimes. Like people thought there were ghosts but it was just the banker or the lawyer or somebody scaring people off.” You replied, turning in closer to him. Daryl could tell you were starting to get sleepy, even with the coffee. You always started talking about nonsense when you were tired.  “Who was your best friend?”  

“Don’t think I got one.” He shrugged, digging his arrow into the mud with his free hand.  

“Everyone has a best friend.” You mused, “you’re mine.”

“Thought that was Ally.” He teased, lifting your hood over your head again.  

“When I was eight!”  

Inside the trailer you could hear movement. Daryl shifted slightly, his arm dropping from your shoulders as the door opened. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with whatever this was going on between the two of you. It felt stupid to call it a relationship, people couldn’t even properly have those with the world being the way that it was now. And you certainly weren’t the giddy, sneaking off to the barn, types like Maggie and Glenn. Still, when everyone else was around Daryl still got shy about his affection, keeping a little distance between the two of you despite everyone knowing that it was more than friendship or situational tolerance that had you sharing the same sleeping mats or staying up on watch together or going out to hunt. Though you contributed little to hunting other than moral support.  

Before the screen door could open you stole one last kiss from Daryl. He grinned but then the door opened and he was turning to see who had come outside.  

You looked behind you to see Rick, T-Dog after him. “Hey, you two wanna get some sleep?” He asked. It wasn’t near morning yet, maybe a few hours until the sun officially came up but you imagined Rick was restless and would rather this than be inside.  

“Sounds good.” You nodded, handing your coffee over to Daryl and standing up. You went to the door first, holding it open as Daryl got up and walked passed you into the tiny trailer. Before you’d gone out on watch you’d spread the sleeping bag and two blankets out in the corner of the room, beneath the front window and close to the door. You weren’t a fan of being so close to the outside but you knew Daryl would want to be by the door in case anyone needed anything or any walkers made their way towards camp. “Home sweet home,” you whispered, glancing back at him with a smile.  

Another roll of the eyes before the door shut and you couldn’t see anymore. While Daryl kicked off his shoes and laid down you took your time getting ready. At the farm he’d teased you mercilessly the first time you stayed in his tent because you insisted on taking off your jeans and your bra to sleep. Even now as you pulled your bra out from under your hoodie and folded it on top of your jeans you heard him criticizing you.

“Yer gonna get bit one day, insisting on not sleeping ready.” He commented as you got between him and the wall.  

“That’s why you sleep on the outside.” You whispered back, kissing his cheek. You pulled the blankets up to your chin and shifted so you were partially facing the wall, head on his arm.

“Trying ta get rid a me.” He muttered, pulling your body close to his.  

“Never.” You snuggled further into the cocoon of Daryl and blankets. Once morning came he’d be up and, most likely, hunting, while you were still trying to get one last minute of sleep in. How he managed to wake up early every morning without an alarm was beyond you but you thought maybe it was just because he was such a light sleeper.  

You closed your eyes, tucking your head further into the blanket when your nose got cold and listening to the quiet sound of Glenn snoring from across the room, trying to lull yourself to sleep. Daryl had shifted you into a spooning position already and you pulled the arm that was around your waist up so you could hold his hand and place a kiss there to his skin. Colder than he’d told you he was.

“I knew you were cold.”

For a moment there was no answer and you thought maybe for once in the short time that you’d gotten to know Daryl he had fallen asleep before you but then he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.  

“Thought about what you said,” he whispered, voice barely there in the darkness. Typically, changing the subject.

“About what?” You hadn’t stopped talking from the moment you got outside.

“You’re my best friend too.”  

You turned your face into the arm under your head, smile so wide he could feel it against his skin and he smiled himself from the knowledge that he’d said something to make you happy. Indifference out the window and without the burden of having to know exactly what it was the two of you were to each other he was confident in the knowledge that you were his favorite person and that was plenty for both of you.  

-

A/N: So I hope you like this, I just really wanted it to be like, one insignificant but defining moment in a relationship instead of just a chronology of how they got to a certain point. Like I just wanted to reflect that feeling of soft unconditional love that I get every time I listen to the song. So yeah, hope you like it. 

taglist: @thinkingsofamadwoman @mixedwiththemoon @titty-teetee  @queenmissfit @marvelismylifffe @iluvmesomemarvelndc @absentmindeduniverse @his-paradox @medievalfangirl @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @born-in-19-96  @mainokutan @uh-i-think-its-frank @nikki082489 @qrangr  

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #twd fanfic #collecting stories imagine #cs discography series

[centuryofdean]

When Lightning Strikes - Chapter 17

Author Note:: So sorry for the delayed update. I have been going through some issues from work, to my relationship, to my mode of transportation--I haven’t even had the urge to read fanfiction let alone write it. Things are starting to smooth out now so hopefully we can get this story finished!

Author Disclaimer:: The Hobbit, Middle Earth and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. The story line and even some dialogue–also not mine. Instead I claim my Original Character Laurel and the adjustments to the story line.

Summary:: From when Laurel Took was small she dreamed of a man. Every time she dreamed of him, he could not see or hear her. Over time they are able to communicate–but he’s been dreaming about her too. Finally after years of anticipation Laurel takes the leap and kisses him. Only for her to wake up and dread the real world. Then lightning strikes and she finds herself in a familiar place, with a familiar face.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+. NSFW.

Warnings:: Language, Violence and Scenes of Sexual Nature.

Pairing:: Kili x OC (Laurel)

Kili

Most of the conversation that was transpiring around us blurred with my breathing. That and most of it was muffled due to the large amount of fish that was pilled around me. A deep shiver started from my bones and out to the outer layer of my skin. Another deep stabbing pain radiated from my thigh were the orcs arrow pierced it just mere hours ago.

How terribly foolish it was of Laurel to jump into the fray of battle to pull the leaver. Everyone in the company was grateful for her action. We were sitting in plain sight and vulnerable. Though I wished someone else had done the act, I should have done it. There was no question in my mind when I jumped to her aid. I did not know an orc was aiming for her, but I almost sung with relief when I felt the arrow's hot iron in my veins.

She was safe. If I had not interfered that arrow would have struck right to her middle.

Suddenly my barrel was knocked to the side. The act sent me sliding across the wooden floor beneath, aided with the slickness of the fish.

Each of us rose from the barge to follow the man. Once Bilbo helped Laurel up I took over and grabbed her hand to pull her with me. Walking without a grimace or a limp was fairly difficult, though I could not let her see how affected I was. I must be strong and reliable. A child taller than the company ran towards us, "Da! Our house, it's being watched!"

Bard instructed us to get into the water. The ice cold took my breath away. Laurel shivered, in turn I tried to pull her closer to give her some of my heat. We swam underneath the walkway under Bard, following him as he went. It was hard to keep your head tilted just right to breathe and to swim with enough speed to keep up with his brisk walk. Somewhere along the line he must have given instructions elsewhere to someone on where to go.

A soft knock could be heard somewhere above. Dwalin grunted and pulled himself up through an opening above us. "If you speak of this to anyone, I'll rip yer arms off," he snarled at someone on the other side. Bilbo followed, struggling as I tried to push him upwards. I sank beneath the water myself, coming up and gasping for air. Laurel followed next while I repeated the action.

"Da…why are there dwarves coming out of our toilet," a small girl called out above me.

A toilet?

Once we were out of the water and led up the stairs into Bard's home, we were offered blankets and clothing to change into. Laurel disappeared with the small girl children into another room to change. Each of us stripped and re-clothed in the man's clothes. They were large and barely fit in the right places.

Eventually Laurel returned to me. I would not settle for her to take place next to me, and she struggled while I placed her in my lap. "Kili," she hissed softly while placing her hands on my chest.

Idly my hand rose to play with the courting braid in her hair, fingers tracing the bead. "What is it little doe," I asked softly.

Slowly her harsh gaze softened. "It’s not appropriate for me to sit on you like this. Especially in front of everyone," she whispered while she tried to look and see who was staring.

"We are cold. Only offering comfort to one another," I replied curtly, "it is not as if I am caressing you or placing my lips on your skin."

Thorin's voice cut out through the rest of the company. "A Dwarvish Wind-Lance."

Silence became over the company as he paced back and forth in the home.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," Bilbo's soft voice came over the rest.

Balin cleared his throat as he looked at the lance as well, "He had. The last time we saw such a weapon, the city was on fire. It was the day that Smaug came. The day that he destroyed Dale, the bowman of the city was called upon to kill the beast.

"The dragon's hide is tough, tougher than that of the strongest armor. Only a black arrow could have pierced that hide. Few of these arrows were ever made."

Thorin snorted rudely. The sound was that of insult. "Had the aim of men been true that day, much would have been different," he scowled. My eyes lingered on my own Halfling archer. Her eyes were busy working over the house, taking in everything. They landed above the hearth of the fire, green pines lighting with discover. All that was there was hanging pots and pans.

The boy spoke up, distracting me, voice strong and assured, "You will know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left wing of the beast. One more shot and he would have killed it."

This is not something that I would doubt myself. The only person I had met personally that could shoot just as well as me or better was Laurel. Sometimes she did not realize just how true her aim was. Without thinking on it long, she killed two trolls and shot bustards out of the sky. All the while being stealthy and quiet. Granted her excellent archery skills were probably instinct from her Elvish traits, but Smaug is meant to be a large dragon. The lance was powerful enough, so aim just had to be well enough to pierce the beast in it's large chest. A skilled human could do it.

Dwalin genuinely smiled for the first time in a long time. "That is only but a fairy story lad. Nothin' more. The beast is unharmed and sleepin' in that there mountain."

"Where are our weapons we were promised," Thorin asked.

Bard left and shortly returned with wet weapons. If you could even call them that. They were clearly handmade and unsuitable. The things were liable to fall apart and not even pierce skin with the hardest swing. Even the confused look on Laurel's face told tales of her hesitance to accept these weapons.

With our escape from Mirkwood, Laurel and Bilbo were able to retrieve us the majority of our weapons. Fighting the elves and orcs had us loosing almost half. Thankfully Laurel had her sword, bow, and arrows. Unfortunately my own broke in my barrel while flowing down the river.

"These are a joke," Bofur hollered over the rest of the complaints.

Bard was covered in rage, "You will not find better outside the city armory. All weapons are held under lock and key."

Eventually an argument broke between uncle and the man. Laurel had long left me to trail along the home in her child dress. It was odd, seeing her in something that was not meant for a woman but a small girl. It almost gave her a childlike appearance. If I had not known she was a grown woman (in the eyes of men) then I would have thought she was in her early to late puberty. After everything I had seen and heard from her lips, I knew better. Laurel was clearly full grown and beautiful.

"Thorin," Laurel hissed from the corner of the room, stopping the argument quickly. "I've seen you kill an orc with your bare hands just hours ago. Bard has done what we asked of him, and paid for, and was even kind enough to give us clothes and warmth. It is very rude to continue to berate him."

Surprisingly enough uncle held his tongue and shot a look of disdain to Bard and not Laurel. The act itself had my eyebrows high and questioning. Fili seemed just as surprised, if not more. Laurel was not a favorite of Thorin's, and neither Fili nor I spoke to him in such a way. Bard grunted and fled from the room, telling his son in hushed whispers that we were not to leave the house. Ideally I would not want to leave at the moment anyway. It was dark and I was tired greatly. The pain in my thigh throbbed harshly, causing me to hiss in the back of my throat. In moments Laurel returned to me, pressing my hair out of my face to hold it softly.

"Would you like something for the pain," she asked.

"'Tis alright," I muttered, "I will survive. You should not talk to uncle like that. Especially in front of the company."

At my words he materialized next to us.

"She was right," he grunted. "He did what was asked, what he was paid for. Tonight we need to sneak into the armory and get those weapons."

Did Thorin just say Laurel was right? With his words my eyes grew and landed on the beauty. Dwalin and Balin called uncle over to discuss the next move of tactic.

Fili slumped next to me, elbows on knees as he peered at Laurel with deep questioning eyes. "What witch craft did you bestow on him," he asked in all seriousness.

"Yes what craft," I muttered along, "and when should I start to question my hearts yearning for you as true or magic?"

Her jaw dropped, hands on hips as her brow furrowed in disbelief. "I am not a witch! I don't know why he is suddenly being nice to me," she whispered the last part.

"They are right," Ori looked perplexed, "it is pretty odd that he suddenly has taken a liking to you. Let alone let you talk to him in such a way. Even if you did save his life."

She huffed and trailed off into the kitchen where the children were standing around cleaning or talking quietly to themselves. I could make out her speaking and introducing herself to them. Every once in a while I could hear her speak up to an unnecessary level, or blocking us from view with her body altogether.

On the other side of the room I could hear Thorin speak loudly of his plans to steal weapons from the city. "Go tell him that he is being too harsh and loud with his theft," I nudged my brother, "the children will hear and tell Bard. He will try and stop us. Laurel is trying to distract them."

I watched as Fili did what I mentioned, and smiled when I saw Thorin's lips twitch at the sight of my love working to help us.

The next hour passed slowly, though over time we were all dry and getting ready to depart. Laurel convinced the boy to lend her a pair of his trousers and shirts. After she changed we rose to leave and carry out our plan.

"Where are you going," the boy stood in the doorway as we tried to exit.

"Please move boy," Balin asked kindly, "we were given what we asked for and paid rightfully for it. We are due to leave and continue on our journey."

The young man shook his head and extended his arms out to either side of the door, "Da said you are not to leave, so you will not leave."

"Bain," Laurel gently grabbed his arms and lowered them, "I'm sorry but we do have to leave. We can't stay. Your father won't blame you for us going, you can't stop us either."

Eventually he nodded and left our exit. The darkness of the night covered our slight forms, but it did not stop the thundering of boots across the wooden planks. No one even knew where to look to begin with. Either way we walked as quietly as we could to find the city armory.

We came upon a large rickety building fort of sorts that was made of wood and bolts. About three dwarves high was a smallish window. Nori heaved Dori on top of his shoulders. "Lass, could ye climb in through the window and let us in through the door," Bofur offered his hand to her. Laurel took it readily and stifled a scream when she was tossed into the air and caught buy Dori. The dwarf heaved her by the feet and pushed her up and to the window. In the dark I could make out her lithe form disappear into the shabby shack.

Moments later the door creaked open softly, revealing my little doe. Half of the company stayed behind to keep a look out while Thorin, Fili, Dwalin, Laurel, and myself started to gather weapons.

Inside there were enough weapons to suffice for a small army of fifty or so. If each member had one sword and smaller weapons apiece. Laurel started to gather all that she could hold, I attempted to take them from her. "Let me carry, I can hold more," I whispered.

"Are you sure? I saw you limping across the walkways," she narrowed her eyes at me.

"Yes," I muttered annoyed. In moments I fought the weapons out of her hands and started to descend the stairs.

Suddenly the searing pain blossomed into something uncontrollable, and I gasped, feeling my leg give out. It happened so quickly but it felt as though ages passed while I fell down the flight of stairs. Each step hit me on the way down, and I could feel swords slicing at my clothes and nicking my skin. What was most worrying was all the noise of my body falling and the metal tinging together made.

Two moments of silence passed. Whistles started to ring through the air, killing any silence we had. Feet hammered down the wooden walkways towards us. Guards were pointing swords and staffs with knifes in our faces. Laurel of course stood in front of me to protect me from the weapons. Silly woman.

One guard grabbed her by the wrist and attempted to yank her away from me. Dwalin, who was closest, jumped and knocked the weapons away from his face to stand in front of her and deter the guard from his actions. "She ain't goin' nowhere, and do not point weapons at a lady you mongrel," he muttered knocking away more spears pointed at us.

Slowly they rounded us up one by one and started to march us to the center of the town, in front of a large brick building. A small greasy man poked his head out, looking alarmed before going back in where he came from. Soon another large bulbous man returned outside with him.

"What is the meaning of this," the larger man stated.

The captain of the guard stood forward, "We caught them stealing weapons from the armory sire."

"Ah, enemies of the state!"

Dwalin tore his way forward to growl at the man, "Hold yer tongue! You do not know to whom ya speak. This is no criminal, this is Thorin! Son of Thrain! Son of Thror!"

Uncle laid a gentle hand on his friend and came into view to speak as well. "We are the dwarves of Erebor. We have come to reclaim our homeland! I remember this town and the great days of old. Fleets of boats carrying fine silks and gems. This was center of all trade in the North, not some peasant forsaken town!

"I would see those days return. We would send wealth and riches from the great flowing halls of Erebor!"

Cheers started to erupt from the people that gathered around us. It seemed that everyone in the town had awoken to see all the commotion. Laurel was holding onto my waist, resting her head on my chest. Without even realizing it I was giving her the heft of my weight. Softly I tried to stand straighter and hold my own.

"Death," Bard's voice echoed around us, "that is what you will bring to us Master Dwarf! Dragon-fire and ruin that will surely come when you awaken the beast. It will destroy us all. You have no right, no right at all to enter that mountain!"

Thorin advanced on the stairs leading up to the building so that he was eye to eye with the tall man Bard.

"I have the only right," he muttered darkly. It was enough to raise the hairs on my neck. "I speak to the Master of the men of the Lake. Will you see us fulfill this prophecy? Will you share in the great wealth of the dwarves of Erebor? What say you?"

The large bulbous man opened his arms wide, chuckling as he spoke, "I say unto you Thorin Oakenshield… welcome! Welcome thrice more, King under the Mountain!"

I felt Laurel hug me a little tighter.

Previous Chapter << Chapter 16: Lucid Trickery

Next Chapter >> Chapter 18: Likeness of One is not the Other

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[jeejee-the-snek-boi]

The Urban Kraken

TMA AU

Tw: mild/moderate horror depending on tastes, drowning, facial distortion/shapeshifting/camouflage

Statement of Logan Sanders, regarding his time as a marine biologist working in Birmingham. Original statement given January 13th, 2012. Audio recording by Janus Dee, Head Archivist of the Thomas Headscape Institute, London.

Statement begins.

-

I'd recently moved to Birmingham to help out at the National Sea Life Centre. It wasn't particularly an interesting job, or even one appropriate for my level of qualification as a marine biologist, but we'd had reports of some kind of squid spotted in the local canals. There'd been otters and even dolphins who had managed to find their way into canals and rivers that would be outside of their normal habitat, so whilst a squid sounded unusual, to boot, I was naturally curious as to how it had got there. My colleague at the time- a rather very annoying yet charming man called Roman who worked in the gift shop- had warned me not to investigate. I found it… odd, to say the least. He couldn't have known much about marine biology- or, at least, I assumed he didn't, given the fact he was unable to distinguish between a shark plushie or a dolphin one, although perhaps he merely needed glasses.

I, of course, didn't heed his warnings- I had no need to, at the time, of course, although he did seem rather familiar. 

It took me a few days to realise that we had the same face, only… he wore it more expressively than I did, and he didn't seem to wear glasses either. I merely assumed it was a coincidence, or some long lost relative, so I didn't give it any thought.

I was working behind the scenes mainly, although I did occasionally try my hand at being a tour guide. I happen to have a special interest in marine life- hence my profession- so I found joy in teaching people about the animals we housed there. The children particularly liked the sharks, which wasn't a surprise to me, although it wasn't uncommon for people to label my commentary as unnecessary and boring- I tried not to let it get to me, of course, although occasionally it did.

On one such day, I found myself going for coffee on my break, where I ran into Roman. I didn't particularly mind his company, although I still found him a little odd. I knew everything about his dreams and ambitions- and he had a lot- but very little about him personally. He would talk for hours about his dreams to make it as an actor, and I gained a fair few insights of his insecurities too- the man seemed riddled with them. 

And, whilst I'll admit, none of that is particularly unusual, he'd ask everyone about their families or their kids- he made it a point to learn as much as he could about people and to include those facts in his daily interactions, but we never learned anything about him. Most people where I worked had written him off as shallow and selfish, superficial even, but I suspected differently.

 Anyway, Roman and I talked for a number of months, and I still hadn't learned a single thing about his life. I still didn't know why his face was so familiar to me until I found myself people- watching at the gift shop one day, and I noticed that, alone, his features seemed to… shift. I couldn't pinpoint what colours his eyes were, and his skin had taken on an almost… iridescent quality, if that's even the right word for it, as though he had chromatophores. It reminded me of a cuttlefish, or other cephalopod. 

I'd put it down to some form of shiny make-up, or perhaps a face mask that he'd forgotten to remove in the morning properly, and it wasn't until a few weeks later and more people watching that I finally noticed what detail I had been missing- his features seemed to shift and change to match those of each customer.

I was alarmed, of course, because there was no logical explanation as to why a human would possess such qualities.

Which… for some strange reason, drew my attention back to the so-called squid in the canals myth that had been circulating for a while now. 

There had been some… rumours circulating, asides from the existence of the squid. There'd been a few scattered suicides and cases of drunken misadventure down at the canals, a few dead bodies, all drowned. Some were intoxicated, and almost all were alone- although the time of death wasn't always at night as you might expect for a spate of murders. So, naturally, people started to link the deaths with the squid. 

I was curious, and wanted to see the squid for myself, so I spent several days observing the canal. I sat on the benches with my notebook and camera, although apart from the odd family of mallards, or a troublesome Canada goose, there was nothing in the water. I eventually concluded that there wasn't anything in the water, but now I was invested in the mystery.

The deaths were relatively spread apart, although almost all of them had been within the city centre. I observed for longer anyways, deciding instead to people watch- if there was a murderer, the murderer most likely frequented the area, although as more deaths occurred, I found myself struggling to find a connection to any particular person's commute and the times or locations of the murders.

I remembered Roman's odd ability to camouflage, although I knew his commute took him to the other side of the city.

That was… until I saw him down by the canal. He seemed to be talking to the water, so I kept myself hidden behind one of the bridges. He left, and, as far as I'm aware, didn't kill anyone. 

I took to following him after work, watching him frequently do the same thing again and again. It was… odd, but he wasn't the murderer. Although, I was beginning to suspect that, if Roman wasn't human, and was some form of… I wouldn't go as far as to call him an aquatic mammal- but sea creature, perhaps, then perhaps he was communicating with the squid. 

So the next time I visited, I brought my scuba suit. I must have looked a prat walking through the streets in scuba gear in the middle of an urban area, but I was intent on getting to the bottom of this mystery. 

It took several days before I had the courage to jump into the murky water- the amount of waste products thrown into the canals ranged from the odd box to shopping trolleys to knives- and there were a lot of knives in Birmingham- anyway, I wasn't planning to jump in just yet, until I saw a thick tentacle pull Roman into the canal.

I panicked, and dived in. I'd had experience working with squids- it was stupid of me to dive in without chain mail, given how sharp the beak of a squid can be- but I was only thinking about saving my colleague from the canal. I knew how to make the squid let go, and I intended to do that.

I couldn't see very well, but I could make out their shapes, and Roman didn't seem to be having any trouble breathing at all. The squid was half person, like a mermaid- although perhaps a little demented, but they were hugging Roman.

As soon as the squid person- for comedic purposes, I'd named them squidward- noticed my presence, I attempted to swim away, although they grabbed me before I could do so.

I was sure I was going to die, so I squeezed my eyes shut- only to find myself being pulled to the squid person's chest in a hug. It was… strange, to say the least, and awkward. But soon, the squid person let go of me and allowed me to swim away. Roman joined me, although he seemed reluctant to look me in the eye. 

I confronted Roman, who explained to me that the squid person was his brother, Remus- or, more accurately, his sort of twin. The two had once been one being, but both had very different desires- Roman wanted to live on land, whilst Remus was content in the water- so they had simply… split, into two.

I asked about the deaths, and Roman explained that Remus didn't understand that humans couldn't breathe in the water. He was lonely, and whenever he saw somebody else lonely, he wanted to hug them. They usually drowned, and Roman didn't have the heart to tell him that they had died.

I… went back, in my scuba suit, and kept Remus company with Roman for the best part of six months- and the deaths diminished greatly. Of course, we couldn't keep it up forever, so we had to find a way to help Remus to understand that humans couldn't breathe. We didn't find a way, so I came up with a solution. 

Roman had quite a bit of money saved up, and the two of us had become… close, to say the least, if the evenings spent in his apartment were anything to go by, so we brought ourselves a patch of land up in the Yorkshire Dales, and dug up one of the fields entirely. We made a pool, a deep pool, and I borrowed one of the moving tanks from the aquarium and we transported Remus up to his new home. 

He loves it there, content to splash about, and free to hug Roman and I without fear of drowning anyone. And Roman and I managed to hold down our jobs back in Birmingham thanks to rail travel, even if the long commute was taxing, at times, and eventually decided to get married.

I decided to submit my story to the archives to keep a document of the existence of such creatures, and to put word out that they are not harmful and are not to be killed.

-

My initial reaction would be to discredit this statement as a rather elaborate prank, but nonetheless I had my colleague Virgil do some digging, and he found that Logan Sanders had a doctorate in marine biology from Oxford University. He did work, and still does work, at the Sea Life Centre in Birmingham city centre, and was willing to talk to us again. Virgil requested pictures, which Logan was happy to provide us with, so I had Patton check to see if the photographs are real. Again, the photographs checked out, and Logan and Roman allowed us to visit. After said visit, I can confirm that the squid man, and indeed Roman's cuttlefish-like camouflage, are more than just urban myths.

Recording ends.

@needscaffeine @patton-birdie @sanderssideburns

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[skeptycats]

Vicky Archives #2

FOREST OF SECRETS - A mother’s decision

Vicky Holmes, the former editor of the Warriors series, has been doing short extract readings on Facebook since the start of the UK lockdown back in March. There’s some really cool anecdotes hidden within some of these videos, so I decided to begin penning them down for posterity and easy reference.

I won’t be transcribing filler, hedging and false starts but I’m including some amount of preamble just to be comprehensive.

Vicky started splitting the readthroughs into three parts starting with this one: the reading itself, ‘behind the scenes’ discussion, and topical creative writing exercises. I will be transcribing all three sections under different headers.

#1 Into the Wild | #2 Forest of Secrets | #3 The Darkest Hour | #4 Code of the Clans | #5 Firestars’ Quest | #6 Twilight | #7 Long Shadows | #8 Leafpool’s Wish

---

Hello! Welcome to my kitchen today!

My reading today is going to be from the third book in the first series, Forest of Secrets. This was the first book I wrote with Cherith Baldry. 

For the first book, Into the Wild, we took writing samples from several writers, a dozen writers, even, and Kate Cary was a new writer to my company and to me. We felt like she had an amazing voice and a real grasp of the sensitivity of the cats, a real feel for the story. And that’s how we chose her, through auditions.

For this book, I went straight to Cherith. I worked with her already on a series called Puppy Patrol by Jenny Dale, I think on a couple of other projects as well. I knew her well, I worked with her very well, and I knew that she loved cats, which was good to balance out my natural antipathy towards the feline species. So I just had a hunch she would be great, and of course, she was. 

We’re going to read the prologue:

Cold gripped the forest, fields, and moorland like an icy claw. Snow covered everything, glittering faintly under a new moon. Nothing broke the silence in the forest except for the occasional soft rush of snow sliding from the branches of trees and the faint rasping of dried reeds when the wind swept through them. Even the murmur of the river was stilled by the ice that stretched from bank to bank. 

There was a flicker of movement at the edge of the river. A large tomcat, his bracken-colored fur fluffed up against the cold, emerged from the reeds. He shook snow impatiently from his paws as he sank into the soft drifts with every step. 

In front of him, two tiny kits struggled forward with faint mews of distress. They floundered in the powdery snow, the fur on their legs and belly matted into icy clumps, but every time they tried to stop, the tomcat nudged them on. 

The three cats trudged along the river until it widened out, and they drew level with a small island not far from the bank. Thick beds of reeds surrounded it, their dry stems poking up through the ice. Stunted, leafless willow trees concealed the center of the island behind snow-covered boughs. 

“Almost there,” the bracken-colored tom meowed encouragingly. “Follow me.”

He slid down the bank into a narrow frozen pathway through the reeds and leaped onto the dry, crisp earth of the island. The bigger of the two kits scrambled after him, but the smaller one collapsed on the ice and crouched there, mewing pitifully. After a moment’s pause the tomcat jumped down beside it and tried to nudge it to its paws, but it was too exhausted to move. The tomcat gave its ears a lick, roughly comforting the helpless scrap, and then picked it up by the scruff of the neck and carried it onto the island. 

Beyond the willow trees was a stretch of open ground broken by bushes. Snow covered the earth here, crisscrossed by the pawmarks of many cats. The clearing seemed deserted, but bright eyes gleamed from shelter, watching the tomcat as he led the way to the largest clump of bushes and through the outer wall of tangled branches. 

The icy chill of the air outside gave way to the warmth of the nursery and the smell of milk. In a deep nest of moss and heather a gray she-cat was suckling a single tabby kit. She raised her head as the tomcat drew closer and gently set down the kit he was carrying. The second kit staggered into the nursery behind him and tried to scrabble its way into the nest. 

“Oakheart?” meowed the she-cat. “What have you got there?” 

“Kits, Graypool,” Oakheart replied. “Will you take them? They need a mother to look after them.” 

“But…” Graypool’s amber eyes were shocked. “Whose kits are they? They’re not RiverClan’s. Where did you get them?” 

“I found them in the forest.” Oakheart did not meet the she-cat’s eyes as he spoke. “They’re lucky a fox didn’t find them first.” 

“In the forest?” meowed the queen, her voice rasping with disbelief. “Oakheart, don’t talk to me as if I’m mouse-brained. What cat would abandon her kits in the forest, especially in weather like this?” 

Oakheart shrugged. “Rogues, maybe, or Twolegs. How would I know? I couldn’t leave them there, could I?” He nosed the smaller kit, which was lying completely still except for the rapid rise and fall of its tiny ribs as it breathed. “Graypool, please…Your other kits died, and these will die too, unless you help them.”

 Graypool’s eyes clouded with pain. She looked down at the two kits. Their tiny mouths gaped pink as they mewed pitifully. “I have plenty of milk,” she murmured, half to herself. “Of course I’ll take them.”

BEHIND THE SCENES

So that was the prologue of Forest of Secrets. I don’t think it’s a massive spoiler to say that was Oakheart taking his and Bluefur’s kits into RiverClan after Bluefur, who we know better now as Bluestar, made the terrible decision to give up her kits in order to become deputy of ThunderClan. She knew that a nursing mother would never be allowed to take position. She had to make that ultimate sacrifice. She had three kits, one of them died in the snow on the way, and two kits remained.

Now, when I started writing Forest of Secrets and coming up with the storyline... this series, you have to remember, was very much flying under the radar. It was still just a little series about cats. Yes, we were going to do six books instead of just the one, but it wasn’t selling very well. HarperCollins wasn’t promoting it massively, they didn’t feel the need to. It was just a bread-and-butter series. And because of that, I’m not going to say I was allowed to run riot, but I certainly had a lot of freedom with the storylines, and that meant I could come up with all these backstories for cats. 

It’s so long ago, I can’t remember how I had the idea that Bluestar had given up kits, but I do know at the time I was very personally aware of the conflict between a mother, with young children, and a career. As a parent, and especially, I think, as a mother even in this day and age, you have to make really hard decisions. You can’t be the best mum in the world and the best at your job. It just tears you in half. And I wanted to demonstrate this. It was what I was living through at the time, and I wanted to demonstrate this in my books. And so, I made Bluestar the ultimate career woman, and she gave up her children. With terrible consequences. So that was the first freedom that I was allowed. 

The other great freedom was that I was writing about cats, and therefore I could write about old characters. Now, when you’re writing children’s books, and as you know I’ve written many, many children’s books, normally your protagonist, your central character, will always be the aspirational age of your readers. So, for example, if you’re writing a middle-grade series, which is for ages 8-12, your central characters will be 12, because that’s the age your readers will identify with and want to be. It has this slight glamour for the younger children, and the older readers will think ‘yep, I get them, that’s what I’m living at the moment’. 

However, because I’m writing about cats, cats age far more quickly, obviously, than humans do. So my characters could start off as kits, but within a book they would be apprentices, and then within another book they’d be grown-ups, and having a job, and having great responsibility, including over life and death. And they’ll be able to get married and have children, basically, in the cat world. That meant I could have central characters that aged, and that felt very new at the time, and very fresh. 

Therefore, I was able to have in Bluestar a central character who had not only had children, but she had given up those children for the sake of her job. Including losing the life of one of her three babies in the snow, and then had had to live with those consequences all through her career. And it destroyed her mind. Therefore, in Forest of Secrets and all of the rest of the first series, I was able to show an old character, her mind disintegrated. I think if Bluestar was human we would’ve said she had symptoms of dementia. She certainly had symptoms of massive depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. We don’t need to label it, we just need to empathise. 

We can really see how she was destroyed by giving up her children, and as series one progresses and the trouble with Tigerclaw emerges and she faces losing her whole Clan, it seems to her that her sacrifice was for nothing. And the pain of that is, well, I think it’s probably more than I could contain in words. And both Kate and Cherith, both mothers themselves, just captured that I think, the disintegration of an old person. 

It’s safe to say that for Into the Wild and Fire and Ice, I didn’t love Warriors. It was part of my job, I was working on other things that I much preferred. Didn’t really like cats, didn’t really see where these stories were going... you know, just ‘bash them out’. And that sounds awful, but that kind of was the truth. Forest of Secrets? I fell in love. Fell in love with Warriors, I fell in love with what these characters could do, I fell in love with what I could do with them, and this is when the series became me. Became personal. When I opened up my life onto the page.

CREATIVE WRITING PROMPTS

So I’ve read my prologue, and I’ve talked a little bit about the freedom that writing about cats gave me, and especially writing from the perspective of an old person. If you’d like to use this for your own creative writing today, I’d like you to have a think about writing from the perspective of a grandparent, or someone who’s lived hundreds of years and is looking back over their lives. How would they see the world differently? What sort of extra perspective do you think that gives them? 

Ordinarily, as an English teacher, when we’re encouraging our students to write from the perspective of an older person we often say go interview your grandparents, especially if they’ve lived through the Second World War, because that was a time when society was very different and very alien. We are in the unique position now of living through our own version of that war. Society is different now than it ever has been before, and so what I think might be interesting is to imagine yourselves way in the future, having gone back to living very normal lives, hopefully having families of your own or surrounded by children from your neighbourhood. 

What would you tell them about this time now? See if you can get into the old person’s perspective, would you look back on this and say it was a positive time for connecting with your family and learning the good of the Internet? Would you perhaps be nostalgic? Are there things you might miss about this time? 

But you can also be realistic about how scary it was, especially if you’re younger you might feel particularly that you can’t control it and you don’t know what happens next. I’ll let you into a secret: I’m a grown-up and I don’t feel in control, and I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m very, very worried about my family especially. 

Have a go at writing today from the perspective of an old person. It doesn’t have to be about now, it can be something perfectly happy. Do your bones ache? Does the sun warm your skin? Think about how it would be to be someone else, someone of a different age. 

As well as creative writing you could also look at your own books and check out the ages of the protagonists, check out the ages of your central characters. Do you have any books which present events from the point of view of an elderly person? At the moment we’re all about inclusivity in children’s literature, writing from all the different viewpoints, which is just a fabulous thing and I’m learning as much as anyone else about it. Old people have a lot to say, and it’s worth listening. We have a good perspective, even though I’m not nearly as old as I would hope one day to be. 

#vicky archives #warrior cats #warriors #bluestar #forest of secrets #not designs

[twdmusicboxmystery]

FTWD 6x08: The Door - Details

Let’s talk details of 6x08. I’ll talk about smaller details that back up everything I wrote yesterday. In a bit of a shakeup, this post will probably actually be shorter than yesterday’s. ;D

***As always, spoilers for FTWD 6x08 abound below. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

Parallels to AOW:

Remember how I said we could parallel this to Glenn’s death in AOW? Well, at one point, one of Virginia’s rangers shows up and does Negan’s signature knock, which is called, “Shave and a Haircut.” So, I think that was a purposeful parallel to AOW and possibly Glenn’s death.

Engine Theme:

There was definitely a car/engine theme going on here. With the first car they plan to take, one of the rangers shows up and starts shooting at them, and then the car won’t start. Dakota even says she thinks the bullet hit the engine and won’t start.

Later (different car), it stalls on the bridge. After they kill the walkers, John says a red clip fell off, and that’s probably why the engine stalled, and they proceed to look for the clip. This is actually a super-interesting template to me.

Red = an Easter/resurrection color. So, the idea is that the car “died,” but if they put the red, resurrection clip back on, the car will start/come back to life again.

But the other thing is that right when Dakota finds it, a walker grabs her. That leads to her killing it, John figuring everything out, and ultimately, to her killing him. I feel like there’s a Beth parallel in that as well. It would probably be something from the missing 17 days, so I can’t tell you EXACTLY what it is. But in a broader way, it’s probably that right as Beth is about to wake up/resurrect, a walker horde steps in, which leads to Daryl losing her. Of course, unlike John, she’s not dead. She’s “just gone.”

Diverging Paths:

I’m just gonna throw this out. A Nonny asked me last week about the fact that John and June diverged paths in the last episode we saw and if it could be a parallel to Daryl and Carol doing that in ep 21. Now, when I answered that, I didn’t know about John’s death yet.

And obviously, I don’t think the diverging paths have anything to do with romance or non-romance. But the actual divergence of a close relationship could be a parallel. But all that says to me, if that’s meant to be similar, is that it means that Daryl and Carol diverging paths in the spinoff might lead to one of their deaths. I’m by no means certain of that outcome. But if it’s a thing, I think we all know it won’t be Daryl that dies.

Ties to Leah?

I talked yesterday about John’s line, “this river has a way of bringing people back to life,” right? Well, this is going to be contingent on what actually happens with Leah. On whether we’re right about her being a hallucination or not. But since the river theme is so big in 10x18, I wondered if that line could apply to Leah and Daryl. Just as John’s death will everyone “to life” and get them to fight Virginia, whether real or not, the experiences Daryl had with Leah and along the river while looking for Rick, eventually brought him back to the world of the living, and TF desperately needed him to help fight the Whisper War.

To make it even more complicated, we could see this as pointing to Beth. Beth = water. River brings people back to life. Beth will bring Daryl back to life.

Death Omens for John:

I talked about how John’s dialogue made it clear he was heading for death, right? Well, here are some of the things he said. Early on, he told Morgan, “I’m just not right. I’m just not.” Later, he said, “I’m not meant to live in this world,” which is a LOT like Dale’s final line. And finally, “I just want it to be over, Morgan.” See how those are dialogue foreshadows of his death?

And once again, Beth never said anything like that.

I also noticed that his hat fell off on the bridge, which reminded me of Carl’s death. He puts it back on, but by that time, as with Carl, things are already in motion and the death is pretty much inevitable.

We also have a lot of talk of his dad. Another way this is opposite of Beth is that they say things that make it clear John is not letting go of his past. He says he’s spent more of his life than he’d care to admit, wondering why his father left him. So, he’s refusing to let go of his past and move forward. Refusing to do what Beth and Daryl did in Still.

Remember that Beth told Daryl that if you don’t let go of your negative past, it will kill you. She meant emotionally, but here, we have a literal representation of that happening to John. Super-sad.

And here’s the thing, guys. This is intentional. They’re defining these symbols for us and showing us what happens when people DON’T do this because I think what Beth said is going to be relevant again soon. Especially for Daryl.

Oh, small detail, but he mentioned getting Christmas cards from his dad. On the one hand, it’s just more of the Christmas/Santa Clause theme. But I was also thinking it was an opposite from Daryl. He said he never got nothing from Santa Clause, while John DID get a Christmas card. So it’s yet another anti-parallel.

Replay of Grady:

The first time I noticed this was when they’re on the bridge and one of the walkers grabs John. Dakota takes a gun and shoots the walker through the windshield.

First of all, I don’t think that’s terribly realistic. But putting that aside, it reminded me of all the windshields we’ve seen with single bullet holes in them. Especially the one in 4x16 that Carl was sleeping in, and the one in 5x09 that the camera zooms in on several times.

The other thing is that when Morgan, trying to help John, tells Virginia of his cabin’s location, Morgan says, “Now you can’t go back,” which is a parallel to Rick’s “you can’t go back, Bob” in Coda. (We also heard it at Terminus.)

Also, when asking him to kill her sister, Dakota says to Morgan, “It’s the only reason you’re still here.” The “still here” theme is one we heard several times around the Grady storyline. Carol and Daryl said it in Consumed. Beth said it to Carol in Crossed. A few other times too, I think.

The Door Symbol:

In the “Inside the Episode” bit on AMC+, the show runner, Ian Goldberg, defined what opening the door means for us. This is just a reiteration of what I said yesterday, but he’s talking about how John finally found purpose again in Dakota. In perhaps helping her find her humanity again. Goldberg says, “he finally found that reason to live, that reason to open the door [in Dakota].” So, there’s the proof that “opening the door” = life or a reason to live.

There’s a Bullet theme here.

At the beginning, I noticed that John had 6 bullets lined up on the table. I might have missed one, but I tried to count and I think we see him fire off 5 of them, which means there was one left he was planning to use to kill himself. There’s a parallel there to Lucille in 10x22. I think there’s a lot more to this bullet parallel, though. I’m working on a theory about it. Stay tuned.

I think that’s all I have for today. Anyone see anything I missed?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[blankdblank]

Logical Pt 2

She looked so beautiful with her hair splayed across the pillow her eyes closed, a happy sigh from her dream escaping her slightly opened lips...as well as some drool. The image was locked in the mind of the Elf King who had been among the group bidding you farewell that had caught sight of you asleep passing your room on the garden path this morning through the open window allowing the breeze in.

Three days of searching and getting to know you a bit and there was no pony to send you with as they had assumed your pony had been eaten by the spiders with only location of your lost pack near to where you were located. In a lightly armored Elven robe in deep grey with matching pants and long boots you adored on one of the guards in Rivendell, that Elrond so graciously gifted a set of, you were watched skipping down the path they set you upon to finish your task with your long braid swaying and bouncing behind you.

Off to serve an eviction notice was what your mission was, and alone for the stretch of the forest you followed the path hearing echoes of Elven guards from high branches above growing fainter and fainter the nearer the edge of the forest grew to you. Out into the open rocky plains you trekked hearing no one or nothing around in the moonlit night. Not resting for the night you eyed the mountain in the distance and kept sliding and climbing your way over the maze of harsh terrain to your goal.

Right at sunrise you stopped on the other side of the small bridge crossing the river rushing from underneath Erebor closer to Dale. Specks of embers from a recently put out fire and hushed echoes of commands given were the clues that the Company camping out in the ruined city had spotted you. Hunched over however into your bag you reached unaware of the fiery haired Elleth behind you inching nearer hoping to keep you from a fiery death after having followed you to ensure your safe arrival to your assumed destination of Laketown.

Rising up with trumpet in hand you straightened up wetting your lips. Though before she or the distant Dwarves or Elf Prince coming to find his friend on the edge of the forest could do a thing you let out the start of a wake up call that repeated three times over until a guttural purr was heard through the thick stony gates. Again you played the call then lowered your trumpet you set down on your bag pulling a bundle of folded parchment and a notepad and pen for beside the horn. Growling menacingly the Dragon stared you down baring his teeth only to pause at your foot tucking back for a curtsy to the creature with his head cocking slightly while the Dwarves huddled together in the shadow of a large ring of stones from the collapsed outer walls.

“Good Morning Smaug the Magnanimous, I do apologize for the hour of my call but my business is a matter of urgency and it is best for you to have time to prepare your legal defense.”

“Legal defense?” He asked joining his feet to sit down with his tail flicking around his body like a giant coiled cat in his glance from Tauriel a few yards behind you who bowed her head and tried to straighten up feigning a sense of calm as you had. “And just what court could hold authority over myself?”

A rapid set of giggles from you had his eyes back on you and his pupils focusing on your point at him, “Exactly what I said, Dragon, but, all the same the complaint was filed and the legal I’s must be dotted and every T crossed. So here I am to personally deliver your summons to court on the matter of your illegal eviction of the Longbeard clan and associated relatives and visiting guests and such some 170 years back. In the name of Thorin Oakenshield and the Durin clan you are being sued for the dominion of all properties associated to the rule of Erebor and for damages for said attack used in the fore mentioned illegal eviction to the value of your entire hoard.”

Lifting a foot he eyed the folded bit of parchment that you held out then rested on the ridge of his knuckles without a hint of hesitation. Again you giggled making his eyes snap back to you. “As I said, Dragon, however the papers have been served and you are aware of the charges filed against you now and arrival on the court date mentioned in the claim is entirely upon your decision to show or not, though I will ask one teeny favor, I was wondering if you would take part in a survey we have offered with our services?” His brow arched up and you giggled out excitedly, “The server who gets the most surveys submitted wins a fully paid trip anywhere they want.”

“I suppose,”

“Lovely, it’s just four questions.”

Tauriel behind you looked from you to the curious Dragon whose head tilted wondering what was going on and puzzling how to react. “If you were to smell something every time you or someone around you said the word turbulent what would it be?”

For a moment his scaly lips pursed and his eyes shifted distantly in thought then eased back to you in his response of, “A thunderstorm.”

“Lovely,” you muttered writing down the response making his head tilt again and Tauriel’s brow twitch at the odd question.

“If you had to hear ducks quacking once a day everyday when would you want that to be?” You asked grinning up at him.

“Two hours past noon, right in time for lunch.” He said with a proud smirk flashing his teeth in a spreading grin at his own joke as you giggled when you wrote it.

“If you could only taste one thing no matter what you ate, what would it be?”

“Hmm, I have heard cherries are quite rare in these lands of late. I would choose cherries none other can taste.”

“Fitting.” You said noting down his answer.

“If you could be turned into a group of any animal which would it be?”

“Crane.”

“Very bold voice sir, and might I say thank you for being so amenable to the process, you have no idea what sort of unruly-ness I run into with this task.” Clasping the book shut his eyes followed that hand dropping to your side missing your reach back to the belt around your waist you drew your wand from its hidden sheath inside the fan you tucked there you swished his way turning him into a sea of brilliantly white cranes that took off in a confused frenzy.

You bend to add the book, pen and trumpet in your pack that you lifted then turned to the Company waving your hand keeping your wand in hand to light up the mountain

“You are a Wizard! You told us you were no Wizard!” Thorin barked at you.

“No, you asked me if my stories were Witchcraft. Which they aren’t. You never asked if I was a Wizard.”

He blinked at you reigning in his urge to argue against the true fact that none of them had outright asked you that.

“What did you say to him to keep him from eating you?” Ori asked with pad and pencil in had making you smirk.

Flicking your wand to the dropped bundle of parchment you floated over to Thorin you said, “I informed him that he was being served with an eviction notice and that his dominion over Erebor and its associated lands and hoard were to be confiscated for his illegal means of evicting you and your kin.”

Thorin’s eyes narrowed, “Eviction?! You actually gave a Dragon eviction papers?”

You nodded, “I asked you if you wished for me to serve him eviction papers if you remember, back a month before we found that Troll hoard.”

“I never imagined you actually would go through with it! What is a bit of paper to a Dragon?!”

“No one is above the law.” You replied then turned in the dropping of his jaw to grin at Tauriel asking, “Are you alright? I suppose that was a bit frightening for you, I had no idea you were behind me or I would have warned you.”

She shook her head then glanced to the Dwarves stating, “No. Our King was curious to know if you would be able to safely find your destination.” Your grin eased out and she bowed her head, “Seeing as you have I shall return and inform the King.”

“Alright, safe travels.” She bowed her head again and turning to glance at the men you flashed them a grin on their continued frozen stance for a few moments until Fili led the group into a crashing hug around you thanking you for your aid with the dragon.

@sdavid09​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor

#Tale Teller’s 52 Week Writing Challenge #Thorin #Thranduil #Tauriel #Legolas #Hobbit #lotr