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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

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MariJon Week

Day3: Soulmate/Glasses

Masterlist

Day1 Day2 Day4 Day5 Day6 Day7

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“Lucky Charm” Ladybug called out and a pair of glasses fell into her hand. Quickly glancing around and looking at the glasses. They looked eerily like Max’s new ones, she figured out that it meant that Pegasus would be required. Either she was getting better at interpreting her lucky charms or Tikki was going easy on her today. Catching Chat Noir’s eye, Ladybug discretely showed him the lucky charm. “Cover me, I’ll be back soon” she called out.

Ladybug dashed towards where she had stored the miraculous box and dug out the glasses and popped them into her yo-yo not giving Kaalki as chance to appear. She dashed out to find Max trying to recall where he had planned to be this afternoon. Lost in thought she didn’t notice the Akuma sneaking up on her. ‘Soul Finder’ had Chat Noir within her grasp but needed Ladybug closer to get. Soul Finder aimed at Ladybug to zap expecting her to materialise next to Chat Noir.

“Look Out!” Chat Noir called just as the zap hit Ladybug.

Unexpectedly, Ladybug did not appear next to Chat Noir, giving him time to escape as Soul Finder ranted over the fact that Ladybug and Chat Noir were not soulmates.

___________________________________

Jon was with Damian as they walked Titus around Wayne Manor grounds for an early morning walk. He loved visiting his friend as the grounds were secluded, he could practice his flying and throwing a ball super far for Titus to chase. The pair were discussing the latest Avengers comic book and discussing the realistic-ness of it all.

That is until out of no-where a girl in red materialises mid-air and falls straight into Jon’s arms with some force. As Jon caught her a bright golden light encompassed the pair. Damian had to shield his eyes rather than reach for a hidden knife that he so desperately wanted too.

Within the light Jon and Ladybug found they were unaffected. The pair gazed into each other’s blue eyes. They could have been there for a second. They could have been there for eternity. Ladybug in Jons arms. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Eyes never breaking contact. The feeling of their souls singing to each other. Humming an intricate entwined tune only they could hear and feel. The warmth that bathed them as they had found an unknown missing piece. Someone who would accept them. The whole them. All the jagged rough edges. The flaws and imperfections. The perfect person who would celebrate their strengths and balance out their weaknesses.

Soulmates their hearts sang.

MY soulmate.

my SOULMATE.

It was with this understanding passing between the pair that the light receded.

Damian grabbed his hidden blade at the first opportunity and moved into a defensive stance he barked at the intruder. “Who are you?! How did you get here?!” As much as he wanted to attack, he was reluctant to with his friend still in his attack path holding on to the girl. He knew that he was unlikely to hurt Jon, but he was reluctant to risk this invader know that it was Superboy who had caught her.

It was with Damian’s harsh tone and Ladybug's yo-yo ringing that the soulmate pair were able to begrudgingly broke eye contact. Ladybug picked up her yo-yo to answer the call.

“Oui? Chat Noir, non... Errr... je ne sais pas... Oui, mon ame soeur... d’accord, je serai rapide!”

“Who are you?! How did you get here?!” gritted out Damian again.

Closing the yo-yo Ladybug looked at the pair, still in Jon’s arms though he no longer was floating (not that she seemed to notice the fact).

“I’m sorry. Je suis desole. I’m Ladybug, an ‘soulmate’ Akuma sent me,” she looked around and finally took in that she was in Jon’s arms. Blushing she continued, “to wherever here is.” She gave Jon a small smile as she made her way out his arms and started to fiddle with her yo-yo again. “I truly am sorry, this was an unintentional drop in, but I need to go and deal with this Akuma.” She pulled at a pair of sunglasses and put them.

“Kaalki merge” she cried out as a different light washed over her leaving her standing in a new look. “Thank you for the catch,” looking bashfully at Jon she smiled, “When this is all over, is it ok if I come back and we can talk soulmate? If that’s ok with you?”

Ladybug mumbled something and a portal open.

“JOn!” She turned to Jon with a curious look. “My name is Jon. Yes! Please come back. Are you going to be ok? What is happening?”

“Check out the Ladyblog – it’s a Parisian blog which will keep you updated and give you info. I do really need to go. See you later Jon.”

With that she disappeared leaving Jon pulling out his phone and a frustrated Damian.

“Kent! Explain!”

“That was my soulmate! Ladybug is my soulmate. Oh my Gosh! My soul mate is a hero!!”

Damian and Jon watched the battle via the blog Jon had pulled up on his phone. They could see that the heroes were having issues. Ladybug’s partners seemed out of sort as they tried to comprehend that she had a soulmate out of their team. The final straw was when Ladybug took a hit due to her partner being distracted.

Jon grabbed his phone, “Watch on the bat comp if you want. I can’t watch anymore she needs my help!” and in a blur he rushed off.

“Just remember to change Kent!” Damian shouted after him rolling his eyes at his friends' antics.

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“Pegasus!” Ladybug cried as jumped off the roof which Soul Finder crashed their giant weaponised rose upon. He went to open a portal for her to fall into when a red and blue blur caught her and flew her up into the air.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Superboy grinned down at Ladybug in his arms yet again for the day. Looking up at him, Ladybugs eyes opened wider in surprise. Blinking in shock allowed her brain to catch up with what was happening. “Jon?” she whispered. With a subtle nod, “Superboy in this outfit though” Superboy grinned down at her.

Ladybug scrunched up in a quick thought and suddenly all the elements aligned. The glasses weren’t Max’s though very similar; they were Jon’s. Grabbing Kaalki meant she could get back here quickly was a bonus. Her plan wasn’t working as it was missing a key element. Jon. Superboy. Her soulmate. With a devious grin forming on her face. She quickly explained her plan to Superboy.

With Superboy now in the fray with Chat Noir and Pegasus with her, they took the Akuma down no problem.

“Bye bye, little butterfly. No more evil doing for you! Miraculous Ladybug!”

Ladybirds flew around repairing the damage as Ladybug went to comfort the Akuma victim.

Chat Noir and Pegasus went to join Superboy while they waited.

“So, you’re her soulmate. Hmmmm. I’m Chat Noir. Her PARTNER. You best treat her right or you’ll be a pile of dust after I’ve done with you. Let her know I’ll catch up with her on patrol. I need to dash.”

Chat Noir gave Superboy one more once over before vaulting away. Pegasus looked him over analytically.

“Pegasus. Thank you for your help. Surprisingly it was needed. I may not be Ladybugs permanent partner, but I have no qualms helping Chat Noir even if it’s only to erase footage of your downfall if you hurt her. She means a lot to all of Paris. More than you will ever comprehend.”

“Errr Hi? I’m Superboy, but I think that you know that. I think. Yeah, ummm I met her today due to that thing. Are they common? And I don’t intend to hurt her intentionally. You don’t need to worry about the shovel talk, but I truly believe you when you say you’ll destory me...”

Ladybug walked up to the pair halting the conversation between them smiling at them both.

“Hi,” she started almost shyly, “I’m going to take Pegasus back, but ummm, if you’d like Superboy we could maybe meet up on the roof over there and talk about what just happened?”

“Sounds good,”

Superboy watched as the pair zipped away before flying to the roof Ladybug indicated.

___________________________________

As Ladybug landed on the roof, yet again a flash engulfed up and Superboy had to look away. In her place was a petite girl and a floating blob. Thing.

“mmmm, Hi Jon, Superboy. I guess I should introduce myself properly. I’m Ladybug, hero of Paris, Guardian of the miraculous or currently I’m Marinette. This is Tikki who helps me transform into Ladybug.”

Jon got a dopey look on his face. She was cute. Very cute. Especially as she seemed to be a contradiction of nerves and stubbon determinism. Quickly checking his phone to see Damian blowing it up with messages, he turned it off and directed all his attention to Marinette.

“Hi Marinette, you kinda know who I am. Its nice ta meet ya officially though. Did ya fancy grabbing a coffee or something before I have ta go? Would be nice to meet my soulmate properly.”

Grinning broadly back at Jon, Marinette nodded.

“I know the perfect place for coffee and pastries. I’ll show you! Oh umm do you mind flying us off the roof?”

Jon beamed and took her up in his arms again. He loved holding her. To him this was a perfect way to be with Marinette.

#maribat #maribat au #marijon week 2021 #jon x marinette #marijon #marinette x jon #ml x dc #dc x ml

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zordonmlw7 · 3 years

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Plaguetober Day 2 - Protect 🛡

The dim glow of the campfire illuminated Sir Alfharis as he tried to warm himself in the cool fall night. He’d cloak himself in his cape, but it was currently being used by one little girl curled up, leaning against him.

“Run!”

His voice still haunted him. Memories of how the two got here flashed in his mind briefly. He wasn’t ready to relive them. He figured he should at least think of a plan of what to do with her.

He glanced at her face. It was peaceful. Was she truly at peace? He found that hard to imagine. But if peace was still a hope for her, he begged with every ounce of his being that she could find it.

SNAP.

His train of thought interrupted, he instantly went on high alert. Not another threat. Not today. Had they not suffered enough? Was a lifetime a pain condensed to a single arc of the sun not ENOUGH?

Alfharis unclasped his cape and stood slowly, not wanting to disturb the girl’s sleep. He unsheathed his blade and took on a defensive stance. It was probably safer to run, but he was exhausted. His sword wavered in his unsteady hands. He’d sooner die protecting her sleep than risk waking her up to find another thing wanting her dead.

The creature that threatened them soon grew close enough for its eyes to shine in the dark. Alfharis recognized them immediately. He had fought them many a time before. Never alone, though. Always with his band.

Thoughts of his compatriots brought him to tears. Captain Gawain. Lady Primrose. Sir Peter. His name stung the most, tugging at his fast beating heart.

The beast stepped forward. It was definitely a big one. Perhaps the goodbyes he had bid his siblings-in-arms when he left the ransacked village was premature. Faced with an opponent this menacing, it was apparent that he would be joining them soon enough.

Still… there was her. She deserved a better fate than dinner for an ungrateful beast. He charged the beast, trying to plunge his blade into its chest. He managed to penetrate its thick pelt, but was knocked by a powerful swipe from its claws before he could even break bone.

Alfharis knew he couldn’t let the creature notice her. He immediately slashed at its flanks from the floor. The beast let out a low growl and tried to bite his thigh. Though pinched by the pressure, his armor protected him from having his flesh torn. With what might he could muster, he jerked his leg out of the beast’s mouth and rolled a bit away from the campfire.

Again trying to keep the creature’s focus on him, he slashed at its tail, near the base. He must have got a good shot in, because the creature let out a wretched yell. The tail swiped at him in retaliation, but the creature was clearly in too much pain from the wound to do any real damage.

Alfharis took the opportunity to raise himself onto a knee and then slashed at the tail again, this time closer to its end. This managed to successfully provoke the creature, as it finally turned around to face him properly.

“Good luck, kid.” Alfharis thought before bolting into the darkness. He frantically looked behind him, hoping that his plan had succeeded and the creature was following him, away from the campfire and the young girl it was meant to protect. Two glimmering eyes, harder to make out in the darkness, followed him.

As he ran, he tripped over a root. The ensuing tumble robbed him of his last wind.

“Darn…” he thought. He had hoped to put up more of a fight for his grand finale. But in this state, he could barely move. He was too sore. All he could hope for now was for the creature to quickly finish him off by biting his neck like an efficient predator. They were not exactly creatures of efficiency though. Quite the opposite, in fact. They had a reputation across the continent as vicious killers who made a bloodbath of their victims. They adored playing with their dinner. But maybe Alfharis would get a miracle.

And a miracle he received.

From the darkness, a burst of flames blasted the creature. Though the flames gave off little light, they burned bright enough for Alfharis to make out a masked figure. It seemed to be holding an apparatus. After the first burst of flames faded, he heard a foot step forward followed by the sight of a second burst of flames. The creature fell to the ground and the masked figure continued to bathe it in fire with its apparatus.

Alfharis let out a long sigh of relief. He heard the figure swiftly shift its stance in response.

“Thank you…” Alfharis spoke slowly. Truly, he had no way of knowing if the masked figure meant to save him. Nevertheless, he felt it was safer than letting the figure think him a threat.

The figure stood quietly before finally speaking. “Do you need help?” It had a soft voice that seemed to echo a bit. It reverberated like when one speaks into a mason jar.

“Admittedly, I do,” he responded earnestly.

He heard the rustle of footsteps and shuffling and managed to find the figure’s hand, reaching for him in the dark. With its help, he was pulled up to his feet.

“I’m looking for someone,” the creature informed him.

“I… see?” Alfharis said. It seemed his gratitude was being cashed out immediately.

“A little girl. Have you seen one?”

“I… have.” Alfharis worried about what the figure’s intentions were for the girl, but also feared the consequences of lying to someone holding an apparatus capable of shooting fire. “Why do you seek her?”

“She is my daughter,” the figure said.

Daughter? He had thought the girl was the only survivor of the raid. Well… not counting Alfharis himself. Perhaps some had managed to escape?

“Where is she?” the figure asked.

“She’s just over here.” Alfharis led the figure to the campfire where the little girl continued to sleep, despite all the noises made during the battle. Even now, he hesitated to wake her, but if this was truly her mother, then she deserved to be reunited with her.

As the two walked into the ring of light created by the dying fire, he was able to make out more of the figure. The creature wore a black suit which, when coupled with its mask, covered every inch of skin. What stood out however, was the figure’s brilliant cornblue hair sticking out from the back of its mask. As Alfharis mused over the unusual color, the figure removed its mask, revealing more unusual features: periwinkle skin, spiked ears, and glassy eyes with dark blue sclera lacking any iris or pupils.

“A fae?” Alfharis said aloud.

“A changeling,” it corrected him. “Just like her.”

Alfharis looked back at the girl. Black hair. Dull ears. Olive skin. She certainly looked nothing like the changeling in the black suit before him.

“We changelings do not raise our young. We leave them among the mortals to be raised by parents whose children died in the womb. Normally, it would not be time to collect her. However, without her caretakers, she would surely die. So, I must take her back with me to the realm of the fae.”

“What awaits her in the realm of the fae?”

“She will be my plaything, as all my children are. Admittedly, I’m not sure how exciting she will be to play with when she is still not ripe. However, she may surprise me! We shall have to see.”

“A… plaything? She’s a child. Do you truly see her as only a toy?” With those words, Alfharis began to reach for his sword.

“Well not only a toy. Sometimes, I like my children enough to stay friends with them even after moving on to a new child to play with. After all, those who I don’t befriend usually try to kill me. It’s the only way to inherit in the faerie court, you see. And so, I usually have to kill them first. If another opportunistic offspring doesn’t beat me to it. The blood game can be its own kind of fun, after all!

But it is so dreadfully peaceful at the moment. I could not bare it any longer. It’s why I don’t just wait to see if she manages to survive on her own a bit before fetching her. Or just have another kid and wait for it to grow up. After all, they only take 28 years to ripen.”

Alfharis did not know what to do with any of this information. All he knew was he could not allow this young girl to fall into the changeling’s hands.

“Please… she’s only a child. You cannot subject her to that,” he pleaded.

“Really now? Are you trying to ransom a child off to a fae?” The changeling rolled its eyes before digging in its pockets and pulling out a sack of coins that she tossed at Alfharis. “Here. This should be enough human gold to appease you.”

Alfharis eyed the pouch with suspicion. But upon inspection, it contained 12 gold pieces. That would be enough to keep Alfharis set for years, if not the rest of his life.

“I cannot accept this,” he said.

“More? Ugh, you humans are stingy. I can’t imagine you would have gotten more from selling her, but nevertheless…” The changeling pulled out another sack before Alfharis stopped her.

“No. I cannot accept this because you cannot take her. She just lost the only family she ever knew. The home she grew up in. An entire village of culture and tradition. She deserves a chance to mourn the life she knew before being thrust into one of entertaining an immortal and risking being killed by a sibling looking to claim their inheritance.”

“You mortals are so dramatic. Look, if you thought the carnage at that village was tough, just wait until you see me when I’m bored. Don’t you wonder why immortals reproduce? It’s not because we’re worried about the death of our species. We are so well established, we could never have another child again, and I’m sure we’d still outlive existence itself. The reason we reproduce is to witness the amusement that is life! Now. I am returning home with a companion. Hand her over.”

“...A companion you say? That is all you seek?”

“Yes! Have you humans changed language again so much so that you don’t understand me?”

“Does the companion need to be her?”

“Huh? An interesting question. No, not really. An animal certainly won’t do, though. I tried them eons ago and they stop being interesting after only a few weeks. I need an intelligent creature. Which I’m hoping she’ll grow into soon enough.”

Alfharis got on one knee. “May you take me in her stead,” he said.

“Oh? Fascinating. You are aware that a mortal who chooses to reside in the fae realm is condemned to it forever, right?”

“Please. I have nothing left in this world.” He once again thought of Sir Peter, who sacrificed himself to the onslaught of raiders so that Alfharis and the girl could escape. “Saving her… her whole village, really. It should be my last mission. And even if I failed the rest… If I can protect her, then perhaps our efforts won’t have been for nothing.”

“Yes, yes… So you are fine being my plaything?” It clasped his face with its gloved hand.

“Yes… I ask just one thing.”

“What is that?”

“I will not leave her side without a guarantee of her safety.”

“Well that much is easy!” the changeling exclaimed. Crouching over her, it patted her head, causing her to shimmer slightly, all without disturbing her sleep. “A charm! It will protect her from all bodily harm.”

That easy? Could the fae have blessed the villagers, preventing this tragedy? Were his compatriots slain for nothing? Alfharis refused to dwell on this line of thought. Alfharis took from his satchel a quill and parchment and left a note for the girl telling her of an inn she could stay at. If she showed the owners the crest on his helmet, which he proceeded to remove and place over the note, he was sure they would let her stay. He stuffed the satchel with the packs of gold given to him by the changeling and with that, his preparations were complete.

“Alright, I’m ready.” And with his signal, the changeling led him away, to the world of the fae.

#plaguetober #plaguetober2021 #bruh i was expecting this to be shorter than my day 1 entry #i didn't even know if I would be able to make my 1k goal #i somehow hit 2k words in this one #HOW #probably because I put filler in accidentally #oh well #shut up zordon

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blankdblank · 3 years

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Ash Pt 7

“Oh,” escaped your lips in a near collision with Celebrimbor’s chest that had you flash him a quick grin and say, “Sorry, lost to my thoughts.”

“Not a trouble at all, Your Highness.” However his eyes sank to the new chain around your neck that had his lips part to the obvious antler pendant that was a twin to his old friend’s he wore around his own neck. “Might I ask, Your Highness, where did you get that necklace?”

“Um, well, I don’t really remember. Just always sort of had it that I can recall. Apparently according to the chest it opens it means Thranduil is, well, that I’m, his One?” you asked through an awkward flash of a grin on how to word it right. “At least that is the term he used in explaining it to me. Everyone has one, a One? I don’t fully understand how to say it properly, among other things.”

Sloppily his smile had been spreading to your fumbled try to be calm and accepting about this new development in this monumental find for the once so hopeless King now set for a brilliantly bright and cozy future with such a kind considerate One to scare off his sorrows and miseries. “You have expressed it plainly and without fault. I congratulate you on this discovery. Truly now that this is discovered it may aid in planting roots here amongst our kin had you any doubts on comfort here.”

You nodded at a loss for what else to do and then asked in a glance at his fishtail braid draped partly across his chest in a slump from his shoulder thanks to the large bow on his back. “Would I be allowed to braid my hair back tonight? Last night everyone seemed to have theirs loose, and mine can be a bit hard to keep managed it seems while dancing, and drinking.”

“Wear your hair how you wish, Queen Jaqiearae, however you find comfort and ease. Shall you wish for one of our best amongst Ladies Maids who might assist you with a style of our culture to try something new?”

“That, doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Wouldn’t want to walk in with a bad braid to pair with the gowns and crown Thranduil and the Seamstresses designed for me.”

Promptly he nodded and stated, “I will send word at once and they should be at your dwelling promptly,” and in the click of the end of his bow to his quiver he was off and you turned to see him round the corner.

Softly saying, “Thank you,”

And true to his word the Master Smith was off to inquire about a hairdresser for you of the best they had to offer while on his larger plan to spread the news as rapidly and as far as he possibly could before the celebration would kick off adding another layer of elation to the occasion. By the time you had exited your quick bath in a plushy robe around your towel the pair of Elleths had arrived and with a joint cautious curtsy asked permission to get started and together they guided you to a stool and once you’d removed your hair from its wrap to keep it dry during the bath they got to weaving it into a regal style that would suit your look and not trouble the swan crown that again you would be wearing.

“What is this I hear of your informing the kitchen staff of the opening of King Thranduil’s trunk of Ones he was gifted?” Glorfindel asked with chest puffed out in a means to try and diffuse this situation he had no inkling on how the Smith had discovered this without listening through the apartment doors to their conversation with the King.

Celebrimbor’s wide smile returned in taking notice of his friend’s clear internal knowledge of this fact, “Queen Jaqiearae herself shared the news with myself on her way to prepare and I am returned from passing on her request for aid with her hair for tonight.”

Glorfindel raised a brow, “She wished to look special?”

“There was an inquiry on if a braid would be socially acceptable for this occasion. I am not aware of what style she might have been intending to try however I suggested our stylists might aid in help for a style from our culture.”

Glorfindel, “And you took it upon yourself to share the news?”

“Yes,” the Smith responded plainly. “Why? Upset that I spoiled your own plans?”

Glorfindel sighed and said, “I have to ready for tonight.”

Celebrimbor simply smiled wider and followed him asking, “And just what do you have planned for tonight?”

“I cannot share my plan.”

“Ooh, now I am doubly interested.”

“Contain your interest these are sensitive matters and if the Queen has informed you herself then I shall allow this to pass.”

“Mhmm, I will follow up on this.”

“If I am successful I will have some news sharing of my own.”

Pink, again backless with straps zig zagging across the back of the strapless gown that from the hip down was heavily ruffled that to an extent spurred an urge to twirl and send the wild ruffles about your legs hugged you to perfection leaving you without far of a single shift or slip. To go with the additional strand of alternating glowing round lasgalen stones and yellow sapphires to fill the gap between the lone strand and the chain with your key necklace that somehow felt wrong to remove before morning the swan crown you were given sat securely on top of the lovely braid the duo had helped to wrangle your stubborn curls into. Now past your hips that star speckled ebony curls hung in the braid that was wound up with lengths of ribbon and jeweled clips and pins topped with shimmering feathers.

Again entrance to the grand entrance hall where the stream of the celebration would begin left you frozen on the other side of it. Deeply a breath flooded into your lungs and gave you the strength to press onwards and take those steps to enter. Again the announcement of the title came and with it more smiles and stares than before that you didn’t expect and in glances to the new addition to your neckline the reasoning became clear. It seemed the news was out and to the assigned seat beside the light red robe clad King you moved through the crowd to claim it when it was moved back for that purpose. Compliments were traded once both King and Queen had taken their seats and Lord Celeborn headed the speech for tonight, after which a timid sip of wine was taken.

But dancing again though found a second glass downed and smiles out again with King who slipped for yet another dance between pre chosen dance partners for both. The light of the stars however in a pass between dance floors focus was lost until a voice drew you back to the present. Lord Glorfindel who smiled as he asked, “Would you care for another drink, Queen Jaqiearae?”

When your eyes met his a simple shake of your head was his first response, “No, thank you I am attempting to limit myself until I am more accustomed to wine.”

“There is more to offer besides wine, should you wish it.”

“Thank you all the same.”

“I take it your last night must have been weighty to cast such limits on the second. How might I ease your concerns, please do share what has troubled you, truly there is not much that could have occurred the night prior one of us in our youth has not faced in becoming accustomed to our vast supply of wines.”

Clearly he could spot the hint of reluctance and mask of a smile that had him more certain than ever your words were a farce. “I seem to have lost a break from the dance floor to a goodnight escort from the King.”

“Most often those blanks that even I have encountered will fill in, do not feel such weighty rules are required. No judgments will be made your friends are here to watch over you and ensure safe return to your rooms each night.”

“That is very kind of you, however, I cannot risk repaying all your kindnesses by ending up a fool in front of my new friends.”

“You will never be a fool and never have been or ever will be. What do you remember?”

“If anyone was to remember the gap King Thranduil might, and he has made it clear he doesn’t.” That had the Lord smirk in the turn of your head to the arrival of the Elf who had requested your next dance who you nodded your head to and then said to Lord Glorfindel, “For now, if you’ll excuse me, time to bound.”

While you were off to the dance floor on his heels he turned to find Thranduil in his own dance. Right up behind the King in timed back steps between the couples he strode light on his feet while he leaned in to lowly state in Doriathian that only he would know after a check of who was around him to know which dialect to use for optimum secrecy. “The impression of ignorance you gave was too convincing.”

Over his shoulder Thranduil glanced at the Lord asking, “Would that not be the intention of feigning ignorance in the first place?” Continuing to dance while the Lord moved along to avoid an overlap of paths between couples before the lift that followed with a chance for him to come back to the King’s back right after.

“Not when the Queen in question was in wait for word that the King in question recalled said events to act upon them again and is now rationing wine to avoid a second instance where she may yet be rejected a second time.”

“Re-,” wide eyed in a frustrated huff the King glared at his friend then turned with forced softer expression to his partner in the lift.

“Toss a hint,” Glorfindel added then slipped away to leave the King in a whirl of a dance both physically and mentally.

Dances and a few more glasses of wine led to another escort to your apartment door. “Hint,” the word echoed in the King’s head all through the night and into the morning from his breakfast to the stroll in search of the Queen in question. Upon being found in transit from a stroll to view the lingering colors in the sky over the dew cast pastures by the stables his hand like silk eased itself around the bared wrist closes to him. In a pivot your head turned and the tension in that wrist relaxed to the known sudden captor with a deeply king gaze to the request of, “I am required for a few tasks, however, would an hour past noonday be acceptable a meeting time for our meeting to approach our clock again?”

The look would have been enough in the hint of a tilt to his head in a means of a try to plead silent on top of the request, like a giant fox cub who was trying to use its adorable face to its own advantage. And up you gazed at the King who had given a bat of his lashes around those eyes that you now realized where you had just seen the color after having since that first meeting had been in search of, sunlit dewdrops. The moment of speechlessness almost had him drop the hold directly. Yet the prickle of a blush that crawled across your cheeks held his hand in place to hear, “Yes. That would be a fine meeting time.”

Promptly he nodded and the firm hold his hand had taken went slack. From the wrist his palm and finger shifted through a glide of fingertips along your palm they traveled under to the pat of his free hand on top of the back of your captured hand. Terribly formal this was not a casual farewell gesture and if there could be any means of mistaking the meaning of the act as anything that could pass between someone who intended to just be a friend onto the back of the knuckles upon their lift he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss. Again the palm on top placed to coat the back of the captured hand that in his retraction step was released to a feel the same as water run off of skin, suddenly gone but the warmth of its contact still lingering. “I shall not hinder your amusement, and await our time together.”

Long as possible those eyes were locked on yours still on him through and after the responding nod until to his body’s full turn away they left you to turn stoic again with just a means to soften once they fell upon you again. ‘Success’ had been murmured inside his head to the unmistakable gesture of a hint. Kiss for a kiss to hint a clue familiarity of contact was welcome. Yet alone nothing but crickets sounded in the ears of the stunned Queen whose released hand sunk to curl and be coated by its twin in front of your belly.

“Your Highness?” The voice itself would have made you jump as you had nearly onto the steps to your right you had just entered from that called the hand of the sudden arrived Lord Celeborn that held you from a surely painful tumble down to the wet earth of the pasture you had been captured leaving. “Forgive my startling you,” he added to the resettle of feet underneath both shoulders in shocked means to find stability again. “Are you distressed? There was a puzzling expression on your face.”

“No,” you said in a sharp shake of your head for a terrible try to feign calm for the Lord peering down at you with his halfway slumbering middle child draped across his shoulders and head on their way to an early ride on their pony his other hand kept upright and from a fall to the sway of feet down his chest. “Just, distracted in thought. Excuse me, I won’t keep you.” His head gave a subtle nod to yours in a move to have the child again flinch upright like it hadn’t nodded off again to see your path down the hall opposite where the King had gone in his released anchor of a hand’s drop to his side again.

“Come now, my guiding wind, to the stables.” He hummed to the child in a mental note to discover the dilemma later by means of questioning his friends for the latest whispers about the King and Queen to form a fuller question until the former could be questioned in detail.

Public breakfast followed by a fitting for more gowns that were completed and just in time for the assigned meeting for the next session on the clock you were outside the elk etched doors to the King’s apartment. Hastily with a flick of your tongue across your lower lip your hand rose to curl up and give the left door a pair of knocks. The door did open after what seemed to be a clear sign that no one was home. However it merely opened a crack and curiously your head tilted only to see an Elleth with a bucket of supplies for the fires she had been tending that nearly swung into you in its slide around the door who gave you a quick nod of her head and stepped aside stating, “My apologies, Your Highness, I did not expect anyone on the other side of the door.”

“I, did knock, maybe not loud enough?”

“These doors are of enchanted wood, normally we crack doors open to knock when required. Or if you were to feel uncomfortable opening the door there are the drawstrings to announce yourself.” She said with a glance up that brought the loop on a woven chain that went through a small opening in the stained glass mural above the doors attached to the bell mounted on the inside of the doorframe identical to yours that you somehow hadn’t realized how to use the feature for other people’s apartments.

“Oh, thank you for telling me. Should have noticed that…” To her ease through the opening beside you on your step in uncertain of what else to say you turned to take hold of the door that from the corner of her eye she caught the timid ease of the door shut again. Uncertainty as to if you were alone here or not was broken by the sound of a glass being filled and a deep sigh that had you creep further into the apartment past the empty rooms to the doorway of the same sitting room that sat open revealing the King who in a nudge of his glass he had just set down the fingers of his other hand tapped the back of his chair. From the clear tries to distract himself Thranduil’s head turned with wide eyes and brows lifted to the timid knock you gave to the open door.

“Ah, I poured us some juice, are you thirsty? I presume your fitting ran late.”

“Thank you, for the juice. No, I did knock, I didn’t know about the bell and the muffling wood enchantment.” You accented with a point to the front door.

“I apologize, I must have forgotten include that note in the tour.”

You shook your head and said, “I’ve seen the bell at my door, it just never clicked in my head somehow.”

Just a moment he looked you over taking in the latest outfit he’d yet to see then his body flinched to ease your chair out that you crossed the room to settle into. “Fortunately you were only left waiting a few minutes and we have ample time to work before the lunch my latest undercook is preparing for us to fuel the rest of our time until the clock decides we are meant to stop again.” Your eyes were already on him when he settled into his own chair beside yours and looked to you to suggest, “Afterwards I was curious if you wished to go for a ride through one of our more scenic pathways to show you a bit more than just the palace.”

“Ride, ride how?”

“My Elk Tuo agreed to carry the both of us, if you are not open to that we may always take a ride later when you are willing.”

“As long as it won’t be fast, last animal I rode on was a sheep when I was little and that was entirely accidental.”

That had him grin to himself imagining that fumble and ways to have landed you wide eyed latched onto the back of a sheep for a slew of adorable imaginings of a tiny awkward and mishap prone you until the day of the bartering that inevitably landed you here. “I assure you Tuo will not push your comfort level and has given rides to Estel even and several young fauntlings, or Hobbit youth, while we stay in Lothlorien quite often, there is no doubts on my part for his gentle nature for timid riders on their first try.”

To a nod you said, “Sure, I’ve seen a few maps here and it seems a bit like the Palace is where everything is centered and there is just trees left to the animals around it at least to my view.”

“Precisely the reason to begin a few tours of the forest to acquaint you with the full workings of this kingdom to make you feel more at home. We will even cross one of our guard points that tomorrow if you wish we could arrange a treetop tour of that post watch platform if you wished.”

“Platform, you have guards in the trees? What if they fall?”

Grinning at you he said, “Centuries of training and several safety measures. Each branch is no less than ten yards across. And our trees give warning before they stretch or rearrange their branches to any within their hold.”

After a pause and confusingly blank face his brow rose then dropped to your saying, “Maybe, that would probably be the last thing I do to get used to being here.”

Softly he chuckled to himself and nodded, “Understood, and will not trouble any of our other tours there is ample to show you yet. We have barely scratched the surface, why even our far northern villages would be open to a tour, they have quite lovely ground level markets and guest areas amongst their tree top dwellings reserved for just their approved citizens, though of course should you master your tentative reluctance to climb our miles of staircases you would be granted a tour of their finest hidden gathering areas.”

“Because you would be bringing me?” You asked.

And he shook his head, “Not at all. Our forest has been whispering about its new Queen, quite favorably and they would welcome anyone who is seen favorably in unanimity of our trees who house and protect us and our loved ones.”

“Oh,” that had you nod again and in the sink of your eyes to his bent arm half rested on the table and the arm of his chair his head tilted in concern for what he might have said to upset you.

“Jaqiearae, what have I said?”

Again your eyes rose and after an open and close of your mouth you drew in a courage bolstering breath and asked, “When Estel got here, you had on armor.” To that he gave a nod and you asked, “What exactly would you need protection from?”

“Ah,” that had his hand move to shift and lay over the back of yours on the arm of your chair and he shared a bit on the warping of captured creatures into Goblins, Orcs and even Trolls that paired up with Wargs on occasion and to calm what he felt to be a justified raised pulse he added, “Rarely do we face attacks. Merely the pathways from Rivendell through the mountains have been uncertain as of late thanks to the shift of control of certain territories that Men have lost and been in a means to regain that require extra security for transport of travelers and goods.”

“And you’re, a good fighter? Certain people the King has to be the best, others the King is not put in danger, by my reading.”

“I am amongst our best warriors. Those who have fought in the Kinslayings do outrank me in skill by the spare centuries of war waging, but for those who fought beside me in the Wars of Wrath we are vastly higher in skill than those who were not alive in that age. I would not carelessly wage war or endanger myself or our people, ever. Rarely I join on guard but merely to remain present amongst any issues those on patrol might face.” His eyes scanned over your face in the nod and forced grin you gave him. “I promise you risking another loss in your life or that of my son’s will never be a welcome notion. I will avoid it at all costs. Have you learned any means of defense as a child?”

“Um, my cousin taught me how to use a slingshot and tried to show me how to be his sparring partner.”

“You learned how to spar?” he asked with brows risen.

“No, I held the sheet filled bag he punched and kicked, he taught me how to duck and weave to amp up the difficulty for him. So, fairly useless outside of magic.”

“You will never be useless. Duck and weave is quite an admirable foundation to begin with. Should you wish to revisit and expand upon those lessons we would be beyond welcome to assistance for those lessons. If anything to simply make you feel more at ease with a means to defend yourself if necessary.”

“Maybe after the feast. Hate to spoil the gown designs by showing off the bruises I no doubt will be receiving.”

“No one will bruise you, not one.”

“I jumped over a log tripped and hit my head on a root, no one has to bruise me at all I am quite adept at it on my own. Tuo can confirm.”

After a hinted playful gaze and huff he said, “Whenever you are prepared we shall arrange lessons for you.”

From the selection what seemed to be the base of the clock you continued to work the pieces in that stack together while from the head of the Elk Thranduil worked his way down. Around the legs of the clock rocks, interwoven roots and leaves came together, all in separate clumps that fixed together to overlap. “There is a second head…” Thranduil mumbled and lured your focus from your own pile to see the second head between his fingers.

“Well then there’s either two elk or there’s two headed Elk on the clock,” you teased and he chuckled and looked down to shift his fingers through the pieces to find the next one he needed. To the snap of another leaf to the root section you had just completed you asked blindly, “So, is there any other steps after the clock that we have to cheat death on?”

Aloofly you had asked and through a smirk he replied in an amused hum, “None such as the trunk. Each pair face their own tasks in realization as to their path ahead, however the trunk is the lone requirement by the Valar for Ones to complete together. I do believe we are making admirable bounds in completing each stack at this pace.” His eyes again shifted to scan over your puzzling expression. “Was it a hope of yours to have another task?”

“Just interesting, one person from the pair gets the chest.”

The underplayed hint of jealousy had him smirk and then hum, “Feel free to invent a challenge of your own for us to complete or a task you wish for me to undertake on my own to make up the slight to your side of the bond.”

“Careful, you may regret that offer not knowing what I might come up with.”

“I highly doubt I could ever regret a notion born of your imagination.” He said with a lingering smile laced gaze that you held still absolutely confused as to what this bond between you now meant and if that was why he had kissed your hand earlier or if he had remembered the night when you had kissed him and now felt with the bond he was forced to. Gently however the move of his free hand over yours lying on the table snapped that train of thought to a halt, “Choose whatever your heart wills and I will do my best to not disappoint.”

A cleared throat from the doorway however had your heads turn and his hand to retract for a sting until the motion was used to answer the cook’s announcement that the meal was ready. Up he stood and moved to help you out of your chair with hand offered again once yours were free to guide you to the table that had a hearty lunch to fuel the rest of your day until the feast would begin.

Pt 8

@devilishminx328, @fandomsstolemylife00, @lilith15000

#Thranduil x OC #The Hobbit #Night 2 #Give A Hint #Day 3 #Clock Session

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lieraburaaisuh · 4 years

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The Lady In White [Prologue]

Synopsis:

When the ghostly figure of a strange jedi appears on the field of battle, wielding twin white lightsabers, no one is quite sure how to react. For the droids she’s just another target. For the Jedi she’s a potential Darksider. But for the clones on the front lines she might well be a goddess.

Liera isn't sure how she came to be in the middle of a battlefield. The last thing she remembers is hiding out in an abandoned temple of dubious origins. But when she feels the fading life force of a nearby sentient all speculation is tossed aside. For Liera is and always has been a healer, and she has a job to do.

Warnings: General violence, loss/grief, and war. Some romance in later chapters, both m/m and m/f. There are hints of clonecest as well in later chapters and the side stories, although nothing explicit.

Note: This is the Third Story in my Series; The Ties That Bind. I will be adding the First and Second stories here soon. As well as the AUs spawned from this long project.

Staring at the stark white helmet laying on its side just out of reach he grimaced in confusion. Everything around him was a haze of blaster fire, cacophonous sounds of battle that rang out across the dusty battlefield. Searing pain radiated through his body, starting at his midsection. Hand trembling he reached down and pressed against his abdomen. Gasping in agony he tries to curse, but all that comes out is a gurgling cough of red foam. Closing his eyes he swallows down the metallic tang and lets his head fall back to the ground. Even if he could be saved there would be no one coming to find him until the battle was won. With a shaky breath he tries to gather his resolve but falters as another cough wracks his broken body.

‘All I want is to live. To see my brothers safe and happy.’ He wonders if it’s too much to ask. He knows that under the Republic he doesn’t have the right to wish for it, but it’s all he desperately wants. Darkness clouds the edges of his vision and a startling cold is slowly creeping through him. It isn’t enough to make him feel numb but it is almost comforting.

Just as he’s finally given in and accepted his fate, praying for his brothers and silently reciting the names of those he would soon be joining, a bright flash of light nearby draws his dull gaze. Pure white, blinding in its purity, fills his field of vision and he wonders if he might have lost his ability to see altogether. But then he should be seeing nothing at all, shouldn’t he? A gentle touch against his cheek make him choke on a gasp of surprise. Had one of his brothers come back for him? He knows he will not last long. He’d seen the absolute ruin of his digestive system, knew his lungs were at least punctured. There was no saving him now. But at least, at the very end, he could be with a brother in his final moments. Someone who would remember him not as a random clone, a number, but as a person who lived and fought and died. A true soldier.

He thinks they might be trying to get his armor off but he can’t be sure, everything feels so distant. A gentle voice calls out to him, sounding wholly unfamiliar but clear as a bell. “Shh, be still. I won’t let you go, I’ve got you.” Slowly a feeling he can only describe as a warm cloud chases away the cold numbness suffusing his body. Is this what the final few moments of death are like? Had his fallen brothers felt peaceful right before the end?

The warmth becomes a scorching heat and he cries out in pain. Gasping he opens his eyes and is confused by his ability to see so clearly. Hovering above him with an expression of intense concentration is a humanoid of a species he’s never seen before. Their skin is a milky white and their long hair is a pale pinkish blonde that reminds him of rose gold. Glowing lavender eyes, a sharp splash of color on an otherwise blank canvas, catch his gaze and hold him captive. There is passion in those eyes yet it is tempered by serenity.

As if noticing his newfound lucidity the humanoid gives him a small smile that is both reassuring and kind. “You won’t be dying today, little light.” There is a gentleness in that voice he has seldom heard in his life and it is both beautiful yet unsettling. “What is your name?”

Focusing on the words he comes to the conclusion that the one holding him is a woman. Maybe it’s the way her voice reminds him of a song or maybe it’s the feeling in the air around them. He can’t decide. But he knows he’s right.

“C-Clip, Sir.” He doesn’t know why he tells her his name and not his serial number. It just feels right.

“I’m Liera. Nice to meet you, Clip.” Slowly the warmth begins to ebb as she takes her hands away from his forehead and chest. Around him the sounds of battle reassert themselves as his awareness snaps back into place. He nearly jumps as he realizes they’re still in the middle of the engagement.

Movement behind the woman catches his eye and he has no time to think about why he’s suddenly able to focus, why the pain is no longer present. From behind the scattered debris of a downed gunship a super battledroid stomps closer, guns aimed at the two of them. Clip’s eyes go wide. Instinct kicks in and he grabs his gun, pulling it up and aiming it at the enemy even as he lays prone. “Look out!” He yells, hoping the woman gets out of the way in time.

What happens next leaves him breathless in awe.

Before he’s even finished crying out in warning the woman is on her feet, head turned to face the threat. From her hands twin blinding lights erupt as the droid opens fire. With the woman standing directly between him and the clanker he dared not take a shot, the risk of hitting her was too great. But as she began to move the gun lays forgotten in his lap, his mouth falling open to gape in surprise. From one moment to the next she went from standing in front of him, almost defensively, to carving the droid into multiple pieces of slag. The bolts hadn’t even slowed her down on her way. She’d either dodged them or deflected them.

Clip had seen jedi on the field before, usually from a distance. But he’d never had the chance to watch one up close like this. He tracked her movements, unblinking, afraid to miss any second of the awe inspiring display. Looking at her weapons as she spun then in her hands he had a moment of confusion. In all the stories he’d heard the jedi’s weapons were always one of two colors. Blue or green. But the twin sabers in her hands were both blindingly white. They lit up the air around her, bathing her in a halo of light. Her long hair, which fell down her back and stopped at her knees, shimmered like silken metal as the blades passed by in a sweeping arc.

With the droid turned into a heap of rapidly cooling scrap on the ground she thumbed her weapons off and clipped them to her belt. There was a look of disgust on her face as she turned away from the broken droid. Turning back to him, her expression softened, though her eyes were bright, appraising him carefully. Swallowing he sat up, trying to straighten as much as he was able. As she walked back to him she stopped, eyes darting down to the helmet at her feet. Almost hesitantly she picked it up, dusting it off as she did so.

“Do you need a hand up?” She asked, sounding a little lost or maybe tired.

“No, General. I’m fine.” Her face scrunched in confusion as she held out his helmet for him, to take with trembling fingers. Getting a better look at her now that the excitement had died down he wondered if all jedi looked as strangely as she did. There was no braid behind her ear, like the Padawan Commanders, but she had braided the hair at her temples and tied it back, keeping the majority of her hair out of her face. The robes he’s been trained to recognize are conspicuously missing. In their stead she is wearing a white blouse with sleeves cuffed at the wrist, a pale cream colored vest that hugs her slender curves, and fawn colored tights to match the sash-belt around her waist. A bright splotch of color draws his attention to her left arm and he blanches at the streaks of dark red soaking into the white fabric.

“Sir! Are you injured?” He blurted, getting to his feet with his helmet in one hand and weapon in the other.

“What?” She follows his gaze and sees the blood on her sleeve. “No, the blood isn’t mine.” She looks back up at him in concern and he can’t figure out why. It takes him a little longer than it should have to realize why. Looking down at his body he sucks in a breath. With some of his armor plates missing he can see the large gash in the black undersuit. Blood stains the area but he feels no pain whatsoever. Where once he’d been able to clearly see his own insides there is nothing but perfectly unharmed flesh. Like the last ten minutes had never happened.

“Wh-what?” The squeak that leaves his mouth is wholly undignified as his mind reels, trying and failing to comprehend the new information. Tearing his eyes away from his whole, unharmed, abdomen he gazes down at her with no small amount of awe. “How?” He whispers, almost afraid to ask.

“I used the Force. I’m sorry about the pain, I had to extract shrapnel from your wounds but I don’t have any medical supplies on me a the moment.” Well that sort of made sense to him. The force wasn’t really something he really understood so he just nodded.

Seeming content with his response she begins scanning the area around them, her eyes giving off a faint light as if lit from within. If she hadn’t just saved his life he might have been disturbed by it. As her eyes slid out of focus he knew she was no longer paying him any mind. Either she was seeing something he wasn’t or her mind was currently elsewhere. She came back a moment later, her eyes flicking up to him then away again. “I can feel more weakened life forces nearby.” She stated plainly.

Letting out a small sigh she looked at him fully, mouth a thin line and eyes apologetic yet determined. “I’m sorry I cannot fight with you. I have a duty to the dying and the injured.” In Clip’s opinion that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. If she hadn’t felt responsible for the wounded then he wouldn’t currently be alive and well.

“Don’t worry yourself, Sir. We can handle the fighting.” Her brows knit as a frown tugs at her peach colored lips. She looks like she wants to say something but gives up a moment later. For a jedi he’s surprised how expressive she is. After all the jedi are meant to be calm and serene at all times, showing little or no emotion.

“Force be with you, Clip.” Nodding at him she turns away and runs off. In the distance he can see a fallen brother, leaning against a chunk of rock and head bowed. Clip hesitates. He should be rejoining the fight, taking out as many seppy clankers as he could with his brothers. But… if she was going to help the injured she wouldn’t be able to protect herself at the same time. The sudden urge to watch her back finally overrode his urge to get back to the fight. Jamming his helmet back on he followed behind her at a jog, eyes peeled for danger. With her short stature it wasn’t hard to catch up quickly.

Kneeling next to the wounded trooper she placed her hands on his helmet to remove it but had to back away when the man startled and flailed. Crouching next to her, in front of his brother, he reached out and gripped the man’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Slick. The General is here to help.” Relaxing when he realized he was in no danger his brother allowed his helmet to be removed without any more fuss. Giving him a curt nod of approval Clip stood and kept watch, scanning the surrounding area for danger while the jedi worked her magic.

From this side of things there was nothing special to see as the woman placed her hands on Slick’s forehead and chest place. Only her eyes and the feeling in the air seemed to change at all. Vaguely he recognized the feeling of warmth from his own healing but now there was an undercurrent of something else he couldn’t quite place. An emotion that welled up inside him and filled him with strength… Glancing down at his brother he took in the expression of awe on his face and it clicked.

Hope. The feeling she gave off was hope.

A lump formed in his throat and he had to swallow multiple times to force it away. Tearing his eyes away from the sight he focused on his task, his thoughts tumbling over one another. When was the last time he’d felt this hopeful?

The healing only lasted a few minutes but it felt much longer. Finally the jedi pulled her hands away, giving Slick a small smile. “You’re well enough to move now. I’ve fixed the worst of your injuries but I need to save my energy. You’ll need a medic later for the more minor injuries.” Getting to her feet she stepped away from Slick to give him room to stand and turned her focus back to the battlefield. Like before her eyes began to give off a faint glow as they became unfocused, as if she were seeing into the very fabric of reality. For all he knew- she was.

“Alright Slick?” he asked, reaching down to help his brother to his feet. The awed cross dumbfounded look he got in response to his question made him grin. It took his batch mate a moment to form words.

“What the shab was that?” Clapping the man on the shoulder he looked back at the jedi with a shrug.

“I don’t know, the force?” Slick gave him an unimpressed look. He laughed and switched languages. “All I know is that she’s helping brothers, and if that’s what she’s going to do then I’m going to watch her back.” Slick nodded thoughtfully and slipped his helmet back on before picking up his own weapon.

Without another word the woman was suddenly off running again. If she’d heard their conversation she gave no indication of it. But she hadn’t given them any orders to return to the fight or stay away from her so they took her silence as acceptance and followed, on guard and ready for anything.

They made their way across the battlefield, meandering and sometimes backtracking. It honestly made no logical sense to him but he supposed he wasn’t the one with the mysterious powers. He couldn’t be sure what she was seeing that he couldn’t so he chose to trust she knew what she was doing and follow her lead.

Every now and then they would pass by a wounded brother and her expression would turn sad. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you right now.” The words sounded as if they pained her to say, like she was truly sorry she couldn’t stop their pain. But they were all highly trained soldiers, they understood triage.

The longer they remained with her the more brothers joined their group. At one point Clip almost laughed at the absurdity of it. They had acquired nearly an entire squad at this point. All they needed to do was find a Sergeant and they’d be set.

There were a few hairy moments where they had to stop and fight off an unexpected attack from a group of droids but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. While the jedi wasn’t as skilled as Generals Skywalker or Kenobi she was still a jedi and held her own with no trouble. The fact that she wielded twin lightsabers and cut down the droids with almost vicious intent just boosted her approval among the vode.

The only thing that was a little odd about her was her hesitation when it came to moving debris out of their way. She went out of her way to either carve a hole through it or go around it, whereas their General would have just flung it away like it was nothing. She seemed almost bashful when she explained that her control of telekinesis over inanimate objects was sorely lacking. So while she could lessen the weight of the large metal slab in their way she could not actually move it any significant distance. It took four of them together to lift the slab she indicated was in between them and their trapped brothers but they were able to move it with her assistance.

The moment it was out of her way she bolted inside the wreckage and fell upon a trooper who was covered in blood. Immediately she removed his helmet and was closing her eyes to focus on her task as the two less injured brothers eyed them curiously. Clip let the others explain as he watched the general, concerned by how desperate her movements had been. Sadly his suspicion was proven correct when her hands fell away from their fallen brother. She stared down at him, the air around her filled with a profound silence and grief he could practically taste. It was their first loss. Gently she reached up and closed his eyes, placed his hands over his chest, and set his helmet on the ground above his head. Bowing her head she clasped her hands together, as if in prayer. “Faas nihar juehaa. Mielhaas hiif aouul lalleea.” The words were spoken in a soft yet reverent voice and were absolutely incomprehensible to him. Looking at his brothers he wasn’t surprised to find them equally at a loss.

When she was finished she rose gracefully to her feet. The skin around her eyes was tight but her eyes burned even more fiercely than before. “If you have respects to pay then please do so. But I cannot stay here any longer. There are more lives that can be saved.” She took a deep breath and let it out again, adding a quiet, “I’m sorry.” In those two words he could hear the depths of sadness she felt for the loss of one clone and it left him breathless. There were far too few sentients who viewed them as people in their own right. But even as he and his brothers were trying to wrap their heads around it the jedi was already on the move.

By the time the battle came to a close the jedi had saved forty-one of their brothers from the jaws of death. They lost three of the men she tried to save and he could tell each loss affected the woman deeply, but she didn’t let it stop her from moving on to the next life that could be saved. If there was anything that could convince Clip the jedi were the uncontested good guys in this conflict, this did.

Orders came over the comms and they all relaxed when they realized it was over. They’d won the day and were all expected to report in. The medics were already collecting the wounded. Relief swept through them. Even the jedi gave them a bright smile from the ground before she was finally pulling her hands away from her latest patient. Sidling up next to her Clip took off his helmet and attached it to his belt, holding out his hand to help her up.

“Thank you, General. My brothers were saved because of you.” Looking up at him she gave him a kind smile and took his hand, allowing herself to be lifted to her feet. As he helped her he couldn’t help but feel that something was… off. She was moving slowly, stiffly.

“I’m glad to help. Now then, we should… be…” From one moment to the next her presence diminished and she was falling.

“General!” He cried out, catching her before she could collapse to the ground. Carefully he lifted her into his arms, sharing worried looks with his brothers. Her body was completely limp, head lolling to the side. Placing his ear against her chest he could hear her heartbeat and felt the rise and fall of her lungs. Letting out a relieved sigh he cradled her unconscious form to him.

“What do we do?” He wasn’t a total shiny but Clip was still fairly new to the 501st. He didn’t know what the procedure was for a jedi suddenly falling unconscious for no damn reason. Thankfully Lieutenant Rotor was among the group who’d decided to stay back and protect her. Already he was barking orders into the comm and calling for an emergency transport back to the Resolute.

Someone offered to take the general off his hands, but Clip refused to let her go. Covered in dried blood and dirt, her hair tangled and messy, she was still one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Maybe more so, due to how little she seemed to care about her appearance over helping them.

“Don’t worry, General. I’ve got you.”

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real-fanta-sea · 5 years

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Red thread trash - AU Trikey fanfic

Hey! I promised to upload my fanfic here as well - find it right below the “Keep reading” button. Let me know what you think about it - your feedback fuels me like anything else :) I included some minor hints of pop culture/literature every now and then and generally had a great time writing it even though it’s still short. I plan on updating it soon so if you like it, stay tuned :) Chapter 1 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense “You are sick, dickhead!” That was all she was able to spit out before shutting the door with such force all the yellowish photos on walls thumped the disgusting, bleached out wallpaper they were attached to. It was getting dark and a sharp sound sent shockwaves through creeping silence of the night. Tired street lamps gave out eerie orange light which sculpted everything in soft outlines and gave a fine monochrome touch to washed-out colours of the early evening. Dust, startled by the outburst, sat back on surfaces it originally sat on, creating a delicate icing on the ugly cake of an apartment it was in. It was full to the brim, filled with dying cacti in flower pots, virgin self-improvement books, some of them sealed in original plastic, action figures, statues, souvenirs from places so distant and abstract no one ever heard of them, old calendars and along with dozens of empty ball pens an assorted clutter of a bachelor. It was a miracle the small, one-room apartment did not explode with everything stored inside. On the wall next to the door, the landline phone decided to commit what it’s silent owner contemplated for years and fell down from the holder, and hit the ground with an ugly crunch. The sound made the owner snap from lethargy. Up to now, he only stood in the middle of the place, staring at the door emotionless.

He felt nothing but a gentle touch of the street light and bags under his eyes growing heavier. When he heard what happened to his world link, he blinked and with a sigh, he took a step forward and hanged the phone back to the holder, inspecting it only to find nothing broke so far. “There, there, not today- You’ll outlive me, little friend” he let out a raspy mumble and rub back of his neck with his other hand. He didn’t feel anything out of ordinary. His back hurt a bit from the lair of his improvised bed and his sedentary job - the latter was most likely the culprit there, but he wouldn’t admit it. His stomach rumbled angrily through the thin skin and onto the fabric of his shirt - two cups of ramen a day were not enough to shut it anymore. His nose was full again - and the dust irritated it as much as it annoyed him. Yet somewhere deep inside him, the void seized power a long time ago and he didn’t give a shit about any of these things anymore. For the life of his, he couldn’t bring himself to grieve the recent loss of a lover either. People always came and went, he thought to himself. People always used him. Cheated him. Played him and inevitably left him when he needed them the most. They left him miserable. Vulnerable. Hurt. He didn’t need nor want them anymore. He abided them. He just wanted them all to die a horrible, gruesome death and if possible, to watch the whole process from the first row, bathe in their cries and pleading and enjoy his utter shortage of fucks to give with a wide grin on his face. Aaand it would make the show so much fun if he got to sprinkle his popcorn with a bit of fresh blood! Hell, if he murdered his shrink first, he would help more people than that stupid jerk ever did in his life. Come to think of it... Suddenly, before he could slide any further on his twisted spiral of thoughts, there was a familiar pressure on one of his feet and a soft purr vibrating against his shin. He blinked the mental image of creatively mutilated psychologist away and eyed his pet with a soft smile. The tomcat which settled on his foot was one of the new members of the pack as he prefered to call his furry companions. It gave those obese fluffy balls of fur a feral glamour of feared predators they might have shared with their ancestors. In reality, his pack preferred the luxury of being fed three times a day and shedding hair on his sweatshirts while sleeping wherever they collapsed. The tiny apartment currently held six members including the human one. They were all flawed to perfection, collected from behind the bars and given a new life. John Silver, the tomcat, curled up securely on his master's barefoot, lack one paw to be a complete, light grey cat. He probably lost it in a scientific experiment which went tremendously wrong and accidentally involved an electric can opener and children of his previous master. He never meowed about it but other cats knew anyway. Then there was Jude Hardy, a brown cat who smelled so bad other hissed anytime at her anytime she came close and made her spend life under the kitchen sink. Johny Lemmon had shotgun scars visible through his tabby and white fur - he got them for meowing too loud. Somewhere under the blanket on a bed was a tabby named Ulysses who lost his tail and ear on his way home one day in an accident. Right beside him slept his sister Sybile who was terribly short-sighted and bumped to anything when she attempted walking around the flat. She was there when her brother was hit by the car but there was nothing she could do to prevent it as she didn't see it coming. The only human left in the pack was named Trevor Philips.

With a cat in his arms, he made his way through a maze of full bookshelves and sat heavily into an old armchair, fidgeting to find the perfect angle. Nothing could ever compare to a fuzzy feeling of love he shared with his pack. A soft touch of fur soothed him in a way his prescription pills would never do. Trevor raised his eyes from a purring bundle of joy he held and run his fingertips down its spine, scratching and gently stroking every now and then, completely lost in his own palace of thoughts again. There’s still a couple of hours left till next dose, he thought to himself. He vividly remembered the first week he was forced to medication - a wild roar of anger and disgust from being put on a schedule, from becoming a number not worth anything else but chemical alternation. He hated every touch of an old, naphthalene smelling nurse or the bull kind of a doctor who forced his jaw open to the point it snapped on one wonderful evening. He always had himself for a person not bound by any chains or rules. His persistence in breaking rules and spitting medicine was legendary. Heck, he did it for fun. It gave him all the attention he never had and fuck people who had to pay for it with their health of job. However, one day, he woke up a different person. The mighty, untamed creature he once was was gone, and the only memory it left were nail scratches on sterile white walls of his cell and a variety of body fluids mixed and smeared all over the ceiling in a brutal, honest impersonation of Michelangelo’s chapel. The day the beast went missing was a breaking point. The world he woke up to was void of bright colours. Every bit and piece of his existence felt detached, taken aback, abstract. He would always recall the feeling of cold liquid under his bare feet and a horrid smell that brought him to senses. He never asked the doctor how long he had stood in his own faeces nor did he ask why he pissed blood. He would never tell him. Instead, he got yet another dose of medicals. And he obeyed this time. And every time they came he accepted it. Trevor knew too well they broke him and shaped him like a piece of Tetris puzzle so he could fit in the line. He knew he lost himself in the process. But since he got separated, he couldn’t bring himself to care. And when they eventually let him out of the bright white hell, when they dressed him in a cheap second-hand suit and gave him a small place to live, he didn’t rebel. He obeyed. He followed the lead. He spoke to his shrink. He got a pet. He got a job. He drank water. He ate. He slept. He shat. The same fairy tale noir of a lonely life on repeat forever. He fit the line too well. Trevor let his hand slip from Silver’s back onto an armrest. Orange coloured light from outside mixed with neon from a place he could see through a narrow alley which led to his block of flats. A bright red, intrusive and obscene. A moth trap set up with fresh meet every week, he thought to himself. He eyed the place from his armchair and looked around. His last love interest came from that bar. All she left behind was a used toothbrush in a plastic cup on a kitchen sink, a pair of bob pins under the bed and lingering smell of cheap perfume piercing everything it touched with a brutal force. She was not that different from any other woman he ever knew. Each of them wanted money and stripped men of it by shaking their asses and burying faces into their sagging cleavages. Even if they did not admit it, be it high-class wive all glamour and chic or a grey mouse of an accountant in his shithole of a job, they all were miserable whores, bitches not worth a dollar yet they would surely kill for it if given a chance. They all wore insufferable perfumes and fake smiles that made his blood boil. Unfortunately, when he got a job as an assistant in a small branch of a Fleeca bank, he had no idea the place would be full of such creatures. He recalled the first day of work with a sigh, being yelled at for not bringing a latte for accountants, then for not fetching paper clips fast enough, and then again and again till he was let out in the afternoon, completely stripped of dignity and quite frankly, he didn’t even have the energy to sustain one at given time. Now that the fifth year of his atonement passed by, all he wanted was to burn the place down as a celebration. He hasn’t done it yet. His favourite coffee mug was there and he chose not to risk such a loss. The red light took over and illuminated his way when he carefully put Silver down and took a couple of careful steps towards an old cupboard and let it moan its screech into the night. With a light chuckle, he grabbed the colourful box realising they made his mind work in schedules and tech plans. He never put it on the same place two days in a row when he first came there. Now it had its fucking place right beside unused penis-shaped pasta he received in secret Santa game at work a couple of years ago. They had their place too. Never moved an inch. Trevor popped the lid and slid an elephant worth of pills into the palm of his. Funny how everything looks like candy a second before you start tripping balls. He knew the thrill too well. Fishing a dirty glass out of the sink, filling it with piss some still called water and swallow it like an obedient little bitch he was. Good, good. Let them keep you alive or let them kill you in ways which are not as fun as drugs. As he felt the chemicals taking rule over him, everything was good somehow. The room swayed. The colours exploded. He fell on the bed. Good. Good. Good.

#gtav #fanfic #alternative universe #trikey #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic

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tomxpayne · 4 years

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some day, one day | self para.

WHO: Tom Payne. MENTIONS: Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Tiny mention(s) of; Andrew Lincoln, Norman Reedus, Katie Cassidy & Demi Lovato. WHEN: February 1st, 2020. WHERE: At one of the local bars. WARNING: Just some “light” cursing.

In a quiet night like it was tonight, the bar was definitely not the option you would find Tom to be at. He would have come home late from work, have a nice, relaxing bath and after that, he would relax in bed with Demi and their pets, maybe watch a movie or talk until after midnight, get carried away with words, memories, future plans. Tonight was not that kind of a night though. The man left work earlier than usual, leaving Lili to take care of a couple of things and close the store and he went straight to the nearest bar. It was definitely one of the nights he rarely had but definitely needed. When he walked inside it was not very busy, there were a few people there and it was decent quiet, which he liked. The man made his ordered and when it arrived, before taking a sip he played a little with the glass on his hands, after the first sip his mind went into the future, started making different kind of thoughts. And that was the moment a familiar voice interrupted it. ➖ “Holy shit now that is someone I was not expecting to see here.” Tom’s eyes looked up with a smirk on his lips, happy to hear the familiar voice and seen Jeffrey joining him at the bar. “I know, right? I ain’t that lame after all” the man joked with a soft chuckle before taking another sip from his drink, noticing that without even nodding the bartender had brought one for Jeffrey as well. “I see you come here often” he commented with a raised brow. “Nah,” Jeffrey said taking off his leather jacket. “I just made clear once that the moment I walk in, everyone does their job correctly” he simply explained to him and Tom nodded, not needing more information from the other man. ➖”So, what the fuck are you doing here?” Jeffrey asked. Tom frowned a bit. Why wasn’t he home? Thinking that kind of stuff with the peace and quiet of his nice bed? He sighed before started speaking. “I have a dilemma,” he told him and Jeffrey chuckled. “Welcome to the fucking club, man” he commented with the familiar, devilish smirk on his lips. “I--” he paused not sure why he was so worried to talk openly about that. He knew Jeffrey for years and the two of them had shared a lot of things in their lives. He tilted his head on the side before taking a breath and just let it all out; “I want to propose to Demi” ➖ “Holy fuck” Jeffrey immediately replied without second thoughts. “Excuse my fucking French but Tommie boy, you are not even in a fucking relationship, what the fuck are you thinking?” he asked confused trying to understand what was going on inside his head that night. Tom sighed, he was expecting that reaction, that was the same reaction his little voice was keep saying inside his head. “Don’t you think I already know that?” Tom asked before finishing his drink and ordering another one. “I know that” he added. “I’ve known Demi for years, she was the first person I ever trusted after what happened between me and Jennifer” as rare as it was to talk about his past, it felt so good doing that now, maybe it was the alcohol on his system or maybe it was the need of talking to a good friend. For his own surprise though, Jeffrey was carefully listening, not interrupting, not making small, silly comments about the whole situation. So, that encouraged him more to continue. “I tried so many things since my engagement was canceled” he shrugged. “I was so lost in the beginning so I thought to change. I moved miles away from home, I changed my lifestyle and yes, I was sleeping with everything that was moving” he chuckled and so did Jeffrey. “It was not just a phase though. I liked being free but at the same time I was with someone while I was not, you know?” Jeffrey nodded positively. “It started as friends with benefits with Demi and I only wanted that because I truly believed and still believe she deserves something better than a vegan hippy who sleeps around with every female and male in town” he continued. “But I truly love her” he said while looking at Jeffrey now. “I do” he added. “She is the only one who can bright my day when everything goes shitty” he explained. ➖ “But you are too scared” Jeffrey added and Tom nodded positively. “I am” he said. “I don’t know how she feels, I can’t just walk back home and be like, hey i want you to be my wife, shit like that don’t work like that” he sighed. “And this is why we start from the relationship” Jeffrey teased a little, trying to light up the mood a little bit. “Yeah” Tom agreed with a nod. “But it feels more than a relationship to me, you know?” he asked and Jeffrey nodded knowing the feeling all too well. “Love. It fucking sucks man” Jeffrey commented and Tom chuckled. “Tell me about it” he shook his head. ➖ “Your situation will be fine though. Now how the fuck do you fully commit to someone when you are too fucking scared for the commitment itself?” Jeffrey asked out of the blue and Tom looked at him like he was seen a ghost. “Are you thinking of proposing to Katie?” he asked. “No.” Jeffrey boldly replied. “Well,” he shrugged. “...No” he said again before finishing his drink. ➖“Yeah you are” Tom commented not able to hide the smile on his lips. “Tom, no.” he said. “Ah, duh! Yes you are” Tom continued trying to make him say it out loud. “Okay fine, you fucking win, you fucking weirdo vegan Jesus” he joked with a chuckle and Tom laughed. “You cursed the shit out of me so it’s true!” he commented. ➖ “What is holding you back”? Tom asked curiously. Maybe if he listened to Jeffrey’s story it would help him make a decision as well. Or well, not being that confused. Jeffrey sighed. “How do you marry someone without the whole marrying thing being involved?” he asked him and before he got the chance to reply, Jeffrey continued; “I was the complete opposite than you and Demi. I didn’t want someone just for my pleasure, I had that anytime I wanted to. We were friends with Katie before but the fucking spark man. That fucking awful shitty thing that is called spark. She got my attention since day one. She never was like the other women I’ve met. Never scared to take risks, fucking fearless, a badass, a woman who can stand by herself and gives no shit for other’s opinion” ➖ “You really needed a woman like that in your life” he commented with a shrug knowing that Jeffrey agreed with that. “If I ever left Katie on the alter she would have haunted the shit out of me until she found me and cut my balls off” both men laughed with that comment but also both of them knew it was the truth. “People have a lot to say and they can think whatever the fuck they want but I’m not scared of the commitment, I have that. We have a family, she has my kids plus two adoptive daughters, she accepts and loves me for whatever the fucking reason she does it but...You know me damn well, Tom. My reactions...” He paused taking a sip from his new drink and Tom made a gesture with his hand, asking him to stop there. “You haven’t had that for so long though and yes I know what you are going to say that it’s possible to happen but like you said, you already have the commitment and you’ve been great, sometimes you could be an ass but you are making progress. Where the fuck is the Jeffrey who would have been like, nope fuck that and jump already on the next chick ruining everything?” Tom asked and Jeffrey laughed “Thank you for reminding me how much of an ass I was in the past...things I had” he joked while shaking his head. “But I know what you mean” Jeffrey nodded. “We both are very confused and that is totally acceptable” Tom commented. “I am afraid of the rejection and Demi’s feelings towards me and also if I’m moving too fast and you are afraid...well, of yourself but both of us need to work on those things” he continued. “All I know is that you are happy and I haven’t seen you like that for a long, long time. Like, truly happy. You are not the same man I met and that is so beautiful, Jeffrey” the other man smiled. “Yeah” he agreed. “I haven’t felt like that since....Oh damn,” he chuckled. “I want to say since I met Hilarie but I left her at the alter so...” ➖ “Stop” Tom chuckled gently slapping his arm. “Stop point yourself as the big bad wolf, the awful guy that hurts people, you are not that person and yeah, you did that but it was for the best” Jeffrey looked at him a bit confused. “I know it sounds awful but it would never work out with you and Hilarie. Maybe it would have turned worse, you don’t know” ➖ “ She was pregnant, Tom” Jeffrey sighed. “And you didn’t know. Stop being harsh to yourself, stop telling Katie that I was bad once so that’s my destiny. It’s fucking not” He didn’t know what got into him but those were things that Jeffrey should have to think about it over and over again and put it inside his head and Tom was there to help him and he hoped that Jeffrey’s attitude would change and stop pointing himself as the bad guy. “All I want to say is that it was ages ago, you changed, you grew up and you should focus on the future. For Katie, your kids and for your own sake as well” he ended his sentence there and shrugged taking the last sip from his drink. “Is it my fucking turn to give you a wake-up call” Jeffrey joked but appreciating the honesty that Tom showed to him. Not many had the balls to do it. “Yeah I guess” Tom joked. ➖ “Okay good,” Jeffrey said. “You are afraid of yourself too” Jeffrey threw that sentence to him and Tom looked at him confused but before he got the chance to speak, Jeffrey continued. “You are scared that your future, maybe, engagement will fail” ➖ “That’s--” Tom trailed off but the other man continued. “Those are the thoughts of holding you back not your fear of Demi not feeling the same fucking thing, for fuck sake’s she melts every time you enter the room,” he told her and noticed Tom had a serious yet confused look on his face. “You know it’s true” Jeffrey added. ➖ “I’m more afraid of ruining everything than myself” he confessed. “I’m scared of losing, Demi. In general” he said feeling good that he finally said it out loud. “But you fucking won’t” Jeffrey replied. “Even if it’s not a say yes to the fucking dress, she would want to be with you” he continued. “Tom, man, she has the fucking spark I have when I look at Katie” he couldn’t believe he was using terms like that, but it was the only way to throw some sense into his head. ➖ “And you’re telling me that you haven’t changed” Tom commented shaking his head, there was a smile on his lips that couldn’t be hidden. “How did we end up like this?” Tom asked with a chuckle. “I thought we had bigger balls” he commented and Jeffrey laughed. “When it comes to love, the balls fucking disappear, you become so fragile and so many feels are hitting you, you want to do the right thing but in your fucking head you think you are doing the opposite and mess things up.” “Tell me about it” Tom nodded. “So...What the fuck we are gonna do now?” Jeffrey asked and the two men looked at each other. “Pay the bill, go to the nearest hotel so we won’t bother our housemates and wake up the next day with an awful headache, drink some black coffee, go back to our homes and...man up?” He asked while looking at him. “Sounds good” Jeffrey agreed. “I would try to text Katie but can’t see shit” he said. “Wait ➖ “ Tom said pulling out his phone and texting her himself letting her know they are together and not in a situation to go home. “Done,” Tom said after pressing send. ➖ “How the fuck you see what you’re typing?” the man chuckled. “Ain’t that drunk...yet” Tom laughed. “So...” Jeffrey sighed before continuing. “That was some real talk” he added. “Yeah, it hit the feels not gonna lie” he confessed. ➖ “Fucking same” Jeffrey agreed with a nod. “Wish Norman and Andrew were here, they would be so proud” Tom giggled. “Or make fun of us” ➖ “Nah” Tom replied. “They would be proud” Tom said again. “How the fuck do you know that?” Jeffrey asked. ➖ “ Because they would know tomorrow big decisions will be made. And that we won’t see shit with the same view and eyes”.

#Some Day One Day

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missbrightsky · 4 years

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Chasing Tails

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 9: Feyre

Another stuffy house, another long day. The blessed reprieve of the gentry being in the city had ended and with it came the beginning of social calls. Acquaintances returned from the city, simply begging me to call on them so that they could spend the whole afternoon and part of the evening detailing out every social event of the season. This also included thorough backstories of everyone they encountered since I knew none of them.

Most of them I didn’t mind, it was nice to see fresh faces but after a few hours, I was socially exhausted and ready for a hot bath.

I wonder if Rhys has to put up with pointless intrigues. During the winter months, I had grown close to him, and to his family. They were constant bright spots in my life. They had welcomed me with open arms when I first arrived in town, each odd in their own way so they hardly questioned my contest.

Cassian is always good for a verbal sparring match, making me pull out every piece of knowledge I had ever learned to keep up with him. Despite his shallow, pretty boy façade, he hid a vast education of the world and its workings, challenging me to constantly learn new things. Azriel never failed to have a book recommendation for me or was simply happy to sit in silence and observe the world. Mor had become a dear friend, someone who I could always call on if I had any needs or just for a cup of tea and a nice chat. I had never had a close female friend, the others of my gender so distant and I had not seen my sisters for years since we’d gone our separate ways.

But it was Rhysand I had become closest to. Ever since I saved him from a dance with Ianthe on that first night, I had been unable to keep my distance from him. His presence had a gravity that drew me to him. Many in the town interpreted his desire for privacy as haughty and off-putting. I knew it was because he valued authenticity in his friendships, not worthless chatter.

We saw each other several times a week, teas and luncheons and dinners. Never tiring of each other’s presence.

There was only one secret separating us. A secret buried so deep in my bones that it forbade me from saying the words out loud.

I sighed into the night air, my brow furrowing in frustration much to the chagrin of my blooming headache. It was spring in Prythian, warm days were accompanied by cool nights, but even with the evening chill, my skin prickled with warmth. An itch for me to shed this skin and give into another.

Hours of sitting on chaise lounges left me with too much energy. I would never be able to sleep with it coursing through my veins.

Very well. With the late hour approaching, the street was empty, but I slipped into an alley just in case. Here there was no one to worry about but the cats that roamed the town.

Closing my eyes, I released a slow breath, reaching inward to the sleeping form. I grazed her soft coat with a mental finger, gently awakening her.

Her answering purr rumbled through my body, an arcing stretch pushing through my skin. Once, the transformation was painful, now it was a welcoming warmth that ran through my body.

One second, I stood in the alley in my finery. The next, a blue-eyed tabby had taken my place, another stretch shaking her awake.

Better, much better. Now in my feline form, the world came alive around me. Gone was the empty wind, replaced by new sounds and scents that I couldn’t detect in my human form. The excess energy I had could now be used to race along rooftops and leap gaps.

Speaking of… a quick glance around the area gave me a path to the world above. Easy jumps bunched my lithe muscles, carrying me up a stack of boxes and onto a roof. Here the town spread out below me. I could see the dome of the temple shining white in the moonlight to my left.

As I began to run along terracotta, the thoughts swirling around my head settled into a coherent stream of consciousness.

The gift had been passed down through the women in my family. As far back as we could trace in the family tree, the gift of shapeshifting was there. Each woman had a unique form that she could take at will, the gift becoming fully realized at her first bleeding.

I took the form of a tabby cat which gave me the freedom to roam cities and towns in animal form. My sisters, Elaine and Nesta, had fox and wolf forms, forcing them to stay in more rural towns to stay hidden from society. While I would have suffered from the inability to roam, they thrived, not needing the hustle and bustle of other humans to be happy.

Their forms suit who they are. Elain is quiet and clever, Nesta is fierce and would protect Elain at any cost. Last I had heard of them, they settled in a small town down south and were living happily off Elain’s garden and Nesta’s hunting skills. It hurt to be so far from them, but it was better this way. They always had a bond between them, leaving me the outsider.

Our mother took the form of a hawk, sharp-eyed and shrewd. I wanted to think that deep down she wanted what was best for us but she spent more time in animal form than human form. She loved our father dearly but the call of the wild was in her blood and kept her away from us for weeks at a time. One winter, she flew out over the forest and never returned. I spent weeks on our front doorstep in the snow until the chattering of my teeth threatened to break my jaw. Soon after, I jumped at the chance of a painting apprenticeship to leave the painful memories behind.

Right before she disappeared, she gathered the three of us around the hearth, a rare moment of mothering.

“Girls, you know your gift, but the rest of the world must not,” she started. “The world of men is dangerous and ignorant. Our bloodline has survived for generations only because we have been careful and hidden from prying eyes.” She met each of our gazes, willing us to understand how dangerous it will be if we decided to let outsiders know our power.

“The women who have come before us have been persecuted and chased out of towns for fear of them being witches. We are not. We are shifters. It is a great and terrible gift. Great, because we can experience the world like no other. Terrible, because few understand us.

“If you are ever to take a man into your heart, he must first accept your animal form with no ill-will blackening his soul. He must be someone that you trust beyond a shadow of a doubt, someone who will risk everything to protect you and your secret. I do not know the source of our power, nor did your grandmother, but I do know that the gift will prevent you from speaking about it aloud to anyone who you have not accepted and who has not accepted you.

“It will be up to you to create a challenge that will test a man’s heart and soul to see if he is worthy of the knowledge,” she finished. She then shooed us off to bed, our mind swirling with the weight of her words.

The memory circled me back to my current conundrum. Yes, Rhys and I had grown close over the months, and any time that I encountered him in feline form he had been kind and patient. But my mother’s words had haunted me over the years, making me balk at every opportunity to let him get close enough to take the key.

The key that was a heavy mass that bumped against my chest, a constant reminder of the choice I had to make. The man I choose to take it must be the right choice, I couldn’t afford to make a mistake. The bloodline must carry on and I was sure that Nesta and Elain had no plans to allow a man into their lives any time soon.

I paused my running, realizing that in my reverie about Rhys, it had taken me to his warehouse and store. We have had many encounters here, including our first one. I watched him from afar, greeting every worker by name and treating them with respect. A fair boss who cared for his employees. It was for that reason that I decided to appear in front of him, to see how he would treat me.

Caldron, I inwardly laughed, he looked so scared and unsure. It was so different from his usual confident demeanor.

Movement below caught my attention, a dark figure slipping out of the back doors of the warehouse.

Another late night for him? He had talked of them often with me, they were common when business started to pick up in town. He wanted to make sure that everything ran smoothly.

I decided to pay him a visit, maybe it would help settle the conflict in my heart.

The crates piled high against the walls of the back alley allowed me to leap down easily and approach him. The wind was blowing away from me, but I was certain that no one else would be here at this time of night but him.

I let out a small meow to announce my presence, waiting for him to turn around. The figure half-turned and crouched; the movement more jerky than usual for Rhys. Is he well? I worried, maybe his late nights were starting to take their toll. I padded closer to inspect him, but a dark cloak hid most of his form.

As I drew near, the hair started to stand on the back of my neck. A deeply rooted animal instinct that danger was close. I ignored it, too concerned about Rhys in front of me.

A foot shifted behind me. I spun but not fast enough. A net pinned me to the ground.

I let out a loud yowl, squirming and fighting for any way out of the trap. The world became even darker as a box was placed over me. The lack of light didn’t stop me from moving as much as possible, desperate for any way out.

Gruff voices came from outside. I quieted so I could see who had trapped me.

“Secure the cat and bring her to my house, I have a letter that must be delivered to Miss Archeron immediately.”

I know that voice. Tamlin O’Toole. The unpleasant man who on several occasions had tried to lure me close to him in cat form and unfortunately trapped me in many social engagements in human form.

He went to the city for the winter and I hadn’t realized that he returned. I let out another yowl, the closest thing that came to cursing in this form.

“Hush,” his voice was sharp and was accompanied by a harsh hit on the box, knocking me sideways.

Like hell I’ll stay quiet while you take me against my will. I couldn’t shift back into human form without him seeing me, and there was no way that I would let him in on my secret. Tamlin O’Toole was far from trustworthy.

Next Chapter

#acotar #feyre #rhysand #sarah j maas #feyre x rhysand

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typhonserpent · 6 years

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No Strings Attached

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: Solas/Inquisitor Lavellan AKA Solavellan Genre: Romance Summary: Lavellan teaches Solas how to tie shoelaces.

A/N: So basically @thecopperkidd made this comic and that was the entire inspiration for this fanfic. It’s exactly what it says it is.

x - X - x

Little puffs of fog formed in the air in front of Solas' mouth. He watched them swirl off the pages of the book in his hand and took the moment of distraction as a chance to shuffle his boots, scratching at the side of his foot with the corner of the wall he was leaning against.

Cassandra stopped as she walked down the steps and nodded towards his feet, "Your shoes are untied." He stared at the Seeker from behind the book, his expression blank. After a second of pause, he replied with a curt, "Thank you." and turned back to the book in his hand. Shrugging, Cassandra continued down the path, her boots a hard crunch against the frozen ground. Solas turned the page and continued his reading. It wasn't long before he was interrupted again. The sound of bare feet softly padding against snow. She wasn't very good at sneaking ... or maybe she wasn't trying. "The chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all." "Am I riding in on a shining steed?" She said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. The sun was decending behind the mountains surrounding Haven, framing the Dalish elf in rays of light. He glanced at her sideways, nose still turned to the book. "I would have suggested a griffin, but sadly, they are extinct." A little snort of laughter escaped through her nose, and she covered her mouth to shield it. Sighing, Solas closed the book and turned to face her. "Joke as you will. Posturing is necessary." Setting the book aside, he leaned against one of the cobblestone pillars that flanked the stairs next to the training grounds. From where he stood, he could see a freshly-recruited Templar soldier, barely old enough to grow a layer of fuzz on his chin, pick up a mace and charge at the oversized shield of his sparring partner. The older Templar barely budged with the blow, and remained perfectly stoic as his young friend took another swing.

He heard her feet padding up again. She was beside him, watching the same match.

"I've journied deep into the fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten."

Her hands were folded behind her back, her eyes bright and inquisitive. "Every great war has its heroes," He continued, turning back towards her, "I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

"What do you mean, ruins and battlefields?" She asked, tilting her head to one side. Solas was briefly reminded of a curious cat. "Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is seeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into the fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen." "I've never heard of anyone going so far into the fade! That's extraordinary!" Solas blinked once. He could hear a loud shout and the sound of metal clanging against metal. "Thank you." He said. Glancing back to the training grounds, he saw the older Templar had his shield above his head, spikes of the mace jammed against the edge. He had barely managed to block that one. "It's not a common field of study for obvious reasons." Solas continued, "Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remenants of a thousand-year-old-dream? I would not trade it for anything." His eyes wandered again to the grounds. The older Templar had fortified himself again. He would not budge, no matter how many times the younger struck. "I will stay then. At least until the breach has been closed." "Was that in doubt?" His head snapped back to face her, lips pursed. "I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution." "You came her to help, Solas. I won't let them use that against you." He scoffed, "How would you stop them?" "However I have to." Solas raised his eyebrows, expression softening every so slightly at the declaration. On the training grounds, the young recruit shoulder checked the older Templar, and managed to knock him down, shield still raised even as he toppled over. "Thank you." Solas voiced, surprising himself when the breath he didn't know he'd been holding was released with the words, "But for now, let us hope either the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the breach." He opened his book again and took a seat at the bottom of the stairs. No sooner had he found his place on the page than did she speak again. "You shoelaces are untied." She said. He sighed, "Yes. They are." She giggled, "It's fine. I can't stand wearing shoes, either." Slowly, he drew his face away from the book to stare at her. "They make your feet itch, don't they?" She continued, "And when they're all laced up, it's like they're suffocating." Another crash and a shout drew his eyes back to the training grounds. They were at it again, but it seemed the recruit had adapted a new technique. He swept his sparing partner's feet out from under him and knocked him onto his back, then pinned him down with his shield arm spread out. "Yes. I've never met an elf who didn't have sensitive feet." He replied. Before he could process what she was doing, she was kneeling in front of him and fiddled with the shoelaces. Clutching the book in one hand, he watched her pull out the laces from each eyelet, one by one. "There's a way you can lace them so that they aren't as tight. The ones our scouts wore didn't have soles, so it will probably still feel restrictive, but ..." Solas could feel the tips of his ears burning. She alternated vertical laces with diagonal ones until she reached the top, then tied either end into a neat little bow. "It's a little better, isn't it?" She asked, looking up with a hopeful smile. "Yes." He answered, stiff as a bowstring, "Thank you." Her smile widened ever so slightly. He found himself fixated on the dimples dotting the edges of her mouth before she leaned down and set to work on the other boot. "I'd like to get to know you better, Solas." She said as she pulled out the laces. "Why?" "You're an apostate, yet you risked your freedom to help the Inquisition." "Not the wisest course of action when framed that way." She giggled again, light and airy, like powdered snow, "I appreciate the work you're doing, Solas, I just wanted to know more about you." His ears drooped a little, eyes dragged to the ground by guilt. Her own eyes met his, though she still worked on lacing his shoe, nimble fingers working from memory. "I am sorry. With so much fear in the air ..." He trailed off, words escaping him, "What would you know of me?" She tied off the laces into another bow and she moved to sit beside him on the stairs. Her hands rested on either side of her, lightly brushing the edge of his own hand. Instincually, he pulled it away, though he realized then that his knuckles were white where they were still gripping his book. He set it down between them, and answered her questions as they came. She was full of questions. By the time the sun was setting and the soldiers were hanging up their weapons and shields, she was still asking questions. Every answer he gave seemed to generate two more questions from her, and he was surprised to find he didn't mind answering any of them. The only thing that seemed to stop her was a light shiver she released while he was telling one of his stories. He shook his head, watching her draw her arms against herself, her breath fogging in the air. "Perhaps you should worry about your own shoes in the future." He mused, "You'll catch frostbite before long." She scoffed, "It hasn't happened yet." "Still, it would be a shame for it to happen now, even if it would be the first time." "Is that a hint of concern I hear, Solas?" She said, winking. "You are, for the time being, our only hope of closing the breach. You can't very well do that if you cannot walk. So, yes, I am concerned for your ... well-being." She nudged him with an elbow, "Sweet talker." She breathed deep, suppressing a yawn, and pushed herself into a standing position. After having abandoned it for hours, Solas finally picked his book back up and thumbed through the pages, though he was sure he wouldn't be able to remember where he'd left off. "Goodnight, Solas. Will I see you tomorrow?" "Ma nuvenin. Dareth shiral, Lavellan."

x - X - x

A champagne flute two inches from his face.

The nobleman who was holding had his face turned towards the woman he was speaking to, silver mask robbing him of the periferal vision to see Solas even if he wanted to. Solas glanced over his shoulder. The now-wider-known 'Herald of Andraste' was bathed in moonlight from the arched window where she stood, speaking to their hostess. The self-proclaimed elegant Madame de Fer.

Briefly, Solas considered whether it would be worth it to point out who's company he'd arrived with.

Solas accepted the glass and set it down at the base of the stone lion he'd been leaning against. The nobleman continued talking.

Solas watched as the nobleman finally turned on a heel and left. His female companion hung behind. After a second, she used used the stone lion's paw to steady herself as she crouched and adjusted the heel of her shoe. Any attemps she made to be subtle in the action were quickly wasted as layers of her poofy dress fell over one another while she worked. Once it seemed that she had shimmied the heel back into place, she rose. Her mask was inlaid with silver, a carved pattern of vines and roses serving as both decoration and peep holes. It seemed to be one of the few masks here that was adept at hiding her facial expressions, and when she nodded at Solas' shoes, he was taken aback at the knowledge that she'd even noticed him.

Raising one eyebrow in suspicion, he looked at where she'd indicated. The laces of his left boot were dangling, aglets brushing the marble floor.

He nodded back to her - curt but polite - and even managed an miniscule smile as thanks. She immediately returned to the crowd as Solas knelt to tend to his laces.

A minute passed. Then two. Then he was quite certain that five had gone by. He ground his teeth and pulled the laces up again. How had she done it? Under, over, pull to either side. I should have paid attention. He thought, I wasn't watching what she was doing. I was looking at ...

"Need some help?"

A pair of soft leather boots appeared in front of him, their laces tied in that familiar alternating cross pattern. His craned his neck so his eyes would meet hers. Her face was shaded thanks to the chandelier behind her head, he could barely make out the dimpled smile on her face. He realized his cheeks felt very, very warm.

She knelt and he rose, crossing his arms. He focused very intently on the wall.

"When I was little, our Keeper taught me a rhyme, if it helps." She spoke as she worked, "Nug ears, nug ears, playing by a tree. Criss-crossed the tree, trying to catch me. Nug ears, nug ears, jumped in the hole, popped out the other side beautiful and bold!"

She pulled the hoops through with the last words. There it was. A neat little bow again. She looked up at him. "You weren't watching, were you?" She asked.

He was looking at her eyes.

His own eyes widened in response and he feigned a cough, covering his mouth as an excuse to look away.

"I'm not going to judge you for not knowing how to tie your shoes, Solas."

"I apologize for drifting off. Thank you for the help." He replied, his voice taut.

"Apology accepted, and you're welcome. I'll simply have to show you again once we're back at Haven." She pushed herself to her feet and moved to his side, leaning against the lion statue. She jumped a little in surprise, and produced an empty champagne flute from behind her back. Her brows furrowed.

"Don't ask." Solas said.

x - X - x

In the days that followed the destruction of Haven, her visits only became more frequent. She would enter the study he'd set up for himself to find him pouring over a map or a chart, and before either of them knew what had happened, he was describing another moment he'd witnessed in the fade.

It wasn't long before he decided to show her, rather than simply tell her.

The sun warmed the cobblestone steps leading up to Haven. She walked along the lower step, balancing, arms spread wide on either side of her. A light breeze swept through the empty training grounds. The wind was the only sound. There wasn't even the sound of footsteps to announce Solas before he spoke.

"I hope I did not keep you waiting for too long."

She hopped off the steps. "You're barefoot."

He laughed, "You would be hard-pressed to find anyone who isn't where we're going."

He took her hand. Her smile brightened. The fade melted into swirls of color around them.

They walked, though she had no idea where they were going, if anywhere. The clusters and swirls of color around her threatened to make her sick, and she kept her focus on the hand she was holding.

They stepped into a castle.

It was Skyhold. She could tell by the archways and the placement of the windows, but none of the decor or the garden was familiar. The stone walls were fresh and polished, no chips, dents, or layers of dirt that refused to wash away. There were white silk draperies in the windows and a massive mural of a wolf along the back wall. And there were elves. Elves! They wore flowing robes and dresses in what she could only describe as spun silver, some of it dyed to brilliant hues of white and green. They went about their business, bare feet padding silently along the fur carpets.

Then, all at once, the memory faded.

"I'm afraid that's all there was to it."

She realized she had covered her mouth with one hand. She closed her slack-jawed mouth, regaining focus. "What was it?"

"A memory of a green recruit, momentarily overwhelmed as she entered Skyhold for the first time."

"I think I know how she felt." She laughed.

"I thought it might interest you. I apologize if it was overwhelming."

"No, not at all." She said. Stretching onto her toes, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Thank you for showing me."

"There was something else I had for you, but it isn't here."

He rested his hands on her hips. They stood there for a few moments, eyes resting on one another, until she could feel her vision of the world around her begin to fade. Her eyes fluttered open back in her quarters.

A pale arm was draped across her stomach and his cheek was resting on her shoulder. On her opposite side, a tiny bouquet of roses was resting on the nightstand, budled up by a little red ribbon tied into a perfect bow.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan." He said as he leaned up to kiss her cheek.

"Ar lath ma, Solas."

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justauthoring · 7 years

Text

Sansa Stark x fem!Reader

a/n: hello! I’ve considered opening a writing blog of my own, but I’m extremely nervous to do so as I feel that my characterization may be a little off. If you could give me any pointers or constructive criticism, it would be greatly appreciated.

This takes place after season six, so if you have not caught up and you want to avoid spoilers, you probably shouldn’t read this. Please keep in mind that this is my first imagine… ever. I’ve never written one, and I’m really nervous about this one being out of character.

I hope it’s alright, but I decided to use two lines from a prompt.

“You risked your life for me. Why?”

“I thought you forgot about me."

Warning(s): Mention of torture, s6 spoilers,

NOTE: Gif is not mine.

Rays of light shone through the window by your bed, casting light onto your body as your sleepy eyes opened. The events of the previous night entered your mind.

It was over.

Ramsay had been defeated, and in the process, you had been freed. When Sansa was brought to Winterfell, she had married Ramsay, as per the arrangement Littlefinger and Roose had made. At the time, you were serving the Boltons, and it was made your job to serve as Sansa’s handmaiden, more or less. Really, your job was to keep an eye on her and to update Ramsay if it seemed she was trying to escape. During that time, you took care of her; you brought her food and drink, you helped her bathe and dress, and took on the responsibilities of a normal handmaiden. You were there when she had been broken. You had to watch as the strong Stark girl was broken, and you felt your own heart breaking as you did so.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with her. You loved Sansa for many reasons; for her determination and strength, despite the situation she was in. For the way she smiled, which was something you had only previously witnessed once before. There was something in her eyes, something that only you could see, that reminded you of a fire.

A fire you wanted and needed to keep alive.

When you found her and Reek escaping together, they were frightened. You could tell Sansa feared you would tell, but you would never do that. "Go,” you told her. “Go before he comes back. I’ll buy you some time.”

That was the last interaction you had before she left. She had responded with a nod, tears in her eyes as she and Reek vanished from sight. Really, you were happy she escaped; Ramsay couldn’t touch her. You didn’t care what he did to you, as long as she was safe.

Ramsay called you a fool, threatened to kill you for letting her escape so easily. You covered for her when he first returned, telling him she was bathing. He could see right through your lie, and because you lied to him, he wanted you gone. You were locked away, being “saved for later” according to Ramsay, until, to your shock, Sansa returned and freed you. You couldn’t remember much more than that, other than a few flashes of sharp pain, blood, and screams. You didn’t want to remember what happened; all you knew for sure was that he had scarred you, both physically and emotionally.

Anyway, after the battle things began to settle down. You went straight to your chambers as soon as you got the chance, and you didn’t stop to speak to anyone. Eventually, you fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.

You emerged from your bed stretching your sore muscles. It took no time for you to dress and pull your hair into an almost acceptable style, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t want to see the scars that covered your skin; you knew they were there, but you weren’t ready to see them yet.

Opening the door, you were instantly greeted by Sansa. She had a stern expression, but slowly, her ice cold features melted, and a slight smile pulled at the corners of her lips. It was small, yet it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Even after everything that occurred, you always remembered that you loved her. It was one of the only feelings you held on to.

“Y/N,” She said. “I’m glad you’re awake. I wanted to speak to you."

You wanted to smile, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to. Still, one corner of your mouth perked up in a failed attempt you hoped didn’t appear disdainful. "You can come in, if you’d like.” You offered as you stepped aside, opening the door to your room a little more. Sansa entered, and almost sadly, she looked around. Silence filled the room as she gazed at your bed, then at the window you had slightly propped open. A cold draft came from the window, and with it snow blew in, further reminding you that winter was upon you. The silence became tense and awkward, as neither of you knew exactly what to say.

“What is it you wanted to discuss?” You asked in an attempt to clear the tension in the air.

Sansa turned and faced you, her eyebrows raised in such a way that suggested she had forgotten. Regaining her composure, she spoke. “Why did you help me?"

The question caught you off guard.

You considered how to answer; you could say you felt bad for her, which wasn’t a complete lie. It would suffice, but still… why should you hide the way you felt? Yes, your relationship– should it exist– would have to be secret. That much was obvious. You could handle that. But what if she didn’t return your feelings? What if your confession scared her away? Or, alternatively, what if she felt the same way? You would never know.

"Your duty was to the Boltons, but you still helped me. You risked your life for me. Why?” Sansa continued. You studied her expression. Her thin eyebrows were drawn together in confusion, her lips pressed together, flattened, as if she wanted to say something further, but was repressing it.

Again, you considered your options. You were reminded of the pain you endured for helping. Why lie about it? What did you have to lose? You saved Sansa, just as you wanted to. You wanted her, and to hell with the consequences.

“I… I love you, Sansa.” Saying the words out loud gave you a monumental feeling of relief, so much so that your chest visibly sank as if you sighed in relief. You felt lighter somehow, even though the air was filled with palpable tension. Part of you feared what she would say next, while the other half of you was far too gone to care about what would happen.

Sansa’s eyes widened in surprise, her eyebrows raised in equal measure. She visibly gulped, and licked her lips as they parted. Without another word, she stepped forward, her arms encircling you in a hug. Her lips pressed to yours for only a second, yet that second held so much bliss, so much passion and love. The kiss was short lived as Sansa pulled away, her eyes locking with yours yet again. The both of you were breathing heavier now, the shock of the moment sending electricity through your veins.

This was the most alive you felt in your entire life.

“I love you, too."

Those words were the ones you were dying to hear since you met Sansa. You couldn’t believe your luck, that somehow the beautiful wolf had fallen for you. There were questions you had, hundreds of thoughts that needed to be answered, but that didn’t matter; you just wanted to live in the moment.

"Why are you crying?” Sansa asked, her thumbs stroking your cheeks. Until then, you hadn’t noticed the tears that were now trailing down your face. You didn’t even realize you were crying.

The feelings you had kept bottled up until then spilled over, and before you knew it, you were a mess. You were shaking, and your breaths came out as gasps. You were damn near hysterical.

“I thought you forgot about me,” you said between your bursts of air, your lips trembling. Fear was what you felt, you realized. All of the fear you felt while you were held captive, treated as a prisoner. The whole time you were chained up, you feared that Ramsay was going to return and kill you, that you’d never escape. That Sansa was gone, or she didn’t care about you at all.

“Y/N, I would never forget about you. You were the one bright light in all of the bad things that happened. You still are.” Sansa hugged you tighter, not caring as your tears soaked the shoulder of her cloak.

You didn’t know how long the two of you stayed there, holding each other until you finally calmed down. Some time after you were calm, Sansa took your hand and stood by your side, and in that moment, you felt stronger than ever.

You could take on the world now, with Sansa by your side.

JustAuthoring: FIRST SUBMISSION! Thank you! Hope you all enjoyed, this ones really good! Please check out this account and share the love!

Submitted by: @paranormaldemontrash

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