#But my brain decided for an angst with them

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 29

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

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Word Count: 2,130ish

Summary: You find Logan. The two of you work on your relationship.

Warnings: Emotional, Angst, Nightmares, Injuries

Notes: I hope everyone likes this chapter! We're going to have a couple of chapters of them working on their relationship and growing. There's about a ten-year gap between X-Men: The Last Stand and The Wolverine movie, so we have some to cover!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

Logan saw you every time he closed his eyes. He saw you every time his mutation let him feel a little drunk. He saw you every time he passed out, letting his opponent win the cage fight. You were everywhere, haunting him. But Logan didn’t mind. He needed to keep you with him somehow.

Tossing back another drink, Logan slammed the glass on the counter. The bartender jumped, turning to face the man.

“Another,” Logan mumbled, eyes unfocused.

“I don’t think that’s smart, buddy,” the bartender responded. “You should get going. It’s raining badly out there.”

“Don’t care.”

“I’m serious. You’re done.”

Suddenly, Logan was reaching across the bar. His fists grabbed the bartender’s shirt as he tugged him closer. “I get to decide that.”

The bartender swallowed nervously. “You need to go home.” 

“Don’t have one.”

“Then call someone.”

“Don’t have anyone.”

“Nothing that I can do about that, pal. I’m not serving you anymore.”

“Logan?”

Logan ignored the familiar call of his name. He shoved the bartender away and threw some money on the counter. Turning on his heel, Logan marched out of the bar, closing his eyes as he passed what he believed was an illusion of you. The rain soaked Logan quickly as he headed towards the motorcycle. 

“Logan!” You shouted after him. He simply shook his head. His mind was playing some cruel trick on him. “James!” He stopped.

“You’re not real,” he muttered. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Just another trick.”

Slowly, you walked up to him, stopping a few inches from his back. “I’m real, Logan… I’m alive.”

“No,” he shook his head. “You… you died…”

You reached how to take his wrist. As soon as your fingers brushed against his skin, his claws were out, and he was turned around. Logan’s claws pricked against your neck and side as he glared at you.

“You’re not real,” he heaved. 

“James,” you breathed out. “I am so sorry about everything… I know that I… I died. But I’m back. I’m so very much real.” 

You couldn’t completely light a fire amidst this rain, but you carefully wrapped your hand around Logan’s wrist, which was aiming claws at your neck. Slowly, you began to heat his skin up. You couldn’t imagine the demons that his brain had conjured over this last week and the toll that it had taken. Logan didn’t budge as the heat from your hand began to burn his wrist.

“Y/N…” he whispered, clearly still questioning everything.

“It’s me, James.”

“You died.”

“I know… I’m sorry.”

Slowly, his claws retracted. “This is some trick, right? My mind… I’ve lost it.”

You stepped closer, cooling down your hand but gripping his wrist tighter. “This isn’t a trick. I’m real.”

Logan’s free hand came up shakily to cup your cheek. It was clear he was still hesitant as his thumb began brushing against your skin. “Y/N…” You could see the tears swell up in his eyes. “Sweetheart?”

“It’s me, Logan. I’m alive. I’m here.”

Logan’s knees gave out, and before you knew it, he was kneeling in the mud. His head rested against your knees and he wrapped his arms around your legs to pull you closer. Your hands shot to his head to steady yourself and to try to bring him so comfort. You heart broke as Logan’s shoulders began to tremble as sobs wracked his body.

“Don’t—“ His voice cracked as he let his emotions loose. “Don’t disappear—Please.”

“Logan, baby,” you tried to kneel down, but his grip was too tight. “I’m not going anywhere.” Your fingers traced down the side of Logan’s face and gently forced him to look up at you. “I’m right here.”

With a hard tug, you were suddenly on your knees, with Logan pulling you into him. His lips crashed onto yours as one of his arms tightened, keeping your body against his as his other hand held the back of your head. Your hands found the back of Logan’s neck as he continued to kiss you so desperately, like you could disappear at any second. When the two of you finally pulled back for air, you still kept a hold on each other, with your foreheads meeting.

“You’re here…” He panted.

“I’m right here,” you repeated. 

You figured that it would take a long while before Logan could truly wrap his head around that you weren’t dead. And you would do whatever he needed for him to believe that you were real.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbled. “For everything… I shouldn’t have left you anywhere, the Danger Room, the Island. I should have protected you better. I should have—“

“James,” you stopped him with the mere call of his name. “I know you’re sorry… I am, too… We have a lot to work on, don’t we?” He nodded. “At least now we have more time.”

“I’m never letting you go again.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

~~~

Logan couldn’t let you go. His hands were constantly on you, arms around you. It's how you ended up staying the night at the nearby motel instead of heading back to the mansion. Logan wasn’t ready to bring reality back, especially if this was all some cruel dream. That also meant that after the sex you two had, Logan couldn’t get himself to fall asleep. His eyes were glued onto you, looking over your freshly healed skin, memorizing every detail of your face, enjoying the warmth that your body brought. 

In the morning, the two of you headed back to the mansion, where Ororo was excited to see you, and Hank wanted to run tests. Logan didn’t like the idea of you being tested on, especially if he couldn’t be in the room. He nearly took Hank’s head off when Hank suggested that Logan wait outside. Hank allowed Logan to stay, but he was only allowed to hold your ankles. So Logan gripped tightly to both of your ankles, trying to ground himself as Hank ran tests on you. 

“There is absolutely no reason for what happened to you,” Hank stated as you, Logan, and Ororo sat in the Professor’s office.

“Could it happen again?” You asked.

“Unfortunately, I can’t answer that.”

“So those tests were for nothing?” Logan’s voice was almost as tight as his grip on your knee.

“They weren’t for nothing,” you tried to calm him. “We just… don’t have any answers to any questions at the moment.”

“I’ve got to go,” Hank said. “But I will be checking in. Keep an eye out for anything strange, especially surrounding your mutation.”

“Thanks, Hank.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Ororo said, standing with Hank. 

The two left, leaving you and Logan on the couch. You looked at Logan, who was clearly still struggling.

“What’s going on?” You whispered, placing a hand on top of the hand he had on top of your knee.

“Nothin’,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Don’t… Don’t do that. Don’t shut me out. If we are going to get better—if we’re going to get through this, then you can’t shut me out. Or this isn’t going to work.” He pulled you into his lab, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “Talk to me, Logan.”

“I can’t—“ He cut himself off. “Sweetheart, I was so… I don’t even know… I felt emotions that I didn’t even know I could. I can’t… I can’t do that again… I can’t lose you.”

“I completely understand what you’re going through. You have to remember that I lost you at one point, too. I thought you were dead for years.”

“Shit. I forgot. I’m sorry—“

“Hold the spiral for a second. Your emotions are valid, no matter how long you felt them. All I’m saying is that I get it, and I’m here.”

“You’re here.”

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’re going to get through this. It’s going to be long and hard, but we will.”

~~~

It had been a few weeks since your ‘rebirth’, as the students started to call it. The two of you were working on your relationship, barely teaching any classes to try and fix things.

Logan’s nightmares came back in full force. He kept trying not to fall asleep, wanting to keep watch over you, but his body won over every night. You would wake up to his cries, moans, and groans. You were familiar with the drill for how to avoid his claws and how to gently wake him. Logan always felt guilty, but you never allowed him to stay feeling that way. 

Tonight’s nightmare was different from the rest. A new version of hell.

There you were, standing in front of him. It was a version of Alcatraz Island, only you were in Jean’s place and weren’t begging him to kill you. But before he knew it, his claws were in you. 

Logan’s eyes snapped open as he sat up with a roar. His eyes weren’t focusing, though he could tell that someone was in front of him.

“Lo—Logan.”  

Your voice snapped him out of his trance. His eyes widened as he took in the sight in front of him. You were kneeling between his legs with both his fists up against your stomach, blood seeping out.

“Oh, God!” He exclaimed. 

“It’s okay, Logan,” you tried, words slurring together. “Just slowly pull out your claws.”

“What have I done? What did I—“

“Focus here, James. Focus on me.” You were growing weak and dizzy. His eyes searched your face for any sign of anger or fear, but he could only see love and concern. “Slowly, pull them out. But keep your eyes on me.”

With great care, Logan slowly pulled one of his fists away from your abdomen. His claws disappeared, allowing him to pull you closer as he repeated the action with his other hand. You fell forward with a small gasp. Logan quickly helped you lie down. With trembling hands, he lifted your shirt up. Your skin was mending itself slowly, leaving drying blood and scars in its wake.

“I’m so sorry,” you could barely hear the words spill out of Logan’s mouth due to how soft he was speaking. His hands were hovering over your abdomen, not knowing what to do. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Logan, ssshhhhh,” you gently grabbed his hands. “I’m alright. I’m healing.”

“I hurt you… I hurt you…”

“It was just a dream, Logan. I shouldn’t have got between your legs. I knew that it could be dangerous.”

“My claws… I hurt you…”

“I’m fine.” You placed his hands over the newly formed scars.

“I gave you scars…” He yanked his hands back and stumbled off the bed. “I… I can’t…”

You sat up. “Logan, don’t run. Please. Stay. Work this out with me.”

“I… I’m going to my room tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Logan! Please!” You reached out as he opened the door. “Don’t run.”

He paused, gripping the doorknob tightly. “I hurt you…”

“You’ll hurt me even worse if you walk out that door.” Tears were collecting at the edges of your eyes. “Please, James, stay.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Logan slowly closed the door, staying in the room. “I’m sleeping in the chair.”

“Okay.” 

You watched as he almost robotically moved towards the chair next to the window. Before Logan could sit down, his eyes found the drying blood on your abdomen. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a damp washcloth. He knelt on the bed next to you.

“May I?” Logan quietly asked. 

You simply nodded in response. He hesitated for a moment before beginning to gently wipe away the blood. Once Logan was done, you grabbed his wrist before he could get off the bed.

“Don’t leave,” you whispered, finally letting some tears slip. “I… I need you to hold me.”

“I can’t,” he shook his head. 

“You won’t hurt me, Logan.”

“You don’t know that.” 

Logan pulled his wrist from your grip and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He closed his eyes and leaned against the door as he heard you try to muffle your oncoming sobs. After a few long, agonizing moments, Logan finally couldn’t handle it anymore. He opened the door and took wide strides over to you. You were curled on your side, facing away from him. He quickly got on the bed and pulled you back into him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” 

You turned around and buried yourself into him, continuing to cry. Logan pressed a kiss to your head. This was hard for him, not running. But he couldn’t live without you, that was for sure. And he knew that you couldn’t live without him.

next chapter >

[hogans-heroes]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me we’re getting more of nonverbal Gale. It’d be criminal if you don’t. Sorry I’m being greedy 😩😩 but Gale clutching onto Bucky as if Bucky is even thinking of leaving him. Gale whimpering in the night and only settling when Bucky grabs hold of his hand under the covers. Gale who’s practically begging with his eyes for Bucky to slide into the bed beside him and Bucky agreeing and jokingly reminding him it can’t be for too long because the morning shift should be coming around. Bucky continuing to yap like if Gale’s replying while all Gale can do is stare at him because Bucky can read him so well. Gale who probably only continued to spiral further because he was racked with guilt for leaving Bucky behind and the uncertainty of knowing he was alive. Gale who forces his first words to be an apology to John for leaving him behind even though that’s what John wanted.

(Regarding this post, nonverbal Gale after his escape)

YOU ARE 110,000% RIGHT WITH THESE EMOTIONS I am literally dying right along with you thank you for every word and visualizing all these scenes that are so painfully perfect. I decided literally the day after posting that it would become a fic because it got a huge response and I was having SO MANY feels. I have most of the scenes lined up and might add more, it’s literally sooooo much whump and angst and hurt/comfort I’m DEADDD.

All your ideas are so so valid and right on point are we sharing a brain??? Gale and John and sooooo dependent on each other and have to be touching a lot, and John tries to keep talking for both of them and make everything as normal as possible even though he’s breaking inside. Gale who can hardly keep his grip on reality and struggles to know what’s real or not, needing John’s hands because he can’t hallucinate that, even if he can hallucinate his voice. John learning how to read Gale’s looks and touches, trying to figure out why he’s this way. Loving every second he holds and touches Gale but torn with grief because what if he never hears Gale’s voice again? And of course he’s convinced this is all his fault. Gale never wanted to risk escape and he never would have tried if John hadn’t gone crazy on the march and Gale only agreed to go to protect John.

Ok I’m not gonna word vomit all my ideas and emotions in response to yours but you get the idea! Yes you will be seeing a fic, hopefully soon 😭❤️

[hinamie]

spiraling

[lotus-pear]

mourning black and the death of ideals

[leclerity]

you kiss him first

Charles Leclerc x Former Childhood Friend!Reader count: 1.1k words summary: Charles and you talk about the reasons why you haven't seen each other in ten years... and there may have been some miscommunications all this time. a/n: another angsty one, with another happy ending, as always - thank you for all the support on the fics so far!

The Monaco air is crisp as you step out of the door, leaving the laughter of your parents and family friends behind. You note you forgot how warm Monaco can be, even in the evenings, and Charles Leclerc laughs, reminding you that you’ve been away for too long.

Certainly long enough for childhood friends to become distant acquaintances, at best.

“It’s weird to think we used to play around these streets,” you say. “We were so stupid. It was dangerous!”

“Well, we were kids.” Charles shrugs. “We thought we knew best.”

He leads you away from his parents’—now mother’s—house and after a moment, you recognise the route as your old path up the hills, to the best vantage points the city could offer. You climb with the expertise of someone whose feet have wandered up the trails a million times before, even if it’s been a decade since the last time.

“I always thought we might get hit by a car someday, but I didn’t care,” you say. “And look at you now, driving cars for a living.”

“Means I get hit by more often than an average person. So, you were right.”

“Right. Just like always.”

“Yeah. You were always right, you know.”

Something about the way he says it, looking at the hill beneath his feet instead of you, sends shivers down your spine.

The further outside the city you go, the quieter it gets. Dozens of memories fly past your eyes, all of the same hike, with the same person by your side, only a child, a teenager.

“What was I right about?”

Charles doesn’t look at you, nor does he answer. You keep hiking in silence and you find yourself getting antsy, fidgeting with a loose string hanging off your t-shirt.

When you get to the top, it’s peaceful. It always has been. You see the whole city from here, all of the lights shining brighter as the sun sets in the distance, and you can’t help but wonder – what went wrong?

So you ask.

He laughs, but it’s nervous. When you look at him, his white shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and the khaki shorts look too expensive against the dirty ground. He’s still got the same pretty face, the dimples in his smile, but he’s a far cry from the boy you grew up with.

“I don’t see the point in talking about it now,” he says.

“If not now, when? It’s been ten years already.”

“Never,” he says. “If I can choose.”

You turn to face him, the sights of Monaco be damned. “Why? We were good, Charles. I was supporting you with your karting, you were supporting me with all the hobbies I ever did…”

“We were good,” he agrees, but it’s almost sad. As if there’s no way back. As if whatever happened, it’s irreversible.

“No, you don’t get to just up and decide you’re never going to speak to your best friend again. You just… You don’t get to do that!”

“You’re right,” he says, nodding. “You’re right.”

“So what’s the issue?! I mean, I thought you were going to be by my side at the altar someday!”

Charles shakes his head, chuckling again, but you can see the watery reflection in his eyes. He doesn’t look at you, and for a moment you wonder what was it that you said that was enough to make him cry, and…

“That was the issue,” Charles says, softly. “I’d be by your side.”

You feel yourself frown. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“No. It’s not.” He looks at you and you finally see the tears, the redness of his cheeks, and the emotion he’d been restraining for who knows how long. “I didn’t want to be by your side.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N—”

“No. It’s okay. I get it.”

You move a little further from him, pretending your heart hadn’t just been stabbed, but he scoots right back next to you.

“Y/N, let me finish.” When you don’t say anything, he adds, “I wanted to stand opposite of you. That was the issue.”

“Opposite of—oh.”

The past rewrites itself in your head, all those little moments that ever confused you suddenly being crystal clear. You see all the hints you missed or saw and ignored – the refusals to talk about your crushes, the distancing that began when you got into your first relationship, even though it lasted not even two weeks…

And the absence of contact when your family moved away.

“Charles,” you say. “What are you—I don’t understand—”

“You didn’t see me the way I saw you,” he says, “and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

And—in a moment of unprecedented courage—you look him straight in the eyes. “Who says I didn’t?”

A look flashes over your face that tells you he’s experiencing a rewriting of the same kind you experienced moments ago. The moments when you held his hand for a little too long as a kid, when you cheered him on the track even when you were supposed to be on a date, when you listened to him vent about his brothers. You know these moments – and you hope that now, he can see them for what they were, too.

You put a hand on his cheek. He leans into it immediately, as if coming home.

“You know,” you whisper, “I don’t think there’s a moment of my life I didn’t love you. Even the past ten years… All I could do was miss you.”

“Me, too,” he says. “I hated myself for staying away, but I had to. I thought I had to.”

“If you just asked…”

He laughs, again, and it’s nervous all the same – but his hand is on your knee and he’s leaning in, and the air between you is charged. “Asked what? ‘Hey, Y/N, how’s your day? Also, do you happen to be in love with me, too?’ Is that what I should’ve asked?”

“Yes. And I would’ve said yes.”

He sighs; his eyes drop to your lips. “You’re telling me I wasted ten years because I was afraid?”

“Both of us were.”

“So, now…”

You become acutely aware of the distance between the two of you – all it would take is to lean in, ever so slightly, and the friendship barrier would be crossed. As if it hadn’t been crossed all those years ago, before you even knew what love or friendship were.

You smile. “Now you kiss me.”

“Tempting,” he says. “There’s one problem, though.”

“There is?”

Charles’s smile mirrors yours, wide and delighted. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” you say, and you kiss him first.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Here are the ideas I'm considering writing about for the 50 follower milestone. Consider these propaganda, if you will.

Sleepy FluffyNight - Domestic fluff involving Ccino & Nightmare not wanting to get out of bed. Will likely include a short bonus scene of not so sleepy FluffyNight.

HorrorDust Fluff - Just some generic cuddling between the two, maybe watching TV together. I do have a separate idea in mind, but it's a bit too explicit for this I think. Maybe one day, though.

Self-Indulgent Crossover - The crossover I have in mind is UTMV mixed with FNAF, specifically Security Breach. There's not really any plot in mind, but I think it'd certainly be interesting.

Nightmare Angst - I would actually be basing this off of something that happened to me when I was younger, though obviously I'm okay with writing it since I'm suggesting it.

Something Else - This is just an option for y'all to suggest things for me to write, not really much to say about it.

[queen-scribbles]

Worth Fighting For

@captainderyn this got long enough, it made more sense to give it a full post. Enjoy 3400 words of Hal & Aelin from Aelin's POV this time. --

Aelinril was staring.

She knew it was rude, that she should stop. But she couldn't help herself.

It wasn't every day you got to see someone murmur praise while petting the ears of a two hundred pound bear, at least not without getting mauled for their efforts.

And yet that's precisely what Halthiras was doing, his fingers buried deep in brown fur as the bear leaned into his touch and most of the other Elves gave them a wide berth. Even from a quarter of the way around the campfire, Aelinril could hear him thanking the bear for her company and faithfulness, asking if she'd had enough to eat, calling her netil. Precious trinket.

Their bond brought to mind the one she'd shared once. Her heart clenched at the thought of Erestel. Three thousand years asleep, he was long gone from this world. Aelinril dropped her gaze from the pair to the book in he lap, one of the history tomes Elrond had given her. She'd been struggling to concentrate, wanting to know what happened while she slumbered even if she was leaving, but also wanting to enjoy the journey. There was a freshness to the trees and flowers that was invigorating. So it was on evenings camped she made her best efforts at the tomes accounting for the time she'd missed.

A shadow fell across the page before she'd had time to blink away tears and focus on the words. She tipped her head up to find Halthiras studying her.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, compassion in his grey eyes as firelight danced across his face. He was alone, she noted, his bear--his Netil--curled up where they'd been sitting.

Aelinril nodded, drawing a deep breath to settle her words. "I had a memory brought to mind," she said softly, gesturing toward the space next to her. She'd been withdrawn so far in their journey and appreciated his waiting for an invitation.

"One you'd like to talk about, or one you'd rather not?" he asked as he took a seat.

"I'm... not sure," she admitted with a sigh. He simply nodded and sat with her in silence. He had done so since Elrohir suggested him as traveling companion; been content to let her choose when to break silence and when to stay lost in thought, equally comfortable conversing or letting her sort her thoughts in peace. The times they spoke, there was a nagging familiarity, as if she knew him, but he was younger than the Battle that led to her wounding and Un-rest, so how could that be?

Even having yet to solve that mystery, she felt she could trust him, which was probably why she didn't move away from the subject. "How long have you had your bond?" she asked with a nod toward the slumbering bear.

"Oh, not long." The fondness in his smile when he followed her gaze was impossible to miss. "She started trailing me when I would walk in the woods around Imladris, never did anything but watch, so I finally coaxed her over and... made friends." Halthiras shifted on the seat. "Once she trusted me, bonding was easy. Perhaps a year ago?"

"It does work better with established trust," Aelinril murmured, chin resting on her palm to stare into the campfire.

Halthiras gave her a curious look. "You've struck such a bond before, with animals?"

Melancholy tinged her smile, thoughts on the creatures of Nan-tethran and others. "Yes. I had a companion like your Netil once. Erestel." She traced one finger over the pages open in her lap, invisibly outlining a bear's head. "He accompanied me to the Battle, and I don't know what happened to him after because of my injuries, but given how much time passed..."

Halthiras nodded. "Netil is my first such bond, but I'm sure losing one is no small thing."

She hummed to confirm the truth of the words. "And I didn't get to tell him farewell. He wasn't my first bond, but the others I got to be with them at... at the end..."

The words faltered, and she dropped her gaze to the open book, the history of Elves and Dwarves and Men likewise unwitnessed in her slumber. She suddenly felt old and tired and no longer had any hesitation following Lord Elrond's suggestion to leave for the Havens at Mithlond. So many friends and allies she also hadn't been able to bid farewell...

Aelinril started, realizing she'd been silent and staring for a good while. "Sorry-"

Halthiras shook his head. "I understand the weight of grief, even if not so well as you."

A name floated through her thoughts, then. Talagan. It was a name she knew, but secondhand. Someone she'd heard about but never met. Someone she would guess was connected to the grief lurking behind mirth and compassion in Halthiras' eyes. Younger and less touched by it he might be, but he did understand.

"Thank you," she murmured. They sat in silence a few minutes, Halthiras staring into the fire, Aelinril trying to focus on reading, before she spoke again. "I know it's foolish since I'm leaving for Mithlond, but I wish I remembered the bonding. How it works, how it felt..."

She'd always loved animals, but three millennia in dark dreams and nothingness had dimmed much of the knowledge she used to possess. It bothered her, no matter how one could point out she was unlikely to need such a skill when she went into the West.

"If it bothers you overmuch, I could help refresh your memory," Halthiras offered.

It was a more enticing prospect than reading the history of a world she was about to leave. "I would greatly appreciate that," she said, bowing her head in thanks. Was this why Elrohir thought he would make a good traveling companion?

They were up far into the night, as refreshing that skill turned into a discussion of others they shared, and neither noted the passage of time.

---

Travel the next day was uneventful, allowing Aelinril to spend much of her time lost in thought. Thoughts of her discussion with Halthiras the night before, of the events she'd read about, of Erestel and Harthalín and other friends she missed.

Of Theleron.

It was an odd feeling to hope a friend was dead, but the alternative was a thousand years or more in the hands of the Enemy's servants. She didn't speak to anyone all day, her thoughts on everything lost.

It wasn't until evening, after they had set camp and eaten, that she broke her reverie.

"Who's Talagan?" she asked Halthiras, and he actually flinched as he looked up from his book.

"He... was my mentor," he said haltingly. "He died defending Edhelion during Skorgrim's attack."

Aelinril winced. "I'm sorry, I should have known."

"How should you," Halthiras began, then gave her a searching look. "How do you know of him?"

"I... only know the name," she said, resting a hand on his arm for comfort. "A faint memory as a hero from a tale, but bound up in grief."

He shook his head, exhaled a disbelieving laugh. "You actually heard something..."

It was her turn to give a searching look.

"I would sit with your friend Harthalín as she kept vigil for you and Hithgol. We talked, to each other or to... to you two. It was a well-established habit by the time Talagan and I visited Edhelion. I needed to grieve... after, and the woods helped with that, but I did reach a point where I needed to talk about it and... Harthalín was absent, so it spilled out to you." He smiled sheepishly. "I was rather hoping you slept deeply enough to not hear it; I didn't want to burden you or darken your slumber."

"As I said, all I recall is the name." She cocked her head. "And the sense of grief, I suppose." A few moments passed before she asked, "Why were you sitting with Harthalín?"

"I wanted to help." Halthiras looked back to the fire, staring into its depths. "I wasn't able to participate in the Battle, but everyone who did helped protect the world from a great evil. Those still with us--Master Elrond, Harthalín, you--will have my honor and aid."

"A brave promise to make," Aelinril said dryly, though it made her blush to think someone esteemed her so for her part in the battle. That would be why he seems familiar... "I feel you would have been a worthy comrade in arms had you been there."

"I hope so, though I remain mostly untested in that regard," he murmured. "Just a small role in repelling Skorgrim and the Dwarven attack on Edhelion."

"Is that why you're going back?" she asked, withdrawing her hand to rest her chin on her palm. "To aid because Elrond asked it and test your mettle?"

"In part," Halthiras said. "He did choose me, but I was intending to ask to come. In memory of Master Talagan, and to see my sister. She was there as well when Edhelion fell, and her anger at Skorgrim's Dwarves burns such she swore to keep watch over the ruins, safegaurd them from further desecration."

"Well, I wish you a satisfying reunion with her," Aelinril said, shifting in her seat. "And happy as it can be under the circumstances."

He smiled at that. "Thank you. Now, shall we turn our thoughts to happier things for the rest of the evening?"

She nodded in relief. She wasn't made for melancholy, and it hung heavy enough since her waking without dwelling on such dour subjects.

---

They did their best to stay on happier things when they spoke after that. Not an entirely easy practice, given the nature of their journey, but they tried.

Halthiras told her of some happenings in the world, with a much rosier outlook than the dry tomes Lord Elrond had given her. His knowledge was far from complete; he was young and had not yet traveled far from Imladris aside from the ill-fated time at Edhelion. It was still a more hopeful--and entertaining--way to learn the history that had been made she slept.

They spoke a bit of Elrond, more of Harthalín. Halthiras recounted the tales she had spun, Aelinril would smile at the memories, occasionally correcting a detail her best friend had misremembered.

They were only a few days from Celondim when she finally plucked up the fortitude to ask, "I suppose... How long has it been since Harthalín departed for Mithlond?" She had been there in Tham Send when Aelinril woke the first time but not the second and more lasting.

"Oh, she didn't," Halthiras said, ducking his head. "Did you think to look for her in the West?"

Aelinril nodded mutely, processing the revelation. She'd expected her friend to have departed by now. Most of the survivors of the Battle had, if they were able, according to Lord Elrond.

"I'm sorry, I promised I would tell you. She remains in Middle Earth. She has forsworn the Havens and the ship West until the Shadow is truly defeated."

The news of its stirring had perturbed her, Aelinril could only imagine how it would have spurred Harthalín, always the more willing to charge ahead between the two of them.

"She remains to fight?" Aelinril gave a wistful nod when he confirmed it. "That sounds like her." She was quiet a long moment, lost in thought, and Halthiras let her be. "And... what of you?" she finally asked. They'd struck up something of a friendship on this journey, brief as it was. "After your errand to Edhelion is done, will you also fight the rising Shadow?"

The thought made her heart clench--Harthalín knew what she was promising with such a vow. Halthiras was, by his own admission, unacquainted with what it would entail and might require of him.

"I don't know," he said, his voice quiet, after his own moment of thought. "I suppose it will depend on what happens at Edhelion. What we find, what drove some Dwarves to return." He moved as if to stroke Netil's ears, but let his hand fall upon discovering the bear's absence.

"If you do, hold fast the hope in your heart," she advised. "That's the best defense against it. Despair is the Enemy's greatest weapon."

He nodded solemnly. "I'll remember it."

Aelinril was trying to find a way to bend their talk back to something less dire when Netil trundled out of the undergrowth with a friend in tow--one limping heavily.

"Who's this, then?" Halthiras murmured to his bear, who continued to stare at them expectantly.

Aelinril pivoted to examine the newcomer. Male, little more than a cub, a ruff of lighter brown fur behind his ears, and the cause of his limp obvious. A broken branch skewered the edge of his paw, both ends splintered--or chewed--too short for the bear to do anything about it himself. Moving slowly, she knelt and shifted closer.

The bear didn't withdraw.

"This will hurt, but may I help you?" she asked softly, more to soothe with the sound of her voice than anything.

He stood still where he was as she reached for his paw. A sound somewhere between a whimper and a snarl emanated from the jaws just above her head as she worked the branch fragment free. As soon as it was gone, he jerked away and ambled back into the woods with a huff and much diminished limp.

"For a moment, I thought you might have a new friend," Halthiras said, patting Netil's haunch as she settled in with a self-satisfied huff.

"They're not all as yours is," Aelinril returned with a wry smile. She pushed to her feet and tossed the bloody branch in the fire. "Perhaps he prefers his own company. And I would be leaving him when I depart for Mithlond."

For the first time, there was a tremor of hesitation to the thought.

What would you do if you stayed? Fight?

I don't know. Perhaps. She cast a glance sideways at Halthiras and the woods beyond. Just... perhaps there are things worth staying to defend.

---

They would reach the outskirts of Celondim in the morning. The longing and anticipation she should have felt at being so close to sailing away from the world's troubles into peace unending was absent. Aelinril was disquieted, trepidation overwhelming the thoughts of the West. She longed for peace, to heal from suffering and to be free of care. It was in the heart of every Elf, the call of the sea, and she had both seen and endured much to support her departure.

But Harthalín had stayed, to fight. Lord Elrond remained. Halthiras might fight as well. This world was full of beauty and worth, even in the overlooked corners. They had camped near the overgrown ruins of a tower that was yet unbuilt when she fell into slumber, how could she dismiss the value of this world and the people in it?

She was quieter even than usual that night, and as always Halthiras let her be. He sat nearby, propped against Netil's side as he worked at writing or sketching something in the book balanced on his knees, content to share company.

"Lady Aelinril." It was Elladan's voice that pulled her from the war in her thoughts. "When we pass through Celondim on the morrow we will be able to pause but briefly for your departure. Scouts have brought fresh word from Edhelion," he explained, catching the furrow of her brow. "The Dwarven encroachment is more serious than we first thought; there is need for haste the rest of the journey."

"I understand," she said, outward calm and inward turmoil. "Then let me extend thanks now for allowing me to travel with you to this point."

"Certainly." The son of Elrond bowed. "I wish you a swift and untroubled journey to Mithlond and further. You have more than earned the peace of the West."

Her shoulder twinged and it took effort not to rub the healed wound. "Thank you."

Elladan inclined his head once more and took his leave.

"Should we say our farewells now, then?" Halthiras asked, a sigh heavy on the words as he closed the book and looked up at her.

"I..." Brief as it was, their friendship had become dear to her. The thought of its breaking made her chest ache, and she wished to delay the confirmation of words as long as she could. But to depart from one who had given her such aid and comfort without thanks and acknowledgment was unthinkable. "I... I wish I'd met you sooner," she said softly. The fortnight's journey was not nearly enough time.

Halthiras chuckled sadly. "As do I. Properly met, I mean." He moved to sit with her. "I feel we would remain great friends."

"As do I." Aelinril managed around the lump in her throat. She reached for her pack, sitting limply nearby. She didn't have--or need--much of her own, but... Her fingers closed around what she sought easily and she pulled out a cloak clasp, simple and delicately wrought gold around a beryl. She'd had it since departing Vinyamar, would have no need of it in the West, and it felt a pittance to show the value she gave their friendship.

"To remember me," she said as she handed it to him.

"There's no risk of my forgetting." His voice strained on the words and he cradled the clasp gently. He floundered a moment before reaching up to pull one of the adornments from his hair. It slipped free from the narrow braid it bound with little trouble. "I was not expecting to exchange parting gifts, but," he place the narrow band in her palm. "To remember me."

"No risk of me forgetting," Aelinril returned softly, examining the band. There were no jewels decorating it, instead it bore intricately engraved leaves. "Thank you, it's beautiful."

She curled her fingers around it, holding tight as the metal warmed and tears sstug her eyes.

But she did not speak her doubts, her wondering if she truly should depart.

---

Morning dawned all mist, fine drops clinging to their cloaks as they set off. Aelinril appreciated the barrier, shielding her inner unrest from being obvious to the rest of the party. She rolled the gold band in her palm as she thought, inborn pull West at war with not wanting to leave this world while friends remained, and it was in peril from the very Enemy she'd fought before. She was tired, and her shoulder at times ached where the Nazgul stabbed her. But the threat of worse lay over the world.

"It's unfinished business," she could almost hear Harthalín's voice. "We're not done 'til the Shadow can never again cast itself over this world."

She was so lost in thought Halthiras had to touch her arm to draw her from them when they reached Celondim.

"So here we part ways," he said, words melancholy and cloak clasped with her gift. "Farewell and swift journey to you, Aelinril."

She smiled sadly, his gift still tightly in hand. "And a successful one to you. Farewell, Halthiras."

They shared a last look, and he turned to follow the rest of the company, already moving at Elladan's urging. Aelinril watched until Halthiras--and Netil beside him--had been swallowed by the mist before heading down the path to the dock.

The cry of the gulls as she drew neared made her heart sing, but there was an equual joy in the blossoming trees and creatures scurrying among them. It did nothing to settle her struggle.

The ship was delayed, giving her yet more time to think, and that proved to be the undoing of her plans. She thought of Harthalín and Gil-galad and other old friends lost or parted, of new ones, all united in their belief to preserve Middle Earth. How could she do any less, if she was capable?

I'm staying.

Movement caught her eye, and she was greeted by a pair of dark eyes and damped ruff of light brown fur.

"And apparently I'm not the only one to change my mind," she murmured, gesturing the bear over. All her doubts dissipated at her resolution, as the bear, only limping slightly now, approached.

She was not the fighter Harthalín was. She much preferred quiet, peace. But now, as she had so long ago, she would take up arms to defend something precious because she could not do any less.

[lameotello]

okay but Future Donnie coming back to the past with Casey and being confronted with the younger version of his lover he just left to die in the future and doing the totally emotionally healthy thing which is fucking the shit out of said younger version

[dutybcrne]

Those relationships where the characters are amicable exes who broke it off bc one or both had their respective traumas/emotional burdens they didn't want the other to feel responsible for, so they ended up repressing it all to the point where the distance that began to grow between them as a result was too insurmountable that they decided it was best to end things so, in their minds, the other could be free to pursue happiness without being 'burdened' by them. But both are even now still so very much in love with each other or at the very least hold a tender fondness and particularly Special protectiveness for each other that everyone can clearly see, no matter how much the two deny or brush it off by saying it would have never worked out in the end ( oh, but it COULD, it WOULD have if only they'd decided to TALK to each other, to be VULNERABLE with each other instead of just calling it quits ), despite every What If and If Only that crosses their minds every time their eyes meet.

Every time they see their longing mirrored in the other's eyes.

[deathfavor]

will you guys hate me if i dont reblog a mistletoe kiss meme FHGBDJFHG

[autumnoakes]

no i don't have a favourite link ahahaha what makes you think that *pointedly not looking at the copious amounts of evidence that says it's botw/totk link*

[cha1cedony]

HELP?? THIS DRAFT????

[mommalosthermind]

I’m a writer! Of course I’m opening a doc to braindump a story that’s approximately five sequels away from the one I’m supposed to be working on.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

so two things- I am about to spam reblog tbz fanfics- secondly- i may or may not have a full younghoon mafia au that i wrote last night- and finished writing this morning that needs to be edited-

[ozlices]

im knocking on the door of all danvan fans give me headcanons in my ask box im starving please hear the jingle jangle of my coin tin

[clenastia]

successfully edited thru chapter 10 of my book (finally), and did not start a gundam wing/game of thrones crossover!!!! (still tempted)

tomorrow is 'go to REI and exchange my shoes because i online ordered them in the same size as my current shoes but they dont fit and i need new shoes before the snow starts sticking' day, and after that I'm gonna see if I can finish up the next GM chapter.

Next week I need to actually edit more of my book every day after work, so that my weekend is FREE for writing but ugh i still don't know how people have the energy to DO THINGS after work im always so tired and only want to veg out.

my job isnt even that demanding i just hate working.

at least editing is fun.