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hedgehog-moss · 1 year

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I lost one of my chickens :( she was caught and carried away by a fox... I’ve been growing complacent about my chickens’ safety I think because we’ve only had one other attack before, a goshawk that swooped in abruptly (unsuccessfully), but no fox sightings nearby so I’ve been assuming Pandolf was a great deterrent. Which he is, just not foolproof. I’ve talked to some people in town about this and they were pretty philosophical about foxes stealing chickens, like “it’s the tribute we pay to woodland animals, it’s just a few hens here and there.” I don’t begrudge the fox for being a fox, if anything I have a renewed respect for foxes because everyone I talked to proceeded to give me their best / worst fox stories, and most of them involved foxes outsmarting humans (learning people’s habits / timetables, opening latches, faking a limp...) Still I feel terrible for my hen, she was only three. RIP Cordy :( You’ll be remembered fondly... (except by the cats.) I feel bad for the other hen too, who just lost her pal!

When I said that last thing, one of my neighbours jumped on the opportunity to try and convince me again to accept a rooster from him. He had a rooster baby boom last summer and I’ve been telling him for months that I don’t need a rooster, I don’t want to raise chickens I just want eggs, and his new argument was that a rooster would protect my hen (or if it comes to that, would heroically sacrifice himself rather than let the hen be eaten—I’m sceptical...) I asked around for a young hen but there aren’t any to be had in this season, so my remaining one is going to be alone until the spring, and my neighbour said she’d get stressed and male company is better than no company. (I wish I could ask my hen what she wants! Maybe she’s penning A Coop Of One’s Own as we speak.) I said the rooster was more likely to stress her out and harass her and he said nah they’re free ranging all day, it’ll be fine, and he’s young so your adult hen will boss him around. I was like, but then will he be any good at protecting her? etc. etc. and after a while I caved in.

When I told her about this on the phone my mum sighed “you’re terrible at saying no”—excuse me, I said no so many times and the guy just kept ploughing on until he could foist a rooster upon me. I’m good at saying no, other people are terrible at hearing it! I reassured her that I had only agreed to take the rooster for a short probationary period, and if he bothers my hen too much I’ll drive him back to his native farm. My mum was like “Drive him back? look I’m sorry I raised you as a city kid but there’s no need to waste gas on driving a rooster around, I’ll have no qualms about wringing his neck for dinner if he’s more trouble than he’s worth.” The rooster’s fate is not sealed though, if he is anywhere from vaguely useful to not actively problematic I’ll keep him, so we’ll see...!

#if i return him where he came from he'll end up eaten anyway #prove yourself rooster! escape your fate #to go back to the fox attack; my other chicken went to hide in the barn (which is always open and they were not far from it)#and i thought she'd been eaten too because i couldn't find her anywhere. until i heard her clucking to herself anxiously #i called her and she clucked louder in response but refused to come out of her hiding place #after 10min of playing marco polo with a chicken in the barn i finally found her huddled at the bottom of #the large basket i use to store kindling #and pandolf & i went to look for cordy although i didn't have any hope #and we ended up finding feathers quite far away in the woods #i was very impressed by pandolf's ability to follow the fox's smell ! i've been teaching him 'cherche' but he's not that good at tracking #or not motivated enough when it's just for fun #but since he failed in his duty to protect his flock i guess he was suddenly very determined to be #a good dog in some other way and he was sniffing the ground so seriously #sorry the post was already long and i'm writing another one in the tags!

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

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okay, this is very much a WIP but i am stressed for the finale and needed something fluffy so! wizard reward tickles!

(extremely mild episode 140 spoilers, no specifics)

He’s making his way up to the third floor of the tower, Fjord and Jester floating alongside, when Jester turns with cautious concern writ large on her face. “Essek, have you been crying?”

Essek is enough of a stranger to tears, until recently, that he cannot tell how she knows. “It is all right, Jester, I am…” He pauses, fishing for a suitable word. “Recovered.”

He looks at Fjord over her head, willing him to convey some kind of guidance. The reason for the aforementioned lapse, one he is hardly sure of his reasons for committing in the first place, is sleeping safe and whole just a floor below in this magical tower of Caleb’s - surely there is no reason to keep the matter open?

Jester beams at him, fangs on full display, and claps her hands together. “I know exactly what will make you feel better, Essek!”

“As do I, I would hope,” he rejoins, gesturing to the vast library that the three of them are currently hovering in the midst of. “I know it is a little late, but I have not had a chance to take the, ah, the full tour, and I am certain I can find something of interest-”

“Essek, no!” Jester interrupts, throwing her arms wide. “You need cheer up tickles!”

At the last word, he instinctively clutches his mantle closer. “Ah - what?”

Fjord snorts. Essek pointedly ignores him. “Jester,” he says weakly, “I am sorry, but frankly I do not think my heart can take any more strenuous activity today.”

“It’s not strenuous,” Jester insists, arms still brandished to either side. “It’s super gentle and relaxing! Caleb loves them!”

His disbelief must show on his face - Jester pouts, and Fjord shakes his head indulgently and steps up to wind an arm around her waist. “He does, truly,” he reassures. Essek watches Jester tip her head back and grin at him, two synchronized sweethearts, and smiles a little despite himself. “Ask him, if you like, I don’t think you’ve seen us do it to him before.”

Frankly, Essek is more familiar with the brand of tickling that sends Caleb scrambling to Teleport away when the Nein so much as look in his direction with particular intent. He’s particularly proud of that Counterspell. “I - I am not quite sure where he is, at the moment, and I do not wish to disturb him.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to be in a room alo-one with him?” Jester wriggles her entire body suggestively and promptly returns to pouting when he refuses to blush. “Come on, Essek, we fought an evil flesh city together this morning, can’t you trust us for like five more minutes?”

Perhaps someday trust will stop seeming so new and fragile to him - but today, looking at both of their faces and seeing no trace of deception, he sighs and lowers himself slowly to the ground. “I suppose it cannot hurt.”

“Yes!” Jester cheers. She shakes Fjord’s arm off and digs his out of layers of clothing, towing him into the library and over to a cozy lounging section patterned in Zemnian reds. “You’re gonna feel so good, Essek, I promise. Take your cloak off!”

There’s little else to do but obey. He drapes it neatly over an adjacent seat, gestures questioningly at his boots and removes them as well when Jester nods authoritatively. “And now your shirt!”

He freezes. “What.”

“Kidding, kidding!” She flops down on the lounge, fluffing out her skirts, and beckons for him. “Come here - Fjord, go away, you’ll make him nervous!”

Fjord glances over at Essek, eyebrows raised in clear amusement. “He’s not a stray cat, Jes.”

“He’s a wizard, it’s practically the same thing!”

“Ah-” Essek starts. Fjord raises his hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine, I’ll be over here.” He backs towards the lounge with Essek’s things strewn over it, mockingly cautious. “If I’m allowed to stay in the room, that is.”

“Of course you can stay!” Jester tells him. “You know, I bet this library has a copy of Tusk Love somewhere-”

She breaks off into giggles as Fjord grimaces at her. Essek watches the two of them, back and forth, and almost feels glad when Jester turns back to him with more instructions. “Okay, now you lie down in my lap.”

“Jester.”

“Essek.” She pats encouragingly at her knees.

Essek steps closer and - he doesn’t know how to get in a lap. He frowns, twisting minutely to one side and then the other as he tries to judge the best way of lowering himself-

Jester grabs him around the waist and yanks, pulling his back flush against her, then pushes his chest down with one muscled arm and scoops his legs up with the other.

He stares breathlessly at the ceiling. “Oh.”

A grinning blue face bobs into his field of vision. “I’m gonna tickle you now, okay?”

Essek closes his eyes and braces himself.

Seconds pass without the immediate zinging shock that he’s expecting. He cracks an eye open. “Jester?”

She’s frowning. “You’re so tense, Essek! Just-” She sucks in an exaggerated breath, cheeks ballooning, and whooshes it out. “Breathe.”

He tries. As he’s exhaling, Jester rests one warm palm on his belly and starts to rub gentle circles.

He sighs despite himself - it is a new feeling, but not an unpleasant one, and he can feel himself relaxing as she widens the circles to climb his chest. “Jester-”

“Shh,” she soothes, and trails her fingertips down his chest and back onto his belly. “Aw, does that tickle?”

His breath hitches as she draws her fingertips slowly from side to side, fluttering at his hips where the fabric of his shirt bunches. “I - hnnnh - nnnn-”

His belly twitches involuntarily as he tries to keep himself from laughing outright. Jester clucks in disapproval and goes back to her circles. “Ess-ek, don’t fight it, just relax!”

She stays at his belly this time for what seems like minutes, smoothing gently over an expanse of skin that warms with each pass. Essek feels his breathing slow, his eyes start to drift shut. The weight of heat and proximity press down on him like a blanket, and he thinks he might fall asleep then and there.

Then she tickles him again, that same light trailing of fingertips, and a laugh slips out before he can think to contain it.

She doesn’t stop, tracing light swirls of sensation over his belly and sides, and he can’t quite bring himself to try and stop snickering either - it’s pleasant, the waves of warm tingles radiating up into his chest and down to his hips, and all his muscles are loose and pliant enough that he doesn’t even feel the need to squirm away.

Jester coos at him through the haziness. “Aw, you look so comfy, are you having fun?”

“Mm - heh - mmhm,” he manages.

“Oh, good - I’m glad you like it, Essek. I wanted to do something really nice for you since you did such a good job in Aeor with us, you know?”

There’s a proper response to that, something about how much he owes all of them already and how no amount of good cheer now will see him through his uncertain future, but it’s hard to come up with words at the moment. Instead, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall back even further as Jester starts to skim her gentle touches up to his ribs. “So many cool spells-”

Her fingers creep up into his armpits, a distinctly more ticklish spot, and he’s halfway through humming out a protest when she shushes him again and starts rubbing slow, careful circles in the hollows with her thumbs. “And when you broke that crystal to make sure we could all rest and heal up - that was really good, Essek.”

“Hnnnn,” he manages.

Every muscle in his upper body feels like jelly. He can’t even twitch as she repeats that same skimming swirl under his arms, just giggles a bit harder. “Doesn’t it feel nice to relax and not have to worry about all that anymore?”

Oh, that’s a question - he thinks for a long, liquid moment, trying to string together a sentence. “Hhh - hehe - mhmm, s’nice.”

“It is! You did such a good job, you should get all the tickles.”

“Tickles,” he nearly purrs. He can feel his ears flicking contentedly.

Jester shifts beneath him, whisper-shouting over to where he assumes Fjord is still sitting. “He’s so cute, Fjord.”

“Adorable,” Fjord whispers back. “And - hey, looks like we’re about to have two of them.”

And then, louder - “Hey, Caleb.”

Caleb? Essek’s eyes snap open.

He’s walking over to them, sans coat and scarf with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. “Ah, I did not expect to find anyone else here.” He turns to regard Essek. “I see they’ve gotten to you too, hm?”

Essek struggles for a moment, trying to wake himself with the realization that Caleb is usually the one receiving Jester’s attentions in this way - and this isn’t a conversation he wants to have while Caleb is standing and he’s flat on his back.

Jester makes a frustrated sound as he tries to sit up. Caleb looks a little surprised too - even more so, when Fjord walks over and wraps a hand around each of his shoulders. “Oh, don’t be jealous, you’ll get your wizard tickles too.”

Essek blinks. “Caleb, I didn't mean to take anything from you-”

Caleb’s ears go red, but he leaves Fjord’s hands where they are as he crouches down by Essek and pats his shoulder. “I did not mean to tease, my friend - please, relax and enjoy yourself.” He smiles, then, a little flick in the corner of his mouth. “Or Jester will make you, I’m sure.”

He blinks again. “You’re not - upset?”

Caleb shakes his head, sending wisps of red hair flying around his face. “Not one bit.”

Essek lets Caleb press him gently back down into Jester’s lap, watches blankly as she grins down at both of them and reaches out to tap Caleb’s nose.

He stands before she can, quirks a loose smile in her direction. “Not today, Lavorre, I think.”

He turns as if he might walk away, starting to lock his hands behind his back again, and Essek nearly calls him back, offers to let him take his place - but Fjord is just behind him, hands still on his shoulders, and he pins him easily in place. “Oh, I’d love to see you try to avoid this.”

Caleb opens his mouth to reply, snaps it shut again as Fjord’s hands slide off his shoulders and bracket his sides, fingers curling in ever so slightly.

Fjord’s a little taller than Caleb, enough that when Caleb starts to shrink in on himself he has to stoop to get his mouth next to his ear. “You’ve had a hard day,” he says, low and steady. “Don’t make us watch you hide from a little lightness, after all that.”

Caleb looks all of them over once, frantically, and then looks pointedly away. It’s a sentiment Essek is familiar with - looking for escape, and resigning yourself to none - and he’s surprised when Caleb gives a slight nod.

Fjord’s face splits into a relieved smile, tusks on full display. “Right, then,” he continues, wrapping his arms around Caleb’s waist and lifting him straight off the ground to carry him the few feet to the other lounge.

He sets him down and sits next to him, waiting patiently until Caleb huffs a quiet breath through his nose and leans over to put his head in Fjord’s lap. “Right.”

Jester reaches for Essek’s belly again, but he catches her wrist and looks up at her to shake his head.

She raises her eyebrows. He tilts his head ever so slightly towards the other lounge.

Jester’s mouth forms a silent O of understanding before pursing into a mischievous smirk. Essek frowns - he’s curious, there’s no need for eyebrow waggling.

She does draw her hands away, though, so he contents himself with a single stern look before turning his attention towards Caleb. “You’re healed, yes?” Fjord asks.

He starts patting at Caleb’s ribs as if to check them, but the way he starts massaging little circles into them seems distinctly meant to tickle. Essek watches, perplexed, as Caleb doesn’t laugh at all, just sighs a little and lets his shoulders lay flat. “Ja, Caduceus helped with that.”

“That’s good. Proud of you,” Fjord says approvingly.

Caleb looks more flustered at that than he has at anything else said tonight, a reluctant smile working its way over his features. Fjord smirks and bends down to whisper something else to him - Essek doesn’t catch it, but apparently it’s terrible enough to make him squeak and roll defensively onto his side.

Their eyes meet.

They both stare for a moment, and then Caleb’s eyes narrow - Essek has just barely seen him mischievous enough times to recognize the look. He flicks his fingers in a particular pattern even as Fjord rolls him back over with a series of nibbling little pinches to his ribs that send him squirming, and there’s a slight pop as an illusory feather appears by Essek’s bare feet.

He doesn’t even have time to protest before the damned thing wriggles up against his sole and he’s squealing. He bolts upright, clinging to Jester as he laughs frantically. “HAAA - ahaha - Caleheheb!”

“Cay-leb, stop that!” Jester cries, but she looks absolutely delighted as she cuddles him close with her own fingers wriggling mischievously. “Do you know how long it took us to convince him to let us tickle him?”

Fjord laughs. “ I think someone’s trying to tell me they want their feet tickled. Isn’t that right, Caleb?”

The feather switches to his other foot, and Essek presses his face into Jester’s shoulder and cackles loudly enough that he nearly misses Fjord’s next statement. “Oh, feeling shy? No, no, tell me - do you want feathers or fingers?”

Between one flick and the next, the feather disappears with another pop.

Essek pries his face up from Jester’s shoulder and turns to strongly protest this treatment, but it looks like Caleb’s been thoroughly distracted from him - Fjord’s taken his chin in one strong hand and tipped it gently back, leaving the thin column of his neck hopelessly vulnerable. He’s already giggling, hiccupy little things, as Fjord runs his fingers gently along a tendon. “Well, speak up - feathers?“

He switches suddenly to the other side of his neck. “Or fingers?”

Caleb whines, scrunching his shoulders as far as he can against Fjord’s thigh. “Ahaha - nngh - nein, mean! Mean!”

“I’ll be nice just as soon as you tell me what you want.” Fjord tells him. “Come on, you can do it.”

“I - heheheeeeh - I can’t!” Caleb pleads.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have bothered Essek, then,” Fjord scolds lightly.

Caleb makes a helpless little sound, still giggling. Fjord’s voice softens then, to something cajoling. “This is supposed to be fun for you, Caleb. Let me know how I can do that.”

Caleb whines a little more, squeezing his eyes shut, but he seems to relax a bit at the command. “Feathers,” he says finally. “There’s a writing desk around the corner with some quills.”

“Good boy,” Fjord says, letting go of his chin and patting his cheek. “I’ll be right back, then.”

He helps a heavily blushing Caleb off his lap and lays him back down, smoothing once over his ribs and getting the same blissful giggles Essek remembers himself echoing just a minute ago.

Caleb flops back, catching his breath, and looks wryly across at him. “If you run now, maybe you can get away before they learn too much about you.”

“Nope, too late!” Jester says cheerfully, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. Essek jumps as she starts to tickle his sides. “Aw, Essek, are you going to get all embarrassed if we tell you you’re a good boy?”

Essek scoffs, fighting the laughter and the blush that threatens to climb the back of his neck. “I have received many accolades over the years, I do not think so.”

“A good friend, then? One that we trust completely?” Caleb suggests. It’s more the way Caleb looks at him as he says it, like he already knows how much that means, but Jester still squeals excitedly at the dark purple gathering in his cheeks.

“Ooh, and what if we tease you about how ticklish you are?” Jester asks, worming her fingers onto his tummy and tapping them there until he’s giggling helplessly at the implied threat. “Cause Essek, you are really, really ticklish.”

“This is not what I was promised,” he manages through his laughter. A few weeks ago, he would have been fearful at this clear intrusion, a transparent search for weakness. Now he mostly wants to calm himself enough to trance in the next few hours.

“Oh, shitballs, you’re right,” Jester rushes out, and stops tickling in favor of rubbing warm circles up his sides. “Okay, okay, lie down and I will give you the best cheer up tickles.”

“I heard that,” Fjord says, rounding the corner with a feather dangling from his fingertips. “You two are going to have to compare notes afterwards and let us know who’s really better.”

“I don’t think-” Caleb starts. He yelps as Fjord pounces on his feet, protests for a moment before dissolving into soft laughter at the introduction of the feather.

Essek’s busy falling back into dazed, happy snickering as Jester trails her fingertips back up under his arms.

He feels very cheerful, at the moment.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #fjorester #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

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thdorkmagnet · 3 years

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Light of the Sun and Stars chapter 43: The Hand of Fate (Preview)

Summary: His whole life Marco Diaz has been raised by monsters, living under the cruel rule of their leader, Toffee. But one day Marco escapes into Mewni where he meets a magical princess and Mewman like himself, who begins teaching him all about her world. Together they will learn about life, love, and the lights within each of them, as they change their world forever.

Chapter Synopsis: What would you do for a second chance, Marco Diaz?

A/N: Hi yes I’m still alive!! Sorry this chapter is taking so long, I was sick with Covid in January and everything got delayed and I’ve been having to focus on recovering. I’m doing much better now but my energy levels still aren’t quite what they used to be. Anyways thanks for the patience, hope you enjoy the preview!

Check out my other stuff on Fanfiction!

Index

The first thing Marco was aware of as he opened his eyes was the fog that clouded his mind. His head felt like it was underwater, his consciousness swimming in and out of reality, making it difficult to focus. It took him a few seconds to even realize he was laying down. He squinted his eyes, his vision unnaturally blurry, like his eyes had forgotten how to work for a brief period of time. Marco off-handedly wondered if he should be concerned about all this but the fear was quickly swallowed by the fog. Marco didn’t move at first, his limbs were too heavy, so instead he just lay and bed and waited for his head to clear. After a good minute, the fuzziness in his brain started to die down and his vision cleared enough for him to get a good look at his surroundings.

That’s when he realized he wasn’t in his bed.

Marco sat up quickly, causing his head to spin again but that was the least of his concerns as he looked around the dark room he had woken up in. The boy panted nervously a few times, his heart hammering against his chest in fear when he realized he knew this room. It was his room at Buff Frog’s cottage. The boy rubbed his eyes a few times, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things but another quick glance around the silent room confirmed it. He was in the Monster’s cottage.

“How did I…” Marco whispered softly, perplexed by this strange situation. He tried to remember how he could have ended up there but his mind was drawing a blank. He recalled Star and him watching the sunset together like always and Star’s sweet kiss goodnight when they parted ways, his girlfriend turning in early out of exhaustion over the day’s activities. He had hung out with Jackie and Janna for a bit, the two girls teaching him how to play some Earth card game called “poker”, although apparently poking your opponent was not part of the rules. Janna was incredibly good at the game and had beaten both Jackie and him with ease. After that, he had told Daisy and Violet a quick goodnight story before heading to his own bed, tired but satisfied with his day. The last thing he remembered was settling under the warm sheets in his bed at Butterfly Castle.

So how had he gone from there to here. Marco frowned, looking around the room in confusion. That was when something new caught his eye. All his stuff from the castle was here too, as if the situation wasn’t strange enough already. Normally his room at Buff Frog’s place was more or less bare, it was more a glorified place to sleep than anything else, since Marco spent most of his time there with the Monsters. So how had all his stuff been moved there overnight?

Marco realized laying around in bed was not getting him anywhere, he needed to investigate this mystery further. He hopped out of bed and moved over to his open closet, pulling down one of his prized hoodies. He examined it for a moment but couldn’t find anything off about it, as far as he could tell it was the same set of hoodies he normally wore. He slipped it on without a second thought, not caring he was still in his PJ’s underneath. He was starting to get freaked out and needed some sense of comfort, and since Star wasn’t here one of his hoodies would just have to do.

Marco creaked open the door to his room, trying to make as little noise as possible. He looked around the empty hallway for any signs of life but saw nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, something felt off to him, something about this whole thing just wasn’t quite right. It took him a few second to put him finger on it but when it finally came to him, the surrelness of it all left him stumped. It was too quiet. Normally, Buff Frog’s cottage was always full of some kind of chatter between the many Monsters that lived there. At all hours of the day he would always be able to hear Beard Deer and Lobster Claws arguing about something or Big Chicken’s clucking or Bearicorn’s atrocious singing, not even the loud snoring of Potato Baby as he went about his day. But now there was nothing. Just silence. And it unnerved Marco.

But then as if some force of the universe had read his mind, his ears picked up a small sound echoing through the barren hallway. Humming. Someone was humming. And from the sound of it, it was a woman’s voice. Now Marco’s interest was thoroughly peaked and his need to investigate won over his growing anxiety instantly. Taking a deep, calming breath, Marco ventured out into the hallway, slowly tip-toeing in the direction he thought the humming was coming from.

From what he could tell, it seemed like it was coming from downstairs and Marco tried to quietly creep that way. But to his surprise, he picked up on something he had missed before. The hallway was smaller somehow. Before, Buff Frog and the Monsters had made enough rooms so that any Monster who wanted one could have one. But now the hallway had been shortened and the number of rooms cut down significantly. There were only four rooms upstairs now, counting his, and Marco was beginning to wonder if he was still dreaming. It certainly would make more sense than his dad’s house being reconstructed overnight. Marco slowly descended the staircase, his thoughts and heartbeat racing with each step.

The humming grew louder and he tried to place a face with the voice but his mind was drawing a blank. It was clearly a woman’s voice and something about the tone reminded him of Lily when she was putting Daisy and Violet to bed. There was something instantly soothing about the simplistic melody, almost like… he had heard it before? The woman’s voice as well, was oddly familiar, some distant memory tugging at the back of his mind although he couldn’t quite see it yet.

He reached the final step of the staircase and gazed over to the kitchen, finally spotting the source of the humming. A woman stood by the oven, her back to him as she fiddled with sizzling pans full of delicious smelling food, her hands working quickly to cook the meal. Marco could only stare at her in shock, wondering why and how some strange woman had snuck into his dad’s home to cook breakfast. His head spun with questions as he wondered what the right course of action was here, he had never been taught what to do in this kind of situation.

So he did the first thing that came to mind, he spoke to her. “Hello?” he called in a tiny voice which shook from nerves and confusion.

The woman stopped what she was doing and slowly turned to face him. Marco could see the confusion in her eyes before a warm smile widened on her face as she spotted him. There was a small flash of recognition there, although Marco couldn’t say the same since he was still sure he had never seen this person in his entire life. Although, some deeper part of his mind seemed to be trying to tell him something though he had yet to determine what as it fought to escape the fog.

“Good morning, Marco. Did you sleep well?” the woman said as she cleaned her hands on the fancy apron she was wearing, her tone bright and she spoke with a level of familiarity that sent Marco’s head spinning.

“Do I… know you?” the hooded teen asked, an eyebrow slowly raising. Those words must have triggered something because he felt the memory fight harder to free itself, but the fog clung tightly and refused to let go.

The woman seemed surprised by this response, her head cocking to the side to observe him and her eyebrows pinching together in worry. “What do you mean, sweetie?” she asked.

Sweetie, Marco thought, now feeling even more confused. And the memory fought harder. Marco tried to ignore the battle going on in his brain as he asked, “Did my dad hire you or something?”

The woman laughed at this, her voice light and achingly familiar and it made Marco’s heart clench for reasons his mind had yet to decipher. “Marco, you aren’t making any sense,” she said and her eyes shined with some form of affection that felt completely foreign to Marco. “Is this some kind of game?”

Marco felt the memory strain to get free, tearing at the fog as it tried to push itself to the front of his mind. He opened his mouth to reply but the word froze there, he was too confused to speak. Some part of him told him to observe the woman and he began to pick up on small details, auburn hair, green eyes, pink cheekmarks. Okay that’s a good starting point, he told himself. Now focus on those things.

Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail but it did little to stop the unruly curls. Her eyes were warm and inviting and some deep part of him seemed to recognize the stare. Her stare. And her cheekmarks were-

The fog finally broke under the weight of the memory as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. No, it couldn't be, he told himself, unable to believe who was standing before him. He nearly chocked on a sob as he managed to say in a small, broken voice the word he had been longing to say his entire life.

“Mom!”

#star vs #Star vs AU #My Writing #Light of the Sun and Stars #Starco #Preview #this is gonna be an interesting chapter

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from-the-clouds · 7 years

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Something to Believe In - Chapter 10: Stories (A Poe Dameron x OC Fic)

While I will try to post the full story on here, you can find the rest of it on AO3 and FanFiction.net. Leave me a comment or review!

Story Summary: Her whole life, Kyra has felt a call to something greater. She joins The Resistance to flee from a life that wasn’t her own. Content with her low-profile job within the medical corps, General Organa assigns her to work with Black Squadron. When Kyra meets Commander Poe Dameron, he helps her discover what she is capable of. Takes place before/during TFA, slow-burn Poe/OC

Chapter Summary: Kyra and Poe continue their mission on Hoth to find For San Tekka.

Chapter Word Count: 2,044

Warnings: None

Sorry for the delay, I have been taking summer classes.

Kyra ran across her backyard, her feet sinking into the plush grass as the sun began to set. Giggling, she turned back towards her little sister, Nara, who came running clumsily towards her.

"Get back here, Rebel Scum!" Nara ran, hardly able to control her giddy laughter despite their rather combative game.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kyra saw her father staring pensively at them when while they played their game. He'd only come outside to call them in for dinner, the sun was setting – casting a brilliant orange light across the sky.

As Kyra ran, she felt the earth underneath her feet, hardly paying attention to where she stepped, as she trusted herself to navigate the landscape, hopping over a small boulder that was nearly concealed in the darkened yard.

"Kyra! Slow down!" Nara whined, her gait growing sloppy. Before it even happened, Kyra reached out….but it was too late. Nara's foot caught on the rock and she plummeted to the ground. The game over, Kyra ran towards her sister, who clutched her knee to her chest.

Looking up, she saw her father barreling towards them, and Kyra took hesitant steps back as he scooped her little sister up in his arms and glared at her. "What did I tell you about these games?" he asked, turning before Kyra could answer.

"I-I'm sorry…." Kyra managed, but it was too late. Staring at his retreating form, Kyra felt tears well up in her eyes. Her father was always mad at her for something. To him, she'd never be able to do anything right, she knew that was how she felt.

Rather than go inside, Kyra retreated and sat on the shoreline of the beach where the grass met the sand next to their home and frowned, curling her knees to her chest. The sun dipped below the horizon, allowing the moon to cast its light on the lake and let her reflect in her own thoughts. It felt like she'd been alone for hours when she heard quiet footsteps retreating behind her.

"Kiki," she heard her grandmother, Zatre's soft voice from behind.

Kyra picked individual blades of grass with her hands, ripping them in two one by one, pursing her lips. "I already know what you're going to say," Kyra frowned, furrowing her brows, refusing to look back at the older woman.

"I don't think you do," she said, sitting down next to her granddaughter's hunched form. Kyra continued to mutilate grass blades until her grandmother broke the silence.

"Look at me, Kyra." Kyra did so begrudgingly, furrowing her eyebrows as she made eye contact. Zatre chuckled. "You know, you are just like your mother. So stubborn."

Frowning, she looked out towards the water. "Is Nara okay?"

"She just scraped her knee. Nothing your father can't fix." Kyra nodded, not responding as she looked up at the stars. "I made your favorite for dinner."

"I'm not coming in." Kyra said. "Papa hates me."

Clucking her tongue, her grandmother sighed. "Your father is doing his best to look out for you and your sister. He misses your mother. Someday-"

"I'll understand." Kyra finished her sentence, looking over at Zatre. She had heard it a thousand times before. Every time her father would grow frustrated with her, her grandmother would assure her everything was fine; he was just looking out for them, he was still sad about her mother, she'd understand it all someday.

Zatre sighed. "Kyra, there is so much more you have to learn. About your mother. About yourself. But you must be patient. You still need to grow."

Kyra huffed, though her mind dwelled on her grandmother's words.

"Should we go inside?" the older woman asked, standing. In her face held decades of knowledge; pain, happiness, experience. Despite her age, there was a strength to her; confidence. Kyra wished she could learn how to hold herself in the same regard. Zatre held out her hands to the little girl who sat next to her. Although she was not her blood, she loved her just the same.

Kyra nodded, taking her hand hesitantly as they made their way inside. In the dim light of the cozy kitchen, her father sat in front of Nara, who was perched on the counter, giggling. Her father secured a bandage around her knee.

"There you go," he tapped her leg, helping her down from the table. "All better. Now go get washed up for dinner." Glancing over, he noticed Kyra in the doorway. His voice hardened. "You too, Kyra."

Kyra nodded quickly and obliged, walking past him to the small hallway that led to the refresher. It wasn't constructive to argue or disobey, especially not now. But when she heard her father whispering to her grandmother in the kitchen, she paused in the darkened hallway, just out of sight.

"I thought we agreed no more stories. If it weren't for you this never would have happened."

She saw the light from the bathroom flicker on and the faucet run as her sister washed her hands. "It's just a scratched knee, Sven," her grandmother responded, sounding confident.

"It's not about her scratched knee. You can't go filling their minds up with nonsense. Especially not Kyra. You should know to be more careful," her father argued back, their voices still not rising louder than a hushed tone.

"It's not nonsense, it's the truth….. And sooner or later, she's going to find out. No matter how long you try to conceal it," her grandmother stood strong, challenging her son.

Kyra could almost hear her father shaking his head in response. Find out what? She murmured to herself, thinking about what they could have possibly meant. But she was interrupted by her happy-go-lucky sister who skipped down the hallway, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders.

"Kiki!" her sister said happily. "Will we finish the game tomorrow?"

Frowning slightly, she shook her head. "You heard Papa. No more games, Nara."

Kyra woke slowly, hazily, her body curled up in a fetal position. Lazily taking in her surroundings, it took her a moment to register where she was, until she recognized the tiny hotel room. Hoth. It had been frigid, so cold. But for some reason, she didn't feel chilled to the bone as she had earlier. Why not?

She became aware suddenly of the warmth she was pressed up against, the weight on her shoulder. Poe.

Sometime while they were sleeping, he'd slung his arm across her shoulder, pulling her back against his chest. Upon realizing this, Kyra's whole body grew uncomfortably hot, her cheeks flushing. Her whole body felt like it was on fire and carefully, without waking him, she slipped out from under his arm and sat up, sliding off the bed.

Glancing back, she saw she hadn't disturbed him; he was still sleeping soundly. Tilting her head, she observed him, his usually tidy hair falling in his closed eyes. Kyra resisted the overwhelming urge to reach out and brush the wayward dark curls away from his face, something unfamiliar stirring in the pit of her stomach. Brushing it aside, she turned away from Poe and treaded lightly to the fresher.

She was quite embarrassed at the predicament she'd just found herself in, splashing some cold water on her face, the chill of the room hitting her again. Kyra knew it was foolish to be embarrassed; on Poe's behalf it was likely unconscious, he had just been cold. On the other hand, Kyra chuckled to herself, knowing that many in The Resistance would probably not object to Poe Dameron spooning them, even if it was just an accident. She decided not to worry about it.

After brushing her teeth, and taking a hot shower, Kyra dressed herself for the day, towel drying her hair. The running water must have woken Poe, because when she exited her room he'd woken, stretching as he perched on the side of the bed.

"Morning," he offered her an ornery smile, and Kyra felt her stomach twist. Did he remember? She ignored it and acted as casual as she could.

"Morning," she quipped back lightly, keeping her voice even. She stepped towards him hesitantly as he approached her. "Are you feeling okay? ….After the crash yesterday?"

Poe nodded, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he stood across from her, carefully moving forward. "I'm doing alright, are you?"

Kyra gave him an easy smile. "I'm okay, I just wanted to double-check you didn't have any headaches or anything that may have risen overnight?"

"I'm okay, Kyra," Poe shook his head, and she retreated to her bag in the corner of the room where she put the clothes she had worn to bed. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, standing up and lazily throwing the covers back in place.

Kyra nodded. After yesterday's events, she could have slept well regardless of their place they were staying; she had been exhausted. "Yeah, it was nice."

"Good," he murmured, running his fingers through his unkempt hair. "I'll get ready, you should eat something quickly and then we can get going."

It only took them about a half hour to get ready, pack up, and eat quickly before they checked out of the inn. The storm from the night before had died down, but the streets were covered in high banks of snow that glittered in the uncharacteristically sunny sky. Despite the sun, it was still freezing, and Kyra followed Poe wordlessly, trudging through the white-covered ground. She had to basically march to make it through, which was proving to be difficult because her body was sore from the shock of the crash yesterday.

"What are we going to do about your ship?" she broke the silence.

"We'll need to pick up some supplies at a shop," Poe wrinkled his nose. I'd be nice though, if we could get a ride back to the ship. If The First Order has any idea we're here, we'll be screwed if they find us. We'll never make it back on foot."

Kyra felt her stomach drop. This was a top-secret mission, she hadn't even told Philomela she was leaving, just her supervisor. Maybe the others in the medical bay would infer what she was doing because of her absence, but she just hoped there was no way Terex could find them again. This time they didn't exactly have strength in numbers, or even a working ship.

"But first," Poe began, "We need to focus on why we're here. The man we're supposed to see lives just on the outskirts of town. It'll be safer for us out there, most people are friends of The Resistance, retired Alliance fighters."

Kyra let this soak in, thinking about what Poe had told her the night before. Luke Skywalker. She'd sit on the edge of her bed, leaning against her grandmother's firm, strong frame. Captivated, she'd listen to the stories about The Rebellion; The Force, The Jedi. It was such a distant memory. The galaxy was so much bigger than anything she could fathom, so much bigger than her modest childhood home, her father's farm. Beyond Dantooine there was so much more.

The walk to the man's home wasn't nearly as far as the walk into town had been, and since the storm had died down not nearly as treacherous. But she'd spent enough time on Hoth to know she never planned on visiting again.

Poe and Kyra entered the settlement, and she felt him grow tense, something he usually did a good job of concealing. The small cluster of worn-down homes seemed vacant of people, most of them likely inside staying close to the fire. Of course, maybe she was the only one who could sense it, they'd been partnered together for a couple months now, and she felt she was getting to know him as more than just a colleague. He was a friend, her partner in a sense.

There was smoke filtering out of the chimney of the small house Poe pointed out, letting them know that someone was inside. Poe lifted his hand and knocked on the door. Kyra sensed the presence of the person on the other side of the door, and suddenly it felt like a part of her future was in there, waiting.

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findsarahh · 7 years

Text

As the Moon Rises

Chapter 5

Summary: Isera Lavellan was sent to her brother, the Inquisitor, at the urging of their mother. The world is changing and Isera needs to be there to help.

Solas x F!Lavellan.

[Ch1] [Ch2] [Ch3] [Ch4] [Ch5]

Skyhold is bustling the weeks preceding the success at Adamant. The moral is extremely high. Isera remains mostly in her tower, feeling bitter and angry. She helps those who come to the healing center but rarely leaves unless needed.

Banreas is too busy to visit. The fall out of conscripting the Wardens. Nobles from both Ferelden and Orlais protested the decision for fear of Corypheus influence on them. But Banreas remains steadfast in his decision. He shared that his decision was based on the fact that the Fifth Blight began in Ferelden, a country that had banned the Wardens years prior and only let them return months before the Blight truly hit.

He had argued, for safety in regarding future blights, banning the Wardens from Orlais could have long-term consequences once this fight has ended. At least, that is what she overhead from the soldiers when they stopped at the clinic.

There is always dissent to be had, however. Plus, there are rumors that the Inquisition will be invited to the Winter Palace. This is the time to make it know that the Inquisition not only has power in numbers but in influence.

She is surprised when Solas comes into the clinic. Isera is on the second level still in bed. She listens as he walks around, picking and setting down glasses that clink together. He calls up to her. When he receives no response, he slowly makes his way up the stairs. The creaking as he steps causes her body to stiffen in anxiety.

Isera pulls the blankets over her head. She hopes that she has successfully hidden the disheveled mess of her bed makes it appear that she is not there. She should be feeling embarrassed or shame. It’s well into the afternoon. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t feel anything.

“I can see the blankets moving.”

“It’s a ghost,” Isera replies. Her voice is hoarse.

“Clearly there is a solid form.”

“No, just a shell it seems.”

Suddenly, her blankets are pulled from her face. Solas stares at her. She can’t figure out if it's pity or indifference. “You’re upset.”

“No. Being upset implies feeling. I’m not feeling anything.”

He sighs loudly. “You are upset because you experienced something you thought would no longer bother you. Yet, you have a taste of it only to have it cruelly taken away.”

“Really, do your elven eyes see that?”

“Do you always deflect with humor or sarcasm?” Solas bristles at her words.

“Clearly. It’s a running theme.” She retorts.

“An exhausting one.”

“Why are you here?” She changes the topic. She has yet to move from her bed.

“The Inquisitor is not able to break away from the nobles. Those of the inner circle who have gotten to know you are worried.” He sounds almost sincere.

“Yeah, and why are you here?”

He is unimpressed with her attitude. “They have requested my assistance.”

“Well, you assisted. You can leave now.” She waves her hand in dismissal.

“I am afraid not.”

Isera let out a loud whiny noise. “Let me fall into the void in peace.”

“You’re depressed.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s called the void.”

“Get. Up.” Solas demands, his voice still soft as he releases the magic. The magic catapults her out of her bed.

Isera screams as she lands on her stomach. “Seriously? What if I was naked?”

“Then you’d be even more embarrassed.”

Isera clucks. “As if. My ass looks great clothed or unclothed.” Solas sighs loudly before making his way down into the clinic. Isera’s hair is matted and flat from the lack of care. She quickly throws it into a bun, hoping for some appearance of being put together.

She changes into a clean robe before making her way downstairs. He’s still waiting.

Solas directs her to follow. She does. As they walk down the steps and towards the garden, Isera becomes more and more anxious. “Where are we going?” She asks.

“You will see.” Solas answers. His face is unmoving. She sighs louder than before. He leads her into one of the prayer rooms used by members of the Chantry. She wants to make a remark about this, but she restrains.

“Close your eyes.” He instructs. She does. He takes her by her hands and pulls her into the room. “Stand here.” He tells her. She listens as he steps back, “Open.”

The walls are designed with the enchanted paint that she first saw weeks ago. One side depicts a lush, green forest with crystals at the top that appears to be falling between the leaves. The other side represented each member of the inner circle.

“Cole shared that you missed seeing the forest and desired to see what the members of the Inquisition appeared,” Solas tells her. He stands a distance away, observing her as she moved around like room.

“I didn’t tell him that.” She whispers and approaches the mural of the inner circle. “No, Cole…is different. He is a spirit that took the form of a human. As such, he possesses abilities that a spirit does.” He answers.

“That’s why he looks different. He’s not actually human.” She responds, still captivated by the art.

“It seems that whatever magical effect has caused you to lose what most would consider vision, allows you to see magical enchantments elsewhere. As such, Varric asked me to see about enchanting the words of his books. Will you tell me if it works?” His voice is soft. She turns to look at him. He is holding a small leather bounded book in his hand.

She is scared to touch it. She can see it shimmering between the pages. Isera slowly and nervously takes the book out of his hands. She sits down and stares at the cover. Her eyes start to water as she traces the binding. After a minute she begins to open the book. Where blank, gray pages would have been now are shining black letters.

Hard in Hightown by Varric Tethras

Chapter One

They say coin never sleeps, but anyone who’s walked the patrol of Hightown Market at midnight might disagree…

Tears roll off of her cheeks as she holds her breath trying to not burst into tears.

“Does it…we can try again. Dorian had another idea if this one failed.” He steps closer, taking a knee to take the book from her. She refuses to let him take it.

“Solas,” she hiccups as she smiles. She quickly wipes her tears away. “It works. I can see the words.” It is hard for her to speak. Her chest feels heavy. “I wasn’t expecting any of this.” She motions around to the murals. “But, I can’t read. Not novels.” She giggles pathetically.

“I was six when I lost my vision. I can read spell books when they are enchanted and runes and basic sentences to understand spells, but…not this…” Her shoulders shrug in defeat.

She can’t look him in the eye. The embarrassment is too much. She can feel the heat raiding off her cheeks, and her nose is beginning to clog.

He moves to sit near her. “There is a natural rectification for that. I will enchant more books that you can practice from. There is no reason to be ashamed. You have demonstrated that you are a powerful mage. You have trained your will to control magic and withstand possession. The same indomitable focus used for that can be utilized for this skill.” His words sound passionate and convincing. He honestly believes that she can.

Isera chuckles. “Indomitable focus?”

“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be…fascinating.”

And for once, Isera had no retort for him. He slightly smirked before began to describe which member was who in the mural and who contributed what to the creation. For once in her life, Isera felt completely included in something that she was not expecting.

#solavellan #solas x lavellan #solas x oc #dragon age solas #solas x inquisitor #solas #isera lavellan #vir writes

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