Hawke, Anders, Justice: j: "When words aren't enough".
The flight from Kirkwall is
eerily silent, scattered conversations in low voices and soon trailing off, and
Hawke wishes Varric would complain about being dragged into the outdoors, or
the slope of the mountain path, or the cave they finally decide to stop in for
the night, what little night is left. They split into groups to check for
spiders or other potential rude awakenings, and though Hawke’s about ready to fall over, Anders shows no sign of flagging, striking out down a passage alone. Hawke has to scramble to keep up.
Anders pulls a wisp out of the air to light the path, and
the wavering light is comfortingly familiar. Late nights sitting up reading under that light, the quiet thrill of finally feeling free to use magic openly in his
own home; magic as something small and casual. Harmless.
The wisp widens its circle to include Hawke, dancing in
front of his eyes, and he waves it out of the way, sends it veering wildly
across the dead end cavern. No sign of anything more threatening than some
And Anders finally turns to look at him as the
wisp clumsily makes its way back to its summoner, and under that faint light he’s pale
and fragile and all Hawke can think is, You
thought you were going to die. All this time, you thought you were going to
die, and I didn’t know.
McKirk with J please! You're incredible for doing these <3
Ah! Thank you so much! I’m sorry this took me so long. I kept getting distracted by other things and couldn’t justify writing until today. Enjoy!
Usually Leonard is good with words. He’s never been shy
about speaking his mind, whether good or bad, and his southern upbringing has
given him a thousand and one metaphors for any occasion.
Or, almost any occasion.
There’s no one quite so skilled at leaving Leonard at a loss
for words as James Tiberius Kirk. The man can be infuriating, a true reckless
idiot. At those times, Leonard knows exactly what to say, exactly how to convey
his anger and frustration at always having to patch Jim up after he’s, once
again, jumped before looking for a place to land.
It’s when Jim does something truly unexpected, like now,
that Leonard’s rendered speechless.
“Bones?” Jim asks
softly, uncertainty in his voice. “Is it okay? You know, if you don’t like it
we can always-”
Leonard lets out a soft growl and turns toward Jim, reaching
for him. He tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Jim’s head and pulls
him forward for a hard kiss. Their lips crash together, and Leonard’s heart
pounds in his chest. He tries to pour all his overwhelming feelings into the
pressure of his lips against Jim’s, into the slide of their lips and the hot
breath that fans over Jim’s lips when Leonard has to pull back for a panting
Closing his eyes, he presses his forehead against Jim’s, collecting
himself. “It’s perfect,” he whispers, and opens his eyes to meet Jim’s with a
smile. “More than perfect. It’s…Jim…”
Leonard sighs in exasperation and settles for kissing Jim
again instead of flapping his lips like an idiot when words clearly weren’t enough.
I finally get my long train trip home but I don’t find my mind wandering as it usually does. For the last few days I have been sitting in front of a blank word document typing and deleting, typing and deleting until I forgot what it was that I wanted to get across.
My failure to put these feelings into words or rather my lack of feelings is steadily taking over my thought processes until all I want to do is sit down and write it all out: the fact that I am not missing a friendship that I once held so dear, and the fact that my home is no longer where my heart is, to write out the fact that every day I see myself changing to suit my surroundings and it scares me. Perhaps my failure to articulate these feelings is due to my lack of understanding and insight on these subjects, perhaps they surprise and shock me as much as they do anybody else.
Perhaps this is just a phase. Perhaps I can’t bring myself to worry about these things because despite it all I know God is on my side and he is carrying all these cares for me.
Perhaps this is something all the little birdies go through when they finally leave the nest. Perhaps my disinterest in this subject is causing my words to come out jumbled.
Perhaps this post came out exactly the way I intended all those other posts to be, depicting my whirlwind of emotions or perhaps my life just isn’t supposed to be made sense of.
But sometimes I like writing things out so that I can understand them better, so that in the future I can look back and realise that there was a reason I am right where I am in life, that this is where I stand and why.
I did this for me and I realised that if I want to post nonsensical jumble like the fluff above then I can. I lost the purpose of this a long time ago but I am pretty sure I just found it; this is about me not you or the fact that you don’t like the way in which I put my feelings into words. You have the option of reading this but I don’t have the option of feeling it.
Adrien shut the door of his locker with a resounding slam. Plagg poked out of his shirt collar and jokingly hissed, “Did you want the entire school to hear that?”
“Sorry, Plagg, I’m just distracted today,” the blond muttered, zipping up his coat. The kwami took note of Adrien’s downturned eyes and softened his voice to a concerned whisper. Adrien somberly pet his kwami and nudged him back into hiding. The school day was finally over and all he wanted to do was go home to sulk alone.
“H-hey Adrien,” came a soft voice from behind him. Adrien turned to come face-to-face with Marinette. As always when she interacted with him, she seemed slightly on-edge and nervous. Adrien managed a small smile despite his mood. Marinette was a hard person to sulk around.
Marinette pulled a small box from behind her back. “I noticed you seemed a little down this morning. I brought these for you from home during our lunch hour.” Adrien peeked inside the box to find 12 colorful macarons. She took a quick breath, as if to steady herself and tell herself that she was capable of continuing a coherent conversation. She relaxed a little, and continued, “Maybe it’s just because my family owns a patisserie, but I rely on desserts to help me get through rough days. I hope these help.”
Adrien’s cheeks turned the slightest bit pink at the gesture. Marinette was the only one so far to notice his dour mood. He placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her in for a quick hug. After they pulled away, he noticed Marinette’s bright red cheeks, and suddenly felt a bit awkward himself.
“Sorry if the hug was too much. It’s just that this was really cool of you.” He swept his hand through his hair and looked like his old self for the first time all day.
“N-no, it was fine. I like hugs! I’m glad you’re happy with the macarons.” Marinette stammered. Adrien looked down at the box of cookies and the slightest hint of his Chat-like charm was visible on his face.
“I don’t really feel like going home right now. Want to sit down somewhere and help me eat these macarons?”
Marinette froze for a moment before she reminded herself to use her perfectly functional vocal cords. Words, Marinette, words. You know how to speak. She nodded.
“Sure, Adrien, that sounds great.” She found her voice again and shot him a vibrant grin. “We can hang out at my place for a bit if you want. We’ll have access to plenty more pastries where those macarons came from!”
Adrien took the liberty of taking Marinette’s textbooks from her hands, smirking in his head at the blush he was able to elicit from her.
“Sounds perfect. Lead the way, Mari.”
Marinette made him sit in the bakery for a few minutes while she claimed to be straightening up her room. Of course, Tikki teased her relentlessly about how “straightening up” simply consisted of hiding all of her posters of Adrien. When they finally made it to Marinette’s bedroom, they hung out on opposite ends of her bed and paged through her sketchbook. They came across a design she made of a Chat Noir onesie. Adrien promised to model it for her if she ever made one. After a few hours, Sabine DuPain-Cheng knocked on the door.
“I just wanted to let you two know that dinner’s almost ready.” She then turned to Adrien with a warm smile. “You are more than welcome to stay if you would like to.”
“I would love to, of course, only if Marinette’s okay with me staying.” He teased with a grin.
Marinette rolled her eyes with a small smile and a hint of pink at her cheeks.
“Of course I want you to stay. We’ll be down in five minutes, Maman!” She turned back to Adrien after Sabine retreated back down the stairs. “You certainly seem to be in a better mood,” she commented.
Adrien closed his eyes for a moment in reflection. It was the anniversary of Élodie Agreste’s disappearance, and Adrien’s father refused to talk to him about anything concerning his mother. Not only was Adrien especially hurting today over his mother being gone, but his father’s habit of pretending Élodie never existed was making this day much harder.
“Adrien, are you okay?” He snapped out of his reverie. Adrien didn’t feel ready to share any of this with Marinette, but his heart felt lighter anyway for having spent the afternoon with her. For lack of words to explain this to her, Adrien simply pulled Marinette in for a hug. This one lingered longer than the first, and he was glad when he felt Marinette relax into it this time.
“Thanks Marinette. You really turned my day around.”
Thanks so much for the prompt. This is my first time writing for these characters, so if anything is OOC or awkwardly written, I apologize in advance!