#lothwulf

[ncvabcrn-archive]

   @lothwulf​

   “...what is with this lost, sassy child?”

[kalikori-a]

“I am not leaving you behind.”

[hiddensteel]

@lothwulf​  said             “ you’ll feel better if you talk about it . i’m here to listen . ”

        her gaze remained locked on her clasped hands. it wasn’t the first time someone had recommended that she TALK about the past. normally she would simply smile and brush their concern aside, but t o d a y... she wasn’t even sure she could force herself to smile. even if she could she doubted it would be believable. they were right, talking might help, but she opened her mouth and no words came out. fear held her throat in a death grip. her fingers began pulling at each other. finally, she said,          ❝  talking about it... it’s like having to relive it all over again. ❞

hurt / comfort sentence starters  |  selectively accepting !

[plnthe-aaa]

@lothwulf​ said : "You’re supposed to bump my fist with yours."

❝ Yes , I know , ❞ Lara laughed , giving his fist a soft bump . It was odd , really — being around people who hadn’t sacrificed their entire lives for some greater goal , who hadn’t suffered and endured and lost . Normal people . She barely even felt she belonged .

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket , the explorer gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile . Fully armed as she was , there was very little she could do not to seem threatening . ❝ This is … quite a party . What are they celebrating ? ❞

[specfive]

lothwulf liked your post:hit the heart and i’ll spew out a starter!!!

     sabine wraps her arms tiredly around ezra one morning.  “ USE THE FORCE && MAKE ME FLOAT. ”  she whines.  it’s not like sabine to whine--but it’s also not like sabine to be so tired that she’s barely moving.  she hates it, hates the sensation of her body not being her own, barely able to move the way she wants it to.

     “ i can’t get my trigger fingers goin’. ”

[thehlpr-archive]

@lothwulf

     ezra doesn’t mean to yell.  doesn’t mean to storm off when kanan calls him.  but he’s not thinking straight; he’s walking off during a MISSION, of all things, storming away from his family, from the people he cares about most.

     ( NO, THAT’S NOT RIGHT-- )

     part of ezra--the scared, semi-selfish teenager--wants to go crawling back, to beg for forgiveness, but he doesn’t.  he’s resolute, he’s determined, he’s NOT GOING TO BREAK HIS PRIDE for forgiveness.

     (  HE’S IN THE JEDI TEMPLE, ISN’T HE? )

     the ground falls out from under him.  ezra screams, hitting a floor.  he hears the hum of a lightsaber, && takes off running.  he’s not sure who he’s running from--the energy signature feels so familiar--but he knows that running is his best option.

     somehow, someway, he’s at the entrance to the jedi temple, && HE’S NOT SURE HOW HE GOT THERE, but nobody else is nearby.

     then he feels a hand on his shoulder, && ezra jumps.  when he sees who it is, he laughs incredulously.

     why is he looking at HIMSELF?

[worldbecomefantasy]

Starter for @lothwulf​

     -->“Ezra. Help me out with something please,” he requests. Hera needs some parts from the city, but he can’t rightly go alone anymore. The force allows him much aid, and his familiarity with the ship means he’s not fumbling about the ship. But going into the city isn’t so easy, so many people and moving objects. Their auras get mixed together and he can’t separate them. 

    -->He hates needing help for a simple shopping run but, thus is life since Maul stole his vision.

[genitrice-a]

           @lothwulf​ said: You’re lonely too.

 IS   SHE   LONELY   ??      the   word   has   lost   its   meaning,   jagged   edges   grown   smooth   with   overuse.   it   doesn’t   hurt   like   it   used   to,   or   perhaps   a   part   of   her   thinks   she   deserves   it,   this   self   imposed   isolation,   castle   walls   built   high   to   keep   everything   out   .   .   .   and   everything   in.   in   another   world,   albatross   wings   hadn’t   been   clipped,   and    she   was   allowed   flight.   in   another   world,   her   heart   wouldn’t   pump   tar   and   poison   through   her   veins,   waiting   for   the   spark   that   would   ignite   her,   a   supernova   on   the   brink   of   implosion.   in   another   world,   perhaps   she   would   feel   more   than   the   mounting   dread.   not   in   this   one.

 if   any   conflict   shows   on   her   face,   she   is   quick   to   reign   it   in.   another   mask   strapped   into   place,   another   persona   to   be   played.   a   leader   for   others   to   follow.   stone-carved   monarch:   impossibly   beautiful,   but   cold   to   the   touch.   lips   curve   into   a   hollowed   out   excuse   of   a   smile,   but   her   hand   on   his   arm   is   gentle.   if   anything,   this   is   the   one   thing   tragedy   could   never   claim   from   her.   her   heart,   her   own,   always,   even   when   broken.   especially   then.         “   maybe   we’re   all   a   little   bit   lonely.   ”         it’s   not   precisely   deflection   as   it   is   diminishing   whatever   hurt   his   words   had   unearthed.   there   was   a   time   when   children   were   more   than   machines   of   war.         “   you’re   not   alone   anymore.   ”