The ＴＯＯＫ ＹＯＵ ＩＮ Shipping Meme

[reversesock]

The ＴＯＯＫ  ＹＯＵ  ＩＮ Shipping Meme

They were on your front door, in your yard, or on the street, confused and clearly in no position to fend for themselves; in a worst case scenario, they were bruised and battered, possibly close to death. Bleeding heart or not, you can't just be so cruel as to let them suffer. They need a place to stay, and you'll open your home to them...long enough to get back on their feet, anyway.

Speaking of feet, the shoe could be on the other one. You're worse for the wear - in a new place, possibly injured, certainly not in the best state of mind. You could not even remember how you got here or who you are to get here, for that matter. You may not want to remember. Whether willing or not so willing, you're in no position to turn down help, especially if said helper won't take no for an answer. No matter how dedicated you are to looking after yourself, there's only so much you can do in your position.

The two of you are staying together, at any rate. Only for a while, the plan is. But after said while, even though strength and confidence is returning to the injured, there's something a little different between you two. It could be the close quarters, the kindness shown, or a number of things, but quietly, softly, feelings have grown. Could more confusion and hurt spring from this? What about when it's time to go? Can the temporary resident leave as easily as they intended? You're so close now, perhaps a little while longer can't do any harm...

...until whatever it was that put them in such a perilous position in the first place comes back, and there could be "justice" for anyone who's dared to help.

ＲＵＬＥＳ

• Comment with your character and preferences. Say if you'd rather play the taken in or the person taking them in.
• Reply to others.
• There's no smut option because I'm making a companion smut meme to this for TLH in the next few days, but you can play smut if you really want to!

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1. ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?


2. ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.


3. ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any


4. ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.


5. ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.


6. ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.


7. sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —


8. ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.


9. sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.


10. sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.


11. ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.


12. ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.


13. ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?


14. ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.


15. ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.


16. ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is


17. ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?


18. ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.


19. ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.


20. ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.


21. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.


22. ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.


23. ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.


24. ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.


25. ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.


26. ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.


27. ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

Comments

[westboundwounded]

She nods as well, the momentary hesitation not lost on her. She hopes it is a good sign. One of trust.
"Of course, my lord. Please, lead the way."

She follows him closely, not quite enough to touch, but enough to be near, hoping he finds her presence reassuring. Along the way, she marvels at his palace, having seen nothing quite like it. She had twice been through Dwarven halls, but they could not compare. Never has she been this far north, evidenced by the delicate fabrics she is dressed in, and the air is cool against her face and exposed arms, but she does not shiver.

"Your home is lovely..." she says.

[elvenking]

Far north and high in the mountains, no less. He sees what she is wearing and slips his cloak off to lay across her shoulders. He is quite appropriately dressed for the weather.

"My father chose this place. He wanted us to be left to ourselves, to thrive in peace and without the influence of those who went across the Sea. To be...far away as possible from those who took everything from us. He did not think to remember that the criminals already had their reward, and those he shunned were those who aided us. And...sometimes, they were those who suffered with us."

[westboundwounded]

The cloak around her shoulders is an unexpected gesture, and she blushes faintly as she draws it around her.
"Thank you..."

She listens to him carefully.
"And, what are your thoughts on the matter, my lord?" she asks. Her tone is neutral, more curious than anything else.

[elvenking]

"I chafed under the rule of the Noldor," Thranduil confesses. "Yet were it not for the Noldor, I would not now live. Because of Gil-galad and his folk, my father and I lived long enough to choose to leave them. Their boats carried us from the Kinslaying at Sirion. Their blankets warmed us and their food fed us. Many of them died for my freedom and yours, in--"

In Mordor. He can't speak the name, nor turn his eyes south.

[westboundwounded]

Lightly, she lays her hand over his.
"You do not have to say it. My father told me of it."

She thinks of those fallen, many her distant kin.
"We will remember and honor their sacrifices with grateful hearts. Perhaps... we could have memorial of your lord father?" she suggests.

[elvenking]

The tension in him eases at her touch, and at her insistence that he did not need to name the place of his nightmares.

"I am touched, Lady Celebrian. But we have had our memorials. We have grieved him since he fell. Yet in all our observances we have built no vessel great enough for our tears, for we lost not only our king, but so many of our men and women who fought."

He leads her into the garden he was thinking of, and pauses before a particular bed of peculiar, pale wildflowers that have been allowed to take over. He gestures.

"These flowers come from the South, near that place. Our scouts brought them..."

His voice fails him. His eyes close and he swallows hard. Speaking of even the good memories, few as they were, brings back visions of a dead land, a black sky, and a mighty tower. He sits by the flower bed and pries his eyes open, staring at the flowers as he fingers one, bringing himself away from there, back to this forest of life and plenty.

[westboundwounded]

"They are lovely."

She chooses just one, plucks it carefully and tucks it into her silver tresses. She senses this is a delicate topic, and gently steers it toward a new course.

"You should see some of the other southron flowers. We get such beautiful ones near the shore, glistening in sun and salt and mist. Even the woods to the south, where elanor grows thick like a golden carpet. Do you have a favorite blossom, my lord?"

[elvenking]

Is she perfect for a reason, or...?

Her talk, while not necessarily meaningful, gives him time to gather himself somewhat. Gives him something else to think about, talk about, a quiet strength he couldn't conjure for himself. He breathes deeply twice, almost wheezing the first time. When he expels his breath the second time, it's a while before he inhales again.

The answer doesn't matter, he knows. What matters is that he speaks, thinks, diverts away from the Shadow.

"The...dogwood in spring. The niphredil, the water-lily, the camellia. Perhaps above all, the white violet."

[westboundwounded]

She nods.
"And all of them worthy of your admiration. Would you tell me why you favor the white violet?"

Grey eyes, steady like her father's, knowing like her mother's, watch Thranduil carefully, gauging his reactions. Admittedly, she herself is relieved to see that he is becoming composed once more. It may be presented as idle chatter, meaningless distraction, but it soothes, and does, in her way, allow Celebrían to get to know him once again, after so many long years since their last meeting.