#and he died perhaps wishing that it all hadn't gone so wrong.

[illmoraineakoi]

Do you guys think that when Dark was dying, he knew it, and became so overwhelmed by the visceral fear of his inevitable incoming death that he started desperately pleading to Alan to somehow come save him?

A forsaken creation, dying and agonized, desperately reaching out to his creator in a last ditch attempt at salvation.

A child, begging for it's parent's help, because they're scared and they don't want to die.

[paigemathews]

For the pairing thingy can I get Simon Marks and Paige at the wedding of one of his kids to one of hers? I think that would be funny

Pairing: Simon Marks & Paige Matthews Background Pairings: Henry Mitchell Jr. / Anna Marks ( original character ) ; Paige Matthews / Henry Mitchell

It was at times like this that Paige wished she could drink. Clutching her glass like it was a potion vial and she was going up against the Source again, she was a little surprised it didn't even crack. She'd say grateful, but it would've been a valid excuse to disappear for a minute so. Unfortunately, that left her with no excuse as Simon Marks appeared on her side.

"I always did say that a pairing between the Warren line and the Marks line would be splendid," he bragged. Eying the couple, he admitted, "Perhaps a more... distinguished Warren, but splendid nonetheless."

Paige would like to say it was the knowledge that it was her son's wedding - and that Piper had spent hours decorating (after Paige, Henry, Leo, and Phoebe had been vanished after trying to help while Coop successfully pleaded his care for helping while Piper and Alicia, who played surprisingly nice for the typical haughty witch, argued about decorations for their nephew and younger sister's wedding respectively) - that kept her drink from ending up in Simon's face.

It was actually because she already finished it unfortunately. Gritting her teeth, she said, "I think that Henry is fine as he is."

Distinguished, he said, as if Anna didn't remind Paige of a significantly more rich version of herself as a teenager. Still, Anna, like Alicia, had a soft side to her, even if someone like Paige never saw it.

Across the hall, Paige watched her son smile as Anna smoothed one hand over her younger sister's hair. Lily was gesturing more emphatically than Paige had ever seen Simon's youngest daughter act, but she was adorable in her bridesmaid dress. For how fast everything went, Paige had to admit that Simon had spared no expense on his middle daughter's wedding.

"Peculiar though, isn't it?" Simon mused. "It seems that Anna's courtship with Harvey went by so quick. She didn't tell me about it until they were engaged even!"

"I wonder why," Paige said, just barely masking her tone from something more harsh. "and it's Henry, Simon."

Simon waved off of her comment with one hand, frowning. "It does seem a bit quick, but then again, it does seem to be a Marks' family trait!"

If he brought up his onetime pursuit of her, forget Piper's outrage, she was gonna spar him herself this time.

"After all, I knew that you were the Charmed sister I was destined to wed at first sight!"

Paige knew for a fact that there were swords in Marks Manor; she just had to find them first. Besides, wasn't it a Warren tradition that something happen at everyone of their weddings? Piper's had been hijacked by astral Prue, Phoebe's - well, what hadn't gone wrong with Phoebe's first marriage? Or her second? Paige's had been her and Henry's commitment issues and the Triad. Junior's would just be his mother kicking his father-in-law's ass.

"But even after you rejected my courtship, it took little more than a few moments in my dear Alyssa's company for me to fall in love," Simon reminisced, something softer in his voice.

Against herself, Paige couldn't help but feel her annoyance drain away. Alyssa Marks nee Wells had married Simon not even a year after his proposal to Paige, and despite the quick timeframe, the two had seemed utterly devoted to one another. From what she'd seen and heard from the Marks, Alyssa had been just as devoted, and significantly more hands-on than Simon, with their three daughters until the day she died when the girls were barely teenagers.

Paige missed her parents everyday, but it had been a special ache that neither of them had ever been able to meet her husband. It had been bearable with her sisters by her side, but still.

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see them together," Paige offered hesitantly. She hadn't known Alyssa very well, but she seemed like a kind person and had more Simon significantly more bearable when he was unavoidable.

Simon patted at his eyes with a handkerchief, and chuckled. "Oh, she'd have been ecstatic for our Anna. I'm sure that you two would have gotten along swimmingly over time as well!"

Paige wasn't sure about that; they hadn't seemed like they had much in common, but she wasn't going to disagree. The music started up again, and couples began swarming the floor.

Straightening, Simon turned to her and offered his hand, "Shall we dance, Miss Matthews? It does seem somewhat traditional on an occasion such as this, that the groom's mother and the bride's father should have a dance."*

Paige had never been one for tradition, but took his hand anyway for the sake of family unity and all that. (Also, if she went back to the sword idea, there were two crossed over the fireplace on one side of the dance floor.)

Twirling out on the floor, Paige tried to follow the steps while Simon chattered away in her ear about the planning process and how it had compared to his and Alyssa's wedding so many years ago.

Narrowly avoiding stepping on his foot, Paige tuned back in when Simon commented, "I must say, Anna never did tell me how they met and their courtship went. Did Hugo tell you?"

"Henry," Paige emphasized and then faltered. She actually wasn't totally sure when the two had gone on a date. It had been a bit quick, but could she say anything when her marriage had been similarly fast?

"Yes?" her husband said, with a cheeky smile. Paige could've kissed him as he asked Simon, "Isn't this the part where they switch partners?"

Simon, flustered, said, "Why, I don't think-"

"Father, please?" Alicia requested, already reaching for her father. She tilted her head just so, eyes flicking from Paige to Henry. It was as close to a signal as Paige was going to get, and she fully intended to take it.

It was more Alicia's elegance that allowed her to slip into her father's hold while Paige grabbed Henry's hand, but if it worked. As the music continued, Alicia smoothly led her father into the next stage of the dance until he began leading once again.

Meanwhile, Paige and Henry swayed for a moment, not following any steps besides their own. She pressed her forehead to her husband's shoulder and groaned while he let out a little huff of laughter. "That bad, huh?"

"It's Simon," Paige bemoaned.

"And to think, now we're related to him."

Paige gave her husband a dark look. "Don't remind me."

"Hey, who just saved you?" Henry grinned down at her, shuffling side to side before spinning her.

Paige pressed into his chest after, a smile on her lips, before she remembered Simon's last comment to her. "Did Junior tell you when he and Anna went on their first date?"

Henry opened his mouth and then faltered, eyes glazing over momentarily. He shook his head as if to dislodge something, and then said, "I mean, he must have told us about it at some point?"

Paige couldn't remember, and based on Henry's expression, he couldn't either. She couldn't quite master the feeling of unease.

That was about the time that Lily started shouting and Penny punched her brother in the face.

By the end of the night, the spell had been broken and Paige no longer had to worry about being related to Simon Marks. Sinking down on the stone steps next to Henry, she groaned, kicking off her heels. He lifted one arm around her shoulder on instinct as the two watched the clean-up of the former wedding venue. On one side, Anna and Junior were talking to a Marks' family lawyer about if "we were under a demonic spell" was a valid reason for an annulment.

On the other side, Lily and Patience, the babies of the Marks and Warren lines respectively, were both beet red from all of the praise for figuring out that their sister and cousin respectively was spelled. The two girls, who Paige was pretty sure had the same powers, seemed to be becoming fast friends as Lily grabbed Patience's hand to show her something on her palm.

Down from them, Alicia, somehow still picture perfect despite Paige personally seeing her electrocute a demon and then behead one in heels and a floor-length dress, was mid-conversation with her cousin Jonathan and Chris. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, and turned away from the boys to check on her sister. What she missed, and Paige didn't, was the way that Chris and Jonathan exchanged looks.

Henry, watching the same thing as her, said, "What are the odds of us not actually ending up in-laws to Simon Marks?"

Paige groaned against his shoulder, wondering if she could sic her brother-in-law on her niece and nephew. Surely, Coop could steer them away from a Marks love interest, right?

Patience looked up beneath her lashes shyly at Lily while Jonathan tugged Chris into his side by his belt loops.

At least it wasn't her kids this time.

*I don't actually think this is a thing, but idc.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for feeling betrayed that my friend survived, and abandoning him for my fiance?

I (14F) have been betrothed to my beloved C (13M) for as long as I can remember. He is my light, my shine in this world. He is brilliant, and kind, and he's always been there for me. I love him, I really love him, at least I ... want to believe that I do. I am also friends with his twin brother E (13M), but..... if I am being honest, I was never very close with E... Not the same way I was with C.

A while ago, C and his family died. His home burnt to the ground, and... I didn't hear too many details. But C was gone, and I mourned.

...Until, a month later, by some miracle, he came back! And.... I think I knew something was wrong, back then. But I couldn't look at it. I wanted to hope, I needed to hope that he survived. I swore to stay by his side. He was weaker than I remembered him, so I vowed to become the kind of wife that could protect him, and never let this happen again. I thought.... It must have been what he went through, that changed him. Something that I could never understand. But I would accept him, no matter who he had become.

Except... a few weeks ago, I found out that C hadn't survived. That the person I had thought was C, had claimed to be C, was actually E, this entire time. And I felt so horrible, so angry and betrayed that he lied to me, that he got my hopes up just to break my heart all over again.

But perhaps worst of all... Even if I am furious with E for tricking me... Would I have been as relieved, if he had been honest about who he were? Or would I still have felt betrayed, and resentful, that he came back and not C? And what a cruel thing to think, what a horrible frightening thought, that I would be so disappointed to see him, knowing who he were... when I was so glad and happy to spend time with him, under the guise that he was C. And what's worse... is the thought that, if I couldn't even realize E was lying to me... If I felt such joy to be with E simply thinking he was C... then is it not C himself that I love, but the idea of him? Am I that shallow, that vain? How cruel... How horrible of me, to not realize, and to feel such... disappointment and resentment.

...I am so afraid that I might have said something as ugly as "I wish it had been C," or "why did it have to be you that came back," if he had told me the truth... so then how can I fault him with my whole heart for lying to me?

...There is a way to bring C back. The person who told me that C had truly died back then... showed me where they were keeping him. It's unnatural, and it's unethical, but I don't care. ...I want to be by his side, the actual real C, from now on....

...but... there's a doubt in my mind, that wonders... is this thing that they are bringing back actually him...? or am I making the same mistake.... and chasing after a name and a face, and not C himself...?

[naoa-ao3]

Waiting for the Sun

Methos wakes, heart pounding in his chest and in his ears.

He has his hand on his stomach and for a second he isn't sure where he is. What bed this is or when it is.

Then his eyes adjust and he sees familiar shapes and walls.

It's his bed but it's empty and when his hand slides to where for but for a brief time Alexa had lain it closes on air.

Everyone dies and at times he's been numb to it, at times he's been used to it. Those times are not good ones. They're lies and he swallows in the dark, looking at the electric clock on the table beside the bed.

3:00 A.M.

She's only been gone a few months and he barely knew her for more than that and yet just the same he feels as if he'd spent an eternity with her.

"Alexa." He whispers to no one and no one whispers back.

Grief takes time and he's had more of that than anyone else but knowing and feeling aren't the same thing. The pain in his chest doesn't care what his mind knows. The pain in his chest only cares about the empty space beside him and the missing smile from his life.

He exhales and for a second can smell antiseptic that isn't there either. He can hear the sounds of the hospital she died in and the ache in his chest grows painful and angry. It claws at him. It gnashes it's teeth and makes his ears hurt.

The bed is cool and empty and really, they travelled so much in the time she had. . . he doubted she even spent a week's worth of nights in this bed.

Still, his hand opens and closes on nothing and he tries to make himself calm and detached but when he can't he instead rises and walks to the windows.

He's lived long enough to know that grief will never truly become easy. . . to know that if it does then something all the more is wrong.

He stares out at the street below, remembering beaches and blue water in Greece and the look on her face when the plane had touched down. She hadn't it seemed really believed they were going until they'd gotten there.

He wishes it were not night and the sun were up instead and he had places to go, bars and shops and parks. . . places with noise and people and moving life but it is night and the sun won't be up for just a little while longer.

He's had so many dawns that came too soon, so many he'd tried to stave off. Now is one he wishes would speed itself. Now is one he waits for because the night is very lonely and he has no one beside him but her ghost. A lingering memory and a feeling in his chest.

Accepting sleep gone he turns from the window and runs a hand through his hair. It's suddenly cold and he reaches for a sweater, catching a glint of moon on the hilt of his sword and shakes his head.

There's nothing for it so he turns the light on and doesn't try to sleep again. He makes something hot to drink and reads a book, practicing being Adam Pearson and a million other men.

The sun will rise and the day will start and life will go on.

All of it without Alexa and eventually when all others have passed away he alone will remember her face and name, the look in her eyes when she smiled. . . he plans to never forget any part of her. Not so long as he still lives.

He waits for the sun to come and the day to start and thinks of seeing Joe and maybe Mac if he has the time. . . he's let himself get oddly comfortable with these people, allowed a kind of comradery he hasn't known for a very long time. It's curious and perhaps not the wisest but on this night he's glad he can count friends so close.

When the sun rises he keeps Alexa in his chest and puts his book aside.

There are things to do after all and places to go and the streets are coming to life with cars and people and noise.

The sounds of civilization and her forward march.

If only for a brief moment he had gotten to share that chaos with someone special and even if she isn't there any more he feels in some small way close to her again.

[horizon-verizon]

Have you seen / played The Last of us II. If yes, what do you think? Personally, I don't like Abby, and especially her relationship with Yev, which is so forced that it's borderline absurd. I hope they will develop this part more in the adaptation. Because, it's fucking stupid that Abby suddenly decides that Yev becomes everything to her, in just two / three fucking days. Clearly, it was just a reminder of the Joel & Ellie relationship, but it just sucked.

I did see Part II, but I barely remember how she actually bonded with Yev. I'm planning on rewatching. Can't answer for that.

However, I remember liking the overall story while still missing Joel. I like how how it continues from Ellie's struggle to forgive Joel for essentially putting himself above the world and denying her wish while still loving him. Also how we lean more into the dark side or risk of love and it's loss: revenge.

In a dystopia (defined as "an imagined state or society in which there is great suffering or injustice, typically one that is totalitarian or post-apocalyptic" OR "a society characterized by human misery, as squalor, oppression, disease, and overcrowding"), people will form strong bonds and find some sort of hope in each other, biologically connected or not. It is what makes them the same and safe. Revenge is maybe inevitable in a context like this, even for Ellie.

Ellie is an example of a person who also has bigger hopes of ending human suffering though partially because she lost so many people to the fungus and the former society's dissolution, while Joel's interests conflict with hers as he simply wishes to survive with those he loves around him. They see each other as parent-child, but she would have (and does) have so much resentment and rage because her hopes were dashed, her desire to fulfill what she thought was her purpose has now gone to the way side and she felt she would never have another opportunity like that again. And she feels that Joel betrayed her trust when she has trusted in him, him knowing that she would have wanted to risk herself for this cure that she knows could come to nothing whether due to human stupidity, miscalculation, or ineffectuveness.

To have her lose Joel before she could really come to terms with that and reconcile, Joel is taken from her. And perhaps she feels she has to make up for "abandoning" him, reconnect in a twisted way, as well as give herself a new purpose through revenge for his person who raised and protected her. But even in my words, it shows that it's both about Joel and not about Joel -- purpose.

And one scenario where that love for someone conflicting with the "love" for humanity ends up destroying the regard for oneself, blinding them into abandoning themselves and others in a perpetual cycle that can only be stopped by an active choice.

IDK, I liked the twists. I and thought that it was actually very natural for the story to go the way it did. Again, did I miss Joel? Of course! I believe that that is kinda the point of his early death in the game. He hangs over us and Ellie like a lead shadow, her memory and grief urging and pressing her to travel outside of the place where Joel took her to keep her safe and have her develop something like a "normal" life. She made the choice to leave that life, that safe haven to right a wrong, when she hadn't ever confronted the first wrong, which can never truly be confronted because Joel is dead! Crazy writing, loved it.

We at first root for her because we liked Joel and how he died was brutal...and then we come up against the fact that his death was also a revenge killing?! A woman avenging her father, using the rationale of how her father was more "important" than Ellie because he was getting a cure? Abby, with her own hypocrisies that mirror Ellie's and Joel's, when we all know the tri reason she killed Joel was for her father, as the show's Kathleen pursued Henry and Sam? What?!

[sinag789tala]

all versions of eurydice that i desperately wish people cared to really analyze or dissect

that one version of the eurydice that kept crying out for her husband to actually look at her because she wasn't made aware of the conditions set by hades, always about the orpheus that loved her to damnation, never about eurydice who saw orpheus' back turned to her, her only lead in the treachery of the underworld. the only thing she could love her, the only thing that could love her, and he does not spare her even a passing glance. death, death that strips you to your most basic wants, and could only think you only just returned to me, what worth is it when you won't even look my way? eurydice who, in death, only wanted to be seen again. only wanted the one she loved most above all things to see her again. please. please, please see me. won't you see me? after everything? i have missed you and terribly. please. i'm sorry i left you. don't leave me. it's dark. it's dark orpheus please, please, i need you orpheus, don't leave me alone again. love that carves desperation. desperation that carves doom. she didn't know. but she had to. the underworld for her after, it is fragile, she asked and he answered and it caught up to them. she was the one who doubted. why did she ever doubt? she roams the underworlds and murmurs apologies into the wind and hopes, despite everything, that orpheus returns to her soon, they will walk together, no front, no behind. and they will say with certainty that they love each other. when he returns to her she crumbles in his arms and he kisses her hair, everywhere, everywhere, warms her soul with the love and the forgiveness, hush, hush, hush, i love you. i love you. i'm here now. forever. i love you. i promise. i love you.

the version where eurydice wasn't quick enough and orpheus had gone out before her and he thought she had gotten out too but she hadn't. always about how he turned too soon but never about how she didn't even make it. she was so close, but not close enough. the very last moment she sees orpheus' eyes, what does she feel? is it anger, you turned too soon, you always go too fast, is it despair, i wasn't quick enough, i couldn't make it, i'm sorry. i think of her as she claws through the air to grasp his hand, not for salvation, for farewell, but she cannot graze him because the very next breath she takes she is falling and falling and she will never know what it means to breathe again. she was close. she was so so close. how could you? how could you? why couldn't you wait for me? we were so close. how could you? they were almost there. it cannot be forgotten that they were almost there. it was not doubt that he lost her. perhaps joy. perhaps excitement. perhaps hope. but he lost her, and in the most bitter way --- because it is an undeniable fact of this story, that they were almost there. she returns to the underworld and her anger dissipates into numb fog. she hopes he dies soon. she hopes that it is not merciful. and when he returns to her, tattered and broken and weeping at her feet for forgiveness she will find that in the first place, there was nothing to forgive, because orpheus was as he always has been. joy and excitement and hope. he was himself. to the bitter end. it is an undeniable fact of this story. she knows.

eurydice that trips. eurydice that cries out in the darkness, the first sound she's made since it started, the noise hoarse from perhaps days, weeks, months without speaking, but it is a noise nevertheless. always about the orpheus that loved her and caught her and never about the eurydice that couldn't blame him. she couldn't be angry. it is the purest love perhaps. they did nothing wrong, neither of them did anything wrong. it was an accident, she could've gotten hurt, and this silence between them, the world they've made with each other, they've lapsed into this regular for so long that this is almost normalcy. almost. she trips and he catches her. she stalls and he pulls her away. she lingers too close and he gives her an elsewhere. and he saved her, ironically, when he couldn't save her before. she tripped. that was all. it wasn't his fault. if she didn't trip maybe they would've made it but she tripped and he loved her so he got her. it wasn't their fault. she reaches the underworld and her heart aches with yearning, the bitterness that comes with wanting intensely to undo that one mistake.

bonus that i like

a eurydice that is tired. she is first the nymph, then the muse, then the wife, then the victim, then the bargaining chip of a god, then ultimately once more the victim. she dies. is that the only thing that matters to her story? that a man loved her, then she died, he kept loving her, and she stayed dead anyway? nothing that happens in the story was ever up to her. nothing that happens to her has been her fault, nothing that happens to her has been something she chose. when orpheus turns around she is too exhausted to be angry. she follows him out of the underworld because what is she going to do? reject it? stay here, where it's cold and dark and no one knows her? when orpheus turns around she is too exhausted to even to be surprised. just vaguely hopeful that they will finally leave her alone. let her rest. god, please, let her rest. the underworld gives her the reprieve of a little quiet, that's all. that's all. "but he loves you" god i know please give it a rest. i know. i know, i know he loves me, gods damn it all it seems like that's the only thing anyone can ever say about the both of us---he loves me---what a superficial statement. said so much it's been parroted back and forth to distortion. he loves me---so what? is that all im here for? is all i am for someone to love me? do i live for someone to love me? why cant i live for myself? is his love all that matters to this story? what about me? what about me? leave me alone. let me stay dead. please.

Why is it always about Orpheus turning back foolishly and never about Eurydice following him out of the Underworld, likely knowing she was doomed. That Orpheus went all this way, singing the story of their love, hopeful that he will return her to the surface and finally build their life together— but they will not. She knows her Orpheus will turn back. And yet she still follows him, all the way to the top, because the simple pleasure of seeing his back again is enough for her. Isn’t that a foolish thing to do for love?

[nicsnort]

The Bookworm and the Beast [part 30]

A dark Scarecrow/Fem!OC romance fanfic

Intro [with Ao3 link] First Previous

Jonathan listened as Isabel readied for bed. His office was next to the bathroom, so he could hear washing up. Then he could hear her enter the bedroom further down the hall. With a sigh, he rubbed his face. He could not blame her for being nervous and scared. This was a new stage of life for her, for both of them. If Jonathan could still feel fear, he himself might be scared. As it was, there was a tension he could feel whenever he thought about their future. It was not unlike the tension he felt when he was working on a new formula or about to have a plan come to fruition. Perhaps it was because he did have a plan coming to fruition. Not his plan with the mechanical suit and all that but his plan with Isabel. His relationship with Isabel may have started as an experiment in Stockholm Syndrome, but it had morphed into a plan to finally have a worthy partner.

There was only the problem of getting her to agree. He could tell she could feel their connection but she still cared about the ideas that society had placed in her head about right and wrong. True he had bent them, true she understood why his doings were important, but she thought that the weak morality of those sheep was worth something. Isabel did not yet understand how little society cared for her and the little they did care would disappear the moment that they learned of her sympathy towards him.

Leaving his office, Jonathan went downstairs to the basement. The large thug that he had been punishing had died last night leaving only Isabel's attempted rapist. However, Jonathan did not want to start on the scum's punishment yet. Isabel should deal with him. It would be one of the last parts of her therapy.

"Just kill me now." The scum moaned from inside his cage. Jonathan ignored him and walked past to the chemical room down the hall. Right now, Jonathan was working on something other than his next formula and all for Isabel.

~~~~~

Isabel sipped on a cup of tea reading one of the books she had gotten at the book fair two days ago. Jonathan was in his office doing something and hadn't come out since breakfast several hours ago. Draining the last drops of her tea Isabel stood. She wanted another cup, but she would also make Jonathan some coffee. Going into the kitchen, Isabel filled the pot with water and set it on the stove.

As she waited for the pot to boil Isabel reflected on the past couple of days. After she had gone to bed two nights ago after she had denied Jonathan another kiss Isabel had fallen into a restless sleep. She had dreamt of what would happen when Jonathan released her. Her father was found out and sent to jail, she was sent to jail, Jonathan was killed, she was killed, her father was killed, and on and on. Each terrifying possibility swam in her mind so that when she awoke yesterday morning she was panicking thinking one of them had come true. It had taken two cups of tea and Jonathan reassured her that nothing would happen to her or him for her to calm down. Jonathan had spent the rest of the day with her reading on the couch and talking. Isabel had wished that it would go on like that forever. If only Jonathan would shed his Scarecrow persona, and stop with his plans, then maybe she would not find everything so confusing maybe then they could…

The pot whistled, interrupting her train of thought. She took it off the stove filling both her cup and Jonathan's coffee mug. She added the little bit of cream that he liked. On her way to his office, she set her cup on the end table. Outside the office door, Isabel knocked with just a hint of nervousness. There was no answer from inside.

"Jonathan," she said, knocking again, a little louder this time. Still, there was no response. She couldn't even hear any movement inside. Her fingers trembled slightly as she touched the doorknob and poked her head in. The room was dark, with only a small desk lamp on at the far end of the room. Sitting at the desk was Jonathan, his form casting a dark shadow across the room. He was not moving.

"Jonathan?" Isabel asked cautiously approaching. As she did so, she heard soft snoring escape his mouth. He was asleep. A pang of guilt rushed through her. It was her fault he hadn't been sleeping, she was using his bed. Isabel had always assumed that he was instead sleeping on the couch but perhaps not. As silently as she could, Isabel walked over to Jonathan. She was looking for a place to set the coffee, but the entire desk was covered in books and papers. With one hand she carefully moved some of the papers. When an adequate space was cleared, she set the mug down with a light clink.

It was then that she was suddenly slammed against the nearest wall. Jonathan had woken up. His hands held her wrists on either side of her head, and his body pressed hers against the wall. Isabel's breath began to quicken. Touching too much touching.

"Jonathan," she gasped, staring at his furious, still half-asleep face. His expression softened as he recognized who she was but he still did not let go of her wrists.

"Isabel, what are you doing here?"

"I made you some coffee." She said her eyes flickering to the cup on the table.

"I told you never to come in here."

"I know, I knocked, but you didn't answer. I knew you were in here, though. I'm sorry. Jonathan please." Isabel struggled just a little bit, trying to get Jonathan to move. Having his body pressed against hers was creating too many confusing thoughts and physical feelings. But Jonathan did not budge.

"You are such a sweet girl, Isabel. So considerate. Do you know how long it has been since somebody treated me like you have?" Isabel shook her head. Before he spoke, Jonathan leaned in to talk directly into her ear. "Never. You are the first ever to show me such kindness. Your kindness has helped me. Let me help you."

"Jonathan I…" Isabel trailed off as he stared into her eyes. Those blue eyes were hypnotizing and captured Isabel's gaze as her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't look away. Gradually Jonathan moved his head forward. He was asking permission. Isabel couldn't bear to say yes but she didn't want to say no either.

Tenderly Jonathan's lips pressed against hers. Isabel's heart pounded in her chest no longer from panic but from excitement. Ever so slightly, Jonathan moved his lips. He was testing, experimenting. Underneath his ministrations, Isabel's eyes slid closed, and she parted her lips. Jonathan deepened the kiss, but he didn't add his tongue. He gently bit her lower lip and then pressed a soft kiss against it. He pulled away and slowly Isabel opened her eyes. They stared at each other in silence. The only sound in the room was their long shallow breaths.

Finally, Jonathan stepped back, releasing her. "Come with me, Isabel. It is time for one of the last treatments I can give you."

Her head felt light as she took Jonathan's open hand. In a silence tense with expectation, Jonathan led her down the flights of stairs to the basement. As they descended into the dark, Isabel was not bothered by the smell. All of her attention was fixed on Jonathan. He brought her into his experimenting chamber. The room was pitch black.

"Isabel," Jonathan said bringing them to a stop just inside the door. "You have done so well with your treatments, but now comes the time when you must face the source of your trauma. Only once you overcome him can you fully recover from what he did."

Reaching behind him, Jonathan flicked on the lights. The sudden brightness caused Isabel to shut her eyes, but when she opened them again, Jonathan was standing by his operating table with her would-be rapist strapped to it. Isabel felt her heart stop inside her chest at the sight of him. He was looking at her with fury in his eyes.

"You little bitch, this is all your fault." He whispered, his voice scratchy and dry.

"That is not how you talk to a lady, worm. I would keep you on the edge of death for weeks if I could, but it is not my place to determine your fate. Isabel, it is your choice." Jonathan gestured to a table with various weapons on it.

"Jonathan…" Isabel said, slowly approaching the table. On it were a couple of gleaming blades, several blunt instruments, a gun, and his toxin. "What is the meaning of this?"

"You know Isabel. This is justice. Punish him for his crimes against you."

"Bitch you had it coming!" The man on the table yelled. "You were asking for it being out that late with your clothes all wet. Hell, you wanted it!"

Isabel's hands tightened into fists.

"He deserves to be punished," Jonathan said softly, stepping up behind her. Isabel's arms were shaking now as an internal battle raged inside her. This man had plagued her thoughts with his dirty words and she could still feel the phantom of his touch. Would killing him truly make those stop? But to hurt somebody like this? To kill somebody? The thought had never crossed her mind before until now. Yes, she wanted to see him scream in pain but could she really be the cause of that?

"You pussy! You can't even take revenge! Maybe you did like it! Your cunt was so juicy with blood I couldn't tell! Did I make you hot, whore? Did I make your pussy even juicier?" Her blood boiling in her veins, Isabel grabbed the sledgehammer and swung it down, hitting his upper arm with a dull thud. The man cried out in pain, but then he started to laugh.

"Is that the best you got whore?"

"Silence!" Isabel yelled, dropping the hammer and picking up a knife. "Silence, you sorry waste of space. You pathetic excuse for a human. You are inconsequential. You have the intelligence of a goldfish and the appearance of the lowest slug."

With each insult, Isabel cut away part of his shirt and pants. The knife cut deep into his flesh in several places. "Disappointing no wonder you have to rape women."

Isabel threw away the knife and seized the baseball bat. With a snarl of rage, she brought the meat of the bat down on his crotch. The man screamed and finally began to whimper.

"That's better. Scream all you want no one can hear you. Scream as I did." She brought the bat down again. Tears were streaming down his face now. Abandoning the bat, Isabel returned to the table and picked up the gun. Cocking the hammer on the revolver, she pressed it against his head. Isabel held it there, staring into his bloodshot eyes. Through his pain, he stared back, painful fury and hate in his eyes.

"Do it, bitch," he spat a challenge in his eyes. "Just do it!"

His shout woke Isabel from her angry haze. Her eyes widened, and she dropped the gun to her side. Reeling from the thought of what she had almost done, Isabel stepped back from the operating table and ran into Jonathan. Turning around slowly, she looked up at him with stunned eyes.

"Do it! Kill me!" The worm on the table pleaded as Isabel handed the gun to Jonathan.

"No," Isabel stated softly. "You are not worth the effort. If you want to die, then do so, but I will not give you the quick death you crave. Jonathan let him rot down here."

Jonathan smiled broadly. "Whatever you wish, Pet."

He set the gun down on the table and led Isabel out of the basement. The begging of the man for them to end his life echoing behind them.

________

Next

Masterlist

[caffeinated-creepshow]

TRATM XIII: The Search for Answers That Could Scar

Chapter thirteen of The Raven and the Mockingbird, a T-rated Deadman Wonderland fanfic from 2013-17. Since this an archive, I am not editing the chapters as they are posted. Follows an OC named Tsumetai and her relationship with canon character, Toto Sakigami.

Word count: 1284 | Original Quotev post | Summary and masterlist

Full chapter below the cut

Lots of time has passed since the catastrophic tag team Carnival Corpse. A lot of time has passed since Toto tried to kill Tsumetai. So much has passed, it seems immeasurable.

Tsumetai hasn't spoken to anyone, other than Sanae and Chaplin on rare occasions, since the incident. It struck a chord deep within her; a chord she thought she'd broken long ago. Remembering her brother, thinking about how angry he'd be at her if he saw her now, thinking of her mother and the disappointment she'd carry, breaks her. Toto trying to kill her only aids the shattering.

Holding herself together has been the hardest struggle Tsumetai has faced since she was put into Deadman Wonderland. It's funny, really. Memories of loved ones usually help prisoners cope, but for Deadmen, it seems nearly impossible for such a thing to happen. Many Deadmen are alone, with no close family to remember fondly. Others have horrible pasts they wish to regret. For Tsumetai, she often wishes she would've died with her mother and brother. None of this would have happened; Toto wouldn't have betrayed her...She wouldn't have to deal with her brother's memory haunting her every single time she closes her eyes.

'No. Stop it. He's gone; so is Mom. There's nothing that can be done now,' she often tells herself. 'You have Sanae, and Chaplin, hell, even Senji! Toto may have betrayed you, but you always knew something was very, VERY off about him. Maybe it's finally shining through?' Often her thoughts circle back to Toto, and his unexpected attempt at her life. What's wrong with him? What's causing this change? No matter how hard she thinks on it, nothing makes any sense. Perhaps a talk with Sanae is in order.

For the first time in weeks, Tsumetai has socialized on purpose. It was, of course, with her most trusted friend and ally, Sanae.

"I need your help," she'd said suddenly, having appeared behind Sanae quite randomly in the packed cafeteria. Someone had won a lot from their Carnival Corpse and was treating whoever wanted to be treated, it appeared.

"What do you need?" Sanae asked, spinning around. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't been spooked by the suddenness of Tsumetai's appearance, or the scratchiness of her hardly used voice.

"I can't tell you here. It needs to be one-hundred percent private," Tsumetai answered. Standing, Sanae grabbed her water bottle and led her friend back towards her room. After they entered the room, she shut the door and locked it.

"Now will you tell me?"

Taking a deep breath, Tsumetai asked the burning question, "Do you have any idea what's going on with Toto?" Of course this was about Toto; he had to be the only thing on Tsumetai's mind for all those weeks.

"I could probably take a guess or two, but do I actually know? No, I don't. Why?"

"I've been thinking a lot about everything that's happened since him and I got together, and I realized something. Once before did Toto try to kill me, but he hid it by pretending it was his kink. Now that what's happened has happened, I realized it wasn't just a kink. There's something wrong with him, and I can't tell what it is. I was hoping you knew." Sanae shook her head, sitting down to ponder the new information.

"Now that all of this is out on the table, it does shape up to be pretty odd," she agreed after a few moments. "In fact, I thought that was just who he was; to be spontaneously murderous with no provocation. But would that apply to the person he cares for deeply enough to threaten death if I were to hurt them?" The revelation Sanae had just uttered paralyzed Tsumetai for a moment.

"He threatened to kill you if you hurt me?" she whispered. Sanae nodded absentmindedly as she mulled over everything she'd been told, as well as her personal experiences, as Tsumetai's head buzzed with even more questions. 'Why would he threaten to kill her for hurting me if he purposely tried to kill me? Did he want to be the one to hurt me? Or is killing me something he's not doing by his own will, but someone else's?'

"I think there's something deeper going on than we can figure out without doing any digging," Sanae finally said after a long pause from thinking. "I can do all I can to look into this, but you'll have to as well. I can't get the information we need completely on my own."

"I'll do as much as I can as well," she promised. "I just need a place to start."

"If I had one, I'd tell you. My only suggestion is an Undertaker or something...If you can even find one." Nodding, Tsumetai thanked Sanae before leaving, locking the door again behind her. 'I hope we figure out what's going on...For her sake.'

Sanae has never been a fan of the Undertakers, for multiple reasons. The chief reason is because they all seem to have the desire to cut her up; considering that would be there job if it were ordered, though, she can't necessarily blame them.

Today is an exception, though. The Undertakers work directly under Tamaki, the director of Deadman Wonderland - or so she's been led to believe. If anyone were to know information only the tip-top of the corporate chain would know, it would be them...Hopefully.

She's set off to find Azuma Genkaku, the only Undertaker that seems even somewhat capable of keeping his urges under control...And even then, she doubts he's very trustworthy. However, her decision has been made, and considering she's already snuck her way to his quarters, there's not really any going back. Taking the deepest breath she can, Sanae knocks very lightly on the door. Immediately, the clammer of someone wading through a messy room can be heard, before the door opens to the very person she was looking for.

"A Deadman? Aren't you supposed to be back in G Ward, where you belong?" Despite the harsh undertones of his words, Azuma doesn't make any moves to harm Sanae.

"I need some information," she started, "if you have it."

Leaning against the doorframe, Azuma quirked an eyebrow as he asked, "What kind of information?"

"Information regarding Toto Sakigami." The name made Azuma perk up instantly, and he ushered her into his room.

"What about him?" he asked when he was sure the door was locked. "And speak quietly."

"A fellow Deadman - Tsumetai, or Raven, I guess - has been wondering about Toto because she's observed some changes in him recently." Azuma sat back, mulling over what he knew.

"Did she know him before he disappeared?" he asked after a while.

"No. She arrived here after he had shown back up, I believe."

"Hmm..." And so Azuma fell into thought and Sanae waited, hoping she would get a lead out of the deranged man. After five minutes had passed, something seemed to click in Azuma. "I'm pretty sure that I don't know what you're looking for, but I know who does."

"Who?" Sanae sat forward, scared but eager to hear the name.

"They're twins; their names are Chan and En. If you can find them, you'll find your answers." Jumping up to her feet, Sanae picked her way to the door quickly before stopping.

"What do I owe you for this information?"

"How about, if the Undertakers ever have to fight you off, I get to fight you. Sound like a deal?"

"Deal." And with the deal struck, Sanae unlocked the door and ran off to tell Tsumetai what their next step would have to be.

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forging Ties - Chapter 30 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

No. This person couldn't be Nim because Nim was dead.

This guy was older than Nim... or...no, too young because time had passed. Too alive.

His hair was longer than Nim's had been and Nim hadn't ever had facial hair.

Sure, those things could change but no they couldn't because Nim was dead.

This was just someone else, like Yore, who looked like Nim.

Who looked exactly like Nim.

But this man who couldn't be Nim was looking back at Skye and he looked just as stunned as Skye felt.

Why would a stranger look at him like that?

The word escaped Skye's lips as barely more than a whisper.

"Nim?"

Long legs crossed the distance between them in an instant and then arms embraced Skye and he knew it was Nim.

He didn't know how but it was him and he felt real and warm and alive.

Skye wrapped his arms around him and clung.

He didn't know how this was happening but nobody was ever going to take Nim away from him again.

Eventually, Nim pulled back just far enough that he could look Skye in the eyes.

"How did you find me?"

"Ah," Slone said as he rounded the side of the cabin, Yore at his side.

They were both dressed in shorts and nothing else.

"Long story, that. Short of it is that I found him on the other side of the mountains."

"Fuck," Nim whispered. "I never thought..."

"Took me way longer than it should have to put the pieces together," Slone said. "You'd think the name and what he looks like would be enough but nah. I ain't heard the story since I was a kid and sometimes my brain just don't seem to put together what's right in front of me. Got there in the end, though. Guess that's what matters."

"What happened, Skye?" Nim asked. "Where have you been?"

Skye shrugged.

"I forgot most of it."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"I thought you died. I saw..."

Skye shook his head.

His eyes felt damp and his throat was tight.

"You were dead."

"I was," Nim said. "The Fae found me and brought me back."

"Oh," Skye said. "I should have just waited. Everything would have been okay if I'd just waited."

"No, it wouldn't have. It took days. You would have frozen to death if you'd stayed."

"Well, okay but I could have..."

Skye pressed his lips together and shook his head in frustration because he knew he couldn't have done anything but what he did.

He couldn't have seen what he saw and then held himself together long enough to find the others.

"You couldn't have done anything to change what happened, Skye," Nim said, his hands squeezing Skye's arms. "It's not your fault."

Skye nodded but he didn't feel any better.

They could have been together this whole time and everything would have been fine.

"How long have you been yourself? Aware, I mean?"

Skye shrugged.

"A year or two or something. I'm not good at time."

"I thought so," Nim said. "I've looked seventeen for over a hundred years but over the last couple of years, I've started to look a little older. We have a connection."

"So if I just forget, you get to live forever? You only get older if I do?"

"I don't want to live forever, Skye. I want to live the life I've been waiting for all of these years with you."

"You had to wait all this time just because I went the wrong way and forgot. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You see that young man?"

Nim pointed to Yore, and Skye nodded.

"That's my grandson. He's my daughter's son. I've missed you every single day but I wouldn't wish away the people I've brought into this world in the time we were apart. If things had gone differently back then, many things would be different now."

"Oh," Skye said. "Do you have a wife?"

"No, Skye," Nim said. "I'm still gay."

"Well that's very interesting because I know how babies are made, you know."

"Through artificial insemination, in this case."

"Hmm," Skye said. "I don't know what that means."

"It means I give them my sperm and they do the rest without me. It wasn't an intimate relationship. People thought that perhaps me being this un-aging immortal being would make my genetics more powerful but as it turns out they're just powerfully gay."

Skye twisted his lips together in contemplation as he nodded along.

"Is that why you have a beard now?"

"Huh?"

"Because you didn't kiss anyone to make the baby, so they couldn't tell you that it feels bad."

"I take it you don't approve of my facial hair, then?"

"Well..." Skye said. "No."

Nim laughed.

"I can shave. I was just trying not to look like a teenager anymore but it seems like you're the best cure for that."

"Hmm."

Skye hugged Nim's arm against his chest.

"You can have a beard if you want to. I just want you, no matter how bad your face feels against my skin."

"I haven't even kissed you yet. You don't know how it feels."

"No, Nim, you don't understand. Everyone used to have beards. It was the fashion and also maybe good razors didn't exist yet, I'm not sure. I know what beards feel like."

"I'll shave," Nim said as he rubbed the top of Skye's head. "Hey, do you know what happened to Aris?"

"Oh," Skye took a deep breath in.

"Okay, so I had the egg with me when I forgot and then I woke up and I was aware but I didn't remember anything and I didn't have the egg with me then but then I made some friends and one of them did have the egg with him but I didn't remember anything so I was just like, oh, cool, a big sparkly egg, right? And then also you know Rodney, the slime monster? Rodney was there, only everyone calls them Cookie now and it turns out they're full of ghosts. One of the ghosts helped me remember and I was like, oh no, I'm sad. And I was sad a lot. And then I remembered about the egg, so I threw it into a fire, only I didn't tell anybody first why I was doing it so the guy who had it got angry and shouted at me but then the egg hatched and he was like, oh, okay, this makes sense sort of. And... now he has a baby and that baby is Aris."

"Huh," Slone said.

He'd sat down in a swing that hung from a tree and was pushing himself back and forth.

"Y'know, he kinda did cover it all."

"I think I got the gist of it," Nim said. "Is your friend who has Aris here, in town?"

"Uhm..." Skye said. "Yes."

Nim sighed.

"I guess I'll have to go for a trip into town, then."

"Things are better than they were," Yore said. "I know you've felt like there's no place for you for a long time, and I understand why but I think your perspective and your influence right now would be valuable. Skye's too. Werewolves have become too insular. We could do with a reminder that we didn't used to be so insistent on keeping to our own kind."

"Well, I'm going to let Skye decide," Nim said, a little bit of venom creeping into his tone. "I'm not going to put up with him being treated badly. If everyone treats him well enough that he wants to keep going back into town, we'll go. We'll go every day if he wants to."

"I did make some friends," Skye said. "We'll go into town and you can meet my friends."

"I bet they're gonna be so excited for you," Slone said. "Like he said in his story about Aris, he really did only just remember. Everyone's been real sad for him 'cause he was upset about it but we didn't really know what to do."

"I didn't know what to do," Skye said. "I'm glad you just weren't actually dead. Just waiting to stop feeling sad wasn't working. I probably would have had to run off and live in the forest because feeling sad is hard and I don't like doing hard things."

"Well, now you can live in the forest but in a cabin, with me," Nim said.

"I like that way better."

"How about I show you around?"

"Okay."

"Have any of you eaten yet?" Nim asked. "I could make some breakfast, too."

"You show him around and I'll fry some eggs for breakfast," Yore offered. "I know where everything is."

"Okay but don't let Skye's size fool you," Nim said. "He can eat as much as any of us."

"After this, you're gonna hafta come into town," Slone said. "You'll be out of food by the time we're all fed."

"Food is what I sell, not what I buy," Nim said. "We'll be fine on that. I'll go, though. Skye wants me to meet his friends, so... I'll go."

[zoeykallus]

Rex coming home after umbara and needing lots of cuddles and attention from reader, perhaps crying with his head in your neck or on ur lap? I would die for rex ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I like the idea. And I have to apologize in advance. I just decided to rip out hearts. Well, let's see if I can. What I have in mind is pretty gritty. You didn't say which gender so I picked female, hope that's okay.

___________________

okay this one was hard to write x.x

Rex x Fem!Reader - Hurt/Comfort/Smut Oneshot - The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors

Warnings: Angst/ Hurt / Tension / Comfort / Fluff / Traumatized Rex/ Sexual Themes (Not the focus though) / Not sure if this falls under the dub-con category, but it might

___________

Rex unfortunately had not had a chance to let you know he was back. He's on his way to see you. He still has your spare key to your apartment. He can get in even if you're not there. But Rex fervently hopes you're home. The last few weeks on Umbara have been terrible, full of horror, full of loss, anger and fear. He really needs you now.

When he arrives at your apartment, however, he finds it deserted. You didn't know he was coming home today, so maybe you had gone out, after all it was the weekend, he thought.

He put his travel bag down in the bedroom, took a shower, and then went to bed. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time. Rex hoped that the familiar and safe surroundings would help him find quiet, restful sleep.

But, of course, he was denied this wish. Terrible images haunted his dreams, clones killing each other, brothers slaughtering each other. The enemy striking from the darkness, beings unknown, sinister and deadly. The screams of his brothers on the battlefield in the darkness of Umbara.

When you get home and see his bag, a smile spreads on your lips, but then you hear his fitful sleep. You hurry into the bedroom. There he lies, your beloved Rex, whom you've missed dearly for so long. He is shivering, sweating and moaning in his sleep, the sheet under him is wet.

He is wearing his full armor as he does sometimes the first days after a longer and harder mission. Force of habit. A strange feeling of safety he get's from this. Feeling ready at any given moment to fight the enemy. You know if he wears this right now in your bed, the last mission must have been really bad.

Concerned, you come to his side, gently but firmly grasp his broad shoulders and shake him.

"Rex! Wake up Rex!"

The clone captain startles and pushes you away from him with a yelp. You fall backwards and land on your butt. His eyes are wide, he looks haunted.

"Rex?" you ask gently, slowly getting back up "You're home, safe. That was just a dream."

He blinks, looks at you and then you see the infinite sadness taking possession of him. Tears roll down his face, he shakes his head.

"No, Mesh'la, not a dream. Memories of battle."

You feel your heart sink and it hurts. Rex extremely rarely drops his mental shells and lets others see what is behind them. But now, in this moment, you see all the loss, all the pain and fear that has accompanied him these past weeks.

You sit down at the edge of the bed and he looks at you almost pleadingly. You take his face in your hands and look at him compassionately.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"They might still be alive. If I had listened to Fives, if I had more guts I would have done the right thing!"

"Rex," you say calmly, "I know you. You're an outstanding soldier, a good man, the bravest I know. You always do the right thing."

He shakes his head and you can see he's fighting back new tears.

"Not this time. I stubbornly followed orders even though I knew how wrong they were. I dutifully led the lambs to the slaughter. These bad dreams, I've earned them fair and square."

You look at him worriedly and say softly, "Please don't say that. You certainly don't deserve this"

"The Jedi was a traitor and because of him hundreds of my brothers have died, not only fighting the enemy, but each other"

You were confused.

"I don't understand that. Why against each other?"

Rex swallows and his gaze seems to go nowhere as he begins to explain tonelessly.

"Master Skywalker was ordered back and Krell took over his post on Umbara. He made decisions that were clearly cut-throat, regardless. He addressed us all by our numbers, not our names. He hated each and every one of us, and he let us feel it unfiltered. He spoke condescendingly to and about us, disdainfully, pejoratively. He didn't care how and how many of us died. In fact, it turned out that he wanted us all dead. He was a traitor and I should have sensed it from his behavior alone from the beginning. It often happens that people hate us and do not consider us as worthy living beings, but Krell put the crown on it all. Finally, he spread the rumor that the enemy was stealing our armor and disguising themselves. Two of our platoons clashed and dozens of my brothers killed each other because we trusted Krell."

You swallow, feeling your throat constrict.

"Oh God Rex...I'm so infinitely sorry for this. I don't even know what to say. But it wasn't your fault. Krell is to blame for all of this not you"

"It doesn't feel that way," he presses out, pushing your hands aside.

He gets up, goes to the kitchen and gets a glass of water. He gulps it down as if he hasn't had a drink in days. You followed him, concerned, sorry and sad. Then he looks at you and you feel something change in him. There is a hungry longing in his gaze.

Rex puts the glass down, reaches for you and pulls you close. He kisses you hungrily, you can taste his tears. His hands tug at your clothes. He's so different, you know this gathering won't be what you're used to from your Rex, but that's okay, you know he needs you now. Nothing else matters.

Your clothes fall to the ground, shredded in parts. He’s so impatient tonight. 

His hands are a little rough, not too much, not unpleasant, but different. He kisses you deeply, bites you gently. Rex hastily removes his codpiece, lifts you onto the table, which is the perfect height, and thrusts his hips between your bare thighs. You feel his hard length through the fabric of his Blacks against your bare pubic.

He rubs against you, pressing against you, his upper body pushing yours back so that you have to brace yourself behind you with your hands on the table.

"I need you. Need you now. Please..."

It’s sounding so desperate.

"It's okay Rex, take anything you need, including me," you say lovingly.

The edges of the armor he still wears press into your flesh as he presses against you, but you don't complain. He hastily pulls down his blacks with shaky fingers, his thick, hard cock popping out from behind them.

Normally Rex is eager to please you, he loves a long foreplay, but now everything seems a little different. He just wants to feel you, blunt and rough.

When he penetrates you, the stretching is quite a challenge and really wet you are not yet, the mood is just not there. But you also let that happen to you, out of love for him. He is different, but still careful. Rex knows what he's asking of you right now and he waits for your body to adjust to his unprepared penetration before he moves inside you.

He whispers, "I'll make this up to you, I promise, I'll pay you back for this."

He is so tense that his muscles are partially trembling as he takes you faster and faster. The edges of his armor keep bumping against your bare skin, your flesh, surely leaving marks.

He grunts and groans, takes you faster, harder and more tremulous than you are used to from him.

Just as arousal seems to build up in you after all, he comes inside you with a heavy grunt. He's shaking all over. Rex is bent forward, his head resting on your shoulder. Suddenly, one of his shaky breaths turns into a sob.

"I'm so sorry. I just needed to feel you, I needed to feel alive."

You stroke the back of his neck, his head.

"It's ok my love"

"I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry" he repeats over and over sobbing and you know it's not just you anymore, it's all his brothers he's lost.

You manage to lead him to the sofa, where he rests his head on your lap, curled up like a fetus. Seeing Rex like this breaks your heart. You know he will recover, he is a strong man, but even strong men have their limits. Umbara has temporarily broken your lover. But you will do everything to help him get back on his feet.

You help him take off the armor. After that, he lies right back down with his head in your lap and lets you tuck him in.

"I love you so much. I don't know what I would do without you," Rex whispers before falling asleep.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@rexandechosandwich

[dogloveri23]

Trust

Pairing: Kazuha x reader

Warning: fluff, this is the second fluff I've ever written, minor spoiler

A/n: Hey everyone, this has a little spoiler from the golden apple event and I enjoyed writing it. If you want a part two and I haven't gotten to read you comment, you can put it in my ask box.

UID: 627473190

Originally written by @dogloveri23

What is a relationship without trust? A relationship where one person doesn't trust the others is bound to fail! Trust is the very foundation of a relationship and yet here you were, questioning everything about yours.

When Kazuha had proposed a trip to the Mondstadt with Xinyan and yourself, you hadn't expected to run into the traveller nor her friends. One minute you were chatting away in the tavern with a bard, Kazuha and Xinyan, the next thing you were face to face with a so-called Prinzessin, her arch-mage and a purple pigeon. When the traveller had asked you to come with her to the Golden Apple Archipelago, you hadn't expected all the drama that unfolded. The trip itself was weird and the island was odd.

You had met Kazuha through Beidou and didn't know much about his past before the war. All you knew was that his friend died and he fled from Inazuma because he was a fugitive.

Kazuha had never gone too deep into his roots with you despite your relationship. "I've parted ways with my past, I see no reason to bring it up", he'd say. You didn't want to go against Kazuha's wishes, so you brushed it back. And yet, the longer you were here, the more you doubted whether he trusted you! The atmosphere itself felt different and now the fatui are scattered all over the mountains! Something didn't sit right with you.

Everyone had gone to rest after the journey to the Golden Apple Archapelego and yet you were wide awake trying to make sense of it all and calm the uneasiness about your relationship. Maybe, he doesn't trust you! Think about it! if it wasn't a big deal, why wouldn't he tell you? I mean, you've told him about your past right?  

Kazuha seemed to have sensed your shifting which stirred him awake. "My Love, are you alright? you've been squirming for some time now", He says as he sits up and rubs his eyes, giving you his full attention. "I was just thinking", you say trying to get him to go back to sleep. "I'll go for a walk to clear my head and then come back", you say as you remove yourself from your shared blanket and stood up. "It is late and we are in strange waters, perhaps it would be better if I joined you", Kazuha said as he ran a hand through his untied hair and used the other to rub his eyes. "Do not worry love, I will not go far and I will alert you of any danger", you say as you walk away.

The farther you were away, the louder these thoughts got till you stopped walking and just stood in place. He didn't trust you! If he did, he would have told you because you wouldn't judge! You hadn't spoken or reacted for God knows how long.

By the time you made it to camp, the sun had risen and everyone worried. "There they are!" Paimon exclaimed before flying over to you. Everyone was quick to rush over. "My love, are you okay? You were gone for some time! We were just about to go searching for you!", He said, yet you didn't respond, you couldn't look him in his eyes! "Love? What's wrong?", Kazuha asked again worried. "Nothing, let's continue with our journey", you said not looking him in the eyes. Kazuha was silent for a moment contemplating what happened yet settled on not pressing you any further.

"Well, Mitoboru said he wanted to take us somewhere! I suggest we pick up there!", Mona said trying to break the ice.

Before you knew it, someone touched a bonsai pot, the world around you warped and you teleported to a strange space. The environment looked like an Inazuman household and the only person who was missing from your group was Kazuha. The mirage showed you Kazuha's memories each time you entered, each room, every corner and by the time his mirage had ended, you were shocked, your mind was whirling all over the place trying to comprehend the information you had just taken in from the mirage.

You sigh as you follow the others to the camp and stared off at the sea, thinking about Kazuha. Compared to his, your life was a bit less intensive. And yet, you still couldn't fathom why he didn't tell you himself. Instead, you had to find out this way. You were his lover and yet you found out along with everybody else.

"My love, you have not spoken to me today. I am sorry if I upset you and I do not wish you to be mad at me" Kazuha says as he sits beside you and places his hand atop yours. "If you are mad at me, I'd like to make amends", Kazuha said waiting for your response. "Do you trust me, Kazuha?" You ask as you look him in the eyes. "What? Of course, i do. Where is this coming from?" Kazuha asked surprised.

"When I went on a walk last night at first because I was worried about the island and then I started thinking about you. You know almost everything about me and yet in that mirage, I realised how little I knew. I felt like a liar for even calling you my boyfriend because you didn't open up about your past", You say annoyed. "I love you Kazuha and yet you don't seem to trust me enough to tell me these things. I'm not going to judge you okay? We're way past that! I just want to know how far you've come and I don't think it's too much of an ask" You say crossing your arms.

"I do trust you, I've let my past go and I didn't see the need for me to speak of it. I prefer to focus on the present and what the future holds. I have something so beautiful with you and I didn't think my past was at all important. I shall try to make amends", Kazuha said. "Thank you", you say as you uncross your arms. "Though next time, I'd appreciate it if you just came out and told me. Having to deal with you potentially ignoring me was painful", He says causing you to scratch your head embarrassed. " I missed out on a whole night's worth of comfortable sleep worrying about you, I'd like for us to amend that as well", Kazuha said as hugged you and placed a small kiss on your head.

[azurethevampire]

I Will Give You A Reason

A/N: Set in season 6, episodes 2-3 (I think at least it was those episodes xD) This piece is quite angst-filled one, so prepare yourself with tissues if you have to. If there is any mistakes to the few words/sentences of Swedish used in this, they are entirely my own as that isn't my strongest foreign language and I didn't use a translator. Also this was written about a year ago when I watched True Blood for the first time.

Fandom: True Blood

Summary: Emily and Pam have searched for Eric across the world. When they finally find the 1,000 years old viking vampire from France Emily's already shattered world seems to turn into dust: Eric, her rock, her best friend, the only father she's ever had, is sick. 

Characters: Eric Northman, Pamela Swynford de Beaufort, Emily Northman (oc)

Words: 2736

•-•-•-•-•

•-•-•-•-•

"Pam, you have to eat." 

You don't look like yourself, she wanted to add but stopped herself just in time. The vampire had been snappier for a few days now and Emily didn't want to make her mad at her. Not that she believed that Pam would really hurt her, even in anger. She had never done so after that one time and that had been when Emily was six and she hadn't known when to keep her mouth shut. 

Well, maybe she still didn't know when to keep her mouth shut —but she was better than ten years ago!  

Pam turned to look at the teenager—No. The young woman, that Emily had blossomed into in the last months despite that the world seemed to grow shittier every fucking day. Perhaps that was the reason why. Emily had lost that soft roundness on her face and her eyes were tired, dark bags under her eyes. Her clothes hung on her, and Pam, for a brief moment, wondered when was the last time the human herself had eaten. 

"I'm not hungry." 

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead, she sat down on the only chair in the motel room they were in. "Snälla, Pam. You could at least stop lying to me about it - I'm not blind!" 

Pam was about to snap something back, but instead, her hand reached the doorknob. But before she left the room she turned to face Emily again. "If I can't find anything tonight, I'll feed on you tomorrow, I promise. Stay here, don't open the door to anyone and don't invite anyone in." 

Emily let Pam say those words the vampire had said every night although the girl is tired of hearing them night after night. But it seemed to help Pam, to get to remind her of those small yet so trivial rules. So Emily's "I know" echoed in the empty vampire-friendly motel room after Pam had left and closed the door behind her. 

Her eyes spotted the room key left on the small cracked table near the door. In the first months of their search, Pam locked Emily in but lately, the vampire had not taken the keys with her at all. 

And because of that Emily knew that Pam was starting to become suicidal in their search for Eric.

•-•-•-•-•

“I think I found him.” 

Pam has never - as far as Emily’s memory goes back - sounded more… excited? Happy? No, that is not the right word and she knew that. Pam’s voice was flat, she tried to hide the hope that had filled her but Emily felt it. It radiated off Eric’s first progeny and she couldn’t help it; for the first time in months, Emily dared to let herself hope too. 

But there was something else she sensed from Pam. She was sad too, and that made the girl swallow. “But?” When did my voice start to sound so weak? So small? 

Pam’s next words killed something inside of her. 

“Tara is dead. I felt it.” 

What felt like minutes passed and Emily couldn’t say anything, couldn’t move from her spot. Pam was still but there was no denying the glint in her eyes. Emily and Pam had never been the type to coddle each other. Never. 

Still, Emily raised up in her bed anyway, took the few short steps it took to reach the vampire, who had been her only family for six months now, and she wrapped her arms around her, swallowing and blinking back the tears she felt coming. 

“I’m so sorry, Pam.” 

And Pam - beautiful, bad-ass, smart Pam - returned the young woman’s embrace, letting bloody tears run freely, staining Emily’s shirt with red. 

•-•-•-•-•

The plane landed in France the same evening - Pam in a coffin in the cargo hold. 

They flew to the villa in France. Pam had told Emily that she and Eric used to live here before they were forced to go to Shreveport. 

She could see why the two vampires had chosen this place to reside in — even in the night, the garden surrounding the sand-coloured walls of the large building was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Emily had more pressing matters though than to watch the sights. She could feel him. First time in over six months, Emily felt Eric. That familiar flare that had so long been gone from inside her, burned again. No. Not completely familiar. There was no doubt that the vampire she felt was indeed Eric Northman. But his life force, which had always been so strong… it cracked. Like old dry cement. 

Something is wrong, Emily thought as she followed Pam inside, to a spiral staircase going down, down, down.

Emily swallowed. She had a bad feeling. Very bad feeling - and god, she wished she was wrong. She begged to be wrong. That there was simply something wrong with her own powers, and not something wrong with her Eric. 

Wishful thinking, foolish thinking, she knew. Knew because she had felt this same feeling before over the past months - recently more often than she would have wanted to. 

Emily and Pam started to make their way down the stairs, and Emily - her chest tightened in pain. 

Two youngish and beautiful women met the vampire and the empath on the stairs. One of them said something in French. Emily couldn't understand, she had never bothered learning French. Maybe sometime during 'forever' — she had used to think that. Not anymore, not for a long time now. 

She didn't know what the French woman said but she did feel their emotions. Confusion. Betrayal. Hurt. Confusion. 

The final round of the spiral and Pam and Emily saw the room. 

As soon as Emily's eyes fell on him, she felt her heart tighten. She had thought she had felt pain last night when Tara died the true death. She had been wrong. 

Nothing she had ever felt compared to the heart-wrenching, punch-in-the-gut pain that crashed over her like a hurricane when the dark veins creeping up her guardian's chest, the meaning of them, finally hit her. 

And even though her legs felt like boiled spaghetti, Emily forced herself to step closer to Eric. Eric who was sick. He can't be! He's Eric for fuck's sake! But he could be, and he was. "No" pushed through her lips, past the lump in her throat, the word sounding broken. 

And Eric. 

Eric Northman's eyes switched from his first progeny to his human equivalent to a daughter. "You found me."  

“How long?” Pam asked the question that burned on Emily’s mind too. It seemed that Eric was still in the first stage of the Hep-V virus but she knew that that didn’t mean anything. Not because she didn’t know how long Eric had been sick. He could have months left with proper blood sources but then again, if the disease got worse, he could only have days. 

The tall blonde vampire didn’t answer, not right away. He almost looked like he was about to fall asleep. Hot tears began to blind the teenager’s vision as she grabbed his hand in hers. His hand had always been cold. Cooling touch relieving to Emily. Eric’s hand was warm now. This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed at her. 

“Eric?”

“Can you repeat the question?” 

And those words that seemed so meaningless, so genuinely apologetic, were the words that sent Emily’s tears falling from her eyes. 

“How long have you been sick?” And Emily heard in Pam’s voice that she was crying too. 

“Saw the first signs last month”, Eric said and not once in the time Emily had known Eric had he sounded so weak. So tired. 

“When you were in St. Petersburg”, Emily heard herself say. She and Pam had tracked Eric there - Pam cursing all of the time they were in Russia, how she hated the Russians with her gut. 

Something flickered in Eric’s blue, tired eyes. And even though faint, Emily felt the emotion: surprise. And even if the situation they are in, is fucked beyond belief, the young woman of seventeen found herself smiling, just the tiniest bit. Because one didn’t sneak up on Eric Northman that easily. 

“Don’t act all surprised”, Pam said behind Emily. “We searched the whole fucking planet for you - St. fucking Petersburg, Eric? You know how I hate the Russian people.” 

“Well, I didn’t know you two were gonna come looking for me”, Eric said, eyes moving to Emily whose eyes squinted slightly. 

“Then you were an idiot”, Emily said in Swedish. Another small wave of surprise from Eric. Emily continued. “Why did you keep moving then?” 

“Yes, I want to know the answer to that as well”, Pam said crossing her arms.  

Eric chuckled, although it awfully sounds like a mix of a chuckle and a cough. Too rough, Emily thought. 

“Congratulations, Pam, Emmy-”, and Emily’s eyes were burning with unshed tears again because it had been so long that she had heard that nickname from Eric. “You have outwitted me.” His hand raised to touch Emily’s cheek. “But only because I’m not well.” 

Pam told about Tara, but to Emily’s confusion, Eric didn’t offer words of comfort, didn’t say he was sorry to hear that. Instead, he asked about a stupid bucket game he played in Marocco - the same game Pam had played last night to get the information of Eric’s location. 

“Oh… I liked the bucket game.” 

And Pam was about to snap, she already took steps forward, but Emily beat the vampire to it. 

“What is wrong with you?! You are Eric fucking Northman!” her hands balled to fists, the tears in her eyes no longer coming out of sadness, but anger. “You don’t give up. You fight!” 

“Fight’s over, Emily.” 

“This can’t all be about Sylvie.” 

Emily didn’t know who Sylvie was. But she knew that Eric giving up like this couldn’t be just because of one person. 

“Godric”, Eric stated. “Nora.” Emily felt a tug of pain in her chest, partly her own, partly the vampire’s whose hand she still held in hers. “And yes, Sylvie too.” 

And Pam’s next question made Emily’s heart skip a beat, two beats. Because she had never, even in her wildest worst-case scenarios, thought about that. Not until Pam put that idea in her head when she asked: “Did you contract the virus on purpose?” 

Eric wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do something so… he wouldn’t! but despite her thoughts, Emily couldn’t have said why she was suddenly so afraid of his answer. 

“On purpose? No-” Eric said, shaking his head a little, and Emily felt a relieved breath leave her. “But did I go about my dealings with a devil-may-care attitude? Absolutely.” 

“Damn you!” Emily snapped, but then she burst into tears. She was exhausted - she hadn’t slept since Marocco and even there it was just a few hours -, and the only thing that had kept her from having a break-down had been hope. Hope that she would see Eric again soon. But this reunion had not been the relief she had waited for. She was glad to see him again, but a small part of her wished they never would have found him. 

Because now, she was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been in her entire life - and that was saying something after the torture Edgington had put her through two years ago. 

Eric tried to reach for the girl, but Emily turned away, scooting back in the chair so she sat by his legs. She pulled her knees up, hugged herself tightly and buried her face in her knees as sobs racked her whole body. She was barely aware that Pam had sat on Eric’s other side, trying to reason with him. 

“Don’t do this to us”, Emily heard Pam start sobbing and she turned her head, just enough that she could see Eric and her again - and she didn’t want to. She really didn’t but she still reached out with her hand, and her fingers - still so small and slim in comparison - wrapped around Eric’s large hand the best they could. “Please, Eric…”, Emily sobbed, too. 

“God damn you!” Pam cursed.  

“For more than 1,000 years, the world has been my oyster”, Eric said. 

“And it still can be”, Pam argued. “I’ll do anything.” Emily squeezed Eric’s hand. Me too. I would do anything for you. She wanted to say but the words refused to leave her. 

“I’ve lost my taste for oysters, Pam.” 

“Then find it again.” Emily’s voice came out harsher than she intended and she gained Eric and Pam’s attention. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she uncurled herself from her position. “Du lovade mig”, Emily said in Swedish, desperately, and her voice was thick with emotion. 

Something in Eric’s eyes shifted. Turned softer and sad. “I know I did, sweetheart, but the world has changed since then.” He grabbed Emily’s wrist and pulled her towards him - and even sick, Emily found out that Eric was still so much stronger than she was. She was only human after all - even if it was with a little something extra. Eric’s feelings were clear and honest at his next words as his hand rested on the side of Emily’s face, thumb lightly brushing away her tears. 

“My sweet little Emily”, Eric whispered, his lips forming a quick smile, sad and warm at the same time. “You are gonna go out there. You are gonna grow up to be a beautiful, smart woman, go to some stupid fucking university and find yourself a good, loving human husband. You’re going to have kids and you will tell them stories about their 1,000 years old vampire grandfather… and you will be happy… Do you understand?” 

Emily swallowed, her hand raising on top of Eric’s now-wrong-temperature hand. She only barely managed to croak out the tiniest of “yes”. Even though she knew she would not do any of that. 

“You should go. Both of you.” 

Pam was crying but she was the first to rise from beside Eric and start to walk towards the staircase. 

This is wrong! Emily’s mind screamed as she rose. Virus or no virus Eric was not just any other vampire - he was Eric! 1,000 years old vampire and a viking! Vikings had not just sat down and waited for death to come collect them! At least Emily didn’t think so. No. Vikings, they avenged. Just like Eric had avenged his human family only seven or so months ago. 

As his last act… Emily felt no guilt of thinking about this at that moment, no guilt about throwing someone else’s life to a path to death - as far as she was concerned the other person deserved it. 

As his last act before true death, Eric Northman could take revenge against the person who did this to him. 

“Sarah Newlin”, Emily said, turning back to face Eric again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Pam turn on her heels a glint of surprise and (oh that traitorous) hope in her eyes. 

“What about her?” Eric asked, his eyes closed. 

“What if I told you that Jason Stackhouse let her live.” 

Eric’s eyes opened, his voice hardened. “He didn’t.” 

“He did”, Pam said, catching on to Emily’s plan. “And she’s out there.” 

“Where?” 

“No one’s seen her”, Emily said. 

“I have to imagine she’s in hiding somewhere”, Pam offered. 

Emily saw Eric’s jaw clench. Then… then, with what seemed like a heavy effort, Eric pushed himself up in the chair and slowly, slower than Emily was used to seeing the vampire’s motions - Eric Northman stood in front of her, grasping her shoulder, as his eyes once again roamed between his girls. 

“Well, let’s go find her.” 

Emily wasn’t naive. She knew that Eric was still dying, but at least now he wouldn’t just sit down here and wait for it. He would go down fighting. 

Just like he had taught her was the right way to go. 

Just like the viking he was supposed to be - just like Eric fucking Northman was supposed to fight. 

So, yes, Eric was still dying but at least now - and maybe it was selfish to think that way, but Emily didn’t find it in herself to care - Emily had a few more days to spend with the man who had taken her in as if she was his progeny instead of some orphan human child with empath powers. 

[fr0gleggs]

Gorilla Glue

Little drabble about c!Michael McChill under the cut!

he's a historian, i think. he's a historian but in the same way that those people who make videos on internet history are historians, he scavenges through the remains of what's left and tries to put together the pieces as best he can. He's not a traditional historian, like Eret is - he doesn't have a big fancy museum, full of art pieces and maps. He has a radio, a recorder, and a board covered in thumbtacks. Granted, he's not the best historian. He does his best with the pieces he has but he doesn't have very many, and he tries to put the pieces together but he puts them together wrong. He knows he's wrong the instant he talks to anyone who was there, because they look at him strangely, like he's a fifteen year old who still believes in santa somehow. and so he tries again. He tears down his board and starts over, putting together the pieces in new ways. He does his best to search for new pieces. He begs people to come to him, to tell their stories.... nobody comes. He doesn't mind, not because it interferes with his research - it does, though, he can only find so many pieces in the wreckage of what's behind. But the reason he minds is because he's lonely. He's got an old, ratty doll in his backpack. Maybe it belonged to his sister, his daughter, his mother; but it was definitely someone important to him. He talks to the doll, and the doll talks back. He talks to the doll about anything and everything, he spills his guts to this doll, and he looks around at the empty cavern, filled with spaces laid out. There's enough spaces there, he thinks, for around fifty people. That's more people than the entire server - plenty of space if new people come in! Nobody comes. He's alone. He keeps talking to the doll, and the doll keeps talking back. He comes into town, to get some milk - a simple errand, one he does routinely. Not too often, he prefers to keep to himself, fitting the puzzle pieces together in more and more ways, ways that make increasingly less sense. He'd be able to put them together better if he just had the glue. He doesn't have the glue. Nobody hands him the bottle. Whatever. He picks up the milk, and he stops by the fast food shop for a burger before he heads back out to Serenity. A man runs in, wearing full armor. The man is frantic, panting, and his words don't make sense. Something about Dream - he's heard that name, time and time again, it appears in his puzzle pieces often enough. Dream is often referred to as bad, as evil. Dream is the thing that goes bump in the night. Michael isn't too sure what he did, but he knows enough to be relatively cautious. Once, he thought that Dream's reputation might have been bad. He ran to the prison, then, thought that maybe, just maybe, he could get Dream to hand him the glue. He couldn't get in. He wasn't really trying. But the man in the fast food restaurant is yelling about Dream, about how he's escaping. He's getting out. He's going to be free. Everyone else perks up, their eyes filled with various levels of fear and anger. Michael understands, Dream's what goes bump in the night after all. And so he runs out with the others, and there's a fight. And someone dies, and there's a ghost, and Michael's worldview is being shattered while people fight around him. He tries to listen to the words, to pick up more pieces in the wind, as best he can. He thinks he succeeds, but perhaps not as much as he could if someone would simply hand him the glue. Michael goes back to Serenity, and he hangs the pieces that he's gathered up on the board. There's not that many of them. Michael wishes he hadn't gone into town that day. The pieces weren't worth the chaos.

[azurevi]

on land where we can touch the moon (2/?)

PART 1 PART 3

A quick note- this is pretty messy. I'm planning as I write, so there'll be information scattered across the words, and it may be overwhelming...kinda. I have added a little note about what happened in this chapter in the end. This series is also up on ao3.

There is, naturally, a reason Azul was stuck with the name 'The Sea Merchant'.

It wasn't a bad name, and there was no hint of degradation in it. It just wasn't particularly suiting. Azul wasn't a merchant. He wasn't even a shopkeeper. He was just invested in a little magic, and this hobby of his got leaked out somehow. 

His magic was certainly something. It's A Deal allowed him to confiscate another person's valued quality in exchange for their wish. Anything could come to life as long as the deal was equal.

Only the drunk and people in desperate need of help ever went to him for help. After Azul had started mastering his magic, he reckoned that it hadn't been used to its full potential. If the person on the other side of the deal failed to meet the requirement, Azul could take even more from them without suffering any loss. 

And so he sugarcoated and exaggerated his words, put up the most professional smile he could manage. For a few weeks all was well. He'd gained himself a melodious voice, splendid flexibility and a ton of unique magics, but nothing great ever lasted. He was soon exposed as a scammer and his notoriety was whispered among the streets, passed on and on until every family warned their kids not to ever run into him. And Azul, with his fame and prosperity wilting under the gossip and points of fingers, was forced into giving up his success.

He had been in hiding ever since.

He could never understand how something as atrocious could happen to him. If it hadn't been for the sneers and isolation in the entirety of his childhood, he wouldn't have grown up hating everything and everyone around him that called him ugly, unwanted, repulsive. It should've justified his desire for revenge.

Instead, God decided that his suffering was not anywhere close to enough and kicked him down the cliff where he was crying for help.

That being said, Azul was grateful to have Jade and Leech sticking around after everything. The two of them were also unpopular among others, so they eventually got close as a tight-knitted trio.

"No you didn't," Jade said firmly. 

"I did, Jade. I did," Azul sighed, "They were dying, Jade, I couldn't just let them die,"

"Well, you should've."

"Don't be so uptight. Azul was doing the right thing, wasn't he?" Floyd winked. "So. Were they good-looking?"

"What?"

"The human. You must've saved them for a reason,"

Azul hated how Floyd's words implied that he would never do good unless there was something in it for him, but one could never lie in the face of truth. 

"I just didn't want to let them die. It was their birthday,"

"What does that have to do with everything?" Jade asked. "You went above the water. You saved a human. You were almost caught. You could've died up there, you know. How did you even manage to breathe?"

"I just… did." Azul said, twirling his tentacles in nervousness. Jade was entirely disapproving of his actions, while Floyd on the contrary seemed to be mildly intrigued. 

Everything still felt like a fever dream. All the fireworks and cheering and explosion were still vividly scorched into his mind as if they'd been put on repeat. The splendid colors, light giggles and- 

And those beautiful eyes of yours. The way your hair flowed in the night sky with ease, how you laughed like tomorrow was promised and your life had been planned out before you, a clear and untainted path to success. Azul couldn't decide on whether he was jealous or amazed.

"Well, you better hope they didn't really see you, or that they forgot about it. If the humans come down here to hunt us down-" Jade couldn't even bear to finish the imagination. He simply shook his head in dismay.

"I swear I saw someone! I couldn't have just been washed ashore!"

"Apparently, you were," Jack said, stroding with large steps that had you panting to keep up. "Near-death experiences do things to our mind, your majesty,"

"That may be the case for others, but I'm sure I was conscious," you retorted. "I woke up to a pair of pale, azure eyes, then in a blink they were behind the rock. If it hadn't been for you-"

"I apologize for worrying about you, your majesty."

You bit your tongue. Fighting with Jack always ended with him being passive-aggressive and you stepping back reluctantly. Plus he was as stern as a rock. Almost nothing could move his belief.

Shouting and grunting could be heard from inside the medical room where Ace, Deuce and Grim were being tended to.

Jack flung open the door, and the three stumbled to get into the blankets and put on a excruciated expression.

"I see you're all healed up," Jack said. Ace hummed lowly and slapped his forehead with the back of his hand. 

"I'm at death's door, commander. It pains me to say this, but I might need to take more days off,"

Jack was quiet for a while, and you could almost see a drop of sweat sliding down Ace's forehead.

"And you, Deuce?" Jack challenged.

"I'm traumatized," 

"And Grim?"

You arched your brow, at which he shivered in fear. "I- I'm feeling fine already,"

"So it's just Ace and Deuce, right?" Jack said. Ace and Deuce nodded their heads so hard they could fall off.

"Alright. Your health is of utmost importance to us, so I'll contact the Raven Healer…"

"The what?!" Deuce's voice croaked.

"The Raven Healer. Surely you've heard of him. He's best known for being able to treat any diseases, both mentally and physically,"

You were sure there were sweats rolling down Ace's cheeks now. "But- but doesn't he heal by using bizzare mediciness…?"

"Oh yes. His magic is what makes him such an infallible doctor. You two seem to be in a lot of pain. I'm sure he'll free you of your suffering."

You turned sharply towards the door and stifled a laughter. 

"That's… not very necessary…" Deuce's voice faltered word by word. He was fully aware that he'd already lost. "You know what, commander? I think I can dive back into work right this instant!"

Jack smirked smugly. "Splendid. And you, Ace?"

The two of them stared at each other so intensely there seemed to be sparkles between them. Finally, Ace gave in. "I'll start work tomorrow,"

They didn't even wait for Jack to walk completely out of the door to whine. They looked fully healthy, even more energized than you.

"Anyways, did you find your saviour?"

You sighed. Ace and Deuce were still skeptical about your 'story', which you'd corrected to 'experience', but at least they were open-minded. 

"No clues. I've had guards patrolling about every two hours. Nothing has yet to happen,"

They eyed each other uneasily, then back at you with a worried face. Before they could make assumptions, you defended yourself. "No, I'm not sick. My head's not concussed,"

"Well," Grim scurried to your lap. "Perhaps your saviour doesn't wish to be found?"

That'd be unwanted. You would wish for anything but to create troubles for your lifesaver. Nonetheless, you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep without sending your gratitude. 

Alright, there might be a selfish motif. You were admittedly curious about those light, pensive eyes and silvery, gleaming hair under sunlight. All these unknown were like a gravity pool, pulling you deeper and deeper into the mystery.

"Well, you ought not to lose hope," Ace patted your shoulder casually, like you weren't the princette of the kingdom he was serving for. "Maybe you'll actually run into him. Fate has a weird habit for setting unexpected traps."

It wasn't so much love as a tender curiosity, but the line segregating them was so flimsy that one's got to mix them up at some point.

Azul found himself in such a dilemma. He couldn't decide whether it was attraction or nosiness that he was feeling. Either way, it's got him hooked like a drug. Something beautiful had finally entered his life like light piercing through a thick fog of ink, and it was possessive. Azul had a feeling that it wouldn't go away until it had drained him of his mind.

The door to his room was thrown open and Azul had to hide the peeled petals and green stem in a jumble. He had been chanting 'they love me, they love me not' for the past hour. To his luck, Jade and Leech didn't seem to have noticed his haste expression. They were both panting when they swam inside.

"What's wrong?" Azul's first instinct was that something had gone south.

"There-" Floyd wheezed. "There's a sta-"

"There's a fallen statue in the Coral Maze," Jade finished the sentence. "People are fussing over it,"

"Okay," Azul eased back into his bed. He'd already lost interest at 'Coral Maze'. It was at the centre of where the majority of sea creatures inhabited. Nothing could make him go anywhere near civilization and its hubristic aesthetic again.

Or so he thought.

"No- you don't get it. It's a statue of a human that sank along with wreckages of a big ship, and it's made of gold,"

A statue made of gold.

He recalled it now. It was supposed to be your birthday present. The consternation of what followed the present revelation had been so intense that it'd washed the memory of the statue out.

"We just thought that it could be the statue you mentioned in your story, you know? It looked really grand…" Floyd sighed.

Azul wanted to get up and swim over right there, right then, but he knew he couldn't. What would others say to him the moment they saw the shadows of their tentacles crawling on their pure and oh-so royal ground? What accusations would they throw his way? How many children will be led away from him like he was some man-eating, brutal abomination?

Not to mention the unforgiving rage he'd evoked in trying to scam them in the past. Dishonesty was highly criticised in their high-class society. It was as if they were saints that had never done one thing wrong. Bet they'd never even stayed up past midnight.

"You ought to come take a look!" Floyd suggested. A casual, friendly proposal.

"No," Azul snapped. "No, no. I'm not going there,"

"They're planning to use the gold," Jade said. "You know how they are. They see one thing from the ground and start screeching in pain,"

They were going to use your statue. The statue that was perhaps the only thing that was related to you, the one way to never have to forget about you again in case that you never met again.

And to imagine the effect it'd add to his collections! A big gold statue in the centre of his grotto, accentuated by the sparkling of other jewelries. It'd be complete.

"I'll sit on it," Azul decided. He was not to act rashly, lest he walked one step wrong and brought upon himself misery and misfortune. If he really was to pay a visit, he would act in secret. Perhaps in the veil of the night. 

"Just don't act alone, okay?" Jade said. Azul nodded despite not paying any mind to him.

In the dead of the night Azul decided to sneak out. Alone. It was a mistake, really. Azul couldn't stop thinking about your statue, and by the time he realized how absurd it was, he'd already gone to the Coral Maze.

There was nary a shadow except his own. Still, it was much lighter than where he lived even at night. The distorted image of the moon waved from above as Azul made his way through the many identical corals. Then he finally found your majestic statue standing solemnly in the centre. The only beauty in the water.

It was a sight for sore eyes. White, pure light reflected off the gold and created streams of gleams onto the ground. That someone would ever find it to be disgraceful was incomprehensible to Azul. Something like this deserved to be put on display in the museum for all to see.

There was no radiance on your face and no splendid colors in your eyes. It was merely a fraction of what you were. Nonetheless, it was enough for Azul.

"Who's roaming there?" an alerted voice asked. When Azul turned, he saw a silhouette looming from outside the Coral Maze, holding two anglerfishes in hands and waving them in the water.

Panic was the only thing Azul felt as he hid behind the statue, struggling to keep his tentacles out of sight. The light stayed right in front of him for a while before skimming away.

Azul grabbed the statue and swam, pushing his tentacles through the water as hard as he could. 

"Wait there- oh goodness!" 

There were several voices now, mumbling and inquiring. Then light was casted upon his flitting figure and there were bemused gasps before someone yelled, "Seize him!"

Azul was out of breath. He wished he excelled in fitness but instead he was stuck with incongruous tentacles that would never cooperate at the most needed times.

A hand grasped the end of his tentacle but slipped off. He kept the statue tight in his arms, as if his life depended on it. He could tell that they were near now, and was trying very hard not to imagine the gruesome outcomes.

Someone grabbed his tentacles. He faltered and was pulled back despite protests.

"Keep him in place!" another person yelled as the crowd moved to keep Azul fenced in.

Azul couldn't see anything. Everything was a poor mixture of shadow and distaste and sneers. He was probably going to die right there.

"I can't believe you have the guts to come back, Ashengrotto. After all the things you've done!" someone spoke up.

"Yeah! How shameless of you!”

"And he's stealing our properties now! Imagine how desperate he is,"

"You guys don't even want it!" Azul said.

Some guy lurched forward. Azul cowered backwards.

"It's disgusting, yes, but it's still gold." he said as if it was a completely just thing to do. "It landed on our ground, so it belongs to us. On the contrary, you don't have the rights to lay your filthy hands on it. What more do you want to steal from us?"

"I'm taking this because none of you understand the beauty of it!"

This evoked a negative reaction from the crowd, but words could never be taken back. Azul could feel his heart pounding like a prisoner hellbent on escaping. He had to escape. No more of this degrading gazes. No more of the points of fingers.

"Beauty?" the guy scoffed, and for a moment his face scrunched up and he was ready to spit out rage, but then it softened into a smug smirk. "I guess only ugly understands ugly, huh?"

Azul's head throbbed.

"It doesn't justify your actions, ink-blasting thief. Hand that piece of trash over right- uff!"

He was flung deep into the water until he disappeared into nothing but a black dot. People around Azul immediately made way as they fled in screams and wails. His tentacle was still tingling with the impact, but he couldn't quite feel it. Even if he did, he couldn't care less as he skyrocketed to the surface of the water. He blinked and blinked, but his eyes were still blurred by what would be mixed into the seawater eventually. 

He'd had enough. Heard enough, seen enough. If he'd spent one more second down there he would have suffocated to death.

The familiar freshness of air welcomed him the moment he broke through the water's persistence. The land wasn't far ahead. He swam towards it as if it was his sanctuary. 

There was a man sitting on the rock, face hidden under the hood. Azul considered retreating. He had no idea what would happen to him if he was spotted, but nothing better would happen if he were to go back. So he continued swimming and crawled onto the cool soft sand, only letting his head be seen by the man as he hid behind yet another rock where he placed the much valued statue.

He seemed to be asleep, chest heaving up and down at a steady pace. Just as Azul started sliding out, the man raised his head and looked straight at Azul.

They were a pair of humming, white circles, seemingly void of any sentiments. The man had a mask on that shielded his face except for his tightly shut lips. Two crows were staring right at him with the same uncanny manner.

"You've finally arrived," the man said.

Probably the humans had been searching for him. Azul decided to keep his mouth shut.

"I've been hearing your calls…" he tilted his head. "You can come out. I know what you are,"

Azul still hesitated. But he was much closer to the ocean than to the guy, so he slowly let his tentacles into light.

The man remained calm, not a bit taken back by the revelation.

"Well, I've been hearing your calls…" he resumed.

"I never called out to any humans,"

"Not literally. But you have been calling out a lot," he smiled amiably. "You have to know that it's especially hard for me to hear from creatures undersea, so if your wishes managed to reach me, it means you're pretty desperate,"

"I think you have the wrong person," Azul said and started retreating.

The guy sprang up and his crows curled up together beside him. "Wait- I should introduce myself first. I'm the Raven Healer,"

Azul pondered for a while. "That doesn't explain anything except for the crows,"

"You lots haven't heard of me?" he frowned so deep that his brows and eyes were a cluster. "You guys are really secluded,"

That was when Azul finally realized that he knew about them. About all the lives and creatures that inhabited the deep sea.

"And I mean no harm to your realm. My only target is you," he smiled again, this time at an ominous angle.

"Well, I'm quite famous in this realm. I heal people for a living, whether it be physical or emotional needs. Anything you need, I can grant you,"

That's not very different from Azul's magic. 

"Sometimes, when someone is really desperate for a change, their thoughts can be heard by my crows. And you, Azul Ashengrotto…" his smile dropped a bit and his eyes drooped. "is particularly distressed,"

"Alright. It was nice meeting you," Azul nodded respectfully. The man didn't seem to be harmful. If he fled right now, he could probably throw him off.

The Raven Healer stilled, then burst into piles of blatant laughter. "No, no. I've been looking for you, don't you get it? I'm here to grant your wish!"

I'm here to grant your wish. Like how Azul'd promoted his business as the Sea Merchant.

"I understand that you've been suffering quite a lot, and that you want a change. But nothing ever comes without a cost… I'm sure you can understand,"

The healer stood up, the material of his greatcoat fluttering in the wind. He made his way freely to Azul, who could only freeze up as he inspected the statue with great interest.

"The heir to the throne! I see why you're desperate now. They're a real catch," the healer then looked down at the outstretched tentacles without a word. Azul prayed in his mind that he would turn away from them.

"Well, here are my terms. I will grant you a pair of legs in exchange for your magic,"

Wait, what?

Azul was pretty sure the Raven Healer was just imitating him now. A great figure appearing out of the blue to answer your hopes. The catch was that the figure would always take away your most important thing. It was never a fair deal, Azul was aware.

"I don't think you need my magic," Azul breathed.

"Why, I do!" he exclaimed. "Collecting magic is a splendid hobby of mine! It is because of all these magic that I am such a renowned magician,"

He was obviously lying. His smile couldn't reach his eyes, and the orbs where his eyes were supposed to be were humming like a hazard label.

"I think I'll be just fine," Azul hurriedly brought the statue to his chest and started sliding away.

"...How are you going to survive?"

"What?" Azul swiveled, exhausted.

"Up here. With your…" the healer wiggled his fingers.

"I'll find a way,"

"No you won't," the healer protested. Azul looked up to the sky, took a deep breath and decided to entertain him. 

"Why so?"

"You're gonna cause ruckus. Chaos. People are not especially used to seeing half-man half-octopuses roaming their land," he said honestly. 

Despite knowing all this, Azul still considered his word rude. There was a thin line between blunt and disrespectful, and he'd just crossed it. 

"There won't be anyone dealing with you, will there?"

"...I suppose not-"

"Exactly! I am your only hope!" he exclaimed once again, throwing his hands up in the air like a dramatist. "Unless you want to go back?"

Azul glanced at the serene water. He knew that down there, the mermaids and mermen must be panicking over what'd just happened.

"You can't hold onto that statue forever. If you really wish to stay here-"

"I just came, Mr. Healer. I'm not going to stay,"

"Yet. Come on now," he groaned, as if he was the one exasperated. "I know you want it. You need it. So what are you waiting for? You're never going to see all the beauties in this world in this state!"

He was right. Agonizingly right. He couldn't just walk around as an octopus. It would be like a stain on a quaint painting. Moreover, now that he was here, he couldn't just give up the chance to find you again. It's not like the ocean would welcome him anyways.

As if hearing his thoughts, the Raven Healer reached his hand out, "Deal? Your magic for a pair of legs. It's a fantastic trade if you think about it,"

One second. Two second. Azul didn't wait until the third to act on it. The moment their skin touched, Azul felt a stream of warmth coursing through him, rushing to his throat, where he choked up a luminous blue orb. It was within the healer's fingers within seconds.

"And your legs," he rummaged inside his pocket. There seemed to be numerous tiny objects inside as he dug around. Finally, he pulled up a thumb-size bottle and handed it to Azul.

He downed the slimy liquid inside under the healer's encouraging nods, and almost gagged at the sensation. "Guh! What the hell is-"

His tentacles started glowing a bright yellow, bright enough to attract people in this dead of the night. They started to shrink until they completely disappeared, and a pair of human legs replaced them.

He couldn't believe his eyes as he stretched around and surveyed the changes on his body. It took him quite some time to adjust to it, but he was surprisingly good at it. The fabric of the pants that came with the gift fluttered against his 'flesh' like a mother's caress. He felt normal, for once. Not some ugly monster that preyed on innocent kids. Not a marginalized criminal. Not even a wicked fraud. He was just a human wanting to explore the world.

"Three days," the Raven Healer said.

"What?" Azul was too joyous to pay real mind.

"If you can't find the most beautiful thing after three days, you will dissolve into sea bubbles,"

Azul stilled as he comprehended his words, then he started to chant no in his mind. He'd fallen for his trap.

"You didn't mention it at all!" Azul yelled. "Refund! You're scamming me!"

"The pot's calling the kettle black now. How comical," the healer giggled. Azul's heart dropped to the bottom.

"Consider this your own medicine. It's not like you're completely at loss over here!"

"Wait!" Azul reached out to grasp his fainting figure, which had become an opaque vision. 

"We shall reunite in three days. Until then, enjoy."

All that was left was the crashing of the waves and songs of the crickets. Bathed in the glow of the moon, Azul finally came to the conclusion that he'd fucked up.

Life never stopped to give him a break. There were haste footsteps nearing from behind. Azul instinctively retracted his tentacles, but forgot about their absence and tripped instead.

"Yikes! That was a nasty fall. Are you okay?" 

Looking up, two formally looking men were standing above him, one with crimson hair and another navy. There was a sword attached to each of their sides.

"Yeah. I-I'm fine," Azul cleared his throat and stood up.

"Are you homeless?" The redhead asked and was immediately hit by his companion.

"You can't go around asking people whether they are homeless!" he scolded, then turned to Azul brightly. "You must be in search of shelter! Please follow us!"

"That isn't any better," 

"Shut up," the blue-haired snapped with the same polite smile. "Come on, Mr…?"

"A-Azul. Azul Ashengrotto,"

"Yes, Mr. Ashengrotto. We can't have you catching a cold out here,"

Despite his friendly facade, Azul could see underlying motives lurking beneath. But clueless that he was, he didn't have a choice but to follow suit towards the castle-like building in the far distance.

"Your majesty will be pleased to see you," the redhead murmured, but Azul couldn't quite catch that.

"What was that?" he asked.

"It's nothing," was all that he received. "Just that you'll surely love the place."

Conclusion : Azul had once gone around scamming others with his unique magic but was busted and had been further criticised since. The Raven Healer is obviously Crowley, and his magic will be further explained in next chapter.

[countlessrealities]

Green slit-pupiled eyes scanned the same landscape Hesperia was so longingly looking at, unsure of whether or not he agreed with the man's claims. There was definitely something peaceful in the Parisian night, when no threat was endangering it. The traffic died down and everything was quiet. Most of the lights were turned off, almost enough to allow you to see the stars.

But was it the amazing world the older hero saw? Cat Noir couldn't agree with it, especially when he looked at the same billboard the other gaze seemed to be focused on. All he saw there was a lie, the perfectly fake facade that he had wore for so long, just to please his absent father and earn a crumble of attention. In vain.

He would have been content with staying quiet, not wanting to ruin the idyllic mental picture their new ally had built in his head, if it hadn't been for Hesperia mentioning his son and their tragic family history. A tale that hit Adrien far too close to home.

"You're wrong. You can show him that and you have to. He needs to see it, to know that you miss her too," he spoke up, before he could even think his words through. He hadn't meant for his tone to come out so sharp, to hold a too familiar ache, but he couldn't help it. "If you don't, he'll keep resenting you. He'll feel like he has lost two parents instead of one. Trust me, I know exactly how your son must be feeling..."

His voice trailed off and he looked away once again, ears lowering slightly as his expression turned sad. He didn't like discussing his mother and how drastically things had changed after she had gotten ill, but he felt like he owed it to Hesperia, after the way he had reacted to his words.

"I lost my mother too, just a little longer than a year ago. I...grieved and I still miss her, but I moved on. It's what she would have wanted me to do. What she would have wanted us all to do. But my father...He hasn't. He can't. It's like he's stuck in the past, in his own sorrow, and can't accept that she's gone. He buries himself in his work and I hardly get to see or talk to him."

Recently it had gotten a little better, but Adrien was also starting to realise that, even if he was more present, Gabriel was just as controlling. If not even more.

"It was hard to work through the grief without him. All I've ever wished was for us to do it together, but he denied me and that hurt. I think that your son must be feeling the same way too. He just...wants his Dad to share his despair. Because that would make it more bearable."

He paused briefly, playing with his stick. He had always wondered how things would have gone if his father had allowed them to help each other through their mourning. It was hard to imagine with how his reality was, but he wanted to believe that everything would have been better.

By now he had resigned himself to the fact that it would have never been a possibility for him and Gabriel. But perhaps Hesperia and his son could still have it.

"You should talk to him. Explain why you've been so distant. I don't mean revealing yourself, but...how you were trying to protect him. And apologise. I'm sure he'll forgive you. Balancing superhero responsibility with our civilian life can be tricky, but...it makes no sense to save the world for your son, if you're going to lose him anyway, don't you think?"

{ @kamikotized }

@countlessrealities called for a HERO

"Your world is filled with such hope." Hesperia found himself staring at a billboard-- one bearing another Agreste advertisement. His son looked so-- happy here. Carefree. Untouched by the loss of his mother that consumed him back home.

"I wish mine were as wonderful. My son-- my only family-- he resents me. Thinks I don't mourn the death of his mother properly. But I feel her absence in every breath I take-- every heartbeat. She was my everything, and she gave me the world." He looked to his hands, remembering when Adrien had been barely big enough to fit in his arms.

His little miracle.

"I can't let him see that. He's already so lost in despair. I thought if I saved the world he might find something to believe in." The hero settled himself down on the rooftop, drawing his knees to his chest. It was-- strange to have allies. But the benevolent editions of his youthful foes seemed trustworthy.

Maybe one day their counterparts could see the light, too.

"I wish I could just be a father. But someone has to take a stand against the Supreme's tyranny."

[that-sw-writer]

Devotion

Paring: Post RoS!Ben Solo x reader

Summary: When you lost Kylo Ren to the light, he lost you to the dark.  With the war now over, you have to decide if you can make it work, or if you’re too far gone to go back to him.

Word count: 1826

Warnings: None really, it’s fluffy angst... there are some slightly cliché lines though I will admit

You ran through the undergrowth of Ajan Kloss, wondering how far you would get this time.  It was just a game of cat and mouse, you knew that - you had no viable route off this planet, but even without a war there was nothing wrong with keeping the Resistance on their toes.

Behind you, you could sense multiple presences approaching, and the hum of speeders.  The first few times you had run they had pursued you on foot, but they had quickly learnt that speeders were the best approach.  Although they still hadn't learnt that they should keep you in a cell if they wanted you to stay put, they were definitely too righteous for their own good.

Two speeders overtook you and blocked you in, and you didn't try and fight it.  If you really wanted to escape you would.

Only minutes later you was being dragged back to the base and into the control centre, likely to be delivered to Generals Finn and Poe.  Usually they would just scold you and send you on your merry way.  But today you were met by the one person you had really been dreading seeing.

Ben Solo; fresh out of medical.

It had been two rotations since the fall of the Final Order, and of Palpatine.  You were the only remaining legacy of the Sith.

Now the man you had once known and loved as Kylo Ren was someone else, someone you didn't recognise.  As he had turned to the light, you had turned to the dark - and amongst the Sith there was no room for emotions such as love.

You ignored the way your heart skipped a beat when you laid eyes on him.  He wasn't your Kylo anymore.

"I think we should talk."  He said, and you hated that his voice sounded the same.  That may have sounded crazy, because of course his voice wouldn't change, but the soft tone he now spoke in used to be a tone that was only reserved for you when he was the hardened persona of Kylo Ren.  Now everyone heard that gentle voice.

"I have nothing to say to you."  You turned away and left the control centre.  The whole place was so abuzz that nobody had known what to do with you.  You currently weren't their priority, they were busy trying to create a whole new governing structure, they would deal with their Sith problem later.

"Wait-"  he followed you, but you didn't stop for him.  There wasn't anywhere for you to go and hide from him, but you had so much anger that he once shared with you, but now you felt as though you didn't want to drag him back down.  You were just a mere blight on his life, and he was just a reminder of the man you had lost.

Part of you resented that he had turned back to the light, but equally you thought he of all people deserved happiness.  If that was what made him happy, then you weren't in a position to argue with him, or hate him for it.

Eventually he reached out and grabbed your arm, turning you to face him.  He gaze met yours, but whereas you had once been two lovers gazing at one another, now you were like two strangers.  You saw a foreign softness in his brown eyes, whilst he was clinging onto memories of what your eyes had looked like before they had been dusted with a sharp yellow hue.

"Why are you still here?"  He asked, and that wasn't the question you expected to hear.

"Because I'm a prisoner."  You replied.

"You expect me to believe that?  If you didn't want to be here, you would have found a way to escape by now.  I know you."  He said, his tone softening at the end.

"You don't know me, not anymore.  The same way I don't know you, so why don't we just let the past die?"  There was a hint of bitterness in your tone, partially because you didn't want to let the past die.  On the contrary, you wished you could go back to how things had been long ago, when you and Kylo Ren had been conquering the galaxy side by side.

"Because I know how I felt about you... how I feel about you, and I'm not ready to let that go."  Ben spoke with emotion and conviction that you had rarely heard when he was Kylo Ren.  He had always buried his emotions, and scarcely told you aloud how he truly felt about you, both of you had always expressed your love through your actions.

"No Ky- Ben... that's not how you feel about me, that's how you used to feel about me."  You insisted, not wanting to open yourself up to the feelings that you knew you still had for him.  You were truly afraid of letting yourself feel.

"If that's what you think then I'll ask you again: why are you still here?"  He pressed, bringing you back round to the inevitable question.

"I don't know."  Your voice went quiet, this confusion and fear you felt translating as rage, which you were trying your hardest to suppress for Ben's sake.

"Yes, you do."  Despite there being plenty of people around, he tested the waters and reached out for your hand.  It flinched on instinct, but you remained still and allowed him to gently take ahold.

"I can't give you what you want, I'm not the same person you fell in love with."  Your voice was still hoarse, desperately trying not to snap at him, but every Sith instinct you now had wanted to react with anger.

"You don't know what I want."  Even the kinder, more gentle attitude of Ben Solo was now shifting more towards the frustration.  "You haven't asked me what I want."

"I'll tell you what you want Ben Solo."  You withdrew your hand from his and walked out of the control room, him following.  Only when you were outside, in a more private environment did you speak again.  "You want to be happy, and good."  Your hand now reached up to cup his cheek, "and that's what you deserve.  I can't be apart of that.  You're the hero, and I'm the villain, this isn't how it's supposed to be."

That was it, that was your closure.  At least, it was in your eyes.  You could leave him here, and escape this base... perhaps go and live the rest of your life as a bounty hunter, or find another faction in which you could make use of your skill set.  You had no interest in continuing the legacy of the Sith - they had died with Palpatine.

When you turned away, Ben moved to stand in front of you, blocking your path.

"I nearly died on Exegol, and the only thing I thought about was you.  Not Palpatine, not the Jedi, not the Sith, not even the Resistance or First Order - just you.  Hero or villain, it doesn't matter to me... I'll still love you."  It was clear in his tone, he wasn't asking you to stay, he was just baring his soul to you before you left, a final ditch effort to have you choose to stay with him.  "I do want to be happy, I'm less sure about good, but I can't be any of that without you."

This threw you entirely, you had been so certain that he deserved better, but you had never once asked yourself if he wanted better?

"I still can't stay here."  You now spoke under the assumption that perhaps you would even want to stay to some degree.  For the first time since fully embracing the dark side and rising as a Sith Lord, you felt something other than anger, hate, or fear.  It was warm, and coursed through your veins like ice, quenching the fire that had been burning through them before - it was devotion.

You had once devoted yourself to the First Order, but your true loyalty had been to Kylo Ren.  In his wake, you had devoted yourself to the Sith, who were able to prey on your vulnerability and raw power, but that had been a simple reaction to losing the man you had loved.

Now he stood before you, different, but still the same man beneath it all.  He was confessing his love for you, and you didn't know how to react anymore.  You thought all of your emotions had been numbed by the dark side, but there was still that spark of devotion in you, that spark that not even Palpatine could extinguish.

"I'm probably just as unwelcome here as you are.  Neither of us have to stay."  He then suggested.  In his eyes, turning back to the light didn't even begin to redeem him for any of the atrocities he had committed under the name of Kylo Ren.  He knew he would spend the rest of his life living with that guilt, but that didn't mean he had to live in an environment which constantly reminded him of said guilt.

"And what?  We just leave here and... live?"  You raised a sceptical eyebrow, "you can't think it would ever be that easy."  Your cynicism came from the dark side, it was still pulling you back, away from this poisonous dream that you could ever live happily and be in love with the man who should be your enemy.

"No, it won't be easy-" he paused to boldly move in and press his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.  You didn't pull away, initially you didn't know what to do other than stand there.  But it wasn't long before you felt that spark of devotion growing, crushing every single Sith instinct of hate and anger in its wake.  As you began to react and return his kiss, you realised that this was what you wanted: to be with him, Kylo or Ben, they were one in the same.

When he pulled away, you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and that shroud of anger had dissipated.  When he looked at you, you saw a flash of surprise in his eyes before he spoke again, "-it never was easy for us."

"But we always made it work."  You added, your tone now softening as you remembered your days in the First Order together.

A few moments ago, Ben had been sceptical that he would ever see your true eye colour again, but he looked at you now, the yellow hue gone, and he knew he finally had you back.  He didn't need you to in the light, he just needed you by his side.

The Resistance were too preoccupied to deal with either of you, so it was the perfect time to steal a ship and go and find a new life - one you could live on your own terms for once.