#and once the rage is gone she can't stop the misery from rolling in

[zahra-hydris]

so I fully went into the final solas talk in trespasser intending daewen to rage.

she's been a perfect picture of rage throughout trespasser: at the council, at the qunari, at her hand, at everything.

but then the sad response to solas' line "what is the old dalish saying? 'may the dread wolf take you'?" just called to me and... it just felt right.

she was absolutely furious going in. she intended to rage at him. to scream at him for lying to her, for manipulating her, for leaving her.

but then she sees him. and he speaks to her with such sorrow in his voice. he calls her 'vhenan'. still. and her hand flares and the pain and the joy at seeing him strip the rage away and she's just so tired that she can't bring it back.

and what's left underneath that rage is sorrow.

she's been searching for him and trying to let him go for two years. he's completely up-ended her belief system. but at the same time, he was her stability. everything she went through completely disrupted her sense of self, and he made her feel stable. and then he was gone! and he still is gone. she knows that, even upon finding him again.

so he says that line, and all she can muster up is a sad, slightly bitter 'and so he did.'

[magicisrealandsoismyally]

Don't worry about your tone, I so get that, I'm in the same boat. (And ngl, this has been fun for me)

I see your point with the shatterstars, and that does make sense.

Also, I know Kipperlily could do more damage, if she could plan that out, and be patient about it. Jace and Porter specifically told the Rat Grinders to avoid the Bad Kids so they wouldn't catch on to anything, and all of them, including Kipperlily, failed. (ex: Kipperlily needlessly approaching them campaign events like the one she announced kristen's god died, which she could have spread without approaching kristen, or during the lunch confrontation). it's been well established, that kipperlily is thinking with enough rage that she can't be patient about shit or stick to the plan. So no, I don't think she'd be able to dismantle governments because rogues in particular aren't great when operating emotionally (this isn't mechanically ofc, barbarian/rogue is a peak multiclass).

Adaine on the other hand is a powerful wizard, who, if we remember the fact that xp leveling is canonically, would get really really strong on her warpath. It does help to remember that Adaine's combat strategy is rather reliant on melee (for a wizard) with her sword and Adaine's Furious fist, meaning the strength and probably con that comes with the shatterstars that made the wizards into hulks would absolutely benefit her in a fight.

Adaine is the most powerful divination wizard in the world lorewise. She is a wizard with access to 5th level and possibly 6th level spells (at the time of the mall vision). And unfortunately for the world, her object of anger is a woman adept at magically hiding. Compared to Kipperlily, who's object of anger is a kid she goes to school with. Of course when Kipperlily doesn't have to leave Elmville it's gonna look worse when Adaine gets crystaled.

Also, the dragons and Nightmare King were unleashed on Seacaster Manor to make it crash. Which meant that the survivors of the crash would have still been enraged given enough time. And even if they weren't, the Rate Grinders were still damning a town to hell.

When I say the genre determines who's good and who's bad, I don't mean morality, I mean heroes and villains. Yeah, ACAB includes B99 because the show plays the force as realistic, and often covers realistic scenarios and topics, which the cops in that show tend to respond with "police brutality but it's funny and/or justified this time".

I don't think ACAB makes John McClane, the cop from the Die Hard movies, a bad guy because he is in an inherently unrealistic story (every movie this guy stops a terrorist plot by himself and has never once, been promoted to a government agency).

I also don't think that agreeing with a morally grey marvel villain's ideology suddenly makes them good, because their plan with obviously have something stupid like killing babies shoehorned in to demonize the ideology.

Yeah, in the real world, half the shit that makes Kipperlilly evil, wouldn't apply to a girl like Kipperlilly. Most teenage girls would not murder 6 of their friends (even not so close friends) in cold blood. The genre, made a villain out of the concept of who Kipperlilly is, and that is Kipperlilly. You can sometimes divorce the character from the genre, the story they're from, but a good character like Kipperlilly is shaped by it.

Also, even if she was a normal girl, she is a real world asshole. She's literally another white girl pissed about Affirmative Action. Real world assholes can be changed people yes, but in dnd games, they don't "redeem" that many real world assholes compared to the ones they kill. Kipperlilly just lost the luck roll.

You can't earn a redemption arc. Not in the real world. In the genre of dnd however, likability equals morality. It's why they saved Mary Anne, it's why a party I'm in is besties with the godess of misery, and it's why KLKC is dead and gone. Because she's not a fun person to be around. It's a tough fact, but it's also one that's been true since freshman year when Ragh was redeemed.

Also, I'll agree Ankarna should face repercussions for her time as a Rage goddess, the instant I find good faith argument for Cassandra's time as the Nightmare King needed repercussions. Gods play by different rules, and we've accepted that before, what's different now?

KLKC did not want help. She above all else wanted vindication. She did very little to actually refocus her anger and listen to Jawbone. And the instant a teacher told her that her unfounded anger was good, she jumped for it. She did not want to be help, she wanted to be right.

I love Kipperlilly (as a character, she would be awful to be around irl), but I love her as a villain. And I think in a different story, she'd be redeemed. But she doesn't meet the conditions for it in dnd.

And I'll be honest, the only reason I ever talk about Kipperlilly on here is because I keep seeing posts that are antagonistic to Brennan for not letting her be redeemed, which given the genre, would have felt so goddamn shoehorned in if the players didn't want it to happen.

P.S. Day 45 of wishing, no praying, for a rat grinders side quest

i love kipperlily defenders, someone please remind them you can have a truly evil character be your fav

she did not have normal teenage anger, she had a homicide, she committed cold blooded murder against her best friend, that is not "local teen girl has some issues" that is murder.

it is truly beautiful what people will defend, but as a klkc fan myself, let her be villainous, let her be unreasonable, let her be hated, you can still love her for being awful

[artificialqueens]

You're the One Thing (I Can't Get Enough Of) {Branjie}- athena2

A/N: Brooke has messed up in her and Vanessa’s relationship, but she’s going to do whatever it takes to fix it. This is for @writworm 42, who requested a fic where Brooke has messed up and makes it up to Vanessa with candlelight and looking pretty and a slow dance, and Writ is awesome and I love them so I had to. I hope it’s somewhat like what you imagined, and I hope you enjoy! Please leave some feedback if you’d like! Title from “I’ve Had the Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing.

—

Night has fallen, a dark blue sheet over the world, when Brooke finally exits the conference room massaging her temples, ears still ringing from a board member’s yelling.

She pulls out her phone on the way to her car, stomach growling with the knowledge that she’s consumed nothing but a cup of coffee all day. 15 minutes and she’ll be home, eating dinner and kissing Vanessa—

There’s 5 voicemails and almost 30 texts, all from Vanessa.

Oh no. The phone shakes in Brooke’s hand, and it’s a good thing she hasn’t eaten because her stomach lurches.

Did something happen? Is she hurt? Is she sick? Her mind is overtaken by images of Vanessa trapped and bleeding in her car, or fighting for her life in the hospital, or scared because of something at work…she forces herself to breathe and opens up the messages, heart pounding.

Brooke

Where are you?

You’re supposed to be out early today remember?

Why are you late?

Brooke are you okay? You’re an hour late and I’m scared

Brooke?

Are you okay?

You’re almost two hours late

I just called your office they said you’re in a meeting. Did you seriously forget to leave early for tonight?

Whatever. Obviously your job is more important

Oh shit. Brooke’s heart creeps into her throat and the guilt slams into her like a tractor. Somehow, in between her rushed cup of coffee for breakfast and the two morning meetings and skipping lunch to perfect her presentation and the presentation itself and this meeting, she completely forgot that she had to get out early.

It’s her and Vanessa’s third anniversary.

And Brooke forgot about it.

—

“Will you just come, Brooke? You might actually enjoy yourself, you know,” Nina argues.

“At 80’s music night at the Rainforest Bar? Do I even need to dignify that with a response?” She shoots Nina the most scathing look she can muster.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not your exact idea of a good time, but please just come? You might meet someone. You haven’t been in a relationship since undergrad. I worry about you, Brooke.” It’s a clear guilt trip, but there’s such sincerity in Nina’s expression that she finds herself agreeing.

“Fine. But if I don’t have a good time, which I won’t, I get to pick the next movie for movie night.”

“Okay. And if you do have a good time, which you will, I get to pick the movie.”

“Deal.”

—

Brooke opens the back door and enters a fog of doom and misery in the kitchen.

“Look who decided to show up.”

Vanessa sits stiffly at the kitchen table, a murderous gleam in her eyes. She’s still in her flowing gold dress that she saves for special occasions. The table is bare, and Brooke realizes with a pang that Vanessa had given up on her and put it all away, removed all traces of the night they were supposed to have, with their fancy dresses and fancy dinner and candles and champagne.

Like she could no longer bear to sit and look at the broken promise Brooke had made of their night.

There is nothing she can say that will make this better, but she has to try. Vanessa deserves that much at least.

“Vanessa, I’m so sorry. I got caught up at work–”

“You’re always caught up at work!”

She can tell from Vanessa’s rage that this has been building for a while–and not without reason. Brooke has been coming home later than usual the past few weeks, falling asleep at her home desk as she reviews graphs and charts. She’s been telling Vanessa that things will be normal again once the quarter ends, but what if–fear grips her heart–what if her and Vanessa aren’t still her and Vanessa by the time it does?

“They scheduled a late meeting and it was mandatory–”

“Of course it was! And you know what? You wouldn’t have even been there for it if you left early like you promised!” Vanessa leaps to her feet, betrayal and anger enabling her to tower over Brooke.

“I know. I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing to do and I–”

“One night I asked you to get out early. One!” She laughs bitterly. “Sometimes I think you like that job more than me.”

“Ness, I–”

“You don’t get to call me Ness right now.” Brooke detects tears chasing after the fury in Vanessa’s voice. “Why don’t you sleep at your desk tonight. You love sleeping there anyway.”

She storms up the stairs and Brooke restrains herself from following. Vanessa’s anger is like a landmine; you might take out everything in a 5-mile radius if you approach her when she’s still seething. As much as Brooke wants to race after her and talk and apologize until she’s repaired this, she knows she’ll only create more damage if she goes when the fire of rage is still burning through her wife, and she’s caused enough destruction already.

She finds their dessert for tonight, chocolate-strawberry tarts from their favorite coffee shop–where they had their first official date and Brooke was so nervous she poured sugar all over the table instead of in her mug–in the garbage, another casualty of Brooke’s forgetfulness.

Brooke steps into her home office, her appetite suddenly gone, a hard lump in her stomach now. She drops into her desk chair, still in her stiff pantsuit, because she doesn’t deserve the release of taking it off. She watches the sky brighten as it passes from dusk to dawn, a bright pink of new possibilities and fulfilled promises, as she formulates a plan.

She’s going to make this right.

—

Nina hums along to “Africa” at the table they’re huddled around, and Brooke is flooded with guilt for making Nina stand here with her miserable self when she knows Nina would rather be on the dance floor.

“Go dance,” Brooke insists. “Have fun. Don’t worry about me.” It takes another few minutes of coaxing and reassuring Nina that she’ll be fine before Nina sprints to the dance floor, immediately drawn in with a group of women.

Brooke sighs and sips at her drink, the oversized paper umbrella almost taking her eye out. She shouldn’t be here; she should be reviewing her presentation for Monday, making sure she’s caught every mistake. Maybe she could hole up in the bathroom and go over the notes on her phone. She sighs again. Why couldn’t she ever just let go and have fun like Nina encouraged her to?

“Hey there,” a rough voice surfaces at her side. “You okay? You lookin’ kinda stressed, Mami.”

Brooke looks up at the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen, brilliant white teeth exposed in a full grin, a jungle cat on the prowl, brown eyes bright under the neon lights, hair brushed back off her soft, smooth face.

“I–I’m fine,” Brooke manages, no longer sure how to form words.

The woman winks. “You sure are.” She bats her eyelashes and Brooke has to grip the table just to stay upright.

“I’m Vanessa,” the woman says.

—

Brooke calls in sick to work and is out the door before the sun is up the next morning, before Vanessa rolls out of bed to take her shower. Brooke can’t help but smile as she pictures the nest Vanessa’s hair is in the morning, how she always tries to convince Brooke to stay in the shower with her. All she can do is hope she didn’t mess up enough to lose those things.

The grocery store is nearly deserted this early in the morning, which is good because Brooke doesn’t want to know what she looks like, in yesterday’s clothes, hair up in a ponytail, running on a rough hour of sleep and not enough coffee. She shoves through the exhaustion and focuses.

Vanessa likes Caesar salad with extra croutons, she likes potatoes fried until they crunch, and she likes steak completely well done because any pink in it freaked her out. Brooke can barely make toast without setting off the smoke detector, but as she roams down endless seas of cans and boxes, her sleep-deprived brain declares that she can make all of these things for tonight.

She is going to give Vanessa the night she deserves, because Vanessa is the greatest person Brooke has ever known. She is somehow bold and brash yet kind and thoughtful, always armed with the right words for any situation. She can loosen the threads that have Brooke wound tight with stress over work conferences, make her laugh after a long day, nestle perfectly in her arms at night. The pain in Brooke’s chest is only growing as she thinks of the absolute wreck she made of everything.

How could she have forgotten the anniversary of the day she stood under a canopy of orange leaves and slid her ring on Vanessa’s finger and vowed to love her forever? Has her love for Vanessa lessened over the years? No, she knows that isn’t true. Her heart still speeds up every time Vanessa smiles at her, their hands still fly together like lovesick teenagers. She knows, even in moments when Vanessa has steam coming out of her ears after work or is frowning at her for editing presentations in bed, that she loves Vanessa more than ever. She has to show Vanessa how much she loves her in case the message has been lost lately with all her deadlines and meetings and stress.

Her next stop is the coffee shop to get new tarts, only to be told that they make those every other day. Brooke clenches her fists so tight she nearly bends her phone in half. She has to have these tarts. They’re Vanessa’s favorite, and nothing else will do. Vanessa should get to have her favorite dessert all the time, and especially now, but Brooke walks out the door with a polite thank you, because what’s she going to do? Get down on her knees and sob and beg the bored twenty-something behind the counter to make the tarts so she can save her marriage? (The thought does cross her mind).

Brooke gets in her car, pulls up a recipe, and heads back to the store.

—

Vanessa is tiny, barely at Brooke’s shoulders even in her sleek black heels, but with a voice and personality that make her double in size. Brooke easily lets her take the lead on the conversation, and by the time she finds out Vanessa is a schoolteacher a few years younger than her, Brooke forgets to be afraid, forgets about her presentation Monday, forgets everything but Vanessa’s eyes and smile across from her.

Brooke doesn’t even notice that hours have passed listening to Vanessa’s stories of what goes on in the teachers’ lounge at school, the DJ cycling through Madonna and Cyndi Lauper and George Michael, until the bartender announces last call and the soft strains of a familiar song from one of her and Nina’s favorite movies ring out.

‘Now I’ve had the time of my life…’

Vanessa squeals. “I love this song! Dance with me?”

She lets Vanessa pull her on to the dance floor, the brunette telling her over the music about how she and her friends all watched the movie for the first time at a sleepover when they were 12, how everyone drooled over Johnny but she couldn’t take her eyes off Penny, and by the end of the sleepover she knew she had a thing for blondes and did not have a thing for men.

Brooke just listens to that gravelly voice, feels the warmth of Vanessa’s body pulsing next to her, and when the song reaches its climax, she can’t resist leaning down and whispering into Vanessa’s ear.

“I can do this, you know. The lift, I mean.” Brooke clarifies at Vanessa’s confused expression.

“You’re shitting me!”

“I’m not.” Brooke grins. “I took dance lessons for 14 years, I know how to do it.”

“You wanna come back to my place and prove it?”

—

The first thing she sees when she gets home is Vanessa’s coffee mug in the sink, peeking out at her like a ray of sunlight.

The mug Brooke got her as a joke when they started dating, with a chalkboard and an apple on it proclaiming Vanessa to be the World’s Best Teacher. The mug she had plucked a ring out of the night she proposed to Vanessa, a night filled with happy tears and kisses and breathless repeatings of we’re getting married. The mug that Vanessa insisted be the first thing they unpacked when they moved into their new house.

Vanessa leaves the mug in the sink every morning and Brooke washes it every night when she gets home from work, relishing the calm motions and the memories of late breakfasts and kisses sweet with coffee and maple syrup bursting from the mug’s surface.

If Vanessa was willing to drink out of this morning after everything that happened, maybe there’s hope, and Brooke rinses the mug with a smile.

Then she lays out her supplies and gets to work.

Brooke can’t cook. At all. And she doesn’t mean it in the modest way people do when they don’t want to call attention to their talents; she means it in the way that Vanessa reaches for the fire extinguisher anytime Brooke gets within a foot of the stove. But she has double of everything she’ll need and seven hours until Vanessa gets home, and today is as good a day as ever to be optimistic.

Brooke slices and stirs and mixes and it distracts her from the fact that it’s radio silence on her phone all day. No cat videos or pictures of Vanessa at her desk with the funniest Snapchat filter she could find or an accusatory so guess what this hoe at work did today with the promise of a wild story that she would hear at dinner. It’s what she expected and it’s what she deserves. Hell, it’s probably more than she deserves; she wouldn’t blame Vanessa for sending her angry texts and screaming voicemails.

After a long shower, a thick layer of aloe vera over the small burn on her arm, three Minnie Mouse Band-Aids on the cuts on her fingers, one batch of tarts so deformed they could be a viral Pinterest fail, a once-white T-shirt that she doubts even bleach can save, and a salad dressing incident that required cleaning the ceiling, Brooke curls her hair, applies her makeup, and slips on her elegant black dress, the one with the plunging neckline that Vanessa likes because then she can put her hands all over Brooke’s chest.

She lights candles to set the romantic mood (and also mask the odor from the first round of potatoes she burned), arranges deep red and soft white roses in a vase, and props up the portable speaker as Vanessa drives home from the after-school program she helps with, probably blasting Rihanna and singing along with the windows open.

Brooke starts the music as she hears the lock click, preparing herself for the moment of truth.

—-

Vanessa is barely in the door before she has the song cued up on her phone, pulling Brooke into the living room with a wide smile.

Vanessa slips her arms around Brooke’s waist, rocking her into a slow dance as the first verses of the song play out.

The song builds to the lift, and Vanessa bites her lip and glances up at Brooke nervously.

“You’re not gonna drop me, are you?” she questions.

“I won’t drop you, I promise. I got you.” Brooke has never made promises easy, Nina the only person to typically earn them, but it flies out so naturally she doesn’t question it, and she knows she will never break it. She’s got a good feeling in her gut about Vanessa, and Brooke wants to carve those words into stone.

Vanessa nods, taking a few steps back before running at her, heels clicking on the floor, and Brooke settles her hands on Vanessa’s hips, going with the motion and lifting her high in the air.

“Holy shit, Brooke!” Vanessa shrieks above Brooke’s head. “I’m five-nothing, I never been this high! Well, except for that time my friend Silky made her ‘special’ cookies.”

Vanessa is quaking with laughter above her, legs flailing, and Brooke laughs and lowers Vanessa to the ground, hands still sturdy on her hips, and Brooke is thinking she might just leave them there forever. What does she really need her hands for anyway?

“I bet you use that trick on all the girls,” Vanessa accuses, still breathless, a smile between her flushed cheeks.

“Never,” Brooke says truthfully. “Never met anyone I liked enough to do it with.”

And then their lips meet, and that good feeling spreads to Brooke’s entire body. She may actually burst into flame, and she lifts Vanessa once more and carries her into–no, that’s the bathroom, Brooke unable to see anything but Vanessa–the bedroom, placing her down carefully and removing Vanessa’s dress.

They nestle into a breathless tangle, and there’s that feeling in Brooke’s stomach again. This time it’s telling her that this won’t be their last night together, that she’ll get to hold Vanessa close every night and wake up with sunlight glinting off Vanessa’s back every morning, kissing and laughing and getting pancake crumbs from breakfasts in bed all over the sheets.

She lets the feeling carry her off into sleep.

Vanessa makes waffles the next morning, and Brooke leaves with another kiss and a new contact in her phone, Vanessa’s name followed by a heart and dancing woman emojis.

Brooke gets two texts that afternoon.

The first is from Vanessa asking if she wants to go for coffee tomorrow. The second is from Nina stating that they’ll be watching Mulan for their next movie night.

—-

Etta James’s voice fills the kitchen as Vanessa steps inside, Brooke strategically arranging a playlist with all Vanessa’s favorite love songs, most from their wedding, when they spun around together and neither one could do anything but smile because they were married.

“Brooke?” Vanessa asks, her work bag slipping through her fingers and crashing to the floor. “You-you look so beautiful, and the music and the flowers…and you cooked?” She looks at the table in wonder and bites her lip the way she does when Brooke knows she’s trying not to smile.

“Happy anniversary,” Brooke says. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I know that really hurt you, and I wanted to give you the anniversary you deserve, because you mean the world to me.”

“Brooke…” she’s not hiding her smile anymore, and her eyes are starting to tear up.

Brooke takes a deep breath, holding herself back from running to Vanessa just in case. “I love you, Vanessa. These have been the best three years of my life, and I still love you just as much as I did the first day. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m going to work harder to show you that. I won’t be late at the office anymore, and I won’t be doing work stuff when I could be with you. Because you’re the most important thing in my life.”

Vanessa is in her arms the next second, breathing soft I love you’s into Brooke’s chest.

“I forgive you,” Vanessa whispers. “I love you so much, Brooke. I was so lonely last night, and I wanted to text you so many times today, and you did all this for me…this is the best anniversary ever.”

She plants a kiss on the top of Vanessa’s head, and then Vanessa runs upstairs and comes back in her gold dress, Brooke bursting into a grin and hit with that same flutter in her stomach like she did that first night, like she did the night they said their vows.

‘Unforgettable, that’s what you are…’ Nat King Cole lulls over them as they start on dinner, Vanessa updating her on the case of the teachers’ lounge snack-stealer with today’s new evidence.

“I think the food is edible,” Brooke offers as a disclaimer.

“It’s fine, baby,” Vanessa assures her, crunching on potatoes. “Hey, was that stain on the ceiling before?” she asks suddenly. “And why do you have so many Band-Aids on?”

“Just don’t ask,” Brooke blurts around her edible, actually-not-bad steak, grateful when “I’m Stone in Love With You” picks up and Vanessa’s attention shifts to another story.

Brooke is washing the dishes from the tarts (a little crunchy around the edges, maybe, but altogether decent) when it comes on, like she timed it (which she had, stalling on the dish-scrubbing for just the right moment).

‘Now I’ve had the time of my life…’

“Brooke!” Vanessa squeals. “You didn’t!”

Brooke drops her washcloth in the sink and tugs Vanessa into the living room. “I did.”

The music sweeps around them and they join together in a slow dance, twirling around the living room laughing and smiling, that night years ago reflected in both of their eyes.

Vanessa takes a step back as the time grows near, searching Brooke’s face for the answer to an unasked question.

“I still got you,” Brooke promises.

Her hands are on Vanessa’s hips seconds later, Vanessa screeching up in the air while Brooke laughs beneath her, fingers exuding a promise she first made years ago into Vanessa’s skin, the promise that she will always be there for her wife, no matter what.

She brings Vanessa down into a kiss as the song fades out and melts into Diana Ross. Every kiss with Vanessa over the years has been special, but this one is fiery and desperate, filled with every need that went unanswered last night. Needs that Brooke won’t let be neglected again, because she isn’t going to put her job above her wife–her kind, passionate, fierce, loving wife–again.

She carries Vanessa up the stairs and this time she doesn’t have to search for a bedroom in an unfamiliar apartment because now it’s their bedroom, their home. Their life.

And she knows that tomorrow they’ll wake up and Vanessa will drink coffee out of that mug, and Brooke will wash it tomorrow night with a smile on her face, because even if the way she loves Vanessa has changed over the years, Brooke knows she has never loved her more.

[kate7h]

What You Desire | What You Deserve

Rating: K+

Summary: Jellal’s POV of the almost-kiss scene~

"I don't see the old Jellal before me! He was full of life, and would never give up without a fight!"

"Maybe he's dead now…"

Erza nearly snarled in her righteous anger. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his collar and she yanked him to his feet.

"Why you-!" She growled through her gritted teeth.

"Erza…"And then they were falling.

AO3

Jellal didn't know why he was speaking so freely. It was as if his tongue had previously been weighed down, but being in Erza's presence once more had lifted that weight, and he couldn't help but vomit the truth. Maybe it was because these had been the dark and tragic thoughts on his mind that he knew would be painful… or annoying... to Ultear and Meredy. It was useless to speak to them of such things.

No, these were words he wouldn't have thought speaking to any other person but Erza.

Being near her once more, it was a roller coaster of emotions he was barely able to conceal. It was the most elated he'd been since before he could remember, and it was simultaneously the most self-loathing he'd felt in a while. She reminded him of that perfectly brilliant light which she carried within, pleasurable to behold, and tragically contrasting the darkness he saw within himself. It made everything he'd done up to that point feel so… pointless. After seven long years of fighting the darkness, trying to atone and gain back that light he knew he had once had… he was still stained by it. His hands felt dirty as he clutched them together in his lap. There was nothing he had done which felt like he had been cleansed in the slightest.

"Perhaps it would be best if I did die…" he muttered, letting the self-pity and despair control his words.

And then she struck him. The sharp pain startled him for a moment, but really he should have seen it coming. If he'd heard something like that from Erza, he wouldn't be very happy either. Not that she would say that. Her lot was light and life. Death for her was a tragedy, not a release.

"You'd be satisfied with the coward's way out?!" Erza exclaimed, her sense of strength and justice seeping out of her, even as he looked away, his eyes narrowed and hard at nothing.

"I'm not as strong as you," he replied as if it were an excuse. "I'm…"

"You think you need to be strong in order to live?"

That is the very definition of life, Erza. It's harsh and it's full of heartache and disappointment. The only way to live is through strength of heart. And he was feeling very weak.

"You're wrong!" She continued, as if she could hear his thoughts. "Life itself is what gives us strength!"

He didn't reply, keeping his glare down from her fiery stare.

She gripped his shoulders, and for a moment he thought she was going to literally shake him. "I don't see the old Jellal before me! He was full of life, and would never give up without a fight!"

It had been so long since he'd been that person, he was barely certain that child existed in more than memories. It was certainly not the person he was today. He turned his face to her, but kept his eyes down. He could feel his shame and self-loathing radiate out from him, and Erza could most certainly feel it too. "Maybe he's dead now…"

Erza nearly snarled in her righteous anger. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his collar and she yanked him to his feet.

"Why you-!" She growled through her gritted teeth.

He could barely look her in the eye, even as she held him there. His eyes shut, and he nearly coward away from her as she pulled him close to her raging eyes. "Erza…"

And then they were falling, to both their surprise.

Painfully, they rolled down the dirt hill together, Erza continuing to grip his collar. He shut his eyes, unable to think fast enough to stop their descent.

When they did finally stop, he was on his hands and knees… with Erza lying beneath him. His eyes opened wide as he gaped at her. And she gaped right back. All the anger had gone from her as had his weak bitterness. It was as if the awkward tumble had stripped them of the argument.

She lay right before him, her eyes catching the dazzling lights surrounding them. In her eyes was amazement as a blush spread across her cheeks. She was so beautiful… so incredibly beautiful he forgot himself and just stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the stunning woman accidentally pinned beneath him. He wasn't even sure if he could breathe.

At that moment, he knew he wanted to be everything she saw in him. He needed it, wanted it because she was so full of that light. It was impossible to escape his own desire for her. Now, he felt it inside his heart, the desire for light… and love. A day ago, he would have never imagined he'd feel so raw and so alive.

His eyes softened from his startlement, looking down at the woman who constantly turned his world upside down. "You always know what to say… don't you?"

A smile graced her lips. "That's not true at all," she replied, a breathless chuckle in her voice. "I just stumble through life one day at a time… that's all."

"Erza," he spoke, not knowing how else to respond, save for her name, which rang with her glory and light.

Slowly, she moved her hand up to her eyes, shielding them from his gaze. "I… never thought I'd see you again…" there was a quiver to her voice and her chin trembled, tears falling from her covered eyes.

He watched them fall down her cheek and past her lips… he felt ready to burst and all he wanted was to be closer to her. She'd wanted to see him again, and so he wanted to never leave her side again. He would give her the world. Anything and everything.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached up and grasped his face between her hands. She was so close… and Jellal wanted nothing more than to close that distance, and press his lips to hers.

"Jellal…" her voice was barely more than a whisper as she spoke his name. He could hear the unspoken request, feel it. After so long struggling with these years and feelings, to kiss her, to confirm what both of them already knew. He wanted it more than he could ever comprehend.

Tears flowed down her face again. Almost instinctively, Jellal lifted a hand to her skin, wiping away the stream of water. Her face was so soft, so warm to his touch… he couldn't let go if he wanted to. Closer...closer…

He tilted his wrist, lifting her face closer to his, and she willingly followed, continued with a small smile on her lips. He moved closer as well, slowly closing the gap between them, and his heart raced. He was so full of the immense love he had for her, so full that his heart felt heavy, pulling him down to her. Time seemed to stand still, as if there were miles to go before he could press his lips to hers.

You don't deserve this, a voice from within him snarled. All the death and misery you've caused, you think you deserve her?

He knew he didn't. In the moment his mind had been solely on her, but the reminder was like a punch to the stomach. He didn't deserve her.

Even as she sat up, slowly coming closer to him with a smile on her face, he could imagine where he touched her was growing dark with his taint. His hands were covered in blood; he was staining her and her wonderful light for his own desire. He desired her, and it sickened him.

Simon will never experience this, the voice continued. So many lives will never have what you're desiring… because of what you did.

He knew, and yet he desired her all the same. His stomach churned with disgust.

And yet, she smiled, and he didn't let go. He moved to her as she did to him.

You've deprived Simon of this. You knew he loved her too…

He could feel her breath against his lips, her warmth surrounding him.

You're disgusting.

At last, his lips met hers in a soft, timid kiss. But his elation was gone, marred by the truths circling around his mind. He wanted to melt into her, bathe in her radiance, bask in her glory, and to never let this wonderful moment escape them. He'd wanted this for so long! But cold spread through him instead. He had told himself he wanted to give her this, but in truth… he was merely taking what he wanted for himself.

You will never deserve this.

Overcome with the self-loathing anew, he pushed her back, severing their muted kiss. He shut his eyes and turned away, fearing the hurt on her face.

She'd wanted this too. He knew… she felt as he did. She'd been practically glowing with joy. She deserved that joy, that love… she deserved someone not bathed in the blood of her friends.

But she loved him. He had trapped her once again. I'm so sorry, Erza. I don't deserve to love you.

"I can't…" he said after the silence had felt like an eternity. Still he couldn't look her in the eye. What a useless fool I am… "I have a fiancée…" Utterly pathetic.

He regretted the words as they left his mouth. What a ridiculous and blatant lie. But it was the first thing he could think of to let her move on, and cause her the least amount of pain… hopefully.

She suddenly pushed him away, and he gasped in surprise at the movement. Still, he couldn't face her. He let his head droop as he grasped his shoes.

"Oh-" Ezra said frantically. "I didn't mean to make you think that I- er we should- you know… uh…"

"No! I- I'm the one who should… sorry…" Really, if he could just die of embarrassment that instant, it would be a relief to say the least.

Erza blew out a breath, "A fiancée! That's a surprise! Well congratulations! That's great! Mmhmm, I'm really happy for you…"

She sounded very much the opposite of that. If he was a bad liar, than she was worse. Please just let me die…

He kept his eyes down, his face tomato red, he was sure. The whole situation couldn't have been going worse than it was currently. I'm sorry I'm such a fool, Erza.

"Do you love her?" Erza asked, her voice so incredibly gentle.

His eyes widened, his heart filled with that warmth once more. Even though she asked it of a fictional fiancée, the one woman he did love was sitting in front of him… and she definitely wasn't engaged to him.

Do I love you, Erza?

"Yes," he replied firmly, honestly. Even though it was under a guise, it was a relief to admit aloud to her.

"Then live… for her sake," Erza continued softly.

Jellal felt a smile spread across his face. It lightened his heart a little. The past six years since he'd regained his memory it had been difficult to find a reason to continue on fighting, and there wasn't a reason to stop either. But for Erza… that was reason enough.

"I can do that."

Hello~! So I first watched the anime dubbed, so when I was writing this I wasn't sure of which dialogues to use... so I studied the scene in the manga, subbed, and dubbed to get the best combination. I hope it wasn't annoying to anyone. Thanks for reading!