#he’s grieving and the guilt is swallowing him whole

[teecupangel]

Okay in what if ziio lived in pretty sure she promised haytham that if the templars attacked her village she would kill him so we cut to the burning of the village ziio lives and is on a warpath looking for haytham so she leaves Connor to be watched by Achilles and shenanigans happen but it results to Connor sneaking in to the wagon that Achilles and ziio are using to arrive to Boston ziio confronting haytham and let’s throw Shay by having him find a lost Connor and trying to help him find his mother while Achilles sis looking for him

Before we think of how this would work, we should clear up the timeline. Ratonhnhaké:ton’s village being attacked happens in 2 November 1760. Shay killing everyone but Achilles happens in March 1760.

(Let's be clear that Haytham did not order the burning of the village but they don't know that. They believe it's a Templar action which means Haytham approved of it)

This means that, if we are going for Kaniehtí:io bringing Ratonhnhaké:ton on her warpath to Achilles perhaps in 1761 then Achilles would be halfway between being his grumpy AC3 self and drowning in pain, guilt and grief. Maybe that’s why Kaniehtí:io let Ratonhnhaké:ton stay with Achilles, she believes Achilles needs a reason to keep living, to keep walking to the present each day.

Ratonhnhaké:ton knows this in some way. His mother tells him that he’s there to help Achilles. Not to move on but to never forget that he is still alive.

Kaniehtí:io would probably think that she’s being hypocritical herself. She’s the one dragging the past with her in this quest of vengeance.

She’s the reason why she and her son had been banished from the tribe. Her desire for vengeance finally being the final fight she would have with her mother who told her that, if she leaves the village to commit such violence, she would never be welcomed back.

Ratonhnhaké:ton had been collateral damage. She had been willing to leave him behind, knowing he would be much safer with the tribe than with her.

Or so she thought she had the will to do such a cruel thing to her son.

Until her son begged to come with her.

And her will crumbled.

She didn’t want to part with her son.

So she dragged him into danger.

Because of her personal vendetta against Haytham Kenway.

They stayed in the empty homestead for a year or so, Kaniehtí:io learning how to be an Assassin from a reluctant Achilles. Ratonhnhaké:ton watches and thinks he wants to be an Assassin as well.

It is a somber affair for Kaniehtí:io.

Was she pulling her son to a similar path that Haytham Kenway walks?

She can’t be sure anymore.

All she is sure is that this path of vengeance is hers alone.

That’s why she left Ratonhnhaké:ton to Achilles after receiving a clue to where Haytham Kenway was.

While she was gone, Achilles went to Boston to purchase a few supplies needed to repair the homestead. Rainy seasons were upon them and there was a new hole on the roof that needed to be fixed. It was meant to be a simply supply run.

He left Ratonhnhaké:ton back in the homestead because he was old enough and there was a kind family there that would check up on him every day.

He had just parked his wagon when he realized that Ratonhnhaké:ton had sneaked inside the wagon, covered by the cloth he had placed over it.

Achilles told Ratonhnhaké:ton to stay close but Ratonhnhaké:ton couldn’t help but look all around him, finding everything new and interesting.

Before he knew it, he was lost.

And that’s how Shay found him.

He had only been there to visit the local Templars under Haytham Kenway’s orders.

He saw the boy lost and tried to help.

Achilles found them in an empty alleyway while Shay was trying to get the boy to trust him enough to tell him if he knew where his parents were or where he last saw them.

Their eyes met.

And thy were back in the Arctic once more…

Achilles’ knee ached and threatened to burn him from the inside.

Shay looked like he had seen a ghost, had hoped that he would never see Achilles ever again.

And that’s when…

Achilles threw his cane at Shay, making Shay step back to evade it. Achilles took that time to order Ratonhnhaké:ton to run and never look back.

Ratonhnhaké:ton runs because he sensed the panic in Achilles’ voice and Achilles…

He remained.

He could never outrun Shay.

Not in his current state.

But he could…

Keep his busy enough for Ratonhnhaké:ton to escape.

He was a smart boy.

He will survive even without Achilles.

“Why does he need to run, Achilles?” Shay asked, eyes narrowing as he growled, “Is there a reason why I should chase after him?”

“That depends…” Achilles stared at him.

One of his pupils.

The last remaining child of the Brotherhood he had nurtured.

The traitor who killed everyone else.

The man who tried to do the right thing.

But at what cost?

Achilles wasn’t even sure who he was thinking about anymore.

Was he thinking about Shay Cormac?

Or of himself?

“If he was an Assassin…”

“… would you kill him too, Shay Cormac?”

[sodapopwrites]

a ballad of flame and shadow part two

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

summary - after amarantha takes control and rhysand is lost to her court the inner circle must deal with the loss while his sister pushes her way through guilt. guilt about not warning lucien enough and guilt about what she suspects is growing between her and azriel.

word count - 1.4k

a/n - im sorry im so bad at writing summaries, the chapter is better than the description i swear to god.

read the rest of the series here!

She hadn’t left her room in days. A suffocating air of grim finality was swallowing her. It was swallowing the whole town house. She was surprised it wasn’t swallowing the entire city. 

Velaris still bright and sparkling. Children still laughing in the streets. Shops still bustling. Velaris still peaceful. 

But Rhysand was gone. Her brother lost under the mountain, stripped of all his terrifying power, and reduced to-

She didn’t want to think of it. She didn’t want to accept it. 

Azriel had scraped his shadows across Prythian for any whispers he could find. Any whisper or shout of what had happened that night. 

Amarantha with all her charm and her wicked schemes had taken court under the mountain. Had declared herself High Queen. Had shackled the high lord of the night court to her side and sent a curse rumbling through every single member of the spring court. 

Cursed to stay in that insufferable season. Cursed to hide behind extravagant masks. Cursed to put their faith in Tamlin of all people. 

She thought of him. Of Lucien. 

She thought of the eye she knew was ripped from his beautiful face. She thought of what must lay behind his mask now. She thought about the last time she saw him. 

“A warning?” 

She looked at him. Tight lipped. A small crease in her brow. And he just couldn’t help himself. He reached up and smoothed that crease with his thumb. A feather light touch that seared its way into her skin. 

“The war may be over, but there are still enemies to be dealt with. People who we shouldn’t be so willing to put our trust in.” 

“You sound just like him,” Lucien sighed, “Always telling me not to put trust in anyone.” 

The crease returned. The comparison to Tamlin sending a spark of rage down her spine. The knowledge that Tamlin knew exactly what Lucien got up to every time she visited sent a churning to her gut that she couldn’t bring herself to calm. 

“So why trust me?” 

Maybe he hadn’t trusted her at all. If he had maybe he wouldn’t have gone under the mountain. If he had maybe he’d still have that beautiful russet eye that used to brush across her face so softly. Maybe she hadn’t been serious enough. Maybe she should have pushed the topic more, given him more detail, but instead she gave him vague allusions to what her brother thought Amarantha might try to do. Not even vague allusions. Shadows. Wisps of what had come about. Nothing useful at all. 

─────────⋆✩⋆─────────

The inner circle didn’t dare leave the townhouse. Not when all of them grieved so heavily. Not when she wouldn’t leave her room, when she wouldn’t eat, when she could barely will herself to breathe. 

Azriel could feel it. The guilt coming off of her. He could feel it coming down the stairs when he was in the living room. He could feel it when he stalked through the streets of Velaris. He could feel it constantly. Every single pull of self-damnation. Every pang of conscience. 

He hated it. 

Hated that he could feel her grieving the inprisonment of that smart mouthed fox.

Hated that he could feel her no matter how far she pushed him away. Pushed all of them away. 

Hated the way her guilt sang the same notes as his own. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

“So why trust me?” 

Her words were soft. Pleading. Asking her ever unspoken question. The question of his care for her. He could only bring himself to smile and brush an inky strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve always had a bad habit of letting myself get distracted by beautiful things.” 

Lucien cursed himself now for not telling her. For not telling her just how intensely she had managed to bewitch him. He had been too scared and too mistrusting of whatever information her brother was willing to give the spring court. He had played it off and made whatever they were simmer into something too casual. As if she was one beautiful thing in a sea of many. As if anything could compare. 

He cursed himself for it constantly. 

As he watched his best friend send out trusted sentries to be killed beyond the wall. One after the other. Each loss a sharp reminder that he hadn’t bothered to really listen to her. To read inbetween the lines of what she was saying. Had her brother even sent her? Had she come on her own, in secret, to warn him?

“A warning?”

His question had been laced with mockery. As if any warning coming from the night court was something to brush off. Something to ridicule. 

He had only one comfort. 

She had not followed her brother. She was not trapped under the mountain. The question of where she was could haunt him forever, but at least she wasn’t another person suffering at Amarantha’s hand. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

Years passed. She let them pass as quickly as she could. She tried to grasp at whatever bit of normalcy she could. But what she found herself grasping more than anything…was Azriel. 

It was like he could feel every ounce of her pain like it was his own. It was like he could sense every move she made or would make. He was everywhere all of a sudden. Everywhere she went. A quiet company through every grim day. 

She tried to avoid it. 

The thrum of energy between them. 

The way he never brought up Rhysand. The way he never brought up the flame wreathed male across the courts. 

She sat now. On the balcony of the house of wind. She let the cold breeze sift its way through her hair and color her cheeks pink. Her eyes were closed as she breathed in the twilight air. She pretended he wasn’t there. She pretended his eyes weren’t raking down her body, almost hungry. She pretended she didn’t know about the shadows that caged him in his corner of the room at all times, as if stopping him from touching her. 

She tried to avoid it.

The irresistible force of him. 

Centuries of letting him sulk in silence whenever she spoke of someone else. Years of convincing herself it didn’t mean anything when he shifted in his seat at the mention of Lucien. When he excused himself from the room everytime she was dressed up. The way he avoided eye contact with her most of the time. The way he had started to let his guard down in the years passed since Amarantha’s seize of power. 

The irresistible pull of him. 

The way he had started to let his touches linger. The way his fingers had brushed against her face as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His ever growing closeness. 

They all pretended not to see it. Mor only pushed the topic once. 

“It’s like you’ve become the center of his universe.” 

Her statement had been hushed and tentative. Amren’s following statement much more stabbing, “Wasn’t she always?” 

Amren was the only one who remembered the way Azriel’s shadows would dance around the high lords sister. The way he’d let them curl around her body when she wasn’t looking.

She tried to avoid it. 

Avoid the way Cassian had changed seats at the dinner table, allowing Azriel to fill the spot next to her that the general usually crowded. The way that Cassian had grown hesitant to touch her if Azriel was in the room. 

Like he knew something she didn’t. Like Azriel had laid claim to some aspect of her, laying down a boundary that even Cassian didn’t want to cross. 

She avoided it. 

The wind had picked up. Her hair whipping her face in sharp lashes. She wouldn’t move. Letting herself freeze as if the stinging under her skin was a small relief. She let it encompass her completely. The ache of it. The chill settling somewhere deep. His hand came to rest on her shoulder, sliding down to wrap around her arm, pulling her away from the railing of the balcony.

He studied her face. The downturn of her lips and the crease of her brow. 

Like it was instinctual he raised his hand to her face and used his thumb to smooth that crease. His touch was warm and it burned through her. It spread, not like a fire, but like a summer night’s breeze, through her. 

Her eyes snapped open at the familiar gesture, meeting his in a startled flash. 

He was too close to her. Too comforting. Too homespun in the moment. 

That irresistible force of him. 

She lurched forward in a slightly shaky movement and captured his lips with hers. 

He stilled completely against her. Before something golden snapped within him and he let himself consume her. 

[factual-fantasy]

I realized we know the least about the river person in ya au.

Care to remedy that?

Well to be honest.. not a whole lot has changed about her. I keep forgetting she exists and I don't have a lot of ideas for how she could interact with the group..

Though speaking of her, recently I tried to dig into her character a little more and I started by making a redesign for her. Although its only the first pass and Isn't official yet-

And despite my attempts, for now her story and character is still relatively the same..

She was just a lonely boat keeper. She would come home from her shifts to a gloomy house where no one was waiting for her. No family, no friends.. no pets or hobbies.. she didn't really have anything going on except for running the boat. And to be honest.. she was kind'a okay with that in a way. She just accepted that this was her life, and this is how she lives. And its not like she had no joy in her life. Her joy came from running the boat.

She would take all kinds of people down the river, and they would talk to her. They would tell her wonderful things. The children would talk about their hopes and dreams. What they wanted to be when they grew up.. what their favorite food was. They'd tell her about that crazy looking frog they saw on the way here.

The elderly would tell her stories of all the places they'd been and all the things they'd seen. And even if they didn't talk to her directly.. she still overheard some interesting conversations. The young couples would talk about what they were planning on naming their first child. They would talk about what they wanted their house to look like and how many pets they wanted to have.

And sometimes the people on the boat didn't talk at all. Sometimes they looked sad and wouldn't look up from their feet.. So she would sing to them. And when they got off she would tell them "I hope you're day gets better. I enjoyed your company." And the few times she got a smile back made it all worth it.

She put her value of herself and her life on the people around her. Transporting people from point A to point B and occasionally cheering people up.. was all the worth she really felt she had..

But then Jevil and his group came along for a boat ride. Half way down the river Jevil breaks out in a cold sweat and starts to shake. Somethings wrong.

"This world is about to end." The group perks up "What?"

Grabbing Seams sleeve beside him he says louder and frantically "THIS WORLD IS ENDING"

Jevil jumps up and makes a mirror below the water large enough to swallow the boat whole.

As they fall through the mirror, horrible soul breaking sounds can be heard as that timeline collapses in on itself.

The boat probably landed in a snowdin somewhere.. or maybe another waterfall? Or maybe in a dark world.. where ever it landed, Jevil was looking the group over when he saw River Person..

"Where.. am I?"

He had done it again. Ripped someone out of its AU just as it was dying...

I intended for River person to have some kind of survivors guilt. Thinking her life had no real value and that anyone else in her AU deserved to have been saved in her place. Almost the opposite of Grillby.

Grillby hates Jevil becuase he valued his life and lost everything he held dear.. River Person doesn't hate Jevil for saving her at all. She's not sad about losing her life becuase she never really had one.. She's just grieving for all those people who died and wishes any of them could have been saved in her place.

The guilt really eats her up inside..

[1-800-kami]

agnes, just stop and think a minute

gojo satoru x reader (1.2k)

" you're gone but you're on my mind, i'm lost but i don't know why. ,,

warnings: CHAPTER 236 SPOILERS, reader and shoko r going THRU it, i wrote this during a mental breakdown, denial, semi-comfort at the end

a/n: when i found out about what happened i just spent 2 hours on social media just. watching everything gojo related and i kind of wanted to reflect my reaction through this word vomit of a drabble. i haven't cried at all but i just feel so devastated and oh my god it's been terrible. rest in peace to my bb </3

based off of one of my favorite glass animals songs (agnes) that i've always associated with gojo.

you like to think that grief in your life always comes and goes.

it’s a part of being a jujutsu sorcerer. each day, new people are trained to become one, and others die the same day. there are new beginnings, and people who meet their ends. you know sorcerers out there who have completely closed themselves off just so they don’t have to experience the soul crushing feeling of grief. 

it’s like a bud, they say. a bud that forcefully plants itself in your heart, and you can do nothing but watch it grow as it takes hold of every part of your being. people describe the feeling in many ways: a weight on top of your chest that won’t cease, or a part of your heart that’s been ripped away, and nothing in your life seems to fill the remnants of it. 

you’ve experienced grief in your life many times. loss is so normalized as a sorcerer that you’ve almost lost count at this point, but the ones that have hit you the hardest are the deaths of your closest friends: kento nanami, yu haibara, and geto suguru. they haunt your thoughts every day, up until the point where everything feels asphyxiating and you sometimes want to join your friends too.

you think that geto’s death hit you the hardest. 

you remember geto’s disappearance and the night parade of a hundred demons like it was yesterday. the hardest pill to swallow about his death was the fact that it could’ve been prevented. geto’s lifeless eyes made you see parallels from the weeks leading up to his disappearance. he just needed a push in the right direction, but then you couldn’t even do that and you didn’t see all the signs of his deteriorating mental health. you just felt so guilty, even though your friends assured you that it wasn’t your fault.

seeing geto’s body for the first time after 10 years made you wail uncontrollably–and you had to be forcefully pried off of him despite your screams of protest. the most prominent thing about his body were his lifeless eyes–and guilt coursed through your veins as you knew that they were probably devoid of life even before his death.

that guilt stuck with you for a long time, and you felt it until you thought that it would consume you whole.

that’s why shoko was hesitant to show you gojo’s body.

she knows that you would have an emotional outburst again, like last time. actually, she knew this one would be worse, because geto was a best friend to you, but satoru was the light of your life. he was your lover. your soulmate, even. the reason why you were excited to come home everyday. he grieved about geto with you, and you held each other when you both cried… usually when december 24th was nearing again. you think that, without satoru, you don’t know what you would do. you kept each other sane and grounded.

so you don’t understand.

why is his body in front of you right now? why are all your students crying around you and mourning gojo’s loss? it’s all the sorcerers are talking about right now, and you just don’t get it.

he’s the strongest, so why did he fucking leave you behind like this? no, no. he wasn’t supposed to lose that fight. he said it himself. he said he’d win, right? he’d win, and he’d come home, albeit injured, but home nonetheless. he’d celebrate his victory with you, and life would go on. so why did he lie?

that’s the only word coursing through your head. why?

you tried not to think about anything right now… like how there was probably so much crimson red on that battlefield. if you saw it, you’d think that the red would leave an everlasting stain in your mind, to the point where you’ll never forget about it. no matter how many times you’d wash your hands, all that red would still be there, and you hate to think about it.

you like to think that grief in your life always comes and goes.

people describe the feeling in many ways, but if you had to describe how you felt right now, the only word you’d use is empty.

you feel so utterly empty and hollow, that you can’t even bring yourself to cry or scream.

shoko’s surprised at your reaction. when she told you what happened, you became eerily silent. your eyes and gojo’s were practically identical. both so devoid of life, that all she can bring herself to say is, “im sorry.”

what do you even say at a time like this? what do you say to someone who’s had their heart ripped apart again and again as they watch each of their friends die? for you and shoko, it’s happened four times now. four is too much. you can’t bring yourself to believe it anymore.

no. this isn’t real.

this isn’t happening right now.

you move for the first time in what seems like ages, and you place your hand in gojo’s open casket, tucking a stray pearl white strand behind his ear. you observe him for a minute. he looks so peaceful, now that he doesn’t have to worry about his infinity or constantly being on his guard anymore.

“shoko, i think he’s hungry.” you say, feeling the ice cold veins in your chest stilling.

your words catch shoko off guard. “huh?”

“he’s hungry,” you repeat simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. you look away from his body and turn to leave. “i’m going to go buy kikufuku for him.” 

you suddenly remember all of the dates you’ve had with satoru, where you buy many sweets like kikufuku, but he always made sure to save you some. he’s known for his notorious sweet tooth—putting one too many sugar cubes in his drinks, but he’ll always share his sweets if it’s with you. even if it was kikufuku.

“it’s his favorite after all.”

you walk out of the funeral, leaving behind the confused and sympathetic looks of everyone there. shoko sighs at your reaction—she’ll let you go for now. everyone’s processing this in different ways, so she can’t blame you for how you’re dealing with satoru’s death. she’ll just hope you’ll learn to accept it soon.

on the way to get kikufuku, you spot a pet shop nearby. there’s a fish tank on display, and you notice that one of the tanks has a white betta fish inside. it’s the same shade as satoru’s hair, and you feel your feet moving on its own as you walk to the glass. you exhale with a shaky sob, placing a hand on it. i love you, satoru. i won’t say goodbye, though, cause i’ll be there eventually.

you make sure not to say “soon” because you knew that if you took your life with your own hands instead of letting fate choose your death, satoru would never let you hear the end of it. so you’ll keep living. you’ll keep living for yourself and satoru, even though you want to join them. every single day hurts and it also hurts to even breathe sometimes. though you know, somewhere out there, satoru and your friends are cheering you on with every step you take.

wait for me… okay?

the betta fish suddenly notices your presence, and swims up against the glass. so close, yet so far. you take that as satoru’s answer. it was like you could hear his voice directly speaking to you.

i’ll always wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

you smile for the first time today, even if it was barely a smile. you felt a familiar presence with you on the other side of that glass, even if it was just for a short moment, and it gave you what strength you had left to keep moving.

[lullaebies]

Not sure if you still want Jaehaegon prompts BUT a fic/drabble of the way Aegon III and Jaehaera both grieve specifically their mothers would go insane especially with your writing. Them being both extremely codependent yet unable to talk to the other about this one thing, the suppressed guilt, the waking nightmares Aegon would surely have of Jaehaera’s beloved father having his mother eaten alive right in front of him…plus the books say Rhaenyra was so dependent on having Aegon around 24/7 after she lost all her other children, how would that manifest in him now?

Have a really nice day!!!

a/n: ahhhhh i loved writing this prompt. it had been on my mind since i got it and i finally got time to tap into it (as well as other reqs that i'm slowly chipping into!). i hope you will enjoy this dear, and thank you so much for the compliments too <3 it ended up more about Aegon's experiences but there are touches on Jaehaera's side of things. I do write TG side of things more often though so he def deserves the focus I feel!

“Even while we are in the castle, you are not to leave me. Not for a moment, Aegon,” she says, tugging roughly on his hand. 

“Mother, I—” he replies, frightened at the clutch of her grip. He first tries to escape, pull his arm away, but she holds him tighter while his legs try to match her pace. “Mother, it hurts!”

And her grip suddenly loosens. He nearly trips, on the sands of Dragonstone, the dunes he had once built castles with on this shore, with his brothers. Rhaenyra falls to her knees upon it, clutching him against her in an apologetic embrace. “I am sorry. I am sorry…” she swallows

He feels the very air of the island is awry, not the same, as her feet and dress bury into the sand. He holds her back, trying to keep her afloat, though his own throat is dry at what to say. Ser Alfred Broome and his men watching him made him both shy and chilled.

She runs a hand through his hair. “We shall see to that our home is safe, and stay safe, the two of us, yes?” 

Aegon is scared, feeling dwarved by the world, but his mother’s voice is begging, and his only offer to console her, as always, is to agree.

“...Yes—”

The earth beneath becomes hot, as the sun rises above Dragonstone, turning from yellow to gold. Its rays turn into flare, and the sand turns into glass. He screams for his mother to flee — but glass shatters, puncturing his throat as he screams.

He wakes up in cold sweat, his whole body trembling. He is alone on his side of the bed, and the wind blows harshly from the open window, but not enough to dispel the heat from his bones. As if possessed, he lifts himself up from the bed, eyes taking in the dark room.

“Aegon?” Jaehaera stands up. She had sat by a roaring fireplace, making the woods within it crack as they blacken. And for a moment, it is equal parts anxiety and betrayal, tears against the dam that are his silver lash line. His feet thunder before him, grabbing the golden pitcher of wine on their table, tossing it whole at the fireplace. Droplets from it scatter like tricklets of blood on the carpet. The fire sizzles as Jaehaera gasps, but it is not fully put out.

“It won’t disappear, it won’t disappear!” his low voice trembles. His breaths feel like fire courses up his throat, and he feels sick. On the brink of vomiting from disgust — his own home is not safe, his own body betraying him to become flame — he thinks Jaehaera too is running away from him, but soon enough, she finds a glass of water within their room to douse the remaining flame.

The room then darkens significantly. The moonlight remains, refusing to let him become blind for the end, but he closes his eyes, wanting to refuse to its will too. He is not burnt, but he feels fragile ash, left behind in the wind, falling to the floor.

In the complete silence that dominates the room, in the black escape of his closed eyes, he sees his mother, as though she has never left. He hadn’t been allowed to move an inch from her, until the very moment the beast had devoured her. The one moment he wanted to run to her, make her move. The fire devoured her, as did the dragon, but he remained behind, her shadow.

A shadow of a man remains today, too.

The utter quiet that he regains his mind in remains unbroken until he opens his eyes, doing his best to keep any tears unshed. Jaehaera doesn’t dare to move a step, her fingers curling around the empty glass of water as she watches him. His heart weakens again — he should’ve known not to be so helpless in the presence of women just as helpless as he.

Mother, I’m sorry, he wants to return to the dream, to say that to her instead. He cannot, but his wife is here.

“I…” it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know how to begin. He doesn’t want to apologize, when he still feels his mother’s hold on him. But I shouldn’t have scared her, still, and yet again, if he does apologize, he’d have to explain why, to begin with. 

He and Jaehaera don’t speak of these things. For the better of them both, for the sake of their lost loved kin, for the sake of love not being lost again. She knows what had occurred on Dragonstone, as he knows what has occurred in King’s Landing. The histories will not forget, but they ever attempt to do so, regardless.

‘Tis be duty, for the very realm. He would say that to himself, again and again, until his own guilt creeps up on him. Reminding him so — that this is his sin, the need to cling to the daughter of the scorching sun, the last light.

Jaehaera puts away the cup, and approaches him with ghostly steps. If she had liked, she could thunder through the room. She could give him her known scowl and turn away. She could even leave with less than a whisper. Everything is imaginable, when they have went through all imaginable. As a little girl, he heard her weep more than he can count, even from the other side of Maegor’s Holdfast, but she’s no longer that little girl.

She lowers herself to her knees too, and reaches over to embrace him, guiding his head to occupy the crook of her neck. The stone floor is firm, but he feels himself sinking into her. His breaths grow wavering again.

“I’m sorry,” it finally comes out, those words and the tears, and the honest, brutal truth. “It won’t leave me,” he says. “That memory, my mother—” he stops himself, shutting his eyes hard.

It aches so deeply, and it tears him apart, him of the past and him of the future. In this present, this very moment, he doesn’t even know who he is at all. Doesn’t know how to talk, or explain, or do a thing but freeze in time, so afraid of fire.

Jaehaera holds him tighter. Her fingers move soothingly through the nearby white of his hair, when she finally allows herself to speak. “Do you remember the first time you held me?” she asks him. 

He swallows. He remembers, yes. One would expect it to be their first night, but it wasn’t. His first hold of her had been a full year prior, when she had been reduced to tears at a feast. Nothing of his machinations, but of his regents. Their planning, however, had not taken into account that that day had been the anniversary of his aunt Helaena’s death. Or perhaps they had, and only wished to overwrite the day’s meaning. 

Aegon hadn’t realized. Jaehaera had barely spoken a pip to him back then. But then she broke down in tears in the middle of the feast, and although he had been apt to ignore her from their distant rooms, he couldn’t quite ignore it then when The Queen fled the room, and everyone simply stood and watched.

None of his regents could hold him in his place, for the very principle he refuses to ever be reduced to a spectator by ‘loyal’ men. 

And so he went after her — and they were ever so clear with how she looked down the moat, and mumbled about ‘mum’. He had been there when her mother died; it connected quickly. There were no words he could dare speak. No matter how averse to touch he had been, his only way to answer her had been his arms coming around her, and letting her sob within them.

He assumed it would be a futile effort, as holding the hands of those who slowly passed from Winter Fever had been… but she cried until she fell asleep, until he had already been lulled by the night himself, and they both woke up the morning after to the sun’ touching them with only soft rays.

“I know what plagues you, as you know what plagues me,” Jaehaera tells him. “You held me when I cried for my kin and the past. You needed no explanation or clause to console me. I won’t ask it of you either,” she says. “‘It is enough reason to hold you, knowing you need to be held.”

Aegon gathers her in his arms, some will of strength returning to them. 

He can ask her to never leave his side. He can plead with her, that they have to make this home safe, to remain safe, the two of them. He can leave her with no choice but to agree, even if she is doubtful. He can — but he doesn’t think he has to. She knows, and he has reached a place where his belief in it, his own yes, is not laced with doubt.

Aegon closes his eyes, and lets himself weep until sleep overtakes him. Within his drowsiness, as his last tear falls, he can see his mother at the back of his mind, offering him a soft smile. The morning sun will wake him again, but there will be no scorching no more. His last light’s tight embrace assures it too.

[stargirlrchive]

folklore: this is me trying ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ folklore masterlist

summary: widowed!jake sully x female!reader, no use of y/n, angst, marriage of convenience, jake being mean? but he is a grieving boy!, mentions of death, TW!! it is not explicitly mentioned in this chapter but in this series it is eluded to death during childbirth, it might be mentioned later on, but i will do my best to not go into too much detail

word count: 1,898

sempul (n) - father ; sa’nok (n) - mother

‘ite (n) - daughter ; ‘itan (n) - son

comments: hi honeys, i am really excited about this series, i hope you enjoy it as much as i do. that being said, with what i mentioned in the summary, if anything seems like it will be too hard of a read, pls skip past this, your mental health is far more important! but i will do my best to not dive deep into the topic. but ok tysm, love you all!! byeeee mwaaaah ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

next ✩

- pandora, omitikaya forest, 2162 -

You swallowed roughly when you felt a lump form at your throat, desperately trying not to cry as the tears swelled your eyes. How did you end up in this situation? Why was Eywa punishing you this way? “When we mate-I do not wish to create Tsaheylu. That was reserved for Neytiri and I.”

Jake’s words continued to echo in your mind, “What?”

You could feel the frustration seeping out of him, tense and angry, as if what he said made perfect sense and you just didn’t understand. It was not fair, not to you and he knew it. “You-that is taking so much from me.” Your bottom lip quivered, it felt like someone had shoved a piping hot metal down your throat. “I understand we do not love each other, but-but this is something we look forward to our whole life and you will not even give me the courtesy of mating with me properly? Hold no true loyalty to me, nor I to you?”

Your tears began to fall in the next instant, bursting out as you refrained from holding back and sobbing loudly. Mo’at had come to both of you separately, informing you that Eywa had called upon her after the passing of Neytiri. The Great Mother wanted your path to cross with the Olo’eyktan.

Jake’s ears felt hot as they pressed down flat against his head, he was angry. Angry that the world had taken his mate from him, angry that the clan was forcing him to move on, angry that you did not understand where he was coming from. Besides his four children, there would never be anyone he loved more than Neytiri.

The thought of bearing his soul to you was too much, he would not risk his heart again. “I love Neytiri, you and I-we don't love each other, you said it yourself. I would never disrespect her by giving that part of myself to anyone else.”

He was being mean, he knew it too. “Many words have been used to describe you, but no one ever said you were mean. You are being cruel.”

Jake let out a deep breath, eyes starting to leak tears of frustration as he watched you cave in on yourself. You were mourning your future, what could have been for you, what you were never going to have.

“I had to let you know before this continued any further. Eywa has given us signs, I will respect her wishes and treat you with dignity as my wife, the kids-they love you. Neytiri loved you. And I am sorry I cannot give you a life filled with love but I can protect you. I will stand beside you through every moment.”

You said nothing, heart heavy with grief. “I know it is a lot to ask, but I need your help. Please.”

Your eyes caught Jake’s, tear stains down his face and as he pleaded with you, begging you. “You understand I will be giving my life to you. Depriving myself to find someone who loves me?”

Jake’s ears turned downwards, still pressed tightly against his head and he felt the guilt web it’s way through his entire body. He felt the rejection coming and he did not blame you. It was not a fair trade, he got a wife to look over his kids, care for him and his family and you got a love-less union, being upheld for appearance sake only.

Your throat dried up as he stayed silent, tears never ending from your eyes as they flowed down to your neck and chest.

“I’m trying, look-I cannot do that to Neytiri. I have never loved someone so deeply, when she and I promised ourselves to each other it was because we both knew that was right. We both knew we were meant to be by one another’s side-and creating Tsaheylu with you, it would rob the sentiment because we do not love each other, you said it yourself. I-I do not know how to phrase that gently, I do not wish to hurt you, only to be honest.”

There was a beat of silence, it was so defining that Jake's ears started to ring uncomfortably. You owed so much of the person you were to Neytiri and because of that you would not let her children suffer, “I will do it.”

Jake’s head snapped up, fear and gratitude on full display for you to see, your eyes had concealed themselves, your stare was cold and devoid, resignation as you came to terms with your future. “How will we go about this? I-” You paused and let out a breath through your nose, “I cannot stand in front of the clan and lie, celebrate as if this is normal, or joyous.”

You grumbled out quietly, “Feels like a death sentence.”

If Jake heard your last comment, he said nothing. His brain was still trying to process you agreeing to do this, why you would, he does not know.

It was as if you were reading his mind, “I am doing this for the children only. I know Neytiri would want someone to raise her kids, she would never want them to lack the love of a mother. And although I am not one, I loved Neytiri as if she were my sister, and for that the kids will never not know kindness from me.”

Jake’s shoulder sagged with relief, the last few months had been so very hard. He was trying to be a good father and help his oldest three process their grief while trying to not let his own swallow him whole.

You felt so nauseous, something swirling in the pit of your stomach trying to force its way up your throat. This was too much, too raw for you to accept. You pitied yourself but pitied the man before you even more. Jake’s throat felt rough, as if someone had forced sand down his mouth, “I will announce that we have mated at tomorrow's feast, that it happened the night prior.”

Your eyes dilated in fear, “You want me to leave with you tonight?”

“It is the only way I can think of to get Mo’at to stop pressing us. If they know we plan to mate, then they will watch our every move.”

Jake was trying to be sympathetic, trying not to be mean but he needed everyone to get off his case. He needed to start healing from the pain that leaked into every aspect of his life from the second Neytiri was taken from him. And he was right, you were tired of the sympathetic looks being sent your way as you walked by.

Everyone in the clan knew of the love Neytiri and Jake held for each other, you never stood a chance. The whispers were the worst of it, and at times you wondered if it was true. You wondered if Eywa had truly turned her back on you.

“Fine. I wish to let my parents know, they will not expect my sudden departure.”

Your voice and face were void of any emotion, cold as if the flicker within you had died, Jake felt the guilt embed into his soul. Everything he touched burnt out, fizzled and turned to ash. But he would not let that happen to his children, he would not let them feel the loss of a mother and your love for Neytiri drove the both of you to put your feelings aside.

Jake was about to thank you, as much as he did not want this he knew this was a larger sacrifice for you. The words were on the tip of his tongue but he watched your body go rigid as the tent entrance was thrown open. Your mother and father had walked in, followed by all of your younger siblings. The happy chatter died as they saw their oldest daughter and the Olo’ekytan in their family home.

Small streaks of tears down your face instantly put your parents on edge but your father turned to Jake to greet him properly. “Olo’eyktan Sully, how are you?”

Jake's fingers reached his forehead, head tilted downward as his hand extended forward, “I am doing well, and yourself?”

The small talk ensued as you stood by the corner of your home, trying your best to avoid your mother’s concerned gaze. “‘Ite, what is the Olo’eyktan doing in our hut?”

Jake tensed up, fear gripping at his throat as he watched you with careful eyes, he was not sure if you would be able to do it. Lie to your family, from what he had gathered from Neytiri you all had a close bond, even more so after your sister Zewlay was killed by the RDA.

“Sempul-Sa’nok, Jake and I-” You paused, trying to force the words out of your mouth. Jake cut in quickly as he saw your form begin to shake, his legs making quick work as he crossed the tent to you, stiffly wrapping an arm around you to keep you up.

“Your daughter and I have mated before Eywa.”

Those eight words sealed your future and it was deathly quiet besides the gasp that left your mothers mouth as your eyes pooled with tears. “Oh ‘ite! I am very happy for you both.”

The tears fell from your eyes instantly, “Thank you, Sa’nok.”

Your mother instantly pulled you out of Jake’s hold, engulfing her arms around you as your body shook, “Why the tears my sweet girl?” Her voice dropped quietly as she whispered into your ear, “Are you not happy with the union?”

You pulled away from her, eyes jumping to your fathers as she wiped at the tear stains. Confusion evident in his gaze,“No-no I am just sad to be leaving you all. I just do not wish for you or Ma’Sempul to be angry with me.”

Your father said nothing, still trying to process what your mate had said. After a short while he slowly made his way to Jake, your fathers head was held high as he kept eye contact with him. Jake would not be shocked if your father would have strangled him, he was eerily quiet as he approached him, “Take care of my daughter, ‘itan.”

Relief flooded your system, eyes drifting towards Jake’s and you gave him a small nod, reassuring him all was well. “We must celebrate! Let me call on Mo’at and begin the preparations.”

“No!”

Your mother stilled and confusion littered her features, “Sorry Ma’, Jake and I do not want such a fuss over us. That is why our union was kept for just the two of us. He will announce it during tomorrow's communal feast and that is all.”

Your mother was about to protest but your father removed her from you, “If that is what you wish ‘ite.”

You nodded swiftly, moving towards Jake as you refrained from tensing up again, “Yes-I will pack some things and leave tonight.”

Your family was happy for you, they knew with the Olo’eyktan by your side you will always be loved and protected by the clan. “May your union prosper against all odds. Though we know the Great Mother makes no mistakes.” They could not have wanted anyone better to love you, oh how wrong they were.

“Thank you, Sa’nok.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[bluepeachstudios]

Not the Soft (Ame Writes)

Guys I swear this isn't the soft I promised-- I wrote. A Ghost. As part of the @tmntaucompetition and as a way to cope with @somerandomdudelmao's absolutely devastating last update to their apocalypse series. Cause it sat in my head a little too long.

It is sad. Sorry. <3

Once more, Ghost was somewhere he didn’t want to be. Another portal to fall through, another swarm of alternate versions. It was different this time. More of them were kids, they weren’t all from the boys’ realities. He’d even seen a few from his own. He avoided them now, like the plague. He couldn’t stand to be near them, couldn’t stand to see them happy like that. It hurt too much.

He saw a few he recognized from the last interdimensional competition. The grown up Mikey who handed Leo a bat was familiar. The kids with the actual ghost were familiar. The older Leo and little Leo both missing arms and passing out water bottles were familiar. The computer Donnie was familiar, but he didn’t want to think about what had led to that, just as he didn’t want to think of it last time.

It wasn’t a shock when he spotted the next familiar group. He recognized them the easiest from their robot Raph, but he almost didn’t. Their demeanor was so different from when he’d last seen them, cheering Tello on.

Just one look over them and he knew.

Grief was so easy for him to see now. As much as they were trying to hide it, to brush it off to people who asked, he could see it in their eyes, in their shoulders. They were so different.

The first thing he felt was an unbelievable loss.

It felt like just last month he’d held Tello’s hand and smiled at the crowd. Hugged him once they’d escaped prying eyes. Told him to be better than Ghost had been.

His grown son from another dimension, one who didn’t even know him, was dead.

It hit him like a knife, a wet thud into his heart. Some part of him screamed in his head, drowning out all the other noise, all the other turtles but the three that had been left behind. He felt the desperate urge to find his own Donnie, to check that he was breathing to hear his heartbeat, to listen to his voice, feel his hands in his own.

Ghost swallowed it. Swallowed the grief that was seeing his child dead, even in another world, in another dimension, another time. Swallowed the scream. Swallowed the urge to ground himself with Donnie. He didn’t want to scare him.

He didn’t want to scare any of them, yet there he was, just watching the three turtles and their human companions.

He couldn’t bring himself to approach them. It felt unfair. It felt like he was seeing something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing; a version of his family after they’d lost their Donatello. He felt like he didn’t deserve this, like this was some window into what had happened after he’d disappeared. Like he was intruding.

They had lost their Donatello, and he was a Donatello who was lost.

Promise me you won’t let anything happen to them.

I guess that’s just what we do.

He’d been so caught up in telling Tello to take care of his family he’d forgotten the most important part of the whole thing.

Take care of yourself.

Guilt crashed through him. Guilt on his own behalf, guilt on Tello’s. He wasn’t responsible for every Donatello in every version of themselves, but sometimes it felt like he was the cause of it all. Like he was the first, the one who had doomed every Donatello to a fate of being lost, to a fate of failing to protect their family.

He added another soul to grieve on his shoulders. Another photograph he couldn’t have. Another life he couldn’t speak of.

He meant to walk away, but Leonardo spotted him across the arena. Recognition made him perk up for a moment, and then his expression fell as he saw the knowing look in Ghost’s eyes.

Ghost took a breath. They met in the middle.

It was like fitting a piece into a puzzle where the picture didn’t match.

He didn’t know what else to do but murmur a soft, “I’m so sorry.”

He was apologizing for so much more than just the loss of Tello. He was apologizing to them and his own brothers. To every version of them that Donatello had failed.

Then Mikey gave him a worried look, and it felt all so unfair again. Some part of himself that made him ill wanted to know how Tello died, what they’d done to prevent it, what hadn’t worked. He wanted to know how they were holding up, what they were doing without Tello, how they were functioning, if they were functioning at all.

He squashed the selfish part of himself, the part that wanted to know if his family could have felt the same ways. These were a version of his kids, and here he was with the urge to interrogate them about their brother’s death.

Ghost swallowed it. Mikey still gave him a sad smile.

“He was with us,” Mikey said softly. “In our arms. He went peacefully, in his sleep.”

Ghost’s expression twisted from the flat gaze he’d managed to hold. God, that was his son saying that. That was his son that had died. Not them exactly, but enough like them that it felt like he was being told his children had died in a war that he wasn’t allowed to be a part of.

He couldn’t even cry for them. It felt unfair to be so upset, to be so ruined over a Donatello that wasn’t even his.

He swallowed it.

“He loved you all so much,” Ghost whispered. Even that felt unfair to say, but he knew, and he needed them to know. He needed them to know.

“We know,” Leo replied. He touched the hilt of the sword at his waist, running a shock of purple fabric through his fingers.

Ghost took a breath. It felt like he had to force himself to breathe, like he had forgotten how. Instinctively, he signed, circling his fist over his chest in an apology, thinking they were the same as his kids, that they could read sign language somehow.

He pressed his hand over his chest and got control of his breathing again. Found his voice. “That’s good.”

He hoped the depth of it all didn’t show on his face. He was trying to keep his expression as flat as possible, but it felt like he’d lost someone important. He wasn’t great at dealing with that.

Obviously. He’d been grieving for 24 years.

“I’ll see you guys around,” Ghost whispered, bowing his head slightly. A small, polite gesture he picked up from his own father.

He turned and walked away.

He couldn’t bring them anything but more grief.

There was no solace in his words he could offer, no pain he could lessen with his presence.

He was the wrong missing piece.

He couldn’t fill their void just like they couldn’t fill his.

His son was dead.

His brothers were gone.

The world was ending but continuing on.

He swallowed it and pulled his hood up.

[slaymitchabernathy]

not a lot, just forever

| “Sadness is a condition of motherhood.” - Alicent Hightower |

Coriolanus never thought that there would be a time in his life when he dreaded coming home from work.

As he grew older he began to fantasize about coming home to someone, a wife, a family.

He’s always wanted that, wanted a family.

He almost had it.

Almost.

He quietly unlocks the front doors, a weight settles onto his shoulders the moment he steps into the dark penthouse. The amount of grief that these walls have soaked up is insurmountable. It suffocates him, swallows him whole.

He sets down his brief case with a quiet sigh, he was hoping she might be feeling better today, but it seems that nothing has changed since he left this morning.

Coriolanus pads down the hallway, hands in his pockets and head hung low. He knew going back to work would be difficult, adjusting to the long hours after spending so many weeks away seemed like such a daunting task.

He hadn’t anticipated the pity.

The condolences, the whispered apologies while passing by in the hallway, the pats on the back, the assurance that he could take as much time as he needed.

He knows he’s allowed to grieve, to be angry and sad but he has it far easier than her.

Than his wife.

His Soarynn, his sweet girl who carries her guilt as if it’s a life line.

He sees that the maid left a tray of food in front of the door, untouched and uneaten. Nothing new.

Coriolanus slowly opens their bedroom doors and finds the room dark, same as he left it this morning. A bit of natural light is still peeking through their windows, illuminating her figure sitting on the bed.

At least she’s awake.

Coriolanus closes the doors behind him and slowly approaches the bed, doing his best to ignore the tissues scattered across the floor.

He pauses at the foot of the bed for a moment and simply observes her. She seems fine at a quick glance, still beautiful as ever with her long blonde hair flowing down her back. Anyone who didn’t know Soarynn Snow would think she’s fine.

But she’s not.

He can see the heaviness weighing down on her. He can see how every breath she takes is a choice, how painful it is for her to live now.

Her eyes glance over at him for a second before looking back at the window. If it were up to her, they’d never speak again.

But Coriolanus knows he has to try, for the sake of their marriage, for the sake of how much he loves her and how he refuses to lose her as well.

“Hello darling,” he whispers, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on her knee. Soarynn stares down at his hand and he can see the dark circles under her eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping much despite never leaving their room.

“How’re you feeling?”

Soarynn says nothing.

A meow draws his attention to his side of the bed where Petunia, Soarynn’s cat is emerging from the pile of pillows. She hasn’t left Soarynn’s side since it all happened.

Coriolanus offers the cat a tired smile and gives her head a gentle rub once she reaches, “You’ve been looking after our girl, haven’t you Petunia?” She purrs in response, closing her eyes while Coriolanus scratches behind her ears.

Coriolanus looks up to see Soarynn watching them, a far away look in her eyes. She’s not here, hasn’t been here for a while now.

“I was thinking…I was thinking we might go on a trip,” he says slowly, he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing.

Soarynn blinks once, twice, then swallows, “A trip?” She repeats, her voice hollow. Coriolanus nods and places his hand back on her knee, “Yes. I thought it might be good for you to get outside, get out of this room for a bit.”

Soarynn says nothing.

But actions speak louder than words and Coriolanus doesn’t need her to talk to him to know that he’s losing his wife.

“This room, this house, is dark,” he tells her, “it’s filled with sadness and grief and this room, darling this room is slowly killing you I can see it.”

He’s seen it for weeks now. How her skin has dulled, her frame has gotten smaller and smaller, her eyes vacant and her smile gone.

“Soarynn you’re letting yourself die, this room is killing you and I can’t just stand by and wat—“

“I already died,” Soarynn snaps, her tongue sharper than he’s ever heard it before, “I died all those weeks ago when she died, when she…when…when her eyes wouldn’t open and she wouldn’t wake up,” her voice trails off as she begins to cry, her body trembling.

Coriolanus sits there for a moment, stunned that she’s finally acknowledged it, acknowledged what happened.

And then he holds her. He takes her into his arms and holds her while she cries, cries for what was taken from them, what they lost.

Their daughter.

“I wanted her so bad,” she gasps, clutching onto his shirt, “I wanted to hold her for longer and hear her laugh for the first time.”

Coriolanus feels his own eyes welling with tears, tears for their daughter who was still so small, so fragile and delicate. Only a few hours old, barely given a proper chance at life.

His eyes drift over to the windows, where her crib sits, untouched. He knows how many stuffed animals are in the crib, and how Soarynn picked out the baby pink sheets for her first nights sleep.

He knows how she was going to have her own room. Her nursery filled with toys and books, and a rocking chair in the corner to rock her to sleep every night.

He knows that their closet is filled with baby clothes. Pink ribbons, little baby socks and pajamas. How many times did Soarynn come home beaming with something new she bought for their little girl?

He had never minded it, how excited she was.

She deserved to be happy, to be excited for their baby girl to be born. She had been so excited the night she gave birth, bright smiles and all the assurances in the world that all would be well once she pushed her out.

And then they finally got to meet her, their little Ceraphina. Six ounces, blue eyes and blonde hair. He had been so proud of Soarynn, so in awe of her and how she grew their child beneath the skin of her stomach.

They only knew her for a few hours before it all went wrong. Before Soarynn was screaming for their baby girl to wake up but she wasn’t.

Coriolanus thought he knew grief, it was an old friend at this point but this was something else.

No one prepares you for the death of a child.

To hold your wife while she weeps for what could’ve been.

He didn’t even know that they made caskets that small.

Who on earth is prepared to watch their child die while they sit there helplessly?

It broke Coriolanus yes, but it shattered Soarynn into a million irreparable pieces that not even he could put back together.

“I miss her,” Soarynn whimpers, “I barely knew her but I miss her every second of every day.”

Coriolanus cards his hand through her blonde hair, “Of course you do. She was your baby. You knew her longer than anyone.”

Soarynn lets out a wounded moan, it’s almost a scream.

It silences them.

They both sit there in their grief, in their loss, in disbelief.

It feels like hours pass by. Neither of them have to say a word for the other to understand.

They were robbed, burglarized, their most precious possession stolen from them right under their noses.

They’ll have to navigate this world together again now, two souls intertwined and sewn back together.

꧁ ꧂

The water is warm.

Coriolanus gently rubs Soarynn’s back with a sponge while she sits in the tub.

She looks so small surrounded by its porcelain walls.

It’s past midnight and they’ve finally gathered enough strength to get the both of them into the bathroom. He can’t remember the last time Soarynn took a bath or a shower.

“I hope you know how strong you are,” he tells her softly, rinsing off the soapy bubbles from the skin on her back. She’s lost so much weight since giving birth. He feels so negligent letting her get like this.

But how do you hold someone’s hand and guide them through grief when you yourself don’t know which way to go?

Soarynn sniffles, “I don’t want to be strong.”

He can’t fault her for that. He doesn’t want to be strong either.

“Then we can be weak together,” he decides.

More silence sits between them. They used to laugh and talk for hours. The tiny being that was once their daughter had created such a rift between them.

“But…if you ever find yourself wanting to be apart from me, I understand,” he adds despite how much it pains him to suggest such a thing.

To be away from Soarynn would be to cut his heart out and feed it to the wolves.

But maybe that’s what she needs. Maybe she doesn’t want to see him, see a painful reminder of what once was. He did after all, do this to her, put a baby inside of her without knowing the consequences.

“You could stay here in the penthouse while I stay somewhere else so that you can heal from all of this. I know I’ve been doing poorly in helping you through this.”

He has tried, truly he’s tried.

But the therapists and the flowers and the condolences have been lost on Soarynn who only wants one thing. Her baby.

Soarynn shakes her head and her finger tips leave ripples in the bath water as she drags then across the surface.

“I could be a good mother.”

She looks up at him, this blue-gray eyes still as startling as when he first saw them.

“And I wanna be your wife.”

Coriolanus feels a small part of him healing inside. He didn’t realize how desperately he needed to hear those words until she spoke them, but Soarynn’s always been good at showing him what he needs without him knowing he never had it.

“And I want to be your husband my darling girl.”

He gently cups her face, not caring how the sleeve of his shirt is wet. Losing a child has taught him that many things can be replaced.

Some can’t.

Soarynn melts into his touch and sighs, “This has all…it’s made me very confused and angry,” she admits, “it’s a strange thing to love something that death can so easily touch isn’t it?”

Coriolanus has always valued control over chaos but the death of his daughter was something that he had zero control over and he hated it.

“It is,” he agrees, remembering how her tiny hand wrapped around his thumb just once before death came and took her from them.

“And you have a right to be confused and angry. I think being sad is expected in things like this.”

Soarynn lets out what nearly sounds like a laugh and she opens her eyes again, looking up at him as if she knows something he doesn’t.

“Sadness is a condition of motherhood.”

She’s right.

She’s right and Soarynn has always had such a big heart, so big that it’s almost been a burden to her in the past. Now he’s just glad that she has one because it means that she’s still alive, that he hasn’t lost everything.

He’s missed hearing her laugh.

“We don’t really have a lot of time together do we?” He thinks out loud, “Life is so short if you really think about it. We barely have enough time before we die. I suppose that’s where the phrase ‘till death do us part’ comes from.”

The smallest hint of a smile appears on her lips as Soarynn nods, humming to his words. “You’re right,” she murmurs, “and death lasts forever and ever.”

“We don’t have a lot of time do we then? A lot of time to figure out how to live with this grief?”

“Not a lot, just forever.”

꧁ ꧂

“And your dearest fantasy is to grow a baby in me. I could be a good mother, and I wanna be your wife, so I hold you to my knife. And I steal your letter. Not a lot, just forever. Intertwined, sewn together.”

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[helreginn]

withinkandquill:

Cardan parts from her as if her words singe his skin - before his fingers can tighten around her jaw, before hurt and anger turn him into someone violent and dangerous. Already he can familiar the familiar impulse winding down the muscles of his arms, itching for that comforting sensation of power and control. “None of that suggests a bloodbath!” Once gentle fingers form fists at his sides. A newly-poured goblet of wine sits nearby, prepared by a trembling servant who had hurried away again as quickly as she had come. Cardan’s temper was legendary; his cruelty the spectacle by which he was best known. But despite his reputation, he takes his anger out on neither goddess nor servant. Instead, he reaches for the nearest item - the goblet - and hurls it at the furthest wall. Dark wine drips down the it like spilled blood. Cardan barely remembers that night, hiding beneath the feasting table as he watched his family fall one-by-one. Dain. Elowyn. Rhyia. Caelia. His father. All gone in one night. He barely remembers the weight of the crown as young Oak - secretly of Greenbriar blood, it seemed - placed it atop his head. It was supposed to be a party and Cardan had spent it as he spends them all and as he has spent many more nights since - drunk beyond recollection. He needs no memories of the massacre to drive him to drink, though. Perhaps he should feel something for his murdered family but he does not. Cardan has little love for his family and so little is lost. What is lost, what he grieves the most, is freedom. That came from being an uncrowned, unwanted prince, sixth of a set of eligible and eager heirs, free to enjoy the lavish lifestyle of royalty without the responsibility of a kingdom. And now…now that this truth had reached his ear…Cardan has yet another reason to drink. Hel. His unwitting, unwanted bride. And rather unexpectedly, the only person he ever began to believe truly cared for him. Turning on heel, Cardan approaches again. Long strides make short work of the space between them. Hands find her shoulders, palms pushing her back until his body cages hers against the wall only a few steps behind. His touch is less gentle now. “You yourself told me you were not bound as we are to faerie bargains,” he hisses. The lines of his jaw harden, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows past the lump that has formed in his throat. “You could have told me and if your motives were as you say, you would have.” His eyes search her as he speaks - cold and daring with anger, glistening with something he doesn’t let show in other aspect of himself. “He was going to kill me too, Hel. Or did you not realize that all of us meant all of us? Did you think me so forgotten that he might even forget to spill my blood? Or was this your way out of this…let us all die and then you are free, aren’t you? Did Balekin promise you this? Have you worked alongside him this whole time?” @withinkandquill

Hel winces at the scream and then again at the glass thrown against the wall. His rage is palpable. And she can't blame him. Would never. Was it not he that weathered this very same rage and sorrow on their wedding night? The misplaced grief and hurt at having lost her family? No. She stands in silence. Hand braced against her ribs as if it could stop her heart breaking. Watchful. Apologetic.

Useless.

She feels the cold wall against her back but it is not half as cold as the anguish in his accusatory glare as he just barely holds himself back. Her teeth ever-so-slightly chatter together behind her closed lips. Hel has not once been afraid of Cardan. Not one time. Until this time. And that's worse. Hel is no stranger to fear. She is apathetic in the face of it. Fear is just alertedness, readying for the storm.

But Hel has never known love before. And she has never lost it either. Never watched it die in real time.

She wants to speak on her behalf. Needs to. But she is so guilt ridden, a larger part of her would prefer if he just..

But that too is not fair on him.

"I am not beholden to fairy deals." She replies, "But you surely can see..." That I am not free either? She wants to tell him. Tell him that it is the same magic writ on their marriage contract. But she can't. She wants to tell him even what to ask, to see that she cannot answer. But even that.. cannot be spoken.

She dare not look away. Not once drags her eyes from his. But she gestures widely to the side below his elbow, "I wasn't even there! I am not still. You had to seek me out here, where I have been and will remain until..." Until you are gone. And then we both must go to the dark place.

The breath leaves her lungs and with it, all the fight she had. Her shoulders slump in his arms.

All she has wanted to say in all these months.. To talk of her family. Her brothers and mothers and father. Even the shape of their names could not parse her tongue. They were her whole world before she came and he had never once heard her utter the sounds.

He would feel the rigor of her shoulders as she just barely contains her own sobs.

She loves them. She misses them. She wants to talk about them every single day. To tell Cardan how the happy whip of his tail they both pretend not to see when he is bare - or at least shirtless - beside her reminds her of home. Tell him how her mothers are ferocious and wild and if they could leave - if they could go to her home, he would know the love of maternal instinct. She was sure of it.

"Think of me as you will, Cardan. Call me a betrayer if it helps. Abandon me for her if that will ease your heart. Do what you must. I will forgive it all. I want your happiness, even if I am not included in that." She sniffs and all that she longs to say is right there, staring back in his night dark eyes, "But do not for one second fool yourself into believing I wanted you to be hurt. I.. I.."

I love you. That one she can say. Could say. But cowardice is perhaps more compelling than even the magic of a godspell.

[blueraineshadows]

Thank you so much for responding to my request last time, it was so good! I have another concept that's also inspired by something else if you don't mind?

Sebastian and MC are married, but he goes missing (due to his dangerous job) and is thought to be dead for years. MC is still grieving, but trying to move on. She gets engaged to another wizard, but Sebastian finally returns after trying his best to get back to her. They have a huge fight when Sebastian finds out (it'd be nice if it had a happy *smutty* ending, though).

"Where do you get off letting him think he can have you? You're mine and I'm yours. That's it!"

Great Request! 😃 Thank-you 💜

This has angst! It's also long! NSFW 🌶 🔥

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Mrs Sallow) as adults.

My beloved, Sebastian,

They tell me you are gone, forever, lost to me...dead. I haven't seen your face for over two years now, and my deepest fear suspects they may be right. But in my heart, safe for always, you will remain. As much as it hurts me, I could never let you go completely, for that would mean the end of me also.

I know our friends mean well, they wish to see me happy, at peace perhaps. But it has been hard to hear their insistent pleas for me to move on. Of late, I have had to succumb to their pleas. I'm not sure I can handle another visit to the morgue to identify another poor soul, the guilt of my relief that it is never you under the cloth, but some other lost loved one. I don't envy their family's pain, but it is another desperate scrap of hope that you are still alive.

We are holding a ceremony for you, to say goodbye, to let you go. I cannot say goodbye, merely farewell, for one day I know we will be reunited. How could we not? Whatever awaits beyond the mortal realm, I will find you there, my whole soul is destined for it. It always was.

It breaks me that you had to go before me, and all I have left are my memories, precious moments that are a comfort during dark, lonely nights.

Forgive me for having to let you go, if only for a time. I will love you forever, just as I promised you.

Wait for me. I will wait for you.

Your wife, MC.

Six months later...

"Matthew has proposed," MC said. Her fingers clutched her teacup a little tighter. The words sounded so terribly real when said out loud.

Poppy paused as she went to take a sip from her own tea cup, her eyes widening. She quickly put down her cup and put a hand on MC's arm. "Oh my goodness," she said. Concern clouded her face. "How...I mean...what did you say?"

"I told him I needed to think about it," MC said. Which was the truth. She looked down at her left hand, the silver band symbolising her eternal promise to Sebastian still there on her finger. Her voice became a whisper. "I can't help but feel like I am being unfaithful."

"Oh, MC," Poppy said. "I know it must feel strange, and of course it's so very difficult. But, you deserve to find some happiness, MC. And, Matthew is so lovely, I know he would take care of you."

MC nodded. "That's what makes it so difficult, Poppy. Matthew is wonderful, so understanding. He told me to take all the time I need to think. He would make a wonderful husband, but..."

The pause lay heavy between them. Poppy nodded knowingly. "He isn't Sebastian."

MC took a swallow of tea to loosen the restriction in her throat. She took a deep breath. "However, I did make a promise to try and move on, didn't I? Maybe a new beginning would be the best way to go about it."

"I agree," Poppy said. "It would gladden my heart to see you happy again, MC."

....*....

The fire crackled and dipped in the hearth. MC sat cross legged before it, her eyes watching the flames dance. Passion, and heat, unpredictability, fire had always reminded her of Sebastian.

A hand on her shoulder made her look up. Matthew smiled down at her, handing her a wine goblet. She took it with thanks. He folded to sit on the rug beside her. "Are you cold?" He asked. He wrapped an arm about her, rubbing her arm with his hand.

"No, just unwinding," she smiled. She leant her head against his shoulder. He was sturdy, safe, comforting. Traits that had made her gravitate towards him. It kept the edge off her loneliness.

He pressed a kiss to her head, his thumb making lazy circles on her arm. He had never pushed her to be physical with him, knowing how fragile her heart was. He had been an exemplary gentleman, and she was grateful for it.

She sipped her wine, the firelight glinting off the diamond she wore on her ring finger. She had accepted his proposal. Sebastian's ring was now on a chain around her neck, close to her heart. She rubbed a hand absently against it through the fabric of her blouse.

"I thought perhaps we could take a boat trip tomorrow," Matthew suggested. "We could get some fresh air, maybe take a picnic. It would be good to escape the city for a while."

"That sounds perfect," she smiled. She looked up at him. He had lovely, blue eyes, blue like the sky. His hair was fair, neatly trimmed. He was nothing like Sebastian, and that was how she wanted it.

Matthew's gaze was warm, loving. He tightened his hold a little, his gaze dropping to her lips. MC felt a little breathless and wondered if perhaps she had drunk too much wine. His kiss was soft, testing. He did not want to pressure her.

MC felt her body respond. It was weak, just a flutter, but it was the first time she had felt anything remotely close to desire in years. She kissed him back.

As the kiss deepened, the warmth of it seemed to ease back the cavern of loneliness that had carved itself in her chest. So, she let him lay her back on the rug, his mouth claiming hers more deeply.

There was a war going on inside of her. Half was opening up, reaching out for the closeness, the warmth, after so long in the dark. The other half of her was screaming, no, this was all wrong. She was wrong, a betrayer, she was betraying Sebastian.

She pulled back from Matthew's kiss, her hands flat against his chest. She could feel the pounding of his heart.

"Are you alright?" He asked. The concern in his gaze made her want to scream and rip at her own hair. She was being so unfair to him. She would be a terrible wife. He deserved so much better.

"A little overwhelmed," she breathed. She winced. "Forgive me. I think I need a minute."

"Of course," he said. He immediately sat up, adjusting his trousers.

"You must think I am a terrible tease," she grimaced. "That is not my intention."

"No, MC, I don't think that at all. I think you have suffered a terrible loss, and I do not ever expect to fill the hole Sebastian left behind." Matthew said. "I wish I could take the pain away for you, truly I do. I only hope that, one day, you can love me even a fraction of what you felt for him."

MC felt her heart squeeze painfully. Matthew was a good person. She did not deserve him. She reached out and took his hand. "How are you so perfect?"

A sharp rap on the front door made them both jump and turn. "Who on earth could that be at this hour?" MC asked.

Matthew frowned. "I will see to it." He got to his feet and MC couldn't help lift her eyebrows. He was sweet for thinking that she needed protecting, after all, she was a far more powerful witch than most.

She heard the door open and the surprise in Matthew's voice. "Ominis!"

MC immediately got to her feet. It was very unlike Ominis to call upon her so unexpected like this. Her heart kicked up a notch and she twisted her fingers together as he appeared in the living room doorway.

"Good evening, MC. I am sorry to call on you so late, but this couldn't wait," he said. He looked grave, a little flustered even. He tilted his head trying to locate her.

She went to him, reaching for a hand. "Ominis, I'm here, it's alright." He squeezed her fingers, his usual cool fingers hot and sweaty. She swallowed. "What is it?"

"I don't know where to start," he said. He pressed long fingers to his brow. "I had word through the Ministry that a stronghold of slavers has been discovered in America. There were many prisoners, witches and wizards from all over the world, Aurors, Unspeakables..."

MC felt his grip tighten on her fingers, his bones grating against hers. She didn't even feel the pain. Her vision was starting to tunnel. All she could see was his face, her eyes fixed on his lips as the words came out. "Go on," she urged.

Ominis took a deep, shuddering breath. "The list of survivors, the ones they brought back..."

"Ominis," she said. Her voice was a strangled plea. She was clinging to his hand, her other hand reached out to grab the front of his immaculate robes. Hope was being dangled in front of her eyes. Years of agony were twisting harshly in her chest and her ears were screaming for what he had to say next. Oh, Merlin, please!

He nodded and got a hold of himself, his eyes blinking back the sudden shine in them. "His name was on that list, MC. Sebastian...he has been found."

She could hear someone wailing, a terrible, wrenching sound and then all was quiet. Soothing blackness wrapped around her and then there was nothing else.

....*....

She blinked. Once, twice, the living room swimming into view. She felt heavy, sluggish, her mouth glued shut. MC tried to sit up on the settee, and then hands were there steadying her shoulders. Matthew's face was a picture of worry.

She turned her head, and there in the wingback chair sat Ominis, looking anything but his usual composed self. His fingers were clutching the arms of the chair, his face rigid, his hair a little ruffled.

They had found him!

"Is it true?" She croaked.

Ominis turned his face her way, his lips trembled, and he nodded. "The survivors were brought back to England three days ago. I made some enquiries and Sebastian was placed in a safe house. I had trouble believing it myself, and so I made arrangements to go and make absolutely sure it was true."

Her heart was a wild thing in her chest, it hurt to breathe. "You've seen him?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I saw him not two hours ago."

Her breath left her in a rush, a tear slid from her cheek. She shook, uncontrollably, and shifted, fully facing him now. "Can we...can I," she gasped. She put her fingers to her lips. "Is he alright?"

"He is alive, and not badly wounded. I can't say much about his state of mind, of course. He is...understandly, traumatised. But he did ask for you. It was one of the first things he said to me." Ominis said. He hesitated, his fingers flexing. "He wanted to know everything...about you. I...filled him in a little. I apologise."

She flinched and slid from the couch to her knees, literally crawling across the floor to clasp Ominis' hand. "Take me to him, please."

Ominis held her hand, but his head turned in the direction of Matthew, a pained look on his face. MC gasped and swung her gaze around to Matthew, horrified that she had completely forgotten he was standing there. She began to stutter out an apology, but he held up a hand to stop her.

"Don't say another word," he said. His eyes were sad, but his mouth was firm. "Go, go to him. It's only right." He faltered. "He is your husband, after all."

....*....

Ominis and MC Apparated to the location of the safe house. The road was dark, quiet, a chill breeze tugging at the trees. Set back from the road was the house, an Auror standing guard near the door. A light glowed in a downstairs window.

MC was clinging on to Ominis' arm, too afraid to let go lest she just collapse to the ground. None of this felt real. He led her through the gate and towards the door, her feet stumbling along the path.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Ominis asked.

"I will crawl through that door if I have to," she said through gritted teeth. "I need to see."

The Auror guard gave a nod to Ominis. "Gaunt," he said, respectfully. His eyes took in MC. "Mrs Sallow, I take it."

"I think Mr and Mrs Sallow need some time," Ominis said. "By all means, keep your guard, but perhaps at a distance. I will be nearby as well, but they need some privacy just now."

"Understood." The Auror gave the door a long look before he made for the gate. "I will be along the front of the property."

"Why are they guarding him?" MC asked.

Ominis frowned. "Not all the slavers have been caught yet, and every survivor is a witness. It's for Sebastian's protection."

"Anyone coming for him will have to get through me first," she growled. It gave her some of her strength back to think that anyone might be about to snatch him away from her again, and she hadn't even seen him yet.

Ominis held her close for a moment. "I don't doubt it," he said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and she looked up at him in surprise. Ominis was not one for overly displaying affection. "Will you be alright, now?"

"Yes," she said. "And thank you. Thank you for bringing me here."

"It's only where you belong, MC," he said. He moved from her grip and knocked on the door. "I doubt you will need me, but I won't be far away. He...he did not take the news well that there is another gentleman in your life."

MC could well imagine it. Sebastian wasn't the sharing type, especially when it came to her. But then, she would have felt just the same if another woman had laid a hand on him. She opened her mouth to reassure Ominis, but the latch sounded on the door.

The door opened, the light from inside spilling out onto the front step. MC stared, eyes wide, heart pounding as Sebastian stepped into view.

"You have a visitor, brother," Ominis said. He gave MC a gentle nudge forward.

Sebastian and MC looked at each other for the first time in almost three years. Her eyes devoured his face, ogling the shape of him, lines and angles she knew so well, but they were oddly strange to her now. He looked leaner, shadows under his eyes making him look weary, and there was a scar on his forehead that disappeared into his hair line.

Her name whispered from his lips. She took a faltering step towards him, and then another. He just stared, his eyes trying to comprehend that she was truly there at all. Her hand reached up, her fingers trembling so badly, that she missed on her first attempt. But then, she was touching him.

Her fingers trailed from his forehead, down over his nose to brush against his mouth. "You're real," she breathed. "It's really you."

A tear slid from his eye, rolling over his cheek. Her lips trembled. And then she was in his arms, crushed against him, as a sob ripped from her throat.

He held her so tightly that she could hardly breathe, but she didn't care. She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing him in with small gasps, her fingers gripping at whatever she could get a hold of. He was solid, he was warm, he was here, alive.

Ominis slipped quietly away into the shadows, leaving husband and wife to find each other again.

....*....

The inside of the cottage was sparsely furnished but warm, a fire burning in the grate. The remains of a half eaten meal was on a tray, and a blanket was hanging off the edge of the settee.

MC wandered in behind Sebastian, her eyes constantly checking he was still there, feeling a little adrift since he had released her from that choking hug. He hadn't looked at her since, his face tense as he began to pace before the fireplace.

"I can't believe you're actually here," she said. "It's like a dream."

He spun to face her, his eyes hard. She flinched as he strode towards her, snatching up her hand to look at Matthew's diamond on her ring finger. He dropped her hand as if it burned him. "Some fucking dream," he hissed.

"Sebastian..."

"Do you have any idea what it was like!" He snapped. His face was so harsh, so cold. "Night after night, the screams, the beatings. An endless loop of nothingness. I thought I was going to go mad, I felt myself slipping away, but I kept hanging on. It was you! Your face, my memory of you, that kept me going. And now, now I find out that you replaced me! You're wearing another man's ring on your finger instead of the one I gave you!"

His voice had reached a pitch that made her press her fingers to her face, the fury in his eyes so much to bear that she gasped, her heart breaking into a thousand splinters.

He growled viciously and kicked out at a chair at the table. It clattered to the floor.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "Let me explain..."

He glared at her. "Does he touch you? Does he make you feel good?"

MC remembered the kiss her and Matthew had shared mere hours ago and flushed, but she shook her head. "No, Sebastian, please..."

"You're lying," he spat. He began to pace again, his hands raking through his hair. He swore harshly.

MC gritted her teeth. Her own shame at accepting Matthew gnawed at her, had she not felt like she was betraying Sebastian? She had not wanted to let him go, but had tried to, tried to please her friends, tried to be happy.

This was not how she had envisioned a reunion taking place. She watched Sebastian pace, his fury darkening his face, the pain flickering in and out in his eyes. "Stop this," she said. "I never stopped loving you."

He lunged for her arm, holding her hand up between them. The ring shone brightly in the firelight. "This says different."

His face was close and her heart ached for him. She felt the sting of tears. She fumbled her chain from out of her blouse, his ring hanging from it. "I never let you go, not really," she said.

He eyed the ring and then her. He shook his head. "You were all I thought about." He sounded broken.

He released her arm and turned away.

"I had to bury you!" She wailed.

He stiffened.

Her hands curled into small fists. "We had a ceremony, each of us saying how much we loved you. We put momentoes in a box and buried it because there was no body to say goodbye to. I wrote you letters, hundreds of them, but I had nowhere to send them. I had to bury them in the ground, with all the hope I could barely hang on to that you were still alive."

He turned to face her. She was really crying now, huge, fat tears of despair. She jabbed a finger at him. "You were gone. I was alone, so fucking alone, and I tried to find you. Searching, begging, pleading, driving everyone mad with my nonstop hope that you would be found. I almost threw myself into death's arms at one point, I thought it might be the only way to escape the pain of you not being there when I woke up every day."

Sebastian swallowed, some of the fury fading from his face. "You...you were going to kill yourself?"

She was panting, sucking in deep breaths, chest tight. She swiped the tears from her face and turned away from him, her cheeks colouring with her shame. She had never admitted that out loud until now. She calmed herself, smoothing her hands over her hips

"How was I supposed to go on without you? It was a really low point, but I was lucky. I had friends who cared enough to pick me up. And then...and then I met Matthew."

Sebastian scowled. But MC continued. "He was kind, he tried to help me. He works at the Ministry and he tried to help in my search for you. He took care of me, he never pressed me for anything in return."

"Sounds like a right hero," Sebastian muttered.

"Maybe he is," she said, whirling to face him. "He was certainly there for me. After we all said goodbye to you, he asked me to marry him. I agonised over it, but eventually accepted. But do you know what he said when Ominis came to get me tonight? He told me to come to you, that it was only right that I did. He didn't try to stop me."

"He wouldn't have got far if he had tried," Sebastian growled. He stalked towards her, his hand catching hold of her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "How could you ever think about letting him touch you?"

MC was breathing hard and fast again, her heart hammering in her chest. Their gazes were locked, the fire in Sebastian's eyes shifting from fury to pure desire, a hunger so deep and vast she was starting to drown in it. A flame flickered into life deep inside her, trails of fire spreading thick and fast through her veins.

He could still do it. After all this time apart, he made her blood sing, made her melt into the merest touch. "We didn't...he hasn't..." She swallowed hard. "I wasn't ready."

He lowered his face to hers. "Good," he breathed into her mouth. "You're mine, and I'm yours. That's it!"

MC lowered her eyes to his mouth. Slowly, agonisingly slow, he leant in and pressed his lips against hers. A moan, relief mixed with need, sounded in MC's throat.

He gripped her hair at the back of her head, kissing her deeply, stumbling back towards the table with her. Desperate groans fell from their lips as he lifted her skirt, parting her legs as she sat up on the edge of the table.

He stroked his fingers against her heat, finding it pleasingly wet. "Oh fuck," he groaned. He shifted, opening his trousers and pulling his arousal free.

Need came before anything else. He pressed inside of her, thrusting deep, greedily. She cried out at the immediate stretch. It had been a long time, his thickness burning along her walls, but she didn't stop him. Instead, her hips lifted to meet him, needing to feel him fill her up. His eyes were glazed, drunk on the very feel of her, he began to thrust, deep, desperate, like a man starved.

His fingers dug into her flesh, his lips were parted and his breaths came harshly as he fucked. He wasn't violent, but neither was he gentle. His release came hard and fast, his hips bucking desperately and a growl tearing from his mouth as he collapsed over her. She held him, her hand stroking through the unruly locks of his hair, calming him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His head was buried against her chest. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. It felt so good to be holding him again. It had been a long time, she had understood his need, let him take what he longed for.

He straightened and took hold of her hand. "Come on," he said.

"Where are we going?"

He smirked. Her heart glowed at the sight of it. The memory of that smirk had haunted her dreams, but there it was, for real. "I'm taking my wife upstairs to my bed," he said. "I am far from done with you."

....*....

MC couldn't have told a soul what that bedroom looked like when she first entered it. So intent were they on each other, removing every barrier of clothing, tossing it all to the floor without a care, just desperate to feel skin against skin.

The blanket was cold against her back, no fire up here, just the moonlight gleaming through the window. She arched her back, welcoming the feel of Sebastian's lips as he kissed her breasts, learning every curve again like it was the first time.

Her heart beat for him, her pulse skittering madly as he sucked at her neck, his hands exploring the curve of her waist. Her nipples brushed against his chest hair, hardening into desperate peaks. Fuck, she was aching with the need for him, it was almost a pain that only he could heal.

"Sebastian," she whined.

"I know," he whispered. He kissed her, his teeth tugging on her bottom lip. "Patience, my love, I need to taste all of you. Trust me, I will give you what you seek, and more."

MC moaned, her fingers seeking greedily through his hair, massaging his scalp, drawing moans from his lips. Every sound he made was a balm against the pain in her chest. He was alive. He was here.

Her fingers traced new scars on his chest, hurts he had endured so far from home. She kissed them, her tongue trying to soothe the pain inflicted on him. She caught a nipple in between her teeth and tugged, his cock twitching and dripping onto her thigh.

She reached for him, teasing fingers drifting up the silky hardness. "MC..."

She smiled against his skin, breathing in the scent of him, feeling like she was finally at peace. She began to stroke up and down his length and his hips bucked. He groaned and pressed her back down onto the bed. "No," he breathed. "It's your turn."

His mouth worshipped her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel, swirling hotly. She found herself lost in a haze of fire, only his mouth, his hands, the sounds of his breathing mattered. She reached up to grip the blanket behind her head, her thighs separating, her hips grinding as his hot tongue slid luxuriously up her slit.

Oh, he knew what she liked!

Waves of delicious flame circled hotly at her core as his tongue swirled over her clit, his fingers teasing cries from her lips as he fucked her, slow, and with a knowing touch. She whimpered, her thighs beginning to tremble, as her release began to build.

Three years without him, three years of yearning, and now he was here, driving her over the edge again, sending her spinning outwards to see stars. Her fingers gripped his hair, holding his head right where she needed him most as her climax hit.

She was shaking, tears flooding her eyes, and he held her. His kisses warmed her cheeks, her neck, his hands smoothing up her back and over her hips. "That's my girl," he whispered. "Gods, I have missed you."

Barely having caught her breath back, Sebastian rolled them, settling her above him. "Fuck me," he begged. "Show me how much you missed me. I want to watch as you fuck me."

Aftershocks tingled through MC, her cunt pulsing with a need to feel him deep inside her. She caught his arousal in her hand, pumping him softly, her thumb sliding over his tip. He held her hips, his hungry eyes watching as she lined him up against her soaked entrance. He parted his lips, anticipation thick on his tongue, a delicious groan leaving him as she slid on to his cock.

She rolled her hips, her head falling back, her hair trailing down her back, the moonlight soft against the sweat on her skin. He let her move at her own pace, licking his lips at the sounds coming from her throat, at the hot slickness of her walls sliding along him.

MC still had a hunger for him, a need to feel out of control, lost in him. She angled her hips, ensuring that his throbbing tip was stroking just where she needed him. The pressure began to build and she began to bounce harder. His hands caressing her breasts as they jiggled with her efforts.

He was appreciating every move she made, his hips bucking to meet her, his own fire building to the limit. "Cum for me, MC," he said. He slid a thumb to press against her nub. She cried out, her hips twitching. He looked down, saw the slick shining on his cock. He licked his lips. "Mine, all mine."

She clenched around him, desperate cries echoing around the room. Sebastian knew the Auror was still outside. He hoped he could hear her, let the whole fucking world hear what he did to her. She was his wife, his love, his fucking everything. He wanted everyone to know it.

Driven mad by his utter need to claim her again, he flipped her, her hair fanning out across the blanket. He grabbed her hand, tugging the diamond free and letting it tumble across the bed. He linked their fingers, his eyes roaming over her as she panted below him. He saw his ring, attached to the chain around her neck, pooling in the dip of her throat.

He bent to catch it up into his mouth, rolling it on the tip of his tongue. He bent to kiss her, softly, his cock aching to fuck her, the ring caught between their mouths.

"I love you," she breathed. "I've never stopped."

He smiled, the ring slipping to fall onto the bed near her ear. He would be putting that right back on her finger where it belonged. But first...

He slid into her, rolling his hips, revelling in the way she clenched around him, sucking him deeper. He couldn't hold it off any longer. He fucked her, hard, unforgiving, burying her into the mattress under the fire of his need. She clung to him, her nails scraping against his flesh and he savoured every scratch.

The sweat dripped from his face, the room was filled with the slap of their skin, the grunts and cries of their pleasure, and then he squeezed his eyes shut, hips bucking. Hot release spilled into her, and she squeezed her muscles, drawing every last drop from him.

They collapsed into a breathless heap of limbs, mouths seeking and finding each other in a long, slow kiss.

As their breathing calmed, and their flesh cooled, he drew the blanket over them both, holding her close. She looked sleepy, content. He kissed her forehead. As he settled onto the pillow beside her, holding her warmth close, he thanked every star for letting him get back to her.

His nightmares hovered over his shoulder, but he grit his teeth, willing them to stay away. Let him have tonight, just tonight, to hold her, to remember.

Tomorrow, the healing could begin for real.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

The Eclipses Show

Pairing: None

Word Count: 1,579 Words

Summary: A good wake up and a bad feelings day for Phase. Crescent has a tantrum.

Warnings: Cursing, Past Death (mentioned), Grieving, Abuse, Trauma, Near-Death Experience (mentioned), Harassment, Minor Violence, let me know if I should add anything else.

Chapter 5: I’m Nothing Like You

Solar woke up with weight on his shoulder and chest like a body on top of his own. What the hell? He was sure it was probably Crescent bothering him again so he simply didn’t respond until-

“Dad…” Phase’s soft voice whispered against his shoulder and Solar opened his eyes as he suddenly remembered the previous day. Umbra was nowhere in sight and Phase was laying tucked up on top of him asleep still. Solar put a hand to Phase’s back and held him there. He did promise he’d stay by them and make sure they woke up.

“Good morning.” Umbra greeted him as he came back with three plates of food. Solar’s body had the function just like their new ones did to turn food into excess battery life but it had been so long since he used the function. It had also been a long time since he was greeted so nicely.

“Morning.” Solar groaned.

“Hold on.” Umbra took a fork full of pancakes and held it up under Phase’s nose. Phase’s nose twitched and then his lips before his eyes cracked open and he craned his head and bit the fork, half awake but obviously simply following the scent of food.

“Mowmim.” Phase greeted around the fork and piece of pancake as best he could.

“Time to stop crushing Solar, sleepyhead. He’s gotta eat too.” Umbra chuckled at Phase’s tired antics.

“Do I get coffee?” Phase asked.

“I got you one better. You get a Red Bull if you stop laying on Solar…for now.” Umbra showed Phase the cold 20oz can and waved it around a little like a prize. Phase almost instantly sat up off Solar and grabbed the Red Bull from Umbra.

“I love you!” Phase told Umbra.

“Love you too, brother.” Umbra patted Phase on the head as Phase framed the plate missing its fork, the fork Phase still had in his mouth. “And I got you iced coffee, Sol. Wasn’t sure how you like coffee so I just went with the maple pecan thing in the Faz-Pad.”

“Can’t go wrong with maple.” Solar smiled a little, sitting up and taking the coffee and plate Umbra offered him.

“I’m more of a peppermint person.” Umbra sat across from the two on Solar’s bed with his own plate and a cup of tea.

“You’re a tea person?” Solar asked, drinking some of his coffee.

“I’ll fall back asleep if I have coffee or energy drink so tea is my main source of caffeine.” Umbra told him.

“Rest in pieces.” Phase told him, stuffing a whole pancake into his mouth.

“‘Rest in pieces’.” Solar snorted at that.

“I pity him.” Phase said, mouth stuffed full of pancake.

“Please chew your food, Phase.” Umbra sighed.

“You’re not my mom!” Phase whined but did as he asked anyway, chewing and swallowing the pancake.

“We don’t have a mom.” Umbra rolled his eyes.

“Technically Sun would be your mom in a way and Corona would technically be mine?” Solar told them.

“Oh hell no. I’d rather not have one.” Phase complained.

“Yeah, no. I’ll be motherless, thanks.” Umbra rolled his eyes.

“Realistically, if we think about it, our respective Moon is our mom, our Kill Codes are our dads, and Sun and Corona were like surrogates.” Solar told them.

“That is…horrifying, thank you.” Umbra sighed.

“Yeah, no thanks. I’ll stick with just having a dad and no mom.” Phase told him but paused. “Had a dad.”

“Are you okay?” Solar asked, holding onto Phase’s hand.

“I miss him. And Bloody.” Phase looked down, eating a bit slower as he tried to mask the guilt and regret he felt.

“It’s okay to miss someone. I’m sure he misses you too.” Umbra told him, patting his shoulder.

“Thank you. It’s just a bad day, I think. I’ll be alright.” Phase gave them a little smile to reassure them.

“Well, when you’re ready to come out, if you want to, I’ll be in the daycare setting up. I have like ten check ins today and I feel like I’ll have more walk ins. You two can do whatever you want today as long as you behave.” Solar told him as he finished off his pancakes and took his plate and fork to the kitchen and stuck them into the dishwasher to be run after dinner tonight.

It was surprisingly easy in the daycare, eight of the ten kids were the well behaved ones with the two rowdy ones playing tag near the ball pit. It was simple to give the eight calm kids some drawing activities and just letting the the other two chase each other with his monitoring to make sure neither killed themself.

Umbra eventually ventured out and helped once the walk-ins began with Phase deciding to stay in their room for the day, too overwhelmed today to really get out of bed or do anything. Solar was sure eventually he’d come out of his grief of his family, they’d help him with getting comfortable with his new family.

Family. Solar already thought of them as family? As brothers? He smiled a little thinking about it. It was nice to actually consider someone his brother.

Phase looked up at the door opening, not turning around since he thought it was either Umbra or Solar telling him it was lunch time. He wasn’t up to getting out of bed. He wasn’t feeling the best today and Umbra had stayed with him for a while, assuring him that feeling like that was fine and that he could take his time adjusting to the new environment.

“Yeah?” Phase asked.

“Worthless extra parasite, get up!” Crescent growled. Phase sighed and turned around to look at Crescent with a bored expression.

“What, backup?” Phase asked.

“Why you little-!” Crescent snarled at the reminder that he was a backup of this universe’s original Moon. “So useless! Can’t even get up and do your job cleaning things during naptime!?” Crescent spat.

“I don’t have to do shit. Just because you’re a prick doesn’t mean you get to bully people into doing things you should be doing.” Phase told him but, realistically he felt a bit of fear pooling up. He could remember that it was Moon who had almost killed him not even two full days ago and Crescent looked like Moon enough that it was making his near death play back in his head.

Flare was gone, he had given himself up and allowed Phase to barely live. Flare had given his life because he had decided Phase deserved a real second chance to change. And he wasn’t going to let Flare’s sacrifice go to waste. But having the visage of your almost-murderer yelling at you was scary.

Crescent stepped more into the room and grabbed Phase by the rays, making him yelp at the pain in the head they created as he gripped them tight.

“You are a mistake! Nobody has ever wanted you just like the other two parasites. If you knew what was good for you, you’d keel over and die like your fucking brothers. Maybe then your daddy would care about you again.” Crescent hissed at him.

“Hey!” Umbra snapped in the doorway, grabbing Crescent’s hand holding Phase’s rays and gripped it tight enough to make Crescent release his grip after a sharp crackle, eyes glowing a crimson that tinged his purple eyes, his bits of the kill code showing through as he was pissed.

Umbra practically threw Crescent from their room onto his ass in the walkway. Phase couldn’t breathe, not that he needed to. He curled up in his bed as the words sank in and he hid his face into his arms, black oil leaking from his eyes as he tried to keep his tears silent.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult my brothers!” Umbra spat at Crescent, shaking with rage. Crescent glared at him as he got up before stalking off, pissed.

The crimson tinge disappeared from Umbra’s eyes as he turned to sit with Phase and pulled him up to hold him.

“It’s okay. Don’t believe him. He’s just an asshole. Never believe someone like him, Phasey. You aren’t a mistake, me and Solar want you. We love you.” Umbra assured him as Phase buried into his arms, hiding so he could cry against him.

“But Dad and Bloody. He said Dad would love me if I died like…” Phase hiccuped.

“Your Dad loved you, he wasn’t the best but he was trying as a new dad. You don’t have to die like your brothers for him to love you because he already did. He’s like us. We’re not the best as expressing ourselves. But he loved you, I know it.” Umbra promised him, rocking him a bit as Solar came to investigate the strange sounds during naptime, keeping track of the kids with his internals.

“What happened?” Solar asked.

“Your asshole tried to harass him and poked at some very raw nerves.” Umbra explained.

“It’s okay, Phase, everything will be okay. I promise. I’m sorry about him, he’s just a prick. Please don’t let his words hurt you too much. He’s just a bully, he likes to hurt people. I’m sorry he targeted you.” Solar sat with them, rubbing Phase’s back.

Before long, Phase was sleeping and holding Umbra hostage with his hands tangled into Umbra’s ruffles, unwilling to let go. Solar went back to the daycare, letting Umbra snuggle Phase while the youngest AI slept.

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane's Pets Chapter 98: Aftermath

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

Puppy can't stop crying, and she doesn't know why.

This is good. Great, even. If Master could've prevented herself from healing, it would've come up by now, she's 98% sure of that. This is exactly what Master wanted. This means they won't be hurt anymore. She should be overjoyed.

But there's that 2% of doubt. The fear that this is a test makes Puppy want to put her muzzle and collar right back on. Every second she doesn't is another infraction, another reason for Master to punish her. Still, that's not the reason she's crying. It's something deeper than fear.

Is she grieving? For Master? She wanted to die. This is the best thing for everyone. The world has already gotten better because she died. 

Still, it hurts to look at Master's body. She looks the same as any mudered child would. Puppy had always thought Master's corpse would be smiling if she somehow managed to die, but it's not. She just looks like a corpse, like someone sleeping with their eyes open.

Puppy closes Master's eyes. She really doesn't know why she's crying. Why is this so painful? This is the good ending. The outcome so good that she tried not to even think about it as a possibility because hope just hurts. If she can't be happy now, will she ever be happy?

She supposes that if Master's death didn't cause her suffering, she wouldn't have been able to kill Master at all. Maybe this is just how the magic works. She hopes it doesn't last long, she's not much use to Kitty and Bunny like this.

Strong arms wrap her in a hug. 

"It's okay, it's okay." Bunny says, gently rocking back and forth. "We're safe, it's okay, it's okay for the first time in years. We're okay. And it's okay to cry. Let it all out, no one's going to stop you."

She lays her head on his shoulder and cries until she has no tears left, which isn't long at all. She's going to have to drink water without permission, eventually. She shudders.

“It would’ve come up by now if she could… leave her wounds open like that, right? In your opinion?”

Puppy nods.

“That’s what I thought! Like, I don’t think she had the patience for such a long trick.”

Puppy doesn’t either, but she's been wrong before.

“Um… I know it’s probably going to take a while for you to feel comfortable talking. That’s okay. It took me a while to feel comfortable without the collar, when I was… gone. And it’ll probably take a while again. So just know… it’s okay. There’s no rush. But also, I’m really excited to talk to you again, whether that’s today or years from now or anything in between. I’m excited to get to know you outside of Jane’s control— and to get to know Kitty outside of Jane’s control, and for you two to know me.”

It was just days ago that Puppy broke his hands. He was able to heal them, with Kitty’s help, but she still did it. It scares her, that he thinks there’s a real her hidden beneath what Master made her into. What if he’s wrong? It’ll hurt him so badly when he realizes he’s wrong…

Because she didn’t have to break his hands. Jane didn’t make her do that, she did that to stop Bunny from casting because she thought it was impossible for Master to die, and she was wrong. She made the wrong choice, and that’s not some simple mistake. She broke the hands of one of the two people she loves most in the world for no reason. She only made things worse.

She wants to apologize. She tries, but just the thought of speaking makes her throat close up with fear.

She thinks maybe this is part of why she was crying. She did so many horrible things under the assumption that there was no alternative, and it turns out there was. Master’s death is the death of her ability to justify how much she’s hurt people. She can’t push away her guilt without that justification, and it swallows her whole.

She should just die. She’s just like Master, the world would be better without her. Death was the answer to Master's problems, so it can be hers, too. She should just stay by Master’s side until she dies of dehydration like Master would want her to do. That would help the others, too, because Master would never let her die so quickly if she was just tricking them, so they could be even more sure Master is truly dead.

“I think… we should go upstairs.” Kitty says from somewhere behind her. “I don’t want to be here if we don’t have to.”

Puppy shakes her head. She’s not going to leave Master’s side. It’s the best for everyone.

Bunny hugs her a little tighter. “Puppy shook her head. Um… I don’t want any of us to be left alone right now…”

Kitty sighs. “Alright. So… what do we do now?”

Puppy wishes she could go upstairs. Obviously Bunny and Kitty don’t want to be here, and they’re staying for her. Just more suffering she’s causing them.

Bunny is quiet for a moment. "…What if it's not real? I feel so sure that if she could do that while she was alive she would've done it by now… but I felt so sure that Barron's magic could protect me, too. And that she was a safe person to follow home in the first place. And even after all the times I tried… it feels too easy."

"Well, you had doubts… you just pushed them away, right?"

"Well, yeah… Yeah, I guess that's it. I don't want to push the doubts away this time, and I'm afraid she's not actually dead." He goes quiet again, then starts laughing. "Fuck, I'm so stupid. If she's dead, magic won't work anymore, right?"

Bunny lets go of Puppy and gets up. "Magic doesn't work if you're trying to prove something, so I'll try to heal one of you. Um… I'm more certain that it might work on the Puppy's pressure sores than on acid burns, so I'll try that first."

Puppy lies down on the ground facing Master while Bunny collects his materials. Master's blood is mostly dry now.

Bunny says some words and does his thing, and Puppy doesn't feel anything change.

"We would definitely know if she could just… get rid of magic, right?"

Puppy nods. Master hated mages. The chance of her having the ability to get rid of all mages and not using it until now is even lower than the chance of her having the ability to not instantly heal and not using it until now.

"So– I mean, I could've wanted to prove she was dead badly enough to skew the results, but still. I also really wanted to heal you. This is– we have much more evidence that we're free this time than we ever had before, right? So we're not pushing away doubts, we're disproving them! Like, I ignored the sketchy things going on here when I first got here. I ignored how certain you and Puppy were that escaping wouldn't work, and how magic doesn't affect Jane the same way as it does everything else, when my only evidence I was safe was Barron's magic. I ignored evidence, but I'm not this time. The only evidence we have that she's alive is that she's tricked us before. And if we encounter more evidence, we definitely shouldn't ignore that, but for now… I think we can assume we're free. That's– that's what the evidence points to."

"Right, right. And… the worst that could happen if we assume she's dead and we're wrong is torture. Which is bad, obviously, but if we assume she's still alive and we're wrong… we'd torture ourselves trying to stick to her rules. And Puppy would die, because those rules include her not eating or drinking without permission. I'd… honestly prefer the former."

"Yeah, yeah!"

Their voices have slowly filled with excitement throughout the conversation. Puppy's happy for them. Once she's dead, they most likely won't ever have to worry about being tortured again.

"So– okay, I think our first step is– well, I'm thinking obviously we want to move out of here as soon as possible, right?" Bunny asks.

"Right. We can pack up some clothes and food, and Puppy will probably want to take her plushies. Everything else we can leave behind."

Puppy stops staring at Master's corpse for a moment and looks at the others. They should sell a bunch of this stuff, but how can she tell them that? She can't force herself to speak no matter how hard she tries. She turns back to Master.

"Where do you think we should go once we're packed?" Bunny is pacing the room excitedly.

“Well, Puppy knows how to get to the nearest grocery store, so that’s at least a start. Once we’re… around some other people… it’ll probably be easier to figure out our other options.”

“Hmm… Puppy, do you feel good about that plan?”

Puppy shakes her head.

“...Okay, so the first step is all getting on the same page. Do you want to keep living in this house?” Bunny’s voice is full of determination, the same way it was whenever he’d talk about killing Jane.

Puppy shakes her head. She doesn’t want to live at all.

“So we’re on the same page there, at least.” Kitty says. “Sorry for not checking sooner. Do you feel good about us packing up some food, clothes, and sentimental items before leaving?”

Puppy sits up and makes a 'so-so' gesture.

"Um… is there something else you think we should bring?"

Puppy makes another 'so-so' gesture.

"Hm…" 

Both Kitty and Bunny seem fairly stumped. Puppy guesses that's fair, she probably wouldn't be able to figure out what she meant either if she was in their shoes. Even if she can nonverbally convey that she wants them to sell stuff, how could she instruct them on who to sell it to avoid unwanted questions?

She'll have to write it down. The idea scares her, but not as much as the idea of speaking does. She guesses she's never actually been punished for writing or signing without permission, because by the time those rules were established she was already very obedient. Thinking of speaking without permission brings to mind burning hot barbed wire digging into every part of her body, but thinking of writing without permission just brings up a general fear of disobedience.

She can't die yet. Bunny and Kitty need her. She'll probably have to be the one to actually sell the stuff, too. She sighs and scoops Master's body into her arms, then heads upstairs.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else, or if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @whump-in-the-closet @scp-1296 @thecosmicmap @quins-whump-stuff

@fuckcapitalismasshole

[marisol124]

I need lore for Zorua Carmine pls? :0

I apologize in advance for how long of a read this may be Its a copy and paste from when i was explaining the whole thing to a friend on discord so sorry if theres a bit of context missing from some parts- This might be around 1k words im so sorry. I am not normal about the kitakami siblings.

warning for drowning and child death (Y E A H)

The au starts with The Drednaw Incident™ (I can't go into detail about it currently, but for now... lets just say that itll be explained on the rp blog i run 👁️)

Carmine still feels so horribly guitly for the whole thing. she feels she was responsible for the whole mess. for her mothers death.

and kieran, he too is so torn up about it. he doesnt WANT to blame his sister, but hes an emotionally torn apart like 6 year old, i dont think young kids aremature enough to realise what is or isnt someones fault

SO, one day, the siblings are having their usual arguements. but it just keeps escalating, getting worse and worseeventually it gets to the point where its like WAYYY too far. carmine says something bad and then kieran claps back with "WELL, maybe if you didnt *kill* mom then, then i..."

he IMMEDIATLY knows he fucked up bad, but its not like he can undo it

carmine just. just stands there in shock for a bit. She knows its true, but nobodys ever said it outloud. its the first time. and from her *brother* off all people, the one who her horrible mistake affected the most...

She just stands there for a bit, then looks down at her hand. she sees it covered in blood, like in her nightmares

it just. replays for her. the nigihtmares where SHES the one killing her mother

Kieran goes to hold her shoulders, to apologize because yeah he said the most out of pocket shit ever

but it just scares carmine. her anxietys so bad she starts to run. she doesnt know where shes going but she just knows she needs to get far away

she ends up back at the timeless woods, to the spot where they were attacked

she runs to the little pond in there, for some reason like searching for a drednaw, hell even a chewtle. something to kill her i guess D:

she runs so fast that she accidently trips far into the lake. and the silly thingis. she never learned how to swim so :3

also, her grandparents and kieran are trailing behind her, but since carmine had a lot of a head start- they kinda lose her once they reached the woods

she starts to drown in the lake, unable to get back up. she regrts everything, she only now realises how much of a coward she is to die. she doesnt want to die here

but she also thinks, maybe shes just such an idiot that she deserves to drown here in a small pond, never to be found again.

eventually after a bit of running around, kieran reaches the pond and looks down it, just in case. then yep, there she is. carmine looks at him and tries to feebly reach her arm out, but both of them are too small to reach each other at all

he yells for his grandparents to get over there, right now, and eventually their grandfather reaches them, jumps in to get carmine, and bring her back to land

however shes just. swallowed and breath in too much water at this point. they try to get it out, but its useless. it wont come out

the last thing she sees before dying is just. the horrified look in all of their faces. kiki is staring directly at her, everybodys eyes are full of tears. it wasnt supposed to go like this

finally, her eyes go from looking back into kierans to just... nothing. her eyes still open but there was nothing behind them. the light in them had faded. her body had gone completely limp

their grandparents keep trying and trying, but eventually they have to admit that shes gone now. there was nothing they can do about it.

now its KIERANS turn to feel disgustingly guilty. he said the thing that set her off in the first place. whoospie

so yeah... they go back home. they grieve. they do all that stuff...

however, unbeknownst to them, a bit after her death, her spririt, her guilt, her regret, it solidified itself and turned into... a little zorua

i wanna take some inspo from pkiki for it... like a sort of fuzzy memory... not being fully aware of herself but knowing she used to be a human..

she spends so long just wandering around the wilds, aimless but knowing there was something missing, making the zorua feel so empty

shortly after she wakes up she meets a friendly trevenant

it takes pity on her, for it also remembers seeing her and her mother back during the drednaw incident

it cares after her while she has no idea what she's doing as a pokemon, she just feels so much body dysmorphia and doesn't know why

he tells her stories of back when he was a human as well, guides her through this whole thing

though he does recommend for her to stop trying to get her old life back...

as he has tried before too and it lead him into horrible mental states that lead to nothing. just a bunch of worrying over nothing...

he's not being malicious doing this btw, he just doesn't want her going through the same usless pain as he did

but carmine is a strong and persistent spirit, so it doesn't deter her much. just makes her hesitat a bit and accept her more feral side eventually...

she and the trevenant grow very close, the trevenant reminds her of someone she used to love so much.. someone who was always there for her..

But, one day...

also dw about the trevenant. he's just looking out for her in a way that's not helpful for her 😔

like. like think of a mother being afraid of letting their child do something a bit risky

but they know their child wants to do it so bad, so they set aside that nervousness to help them achieve their goal. that's kinda how trevenant and carmine r

Going back to Kieran in this story, he ended up picking up mask making as kind of a coping skill, his grandpa being his mentor

SO, he and his grandpa end up going to the timeless woods one day, to cut down a few trees for more materials

-ough maybe she likes to illusion herself into a phantump... it makes her feel a bit closer to the trevenant and the slightly more humanoid pokemon feels just a bit better than a zorua..........-

ok so when Kieran and his grandpa are at the forest, grandpa chops down a tree, and then hands the ax to Kieran to try

So Kieran goes to cut a tree down.. but it's actually the trevenant sleeping (I like to think they're a bit nocturnal, zoruas too)

this angers him and so he then gets up suddenly, scaring the shit out of the two people

They've been through this before. They've seen how aggressive the pokemon here could get. They knew the dangers of this forest and. they. were scared. they would be the next fatalities in this cursed woods

The trevenant attacks Kieran, it scares him so bad, BUT THEN

carmine sees it going to attack and just.. she feels something so strong looking at the two. she can't put her finger on it but she knows they are what she's looking for

so as trevenant attacks, she jumps in front of Kieran to take the attack

the force throws her into a rock, she looks a bit at the shocked faces of kieran and his grandpa before quickly fainting

this is the first times she's fainted btw. the sudden pokemon attack gives her bad flashbacks too

trevenant is shocked by this, he didn't mean to hurt her at all

he figures that if she jumped out to save them, then she doesn't want them killed so he won't attack them anymore..

grandpa has some pokemon stuff on hand, intedned for their own pokemon but when you find a pokemon in need you gotta help them out right

he gently gives her a revive, waking her up again

She's really freaked out when she gets back up, panicking from the attack still

she notices the two and trevenant and while trevenant expects her to go to him for comfort, she instead leaps into kierans arm for some reason

it catches him off guard, the sudden lunge scaring him and making him drop her

when she hits the floor she looks back up at him kinda hurt, trying her best to communicate she wasn't bad and she wanted to go with them, it all came out as growls and barks though

his grandpa though is a bit experienced with pokemon so he gets it though, telling Kieran that it's not going to bite

the two decide they should leave and head back home, but the zorua refuses to let go of kieran so, they end up just agreeing to bring it with them. it was a bit injured after all, and could probably use some medical attention

carmine looks back at the trevenant, he just stands there and in a silent type of way wishes her the best

kinda a sweet goodbye for them

so then they head back home... heal her up a bit more. they were going to release her back into the woods but it refused to leave, so yep to them it's like they found a silly little stray and now that's a new part of their family

though they do find it a bit strange that when they offered to catch it, it absolutely refused lmao

I like to think kieran reached out his hand with a pokeball in it as an offer, and then she just slaps it out of his arms hehhe

so after like the first night of having her in the house, they start to introduce her to their other pokemon, just to like start incorporating her into the family

the first one they introduce her to is kierans sentret, since its usually out of its ball roaming the house. HOWEVER they find it really... unnatural that the sentret immediately ran towards her in a concern type of way, it seemed to sniff her and realize something, chipping a lot at kieran, as if trying to say something...

the other pokemon don't really know who she is but, they just have the slightest of feelings that it's someone kieran used to know

so yeah the pokemon are kinda all over her, but they do make quick friends with her :D

this is were the "finding herself" arc begins jehdudhjf

she spies photos of her sometimes around the house and just... looks at it intently

there's something about that girl that she just... can't understand what it is about her

I think.. the silly thing I'm doing with this au is symbolizing her humanity with her headband :3

since it was such an important thing to her, they kinda uh buried it with her

so as she slowly starts to remember herself more, she ends up wanting to illusion herself back into a human again. to be able to show Kieran and her grandparents who she is

but the key to doing that is the headband...

OK THE COPY PASTE IS DONE. Yeah its a lot XD.

[yuly]

I always come up with ideas late at night listening to music

I was listening to Sam smiths-stay with me

Is it possible to have you write an angsty story in Aaron’s pov where months after Haley’s death he’s still grieving but he and the reader have a friends with benefits kind of situation and the reader has feelings for him. one night after hooking up the reader gets ready to leave and Aaron just ask if they can stay with him. he knows it’s unfair to ask because it’s clear to see he’s not in love with her but he needs comfort and affection and just wants help to stop the pain he’s feeling from losing Haley. And the reader stays because they hope that one day Aaron might be ready to move on and will be willing to give their relationship a real chance

→ Hi Talia!! I absolutely adore your requests <3 I have never written from Hotch’s POV so this was challenging, I wrote the first part from his POV and the second half is reader's POV. I hope you enjoy <3

cw: angst, mentions of grief

Aaron Hotchner x female reader 

His and Hers

His

It's the anniversary of Haley's death and emotions are running high. He feels Haley everywhere, her scent lingers in the halls, her voice faintly floats through the house, and the memories are more vivid than ever before. And of course, the guilt follows close behind, slowly swallowing him whole. The ugly reminder of where pride and ego got him, and the price he is left to pay. 

You are his escape, a welcomed break from reality, a getaway. But today, your presence adds to his guilt. Seeking comfort in you feels like a betrayal, it's too soon. And every time he looks into your eyes, his nagging mind reminds him that he’ll never be in love again.

You are a distraction, a bad habit he can’t quit. But laying with you is the only time he feels good. Tonight was another night of distracting himself under your touch, the warmth of your soft skin, and the angelic notes of your voice. But it's not enough, so he breaks an unspoken rule and asks you to stay. It's a selfish act, knowing he doesn’t have room for you in his broken, guarded heart. He never explains himself, and you never question it. 

Hers

The call comes in like always, right after 10pm. A glorified booty call, if you will. It's always cut and dry, purely physical, with no pillow talk or niceties. And you accept it, despite knowing you deserve better, you gaslight yourself into feeling guilty because he’s mourning.

He never forces you. You willingly show up every time, because you’re drunk on him. Truth be told, you’ve been in love with him well before the divorce. You’ve always shown up for him as a friend, maintaining a respectful distance, up until 5 months ago when he made the first move. 

And now here you are after so long, you finally have a chance with him, who can fault you for clinging onto the scraps he throws your way? So when he asks you to stay as you’re getting dressed, your heart flips and does a desperate little dance. You hold onto hope that maybe one day he will be willing to accept your love. You’ve held on to hope for all these years, a couple more wouldn't hurt.

[phoenix-downer]

Compelled to Act

3325 words. Sora/Kairi. Post-Canon. Kairi POV. Grief/Mourning, Survivor's Guilt, Angst, Romance, Hope. For SoKai Day 2023: The Future.

Summary: As Kairi grapples with her grief and guilt, she has a dream about Sora in Quadratum. She might not be able to speak, but he has so many things he wants to say.

What if we don’t succeed?

It was a thought Kairi hardly allowed herself. They would save Sora. They had to. It wasn’t a question of if, but when. To admit otherwise would mean she would have to face her grief, that she couldn’t keep running and hiding, then sleeping and searching, and now pouring herself into her training instead.

“There is no right way to grieve,” her mother had told her the morning after Sora’s disappearance, when she was crying so much she thought she would break into a million pieces and never be whole again. How could she be whole when she’d lost the person she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with? She knew she and Sora were young, that the adults would patronizingly tell them to wait a few more years and see if they could really go the distance with their infuriatingly smug smiles. Young love, it never lasts, they would say. Except sometimes it does. Sometimes you meet the right person young and get to enjoy growing old together. She knew she and Sora truly loved each other and would’ve gone the distance.

“You have to grieve on your own terms,” her mother had said the day after that, when Kairi still didn’t want to get out of bed. “The pain will never fully go away, but it’ll get lighter. You’ll learn to live with it.”

Well, Kairi didn’t want to learn to live without Sora. That was the entire point. And while she knew plenty of people felt irrational guilt over the death of their loved ones, her guilt was entirely rational. It really should have been her instead. The only reason it wasn’t was because Sora had intervened and substituted himself in her place instead.

The tear-streaked faces of their friends made her question his decision. Everyone would be happier if it were me and not you. So why did you do it?

She summoned her Keyblade and focused on the nearby dummy Aqua had set out. A cool evening breeze tugged at her hair and clothes. The Land of Departure was beautiful with its ponds and starlit skies and sprawling castle halls full of history, and she enjoyed living here. It was just strange how the entire universe kept chugging along like one of its brightest lights going missing wasn’t a problem.

A wall of red-hot flames erupted from her Keyblade and struck the dummy. All of her anger and rage at Sora’s disappearance (she couldn’t bring herself to say death) channeled into a nice clean burst of flame. The dummy was well and truly charred afterwards, as was the nearby grass. She examined her handiwork with grim satisfaction. So much for having only a heart of pure light. More like an existence that brings total destruction and death.

That’s all I’m good for, getting the people I love hurt and killed. She was training further so she wouldn’t be such a burden, but what was the point? Even if she did see Sora again, he was better off without her. If he got too close to her again, he’d just get hurt and tormented and tortured and killed. Again.

She lifted her Keyblade once more. It was a good thing Riku was the one who had gone after Sora. He was actually good at saving him. At helping him. For all his issues with darkness, Riku was much better at healing and restoring people than she was.

She smiled wryly. If Riku was what monsters feared, if he was the one who consumed Sora’s nightmares, then she was an angel of death, a siren luring Sora to his doom. Looks and appearances were deceiving. Everyone thought Riku was the villain, the problem. All along it had been her.

A moment later, water shot out of her Keyblade and doused the charred dummy. She absently wondered if all her tears for Sora would match the amount of water that had just swallowed the dummy in its relentless onslaught. There had been so many of them and they’d come in powerful, intense bursts until she’d gone to sleep to search for clues as to his whereabouts. Now that she was awake again, there wasn’t as much crying anymore, but grief bursts still hit her every now and then. Still engulfed her in their powerful waves and cast her adrift until she found something to cling to, something to ground her.

She reached into her pocket and grasped the Wayfinder that Aqua had given to her. It was pink and purple and made with care, and feeling its smooth glassy surface kept her in the moment.

Did Sora still have her lucky charm? She could only hope so. Did he even remember who she was? Who he was? That was the question. He was in some other realm, but what was his existence even like? And how was it any different from death, really? Torn apart from all the people he loved and separated from them by a wide gulf. That was what death was, separation of the soul from the body, of the self from one’s loved ones.

She assumed his soul and his body were still one, but he was far from them, so while he might not be truly dead, it didn’t seem like he was really alive, either. And even if Riku did find him, how in the worlds was he supposed to bring Sora back? Sora had broken a nature taboo, and she doubted Death would relinquish its prize without a fight.

Riku, don’t do anything stupid, please, she silently begged. She knew Riku was careful and a lot more measured and guarded than she and Sora were, but she still couldn’t help but worry.

After another round with the dummy that left it electrified and then frozen solid, she decided to give the poor thing a break from her wrath and call it a night. Dinner had happened hours ago with Terra, Aqua, Ven, and Chirithy, so it was time for bed now. She stopped by the castle’s kitchen briefly to grab a quick snack and then trekked up the old, winding stairs to her little room on the second floor.

The extra practice had another purpose beyond honing her skills. If she was tired enough, she would fall asleep quickly instead of tossing and turning for hours on end as sleep eluded her and her fears and regrets haunted her instead.

Of course, sometimes dreaming wasn’t much better. Her dreams, when she remembered them, were either fragmented and disjointed or disturbing and dreadful. The others had had dreams of Sora, and she’d had that single dream that gave them the clue they needed to continue their search. But ever since then he had been absent from her dreams, or if he’d visited, she couldn’t remember upon waking.

Still, that was better than not being able to sleep at all. Thankfully, exhaustion won out tonight, and she soon slipped into sleep, hoping that she wouldn’t remember any of her dreams and would just be able to escape for a little while.

A big, modern city with soaring skyscrapers and winding streets. Water drip, drip, dripping as the light rain covered everything in a wet film. Red and green and yellow lights reflecting off of puddles.

Kairi moved through this realm as if she were floating. There was no sense of time or space, just moving over the pavement without any contact with it. A sign she didn’t belong in this place, perhaps, that to the people she passed she was simply a fiction, a ghost. When she tried to touch things, her hands moved right through them, and when she tried to speak, no one was able to hear her.

The experience made shivers run down her spine. She missed having a body that could interact with the world around her, that could touch and taste and test, feel and sense and caress. She really was beginning to wonder if she was a ghost. Of course, if the people in this realm tried to come to hers, they would probably seem like the ghosts. She sensed some great barrier that was nearly impossible to pass, though Riku had succeeded and Sora had been brought here unwillingly.

Or was it willingly? He had willingly given his life for hers, so it felt strange to speak of him coming here against his will. And yet she couldn’t help but think such thoughts. She knew Sora didn’t want to be apart from her any more than she wanted to be apart from him.

Her wanderings eventually led her to a coffee shop situated in a four-story building with the number four in the address. It had space on all four floors, too. Four, four, four. Everything here reminded her of the unlucky number that sounded like death.

The first floor was where people ordered their coffee from the hard-working baristas, the second and third floors were where they could drink the coffee, either alone or with friends on various tables and couches, and the fourth floor was a rooftop area with a few more seats and a view of the nearby scenery.

She almost didn’t notice him at first. He was seated at one of the tables, an untouched cup of coffee steaming in front of him as he stared into the horizon. His hair looked different, lighter and much less spiky than before, and his back was turned to her and his clothes were more muted, more like what normal people wore. But then he stiffened and glanced back, and his searing blue eyes gave him away.

“Kairi?” he murmured, looking right at her as if he could see her. Gosh, he was more handsome than ever, and he looked older and wiser and world-weary but still with that spark of Sora compassion in his eyes.

Well, she supposed it had been a year. She’d changed and so had he.

So had he. Relief flooded her at the thought. Dead people couldn’t change and grow. Only the living could.

She tried responding, but of course he couldn’t hear her. She was a ghost in this realm. But then how had he sensed her presence? Perhaps it was that gift of his for seeing hearts wherever he went.

His expression softened. “You can’t speak here, can you?” he gently said. “I can’t speak when I visit you in your dreams, so I guess it makes sense the reverse is true too.”

He had visited her in her dreams since that time she’d confronted Xehanort? If only she could remember.

He patted the chair next to him. “Have a seat.”

She floated over and “sat” down as best she could, but of course all she could manage was sort of hovering over the chair. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, and if she really tried she could imagine she and Sora were grabbing a cup of coffee together like they’d done so many times at the cafe on the beach back home.

“There’s so much I want to tell you,” Sora said, his face serious in a very un-Sora like way, like this place dragged his spirit down despite his best efforts. “Even with all the time we got together before we were separated, it still wasn’t enough.”

She agreed. It didn’t matter how much time you got to spend with your loved one before you lost them. The loss still ached like a deep wound that would never fully heal because that person was never meant to be torn from your side like that. She’d often thought to herself, if only I could speak to Sora again. If only I could have just a few more minutes with him. But even if she’d gotten her wish, it would be like sticking a bandaid on a gaping, gushing wound. Because the time would still end, the conversation would be over, and it still wouldn’t be enough. She’d still long to see him again after that.

No, the only true remedy for grief was an eternal reunion. A promise that she’d get to be with him forever. No more separations and sadness, no more sorrow and pain, no more tears and tearing apart of their shared heart.

She hoped the afterlife would be kinder than this life was.

Sora frowned. “I can tell you’re sad. I’m sorry I haven’t found a way back home yet. I’m trying, trust me.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “It’s just a lot more difficult than I’d like.”

She scoffed. He was apologizing to her? It should be the other way around. She would say as much if she had a voice in this world.

Whatever expression was visible on her face seemed to upset him. “Kairi, I know we kinda avoided certain topics before I…you know. I didn’t want you to be sad. But I’m worried about how you’re handling all this.”

She carefully avoided his gaze. Not well. But was there a “good” way to handle grief? It was like her mother had said. There was no “right” way to grieve. Just whatever helped you get through the next hour, the next minute, the next second. Grief was like an unwelcome, unwanted acquaintance she couldn’t get rid of. The best she could do was learn to deal with its constant presence. She’d lost her birth parents and grandmother ages ago, so it wasn’t like she hadn’t dealt with grief before. But every grief is unique, and the grief of Sora’s loss still felt so raw and fresh and wrong.

“You don’t blame yourself for my death, do you?” Sora asked, his voice pained and his eyes anguished as he cut through her thoughts.

She would’ve been silent even if she could’ve spoken to him. He knew her all too well.

His face went pale. “You do,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Kairi, it wasn’t your fault.”

Yes it was. If she hadn’t been so weak, she wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped, and if she hadn’t gotten kidnapped, she wouldn’t have been struck down, and if she hadn’t been struck down, then Sora wouldn’t have had to abuse the Power of Waking to save her.

Honestly, he should’ve just let her be lost forever. She would’ve preferred that to this.

“You don’t believe me,” he said, his voice breaking. He reached for her hand, but of course his hand went right through hers. Frustration and pain flickered across his face, like he couldn’t bear this physical separation any more than she could.

“If you have to blame anyone, blame me,” he said. “I was the one who was reckless with my own life. But I wasn’t reckless for the sake of being reckless. There was just something so much more important at stake.”

Tears blurred her eyes. She wouldn’t be able to shed them or express them here, but they were there all the same.

“I couldn’t abandon you,” Sora said, his eyes filled with tears. “I couldn’t leave you trapped in Xehanort’s grasp forever. Don’t you see? I had no choice but to rescue you. I wouldn’t be myself if I left you to your fate just like you wouldn’t be yourself if you’d let me die at the Keyblade Graveyard. It’s true that we could’ve made other choices, but we never would. That’s what…that’s what love is, Kairi. Always wanting the best for the other person to the point it compels you to act.”

Sora was right. She would never let him die. Except that she had. And she knew how he felt about her. She just felt utterly and completely unworthy of his love because of her failure.

And yet…if she told him that, how would it make him feel? Like she was spitting in his face and saying his sacrifice wasn’t worth it? That he wasn’t worth it? She could never. She struggled to like herself, but Sora she loved with all her heart. Maybe…maybe if he really did see something in her worth loving, then there was something about her worth loving.

“I wish I could hear your voice,” he said sadly. “Your laughter. I really miss your laughter. Your smile, too.”

It struck her that he hadn’t smiled this entire time either. She missed his smile so much.

“I know now’s not really the time for smiles, but maybe…when we meet again…”

She nodded. She didn’t feel like smiling now, but if she could be reunited with Sora in the flesh, she might feel differently.

“I think you’re gonna wake up soon,” he said. “You’re flickering. But this won’t be the end, I swear. We’ll meet again. Either I’ll find a way home or you’ll find a way to me, I just know it.”

She nodded a little more confidently this time. The future was so uncertain, but this strange dream had given her fresh hope.

“Until then,” he said, then leaned close and gently kissed her cheek.

Kairi’s eyes fluttered open. A quick glance out the window told her it was still dark outside, and the flames in her little room’s fireplace had been reduced to glowing embers. She was cold, and yet her cheek felt so warm.

She touched it. Faint memories of Sora flickered through her mind, but they were already slipping out of her grasp. She grabbed the little diary next to her bed and jotted down as many things as she could remember. But it wasn’t much. Just a big city, his blue eyes, a steaming cup of coffee, and a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek.

Well, and one more thing. In her diary she added: I don’t remember the exact words, but I have this deep, lingering sense of peace. Like he loves me and promised we’d meet again. Maybe it’s just my own foolish imagination, but if it helps me feel better, I think it’s okay.

With that she closed the little book and rolled over onto her side, pulling the blanket closer for warmth as she took a few more minutes to rest before getting up. She wished she could remember more details from the dream, but the fact she’d dreamed about him at all brought her great comfort.

Maybe…maybe we will succeed. Maybe I will get to see him again. I just need to be patient and make the most of my life right now.

She was tired of just existing. She wanted to live again. Wanted to enjoy all the little things and appreciate the people in her life right now. And even if she got Sora back and they got their happily ever after, one of them would still outlive the other. There was a phrase that got omitted from modern fairy tales, “until their deaths.” “They lived happily until their deaths” was how the stories always used to end, but at some point someone had decided the “until their deaths” part was too sad to include, so everyone removed it from the ends of stories and replaced it with “ever after” as if that would remove death from reality.

Kairi was beginning to think this was a grave mistake. Pretending death didn’t exist wouldn’t help kids deal with it better. And death was no respecter of persons. It came for the young as well as the old, the healthy as well as the sick, the strong as well as the weak. Might as well help people prepare for that and make the most of the time they have in this life and the most of the time they have with their loved ones.

Sora, if we do get a second chance to be together, I promise I’ll never take a single moment with you for granted again. And I’ll do everything in my power to help you come home.

Satisfied with her promises to him, she got out of bed. Enough waiting and wondering. It was time to act.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Thank you for reading! I wanted to explore Kairi's survivor's guilt and grief in more depth, including the different facets and expressions of it. I wanted her to get to be angry and frustrated and sad and hurt, and it was cathartic to write.

I always thought it was interesting how death in the KH universe is defined as the soul (tamashii) and body (nikutai) being separated. Your heart (kokoro) and your body can be separated and you'll continue to exist (granted as a Heartless + Nobody), but if your soul and your body get split up, you'll die for real. (This is all delineated in Secret Ansem's Report #4). So I tried to incorporate that bit of KH lore into the story.

As always I enjoy delving into fairy tale stuff and researching the ways different languages handle the start and end of stories (English of course has the classic "Once upon a time…they all lived happily ever after" formula, but there are other variants like the "they lived happily until their deaths" one).

And then what would one of my KH stories be without an exploration of free will, the nature of existence, and various metaphysical ponderings? That stuff just always slips into my KH fics these days.

Happy SoKai Day!

[xbalayage]

┆➵ This is my Secret Santa Exchange gift for @ax0lotly in @lemeowade's event. :) I knew nothing of this game beforehand so I did my best to create this for you! I hope you like it! Forewarning: This is a bit of a heavy read and contains themes of suicidal thoughts, death and attempted suicide. Because this game is a psychological horror game. But it ends on a positive note, I promise! But read at your own discretion. Sunny POV w/ slight Sunny/Kel at the end; Angst/Comfort; WC: 815

I haven't coped well... at all.

I stare at these walls like they could swallow me whole, like the never ending nightmare of limbo would never cease; beneath my eyelids, curled up under the covers, curtains drawn and darkness envelopes - I still see and hear you. Sometimes I swear I hear your piano play on its own and think you're still alive but it's the guilt clawing away at me until there's nothing left.

I can't stand the sound, the bittersweet lullaby of your death in my ears.

My HANDS— these hands are no better. Tainted and soiled; once trained to play a melody on a violin, to create a beautiful symphony along with the chords to your piano now stay out of my sight. Every day reminders of what I've done to you. It was an accident, I swear. Emotions had blinded my rational thought and I reacted.

I'm sorry.

But sorries don't bring you back nor does the ghost of you leave this house.

It's... tormenting.

Reality sets in, yet I lay awake in my dreams; filled with your smile, understandable love and touch. You forgive me but I don't forgive myself. Our friends, our group? We said we'd be friends forever, always having each other's backs when things got tough. But it's been mangled to the point of unrecognizable, irreparable. We're like strangers who've never crossed each other's paths in this lifetime. Everyone loved you, and I was the selfish one who took you from them. From me, your only brother; you, my only sister.

I could never forgive myself.

It's been years now — I'm stuck in a loop of the events that plague and infect the core of me, festering deep, rooting scars into the crevices of my brain like a parasite. Out of touch, out of body, out of mind; day feels like night, night resembles hell and these hands are still connected to my wrists.

I live in a comatose state, alive but not exactly living. Dead, but my heart is still beating. An agonizing cycle of mental torture. In my dreams, you're still alive, your skin feels warm to the touch and all our friends are with us like that traumatic event never happened.

Tonight, however, I've made my choice.

A fantasy dream where you're alive is better than a grieving world where you've passed. In the darkness, under the covers, shielded from any and everyone; I use these hands to take part in a sinful act again.

Holding a knife just above my heart while I laid curled on my side, I scrunch my eyes and slow my shaky breath. A second is all it takes. No longer will the ghost of you haunt my ever present existence, for it shall embrace your forgotten touch in the afterlife.

Wait for me, Mari.

And just when I've felt I finally mustered the courage to end it all — I hear a voice, a different voice that isn't yours. An old but comforting one, a long forgotten hymn of light embraced me.

—It was Kel.

And suddenly, no knife was in my crutches, the room was no longer enveloped in an eternal black winter and the lullaby of your presence fades.

Slow, cautiously slow, I opened my eyes to be welcomed by the sounds of birds chirping, the rays of a new beginning closing in and the smile of a face I thought I would never see again. His smile radiates my body with an unknown warmth I've long forgotten and I stare at him confused, seeing the image of my sister in his place. But before I could think to mutter a word, he speaks in a comforting tone for only my ears to hear.

"Hey, I know it wasn't your fault. It's okay, you can forgive yourself, even if it takes some time. I'll be here for you."

An angel was sent to me; it wasn't my time to go. And I was overwhelmed with emotion that nothing left me but tears down my face at those words. Those much needed words. Did you send Kel to me, Mari? Do you really forgive me? Is it okay?

Kel holds my hand as I cried for as long as I needed, never forcing me to do anything else but cry. The only comfort I ever indulged was in my dreams but now, with this heaven sent message I've been brought, maybe confronting the trauma might be a good thing. Baby steps at a time.

Maybe one day, I'll learn to finally forgive myself and see my hands as things to create something beautiful once more.

Ever since the day he rescued me, things have seemed brighter joining Kel on my walk to recovery. And it's all thanks to you, Mari. Thank you.

Now, instead of grief, all I hear is the timeless symphony I've created in the honor of your death.