#He just loves making Rook happy and Rook is always willing to give him space afterwards

[chalcanthitedreams]

I like Rook I likehim I like him Ilike him

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello! If not a bother, I'd like to request a TWST matchup (either platonic or romantic is fine). I enjoy writing a lot (particularly darker content). I love theater and the natural world a lot (to the point my entire family and all my friends are now giving me animal- and marine based presents lol), perhaps it's the 'tism, but I find it so fascinating and beautiful, every creature is just a lovable little guy to me, and the way every plant, fungi, and cell work together to create the world we know, is incredible.

I have been told that the traits I find loveable aren't universally shared, such as when I find it cute that snails can have thousands of teeth. But I just find it hard not to marvel at all these things.

I'm very patient, and while things often fly over my head, and I struggle to read people, I try very hard to understand everyone around me, as a result, I tend to not judge people, instead getting to know them, and I value communication highly, as I am not good at guessing or intuitively knowing.

I do tend to get a bit lost in my own head and interests though, and tend to spend a lot of time alone, being quite introverted - so sometimes I might need a reminder to actually interact, but I'm working on it.

Thank you for sending in a match-up; I think that either Rook Hunt or Silver would be good matches for you!

I was actually debating between Silver and Jade, but ultimately, I picked Silver for your match-up since I think with Jade you would need to be good at guessing how he's feeling since he's not open and honest about himself in that regard. He would be a great person to talk to about your interests and hobbies, though, considering he loves fungi and is literally a merman haha.

Rook loves that you, too, appreciate theatre as it's something he does as well. He'd also love to read your stories if you were willing to share them with him as he doesn't mind consuming a darker story every now and again. Rook is also quite the outdoorsman, so he would love to accompany you if you want to take a hike or venture out into the wilderness. Rook is also someone who can understand your awe at the beauty of the world, even such small and seemingly minuscule things such as how cells function, and he does so without any judgement; he's honestly very supportive of you and your interests and would happily sit and listen to you talk about them all day every day if he were able to. Rook would also relate to your ability to find traits or facts universally deemed as being weird or gross to be cute instead; he, too, sees the beauty in the "strange" and "unconventional." He's also understanding of your need for alone time and space, but he's also the kind of person who will happily give you reminders to get out and socialize; Rook won't overstep your boundaries, but he's there to give you a push if you need it.

Silver has an almost supernatural ability to draw animals of every variety to him so if you ever wanted to see a specific animal up close and personal, Silver would be happy to make your dreams a reality as he somehow seems to communicate with the animals without ever uttering a single word. Silver is also, much like you, a very patient individual who also has a difficult time reading others. Unlike some of the other students at Night Raven College, Silver is always open to communicate with you about how he's feeling or how you're feeling in regard to your relationship, and he always does so calmly and kindly with no judgement. He also understands and respects your need to be alone given your introverted nature and will gladly give you space if you need it as all you need to do is tell him. Thankfully, though, being with Silver doesn't take as much social battery as it may with other people. You two spend a lot of your time together alone in silence, Silver usually sleeping while you focus on learning or reading about the things you are passionate about.

[flourchildwrites]

Hello! Hope you're ok! I wanted to ask, excuses if I'm bothering you, if we will have kerosene 2 this year or should we wait 'til next one 🤭.

😅  This has been in my inbox forever, anon.  I wish I could have gotten to it sooner.  It was not my intention to ignore you.  I really appreciate nice asks, and I felt terrible that I wasn't able to give you an answer when you sent this.  I am never bothered by asks like these, anon or otherwise.

I have every intention of working on the second chapter of Kerosene and getting it posted.  In fact, I was making excellent progress with it until mid-November of 2020.  And then... I got pregnant.  🥰  And a short time later I developed severe morning sickness (which was more like constant, unrelenting nausea)...  🤢

If I hadn’t been in the middle of moderating @fmasecretsanta2020, I probably would have announced a hiatus, but I really wanted to see that commitment through.  Likewise, I didn't want to announce my pregnancy during my first trimester.  (I’ve always been shy about sharing IRL stuff on tumblr.)  Even though I know I’ve still got a long way to go to get to 40 weeks (anything can happen), I’m happy to say I’ve made it to my second trimester, and the morning sickness is beginning to let up.

In the meantime, I do have a sneak peek of chapter 2 of Kerosene:

The hallway is blessedly empty, and Ray grasps his chance to dart toward the staircase that will take him to his room in the basement.  He almost makes it before the rough sound of a young man clearing his throat cut through the muffled sounds of Gilda clearing the table.

“Retreating so soon,” Norman’s cold voice croons.  “If I remember correctly, you have dish duty with Gilda for the next month.  You aren’t skipping out on the first night of our new schedule, are you?”

Damn, he forgot about the dishes.  Still, Ray schools his expression, obliging his mouth to twist into a smirk and his back to slump forward.  The young man’s clenching hands find refuge in his pockets, and he turns to face Norman whose expression is light, except for the intense focus in his eyes that is all silver and cold.

Ray scoffs in defiance as he starts back toward the kitchen.  “That was clever of you, killing two birds with one stone.  You covered your tracks and punished me for forcing you to stray from your plan.  Don’t worry.  You can thank me later when you come to your senses.”

They’re close now, standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder on either side of the hallway.  It’s close enough for Ray to watch as his words do their worst.  If sharp looks could cut, Ray knows he’d already be in pieces on the floor.

“I don’t have to do anything,” Norman whispers with a menacing tone.  “I just have to be patient.  Do you really think you won’t hurt Emma when she realizes that you don’t really love her in that way?  She is quick and intuitive.  She’ll see your indifference for what it is, and then I will have every reason to make that rule with the full support of the household. So, I guess I should be thanking you, Ray.”

Norman has a point, but Ray won’t be rattled. He allows his gaze to remain lazy and unclenches his hands within his pockets.  Norman is, after all, a rook of a person.  He’d shrewd, to be certain, but he moves in straight lines, with near tunnel vision on the goal in sight.  Ray, on the other hand, considers himself the black knight, a bit unpredictable at first glance and more than willing to play the villain for a good cause.

“But what if you’re wrong?” Ray asks, calm and collected.  “What if I was only ever waiting for you to step aside?  We both have history with Emma, give or take some silly cup phone craft that, let’s be honest, she can’t even remember.  I’m almost as smart as you, more athletic than you and reckless just like Emma.  When you think about it, we’ve got a lot in common, and I’m not emotionally constipated.”

For a split-second, Norman can’t hide his reaction.  His thin face pales, and his baby-blue eyes flash brighter with malice.  Ray won’t pretend it doesn’t feel good to know he’s struck a nerve, even if it’s mostly bullshit.  Though Norman is emotionally constipated.  Every good lie needs a kernel of truth.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would.  Unless you have a sudden urge to confess to Emma.  Then, I might be feeling magnanimous enough to step aside, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it Norman?”

The last time Ray and Norman had this kind of passionate disagreement, Ray found his fist buried in Norman’s shirt, quietly throttling him in their Grace Field dormitory.  Somehow, Ray managed to snatch the superior bargaining position from Norman that night, and this time won’t be any different.

Norman’s cold stare pins Ray to the spot.  His lips curl into sneer, blood boiling beneath pale skin.  And yet, there is no violence in the hallway, just harsh words and cockiness countered by fury.  It’s Ray’s move.

“It’s settled then,” Norman declares.  His voice tremors in the slightest.  “I’ll give you the space you want to mess this all up, and I’ll be there for Emma when you break her heart-“

“You’ll be there for her as a lover?”

“No, like a brother,” he spats.  “Like the family I am to both of you.”

“If you say so, boss.”

Ray starts to move past Norman toward the kitchen, but he feels his companion's shoulder bump against his as they pass in the hallway.  The shoulder check isn’t forceful, but the friction between them is palpable.  And Ray knows there is no accident; it’s intentional.  Neither Ray nor Norman are children anymore.  Norman is the head of household, and Ray, though somewhat reclusive, is a senior member.  Physical fights are not couth.

Words, however, are fair game.  They can cut deep if a person knows how to use them.  Ray’s rusty perhaps, whiling away his days between oil changes and brake pad replacements in a noisy garage, but he knows an opportunity when he sees it.

“Sweet dreams,” he quips, knowing Norman will have anything but.

And yet, as Ray enters the kitchen to start washing the dishes alongside Gilda, he can’t help but feel he’s got his work cut out for him.

[twonderland]

Dear author, I really like the story and scenario that you make. so would you like to accept a request from me, can i get a scenario from rook hunt that confesses his feelings to a kitsune woman, but he was rejected by the kitsune. The reason is very simple, the kitsune woman really hates men, especially human men, because the ex-lover of the kitsune, who turns out to be a human yokai hunter, has betrayed and even nearly killed the kitsune woman.

Aww a tragic love story , love it !!! 🖤💜🖤

His walks were long, the young boy liked to follow the indications of Vil Schoenheit to practice Yoga, however nothing satisfied him more than a good walk through the forest ... looking for a prey.

The forest that belonged to NRC was spectacular, acres upon acres of space where various interesting creatures resided. Rook walked among the branches of the immense trees, listened to the birds sing and from time to time stopped on the rocks to rest, however this time something was different, there was something in the environment, something almost ... ethereal.

Turning in various directions, his hunter instincts screamed at him to draw one of his arrows and be ready to pierce the heart of the prey present. As he moved stealthily, his bow ready to be used, he caught a glimpse of the beautiful fur of what appeared to be a fox's tail, he thought of the great happiness it would bring him if he managed to catch a creature with such beautiful fur, just when he moved some leaves from the bush that separated him from the creature his green eyes could admire the face of a woman ... but this woman had fox ears as well as not just one but 9 tails. She turned to see him immediately, her senses were as sharp as the hunter's and with her penetrating eyes she hypnotized him, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Silence and tension circulated in the environment, the kitsune woman did not move and neither did Rook, until the young man decided to try his luck “Good afternoon mademoiselle, I see that you are enjoying the forest, my name is Rook ... Rook Hunt .. . and yours ?"

The days passed, the kitsune woman at first and on several occasions threatened to kill him if he did not leave her alone, however Rook kept going every day to find her whereabouts, just seeing her from afar made him so happy, hearing her voice was a dream and being in her presence, one by one and her dedicating her time to him was unmatched.

They became closer, Rook always made his feelings for the Kitsune known, he never forced her into anything, he always behaved like a gentleman and was kind to her. She decided to tell him after a while about the bad experience she had with a human long ago, her crush, and the tragedy that ensued. The boy listened carefully and after engraving the woman's words in his heart, he promised that when she felt ready and if he was worthy of her love, he would wait for her and try to make her the happiest woman in all of Twisted Wonderland.

The wounds are deep, but the hunter's love is as powerful as his arrows, which reached the heart of the kitsune, giving rise to a story that would give hope to love.

The kitsune rejected him several times, Rook was sad that the young woman did not believe in his feelings, however he hoped that someday, sooner or later she might even be willing to risk loving him as much as he loved her.

Thanks for your request

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[catgirlxox]

Omg! I just watched the B10:AF ep “Veeedle, Vreedle” and I now see what your talking about with Julie! I mean, I always believed you, but now I am seeing it with my own eyes! I haven’t watched Ben 10 in some, just recently started to rewatch it (found you blog and I love it!), and I always remembered feeling weird about their (Ben & Julie) relationship. I didn’t remember this ep I rewatched it and I notices something. (1) when the Vreedles come to repo, Ship is on the offensive & starts morphing

into weapons. Julie tells Ship “I don’t want them to see how valuable you are” and instead calls Ben(who comes with in seconds!!) (2) when with Gwen and Kevin, they find out the court order is legit, Ben says “somebody can use him [Ship] as a weapon” Gwen: “AND you DON’T want Julie to LOSE her pet EITHER, right BEN?” Ben passively says he agrees and Julie calls him out on it not being sincere 

(3) Julie ask Gwen would Ben care if Ship was “just a dog, my [Julie] dog” (4) When Ben & Kevin comes back from court Julie is happy b/c Ben went “halfway across the galaxy” for her. But when Ben tells her that he feels, in light of all of this, that Julie is putting a lot of pressure on their relationship, Kevin tells him “it’s just a dog”. Like people Ship is not a dog! Ship is a sentient Mechamorph! You perceive it to act like a dog! Is there even dogs in space?!

Julie starts the episode saying that Ship is powerful, latter saying the same thing to Gwen, but once Ben says the exact same thing that she says, all of a sudden it’s wrong. I’m with Ben, that thing can kill you, your family, or anyone at any given time! Ship, though friendly, it’s not a toy or pet. Ship is like owning a gun; it’s cool and you can take it to the shooting range for “fun” BUT it doesn’t take away how deadly it is.

Gwen & Kevin might be so relaxed b/c they have seen and can handle things like this. But Julie hasn’t, she literally had to call Ben for help b/c she couldn’t protect herself! And what if he couldn’t answer his phone?! But lucky for Julie he comes on time to help, but after that Julie questions if Ben cares about ship. Girl, he cares about you and Ship on two different levels. Even if Ship was a dog, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t go out his way unless it was important.

Julie is important to Ben & Ship is important to Julie, therefore Ship is important to Ben. But again you can’t ignore how dangerous Ship is, or the potential to be. But the worst thing is Ben opened the conversation about what he feels in the relationship, but Julie looks offended and Kevin dismisses Ben. If anyone says they feel pressure in a relationship, THATS SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT! Your partner should feel safe & comfortable with you not pressure.

His grievances are dismissed but when Julie got a problem, she’ll raise hell for Ben. And note that this is in the beginning of their relationship and latter Ben doesn’t start these types of conversations anymore, he is mostly reacting or apologizing (to my memory, still rewatching). And I’m surprise that Gwen, of all people, doesn’t have Ben’s back more often. In OS when Kai was first introduced, I remember Gwen sticking up for Ben when he was treated unfairly. Seeing this, I personally think Ben stayed in the relationship b/c he’s lonely & wants intimacy with someone. It used to be Grandpa Max & Gwen, but they now have lives and responsibilities outside of Ben. Often times people who are lonely overindulge in intimacy, i.e always wanting to be around people no matter how long & if it’s good or bad . Some who are quick to romantic relations often do it b/c it’s a quick way to companionship.

I’m not saying Ben doesn’t love Julie, I’m saying is that he emotionally needs Julie more that what she knows and what she can give him. It’s funny how in OV when Rook and Ben become friends, girls start throwing themselves at Ben but he doesn’t care. Julie is traveling and he doesn’t freak out, instead believes the best and let her do her thing. Why? B/c he has Rook, he has a friend that will never leave his side. He finally gets that companion & intimacy he wanted. 

Therefore, no longer NEEDING to hold onto or pursue romantic relations. Instead he’s free to get a gf when he wants one. It’s sad b/c Ben is a empathetic guy, he is so open hearted, kind, forgiving, lighthearted, & trustworthy but people see that as a flaw. Ben will fight for you however you need it, at any cost, but rarely is it returned. He can’t afford to feel bad, to be anything less than Ben 10/10. 

I personally think, within story, Ben deserved better romantic partners or should just stay single. The girls say they given more than they get, but they should know who they’re dating. He couldn’t stop being a hero if he tried, b/c it’s who he is! He’s not dumb, he’ll make “gf time”, but he also needs “me time”. He’ll do what they want, but to do what he wants they’re reluctant or wants something out of it *cough* the D *cough*. It seems like they all are in love with

—————————————————————-

Yes!! I’m so glad people are noticing!

First, the “dog” situation…SHIP IS NOT A DOG. Just because he is seemingly programmed to mimic an earth dog, doesn’t make him any less a weapon. It’s the equivalent of having a machine gun painted pink. Cute, but still deadly.

Ben is right to see Ship for what he is, and in doing so, it proves that he cares about Julie because he cares that she’s in possession of what could be highly dangerous alien weaponry.

Why does he need to go half way across the universe for her to see that??

Is he supposed to just agree with her delusion? Okay, “delusion” might be a little harsh, but he’s had so much experience with dangerous alien technology, even being able to become a Galvanic Mechamorph himself because of the potentially dangerous alien technology literally on his wrist, that he would know what he’s talking about. She doesn’t even know the half of it at this point!

Why does she not care that he’s looking out for her?? How does that make him a bad boyfriend? Just because he disagrees with her?

Who wouldn't feel under pressure when this is a problem very early into your relationship?

Part of me just thinks that they’re reading him wrong. Maybe it should be obvious that Ben saying “I think Ship could be used as a weapon” would translate to “I care about Julie’s safety”, but to her it seems to not have been so clear, unfortunately. 

Similarly, I hear a lot of people talk about how much of a problem Ben’s “attitude” is when debating things in relation to this pairing. Although this is probably more common when discussing Ultimate Alien. 

But honestly? If you don’t like someone’s attitude, why would you stay in a relationship with them?

Are relationships for changing your partner to suit your own preferences? And if their own opinions and perspectives don’t line up with yours, even if they’re right, does that make them a bad partner? 

Flaws are subjective. Clearly what these characters thought was ‘bad’ about Ben, we see the good in. 

He is not fundamentally a terrible boyfriend. 

It’s interesting that you say Ben chose to stay in the relationship due to feelings of loneliness and longing for intimacy that he was lacking. I have my own particular issues with Rook, but, for the most part, I’m willing to slightly overlook those flaws because I’m glad he was there for Ben when he needed someone during the beginning of Omniverse. But that really makes it clear why he stuck around.

I hate when people argue that he was neglectful and ignorant towards her, which is what made her leave. Or, more accurately, “ghost him.” 

I don’t recall anyone in “Rules of Engagement” ever definitively saying that it had been months between the last time Ben and Julie spoke. 

Ben is sixteen in both Ultimate Alien and Omniverse, apparently. If that is true, SO MUCH HAPPENS THAT YEAR! He gains fame, takes down his childhood hero (Captain Nemesis), deals with Ultimate Kevin and Aggregor, deals with the Forever Knights becoming increasingly more violent, defeats Vilgax and Dagon with Ascalon, loses his old team, becomes friends with Rook. deals with Khyber hunting him down, has old wounds ripped open and faces off Malware, gets kicked off the planet while the Incuseans enslave Earth before coming back to save everyone…and that’s not even the whole show! 

They had a falling out between Ben defeating Vilgax and Dagon, and the frog war. Compared to how many events can fit into a year of his life. that couldn’t have been an extremely long time. Two months, maximum. 

But more importantly, he must have been so overwhelmed. It’s so unfortunate that he feels like he can’t express that in fear of people not seeing him as the strong, unbreakable hero he is always expected to be. 

Overall, I definitely agree that he deserved better than what he got. And I could be petty and plug my own self insert oc who I ship with him (and do it right lol) but I’ll save it. Thank you for letting me know my words make a difference!

[outranks]

“We’re in public, you know.” Joseph/Dep 👀👀

ayy I finished a smut 👀👀👀I hope this is at least a little like what you wanted!!❤️❤️❤️❤️

–

The sun is shining, the air is cool under the trees, but the days are still warm even as the leaves turn to shades of red and gold and the nights grow longer in the early autumn. Rook thinks that Hope County must have been beautiful once, but places like this always hide something darker right beneath the surface. Or maybe that’s just the cult. 

She looks at Joseph, wondering if he brought the storm to the county or if it was always brewing. 

“Something on your mind?” Joseph asks, setting up the picnic spot for them. It’s an attempt at normalcy that Rook is more than a little welcome for. Sure, maybe the two of them have been part of the problems plaguing the county, but she’s willing to put that aside for the day, and he’s laying down a soft, checkered blanket over the fallen leaves so he seems to be willing to forget the rest of the world for a few hours too. 

“Maybe,” she says, looking out at the compound around them. They’re near enough to the church that they’ll still be under the watch of Joseph’s guards, but far enough into the treeline that they can simply pretend it’s only them in the world and no one else. It’s a perfect autumn day and Rook is just happy to get out of the house for the first time in weeks. As it turns out, the Resistance had a lot of very strong feelings about the realisation that their one and only Junior Deputy– their go-to for any and all errands– had defected to the cult.

And, more specifically, to Joseph.

“Of course,” he says, like he already knows what she’s thinking. Which always seems a little possible. He picks up the basket of food from where he had kept it by the base of the tree while he was setting up, and places it on the blanket before leading Rook over so they can sit down together. It’s all so domestic that she can almost pretend not to see the look in his eyes as she takes the space beside him.

“Did you make all the food yourself?” Rook reaches for the sweetest thing she can see in the basket, which is a slice of pie that no power on Earth, including Joseph, can stop her from eating first.

Joseph hums with what sounds like only mild interest, mixed with a vague agreement, and pulls her right onto his lap before she can so much as grab any food. He even takes care to make sure she’s positioned so that her legs are spread over his, with her back resting against his chest. “I did,” he says finally, when she’s right where he wants her.

“Well,” Rook squirms a little, getting comfortable where’s she’s been moved to and getting the distinct impression that the food is going to have to wait. “It does look delicious,” she says because she really would like to eat it, though she can already feel Joseph getting hard against her. Which maybe isn’t a bad idea either. “We’re in public, you know.” She looks around, spotting at least two Peggie guards off in the distance, just far enough away that she’s pretty sure they’re not going to see anything. “Joseph—”

He slides a hand under the hem of her dress, carefully pulling her underwear to the side. “If you’d like me to stop,” he says, pressing his own legs open a little to force her own wider so that he can slide two of his fingers right against her entrance. “I was thinking about having you in the church the other day, but there were too many people around.”

“And there aren’t now?” Rook feels like she should be protesting at least a little, but in spite of that she rolls her hips at the first touch of his thumb against her clit. In truth, she doesn’t care that much at all about the few Peggies hanging around the area or if any of them can see what the two of them are doing. There’s a part of her that wants to show off— show that it’s her who can have the Father like this and it’s her who he wants. It’s a desire and a possessiveness that she’s never really felt with anyone before and she wonders if it’s always been there, buried somewhere inside of her, just waiting for the right person to make her want.

“Joseph,” she breathes, feeling the first press of his fingers inside of her, sliding in with ease.

“The way you feel…” he says, going slow and taking his time between her legs, while at the same time reaching for the sleeves of her dress, pushing them down and off of her shoulders. “God showed me that one day I would have someone by my side who was worthy of that position.” He places a kiss to her throat as he gently cups one of her breasts and rolls her nipple between his fingers while he continues to fuck her open. “Someone who would be everything I need and who would need me in return.” 

He pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the inside of her thigh, and shifts her up just so he can pull his zipper down. “Up,” he says. “Just a little.”

Rook feels like she’s in a daze as she presses up on her knees, barely enough to allow Joseph to position his cock at her entrance, and slowly pull her back down onto him. He fills her like no one else ever could and the slide if him against her walls makes her shiver with need. The stretch of him feels wonderful, and she has to bite her lip to keep from crying out when he hits deep inside of her because she’s afraid if alerting any of the Peggies.

Though surely they must have noticed by now. If any one of them were to look over, there wouldn’t even be much hiding with her dress no longer covering anything above her waist.

“There you go,” he says, pushing his hand back under her dress and touching her where she’s stretched around his cock. “I never thought–” he sounds breathless for a moment, his fingers so gentle as they trace back up to her clit, playing her in a rhythm that feels wonderfully in sync with the way he’s rocking her on top of him. Each movement creating the nicest feeling of him dragging against her walls. “I never truly believed that you would be mine.”

Rook squeezes her eyes shut as she sucks in a shuddering breath, turning her head to pull him into a kiss. She never thought he would be hers either, until she realised she couldn’t stay away from him any longer. After everything, all the violence and bloodshed, he was the only one who told her she could put down her weapons and things would still be alright. He promised her a future and in it she saw him and a home and more love than she could have ever imagined.

She clenches around him with a soft moan that she tries to hold back, but it escapes her anyway. The sound seems to echo in the otherwise quiet of the compound. 

“I want to hear you,” Joseph says, so soft that it would be missed if he weren’t whispering in her ear.

“They’ll hear us.”

“I don’t care.”

Rook gasps, grinding down to take in as much as she can, wanting everything that he’s willing to give her. “Please.” She presses one hand flat to the ground, giving herself some leverage to go faster and take things harder. There’s sweat on her skin that’s quickly cooled by the air, but it doesn’t help her feel any less like she’s too hot under Joseph’s hands or the eyes of anyone who may look over and see what they’re doing. “Please.”

Joseph groans, soft and low, increasing the speed of his fingers on her clit, more determined now than he was before. “Yes,” he says, though it comes out rough as he gets closer to the edge. His muscles are tensing and his rhythm is broken, but in spite of how much he must want to take what he can for himself, his focus never leaves her. “Let me hear you.”

This time, Rook cries out. 

She’s shaking, nearly mindless with want, and her breath seems to get caught in her throat on every inhale. It feels like not enough and far too much, but she doesn’t know what to do about either. And Joseph keeps touching her through it, as it all builds and builds until she’s shaking apart on his cock, and he continues to rock up into her. At some point, Rook falls forward, pressing both of her hands flat to the picnic blanket, and using that to brace herself as she takes and takes everything she can, riding out her orgasm to the feeling of Joseph heavy inside of her. 

He pulls her back up, bringing her into a kiss that matches the roughness of his new rhythm, giving only a few hard snaps of his hips until he stills with a groan that Rook swallows down. She’s sensitive, and tired, but she clenches around him and tries to be as good for him as he always is for her. And even though the angle isn’t great, she can see the way his face goes slack in pleasure for just a moment, and feel the way his fingers press against her skin. There’s a selfish sort of pride in knowing this is all for her– because of her– and Rook can’t help but to smile as she presses another kiss to his lips. 

“Did you prepare an entire picnic just to get me out here for this?” she asks, while Joseph is slowly coming back to himself. “Because you didn’t have to bribe me with food.”

Joseph’s eyes snap open and slide over to her, a curious look on his face. “Is that what you’ve been thinking about?”

“No, I just started to wonder.”

“This wasn’t exactly my original plan,” he says with a sigh. “This just sort of–”

“Happened?”

“You make me want things…”

Rook grins, pleased in a way she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to explain. She’d be happy for whatever she could get with Joseph, and yet he continues to give her everything as if it’s all so easy. “You make me want things, too.” And, not for the first time, she really believes that with him she’s going to get all of those things that she wants. 

[raulsparza]

The Abyss and Wonderful Things

Summary:  Windom invites Dale over for chess and dinner following Dale's first kill in the FBI. Dale seeks comfort, praise, and reassurance that Windom is so readily able to provide.

Notes: This is entirely inspired by my recent reading of The Autobiography of FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper: My Life, My Tapes in which Dale reports that Windom invited him over after he first discharged his weapon in the field. Before Windom became who is in the show, he proved to be a mentor and confidante for Dale that Dale cared deeply for. I took this a bit further...I see Windom as possessive and more than excited to have a young protegee at his fingertips. Dale, eager for praise in his new career, takes to this quickly.

Windom excitedly ushered Dale into the back room for a game of chess right when Dale arrived. The first game was over in seven moves, with Windom coming out on top. This wasn’t Dale’s first time playing chess, but he clearly had much to learn. Rather than be annoyed at Windom’s clear display of arrogance and superiority, Dale was happy to start another game, this time asking for advice.

And Windom taught and Dale listened. Eager to be partnered with someone who had so much knowledge to give. He was curious by nature; Earle knew this and wanted to train Dale up. To reinforce his questions and insights. Windom loved having a pupil, both at work and in the game, and the wide-eyed, tracking look Dale would give him during a lesson energized him like no other.

“Rook to E6” Dale announced, lifting his rook between two slight fingers and moving it to hover over a space occupied by one of Windom’s pawns. Dale lifted the pawn in his same hand, maneuvering the rook down as he did so. He was about to pull away when suddenly Windom’s hand was on top of his own.

“Uh uh uh,” Windom chided him, the warmth of his hand radiating into Dale’s skin. “You must think ahead, young Dale. In a move or two, your king will be completely exposed! The game will be over so soon after that. Tragically short, no fun at all for you.”

“Here.” Windom guided Dale’s hand back down, and Dale released the pawn. “Try again.”

Windom put his hands on his chin and smiled toothily, carefully watching as Dale swallowed his pride, returned the rook to its original spot, and simply inched a pawn forward instead. His cheeks were warm from being chastised, and a tingling in his body spread as Windom watched his amendment.

“Much better. Simple, safe, but it will promote longevity.” Earle moved forward in his seat, and his knee brushed up against Dale’s. “There’s not always a need to sprint in chess. Take time to figure out what you're doing. What you hope to accomplish.”

Dale exhaled and tried not to focus all his attention on the pressure Windom was inducing against his knee. He was surprised at how much he craved this feedback, this approval. He really looked up to Earle. The man who solidified his interest in the FBI in the first place. The man he would work hard to become equals with.

The game continued in silence. Once Windom got into the swing of things he stayed focused on the board. Though he was always able to partition his attention enough to alternatively watch the competitive glint in Dale’s eyes and the way his slender hands manipulated the pieces. Dale fidgeted with a pawn of Windom’s he had eventually captured to Windom’s liking, and Windom felt his gaze drawn time and again, watching Dale turn it absentmindedly.

Dale observed the board, calculating his next move, and Windom’s move after that, proving that he had the foresight to be a worthy opponent after all. Minutes passed, moves were completed, and Dale relaxed his leg against Windom’s. He hadn’t been tensing it consciously, but it felt better to noticeably unclench the muscles and allow more weight to surrender to the space Windom was inhabiting.

Chess was an intimate game. Windom had said so himself. Learning the way a person thinks, learning to predict how they will act in a certain situation, why that’s how you truly get to know someone. Dale was willing to show his new partner his mind. Was eager to know each other well enough to communicate in the field without words. He was used to working alone, but the idea of connecting with someone wholly, as this opportunity bid him, was exhilarating.

Dale lost. He had expected to lose, so he didn’t mind so much. He found himself simply hoping the game had continued on well enough for Windom’s liking. Windom hadn’t moved his legs away, but he also hadn’t moved any closer. An impasse, devoid of new information. Alas.

“Well played.”

Dale raised an eyebrow. Unused to this condition-less praise.

“For now,” Windom followed up and Dale blinked in agreement, acceptance.

Windom stood and Dale’s leg felt cold against the air. He remained seated, eyes transfixed, as Windom walked to the bar in the back of the room. Two glasses of whiskey were poured and carried to the armchairs by the fireplace. Dale stood obediently and took the seat across Windom, dutifully receiving the glass that was handed to him.

Windom took a dramatic sip, drawn out, making a show of exhaling as he swallowed, before he spoke. Dale was usually talkative, happy to prove himself and experience the world interactively, but he was comfortable deferring to Windom when they were alone.

“Now Dale,” Windom began, his voice low and thick. “As alluring as chess is, we both know why you’re really here. You’ve had your first kill!” His voice escalated, almost imperceptibly. If Dale didn’t know any better he would have said his partner was excited.

Coop took a breath, allowing himself to shift gears into this conversation topic. “It’s awful, isn’t it? How quickly it can happen? My gun felt so much heavier after.” His voice was quiet, and felt far away from his body.

“Dale…Dale, Dale, Dale,” Windom drawled, as he placed his glass on the table next to him and walked over to his mentee. Dale leaned his head up to keep an eye on Earle’s face. “You were just doing your job, Dale. Doing what you had to.”

“I’ve seen men dead before and wondered about the evil in the world that allows that to happen….to think I’m the cause…” Dale trailed off, afraid and self-pitying. The FBI hadn’t prepared him for this at all. He re-met Earle’s eyes but was unable to read his facial expression. “Windom, I can still hear the shots ringing in my ears.”

Dale felt weak, exposed, dirty. Chess had been a useful distraction but it was all coming back. He fixed his stare on the fire lapping around the wooden logs, reducing Windom’s nearby presence to a looming feeling rather than concrete knowledge.

Until, suddenly, Dale felt a weight on his shoulders. His mind caught up, realizing Windom must have taken a few steps closer still, and was now directly behind Dale, gently rubbing his upper back. Dale could feel tears behind his eyes he willed to keep at bay, the physical contact much more comforting than he could have anticipated. He focused on his breathing. Watched the fire. A particularly thin part of the log broke off, erupting in sparks. Windom continued rubbing soft circles into his back.

“You were doing your job Dale. Keeping yourself safe—keeping me safe—not to mention the hostages. You know we ordered the men to drop their guns. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t acted so quickly. So instinctively.”

Dale tensed at the last word and Windom paused, his hands hovering above Dale’s shoulders.

“Windom, let me be frank here—I appreciate the platitudes but this isn’t an instinct I want. I entered the Bureau to save lives, not take them.”

“Of course you did. We all did. But not everyone is capable of saving. Much better to lose one, to preserve many.” He rested his hands back on Dale’s shoulders, waiting for Dale to melt back into his touch. He liked how receptive Dale could be. He felt his hands rise and fall as Dale forced deep breaths through his system again. The tension remained.

“I fear this will never leave me.”

“And it might not.” Windom swapped his left hand out for his right on Dale’s shoulder, as he stepped around and rested himself down onto the arm of Dale’s chair. “Listen, when I first had to discharge my weapon it was a shock to me too. It’s an indescribably different feeling. Nothing can prepare you for it.”

Dale felt a heightened awareness of the closeness of the man next to him. But, there were too many thoughts to catalog at once. He decided not to focus on that too much. He turned his head slightly and peeked up to meet Windom’s face once again. “Has it changed you?”

Windom laughed, unexpectedly and out of place. “Caroline says it has. I don’t think she quite understands the intricacies of the experience. If anything, it’s made me a better agent. You’re well on your way, Coop.”

Earle stood, and Dale’s eyes followed him up. “Speaking of which, dinner is probably just about ready. I’m very excited for you to meet Caroline. You’re going to love her.” Windom lent down and pressed a quick kiss to Dale’s forehead before patting his shoulder once and walking towards the doorway.

Dazed, fatigued from their conversation, confused by the displays of affection, Dale stood slowly and followed.

[theonceoverthinker]

Nag: A Knight Rook Story (2/2)

Part 1

Summary: Rogers is known for being one hell of a nag. How do wild spirits like Tilly and later Alice feel when he’s suddenly a very present part of their lives?

Time for part 2! Before I start again, I want to thank @killianmesmalls for giving me this prompt! Confession time: She originally asked me to examine how Tilly would view Roger’s nagging after the curse broke, and that’s what the goal of this part is!

Let’s get a move on!

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Tilly doesn’t have a problem with Roger’s nagging until the curse breaks, and when it happens, suddenly Alice very much does.

Alice isn’t the child that she used to be. Before Gothel cursed her father’s heart and separated them, she was a teenager, and an isolated one at that. Her bits of nuttiness had been accepted. But it’s been over a decade since then. She’s been out in the world. She should be more...normal.

She now wonders if she’s good enough for him. The curse has curbed his taste, made him civil, or at least more so than he was before.

He’s changed too. As Rogers, he’s less accepting of her bouts of silliness past a certain point. As they got closer, he started to nag more. Eat this. Bundle up. Read some more books. Tilly, little by little, listened, because he was her truest friend in an otherwise cold and manipulative world.

But now, Rogers is her father, and Alice finds the person who she is to be a terrifying embarrassment when faced with the reality of who Killian has become. Not every part of her. She’s not ashamed of her girlfriend, who Rogers has welcome into the family with warm and open arms. Other parts of herself though, she’s more afraid to show. They’re things that Rogers always nagged about. When they eat, she doesn’t ask for orange marmalade sandwiches. She has turkey instead, and salads at dinner. She doesn’t make the same observations that she usually would. She keeps her spaces clean.

Killian doesn’t address any of it until one day where he hears Alice styling her hair from the bathroom with a blow dryer. He knocks on the door.

“Alice, love,” Killian asks hesitantly. “Can we talk when you’re dressed?”

“Of course, Papa.” Alice finds herself apprehensive. It’s not an emotion she’s foreign to, but she’s seldom been apprehensive towards either her papa or Rogers.

It’s only when she knows she’s disappointed him.

Alice slowly gets ready, her mind running with anything and everything that she might have done to cause this disappointment. She’s been careful, but perhaps what she’s messed up is hidden in plain sight. She looks around. Her room is spotless. Her clothes aren’t wrinkled. She had even blow dried her hair so that she could style it in a neat way that she thinks he’d like.

It doesn’t makes sense. Normally, those four words are a comfort, but for now, they cause panic.

When she finally emerges, sporting a v-neck, unripped jeans, and flats, Killian is waiting for her at the kitchen table. He looks nervous, as if he’s searching for the words to convey his displeasure. Alice silently gulps.

She sits down. Killian gives her a weak smile.

“Hello, Papa,” she greets. “What did you want to talk about?”

Killian’s smile fades away and he bites his lip. There’s a pause before he speaks.

“Is...Is everything alright, Alice?” He asks, concern clear. “With you, that is?”

Alice longs to tell him that it’s not, that her fear of letting her father down is eating at her like a dog at a slab of peanut butter.

“Everything’s fine,” she lies. “Why do you ask?”

“I just worry you’re not happy.”

Alice sighs. This part is easy to say. This part is the truth.

“Of course I’m happy, Papa. We’re together again.” Killian smiles again and she mirrors it back.

“I know, Alice,” he says, his expressions much more relaxed. “I think it’s being with you, getting used to you again that’s made me all confused. You’ve grown and changed so much,” Killian comments, placing a reassuring hand on hers. “I hardly recognize you sometimes.”

She gestures her hands towards herself. “I know, right?” Regardless of her words and a level of genuine happiness at being here, being with her father once more, she feels hollow. She knows why too. Pesky half truths. She’d have to squash the longing for her old life, for her own self until it goes away. It’ll be hard, but she’d figure it out.

Killian clicks his tongue. “It seems that time only moves forward, and we all must adapt. You’d figure being over two hundred years old, I’d know that better than anyone, right?” Alice nods. She’s missed this so much. It’s worth it to give up her true self to be with him. She hopes so at least. “Well, it’s nearing noon. Shall we eat?”

“Yes, Papa.” She feels her stomach beg for food. In all her worries, she’s famished herself.

“We can have anything you want, though I suppose, given your new habits, we’ll have no more lunches of orange marmalade,” he teases.

In that moment, Alice’s breathing goes heavy, and her smile crumbles beneath her. She can’t even fake a smile, let alone a chortle at his remark.

Despite all her efforts beforehand, that one sentence from her father, that one bit of seeming disregard for her favorite meal destroys her resolve.

Perhaps it’s because it’s one of their oldest traditions. Perhaps it’s because Killian knows that Tilly loves it and on the worst of days, it was the only thing that could make her childhood self smile. No matter the reason, the spark of realization for the true nature of her sacrifice chokes her like a chicken bone in her throat.

Suddenly, that self that she longed to abandon so much becomes that much harder to.

No, she can’t do it, and that crushes her.

“Papa,” she blubbers, tears growing in her eyes.

“A-Alice,” Killian speaks softly, his hand lightly squeezing hers. “What’s wrong?”

By this point, Alice’s blubbers have grown into full on sobs. Killian scoots his chair closer to her and wraps his arms around her.

“It’s okay, Alice,” he coos. “It’s okay.”

It’s not though. She’s failed to live up to her father’s hopes for her, and she has no idea what will happen next.

“No, it’s not!” Alice insists.

“Please Alice,” Killian begs. “Tell me what’s the matter.” She, against her wishes, pulls back from their hug and looks into her father’s eyes. They’re equal parts bright and calming. All they want, and  by extension, all he wants is to make things better, to make her better.

But she’s not better. All she is is Alice.

“Papa, I can’t keep lying. Not to you, and not to myself! This isn’t who I am! I hate turkey and salads and boring conversation about the weather and spending half an hour getting my hair ready! I make metaphors about ants and I brush my hair maybe twice a week, and God, all I want is an orange marmalade sandwich right now! But you always nagged at me about that stuff during the curse, and like you said, so much time has passed. I know you want someone more normal, but that’s not me, and it never will be me, and I’m sorry.” She cries throughout the whole speech, especially as she sees that her father’s face has yet to change or react to her words. Alice has never been so scared in her life. All she wants is to go lay down and cry until her eyes run dry.

She closes her eyes to let a few more tears emerge, and when she’s opened her eyes, finally, her father’s expression has changed.

Killian’s smiling. He’s smiling and a low chuckle is rising. He fans his hand through his hair.

Alice couldn’t be more confused if she tried. Before she can voice the million questions, Killian speaks.

“Oh, Thank God,” he sighs, still letting loose that low chuckle. Alice is still as confused as before, but this time, Killian is here to elaborate. He released a cough that brings his bout of blight to an end. “Alice, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. All of these changes, they just weren’t you, or at least who I thought you were. I was afraid you’d grown beyond the girl I knew you as.Time has passed, and nothing, not that witch’s curse nor the darkness’ hold could’ve hurt more than knowing that my sunny girl had lost all those quirks that make her who she is, and I’m glad they’re all still here within her.” Alice beams. Tears come forward and dampen her cheeks, but this time, they’re happy tears. “I don’t want a daughter who’s too preoccupied with normal to talk to me about everything wrong with bobbleheads.” Now Alice is the one chuckling. She’s relieved beyond words. She still has her hero. She still has her knight, and all he desires her to be is herself.

“So I don’t have to try to be a perfect daughter?”

Killian shakes his head. “You’re already my perfect daughter.” Suddenly, Alice stomach rumbles, and Killian’s chuckle returns. “Well, with one flaw, and one easily rectified: You’re missing a marmalade sandwich in your hands.”

Alice smirks. “And would my Papa be willing to make me one?” Her tone is wild. He grins as she asks her question.

“As luck would have it, I have an unopened jar in our pantry. How about we stay in today, get in our PJ’s, and just relax? Sandwiches and chess sound nice?” Alice doesn’t answer. She instead releases a shriek of relief, a very Alice shriek, and embraces her father. They hug each other tightly, and Alice promises herself that they’ll never let themselves be separated again, not physically nor emotionally. “I love you, Alice,” Killian whispers. “Every single part of you.”

“I love you too, Papa.”

Finally, they were truly and completely together.

[thatonehiddenbladeingibraltar]

Soul

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for the story. Please do not copy or credit this as your own. Photos above are not mine.

Pairing: Jacob Frye x female!reader

Word count: 1771

Warning: angst

Tagging:  @amarabliss @imakemyownblog @freedomaboveallelse  @thatonepieceofpaper @kebeo  @an-order-of-fryes @writingsofawaywardnerd @thepandadrawer @rooks-and-blighters @fortunefavoredthebrave @oreanagalena @thehalodiaries

A/N: I needed to get back into the angst game and write more Jacob because I haven’t written for him in a while.

Here lies Y/N Frye. Beloved mother and wife. Always remembered in loving memory.

Rain began to fall from dark clouds above as Jacob continued to hold onto your son, Emmett’s, hand while Evie gently guided her brother back inside the church where Jacob and Evie’s family were gathered around your family.

“You know that Y/N won’t want you to be distraught over her passing.” Evie insists as she lifts Emmett off the ground and onto her arm while her nephew played with her hair.

“I know, Evie. But it’s not like I can forget out about her at the drop of a hat.” Jacob argued as Emmett began clutching a small handful of his father’s jacket.

“I’ll be there, brother dearest. You know I will.” Evie replied as she tickled Emmett’s cheek and he released the fistful of fabric from Jacob’s coat.

“Thank you, sweet sister.” Jacob smiled before turning to his son. “Would you like that, Emmett? Do you want to see Aunt Evie more, little Rook?”

The only thing the twins receive is a giggle and a clap from Emmett.

Time had flown by and Emmett had grown up by a year already. And yet, despite all that his family and yours had done to make sure Jacob and your son were happy, it still didn't feel enough for Jacob himself.

Every time he looked Emmett, he saw you in his smile, his personality, even his eyes despite being an exact carbon copy of his own. But there was a certain twinkle to them, a uniqueness that Jacob could only say was yours.

And yet, after he had put Emmett to sleep, he found himself mulling over the similarities between you and your son with a glass of scotch in hand and a roaring fire in front of him.

A strong frigid draft blew through the living room, even though none of the windows were open and all of the doors leading inside were bolted shut. Jacob spins around with wide eyes in his chair before setting down his cup quietly.

“Who’s there?” He called out whilst taking a firm grip with his right hand on the fireplace poker. Nothing answered.

He inched forward from the armchair only to find a black shadowy figure standing ominously in front of him.

“What do you want?” Jacob questioned as he clutched the poker even tighter.

“To give you a second chance.” The figure rasps as it slowly moved closer to Jacob.

“And what would that be?” Jacob snarles as he began raising the poker.

“Your wife, Y/N. You miss her, don't you?” The figure breathed as it lifted a foggy finger at a picture on the mantle.

Inside the frame was a photo of you and Jacob the day before you died from a freak accident.

‘It wasn’t the deer’s bloody fault. No one saw them coming.’ Jacob reminded himself as he faced the figure again after turning to the picture. Yet, he still remembered hearing you scream as you drove the car into a tree, him wrestling your body out as he felt your breathing slow to a still.

Jacob holding your body even as the paramedics arrived, ready to try and revive you.

“Yes, I do. Every day.” He gulps as he forced back a wave of tears.

“She misses you and your son dearly, even if she doesn't know it. But I can give her back to you. All in exchange for one thing.” The figure informs and the clang of the poker dropping onto the ground echoed through the room.

“What is it?” Jacob asks, fear stirring inside of his stomach.

“Your soul.” It answers and the fear that had been swirling Jacob transformed into a cesspool of anxiety.

“My what?” Jacob manages to say.

“A soul for a soul. That is the price. But I won’t come until eight years from now. On this very day, right at this minute. Do we have an agreement?” The figure explains and Jacob clenched his jaw.

‘You’ll see Y/N again. Emmett will have his mother back and life can go back to the way it was.’ He thought to himself before he looked back at the shadow.

“Yes, we do.” Jacob agrees and the figure seems to smile slightly.

“Good. I will see you again in eight years.” The figure replies before disappearing in a cloud of smoke and dust.

You open your eyes with a start only to hear the sound of bedsprings next to you.

“Momma?” A familiar voice asks and you turn to see Emmett standing at the gate of his crib with wide eyes.

“Emmett?” You say to yourself quietly as you scoop your son into your arms.

“Momma!” He squeals excitedly as he kicks at the space between your arm and your side.

Heavy footsteps pound against the wooden floorboards and you turn to see Jacob standing in the doorway clutching his chest before wrapping you and Emmett in a giant hug.

“What happened Jacob?” You ask as you set Emmett down in his crib again.

“What do you remember, love?” He questions as he motions toward the rocking chair next to the crib.

You sit down and crease your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Not much,” You admit, “I only remember swerving to avoid that deer on the road and nothing else.”

You see the muscles in Jacob’s face relax before he kneels down to eye level. He reaches out and cups your face in his hands before looking down.

“Y/N…you died when you avoided hitting the deer that night. It's been a year since we buried you.” Jacob informs and everything in your body freezes.

‘Dead? For a year? But how am I…?’ You thought to yourself before you stare directly at Jacob’s eyes.

“Jacob, what did you do?” You whisper hoarsely. You placed a hand under his chin and tilted it towards you. “Jacob, please. What did you do?”

“There was this figure, this shadow, that offered me this deal to bring you back to life, to give us a second chance,” Jacob explains as he holds onto your hand with a noticeable tremor. “But in exchange, I have to give that thing my soul. Not now, only in eight years.”

You leaned back onto the chair as tears began falling down.

“You gave up your life so I could have mine back? How-how does that even make any sense?” You say as sobs begin to overwhelm your voice.

“I don't know, love, but it worked.” Jacob murmurs as he stands up again.

“Except that you're going to die in eight years,” You remind quietly while glancing at Emmett, who had begun playing with a miscellaneous toy in his crib.

“Emmett will still have time to know his father, he’ll have his mother in his life and our family will be whole again.” He counters and you sigh.

‘This isn’t right. This isn't right.’ You say to yourself.

However, the only thing you find yourself doing is nod and smile through a wave of tears.

“But mum!”

“No buts, Emmett James Frye. You'll see Beth when school starts again next week.” You reply as you steer your son back upstairs while Jacob places the phone back in its rightful place.

“Good night son. Don’t get too excited tonight.” Jacob calls and you can feel Emmett roll his eyes at the bottom of the stairs. You glance over at the calendar hanging on the living room wall only to see a red circle on a date. Today’s date.

Jacob looks over at you and pulls you into a tight hug while you watch the clock carefully.

“Do you want me to bring Emmett back?” You ask softly.

“No. I left something for him just for today.” Your husband replies just as quietly. The hour hand on the clock ticked and it shifted towards midnight when a gust of wind blew through your hair. You shield your eyes while Jacob’s hold on you tightens as the draft dies down.

A shadowy figure, exactly like the one Jacob described eight years ago, stands in front of you and a chill runs down your spine.

“Are you ready?” The figure questions lowly as it raises its hand. Jacob turns you around to face him with an urgent look in his eye.

“In the study, inside my second desk drawer, you'll find two papers. I want you and Emmett to hold onto them for the rest of your life. Promise me, Y/N.” Jacob insists and you nod as you begin to cry into his shoulder.

“I love you.” You manage to say through a choked voice.

“I love you too.” He replied before he lets go of you and steps towards the shadow. It nods and you glance at Jacob one last time before he disappears. A breeze blows through your hair and when it passes, you immediately dash towards Jacob’s ‘study’.

Kneeling down at eye level with the drawers, you open the drawer to find two sealed papers and you pull them out. The first one was addressed to Emmett but the second one had your name on it.

Curious, you set Emmett’s paper aside and cracked the seal holding the paper together. Words decorated the page in a messy but distinct fashion and you began to read as you made your way back to the living room.

Dear Y/N,

The mother of my child and the light of my life, may Death have more mercy on you the second time.

I know that for the past eight years that you've questioned why I agreed to bring you back from the dead in lieu of mine. At first, my reasoning was that Emmett would have the opportunity to live a life that I almost never had. A life without a mother by his side. But now I realize it was because of my own selfish heart that I agreed to that deal. Deep down, I wanted the woman I loved the most back, so much that I was willing to trade my life to give yours back. I hope that you can at least understand my motivation for your resurrection.

Always and forever,

Jacob Frye

You slowly sank to the floor, trembling. As you stared at the spot where Jacob and the figure last stood, you picked up your home phone and dialed Evie’s number while rubbing your finger over the filigree that patterned the device. The line clicked and you hear Evie’s groggy voice greet you as you swallow audibly.

“Evie? It’s me, Y/N. Jacob, he’s gone.”

[shadowmaat]

Redemption

I know there’s a lot of hate out there for Kallus. It’s justifiable considering some of the things he’s done. There’s also a lot of animosity in regards to the idea of him getting a redemption arc. Again, I can understand that point of view. I’m curious, however, about the criteria for who is and isn’t “allowed” a chance to redeem themselves. 

If it’s a case of “once a Space Nazi, always a Space Nazi” then probably half the Rebel fleet is in trouble. Including Han Solo (unless they’ve changed his backstory). Finn was a stormtrooper, so he’s kriffed, too. General Dodonna. Bodhi Rook. Galen Erso. Sinjir Rath Velus. Darth Vader technically counts, too. Where do you draw the line? Pulling the trigger on someone? Commanding others to pull the trigger?

Is it the genocide of Lasan that makes Kallus in particular irredeemable? Does it matter that Zeb is willing to see if he can change? Or do his opinions not matter?

Sinjir’s past was a bloody and terrible one, too, but I loved reading his arc through the Aftermath books and am happy with the way his story wrapped up.

I think my main concern with Kallus’s story is that however it turns out I don’t particularly trust the writers to do a good job. And maybe that’s part of the reason people hate him so much, too. He’s been a very effective villain for the past couple of seasons. 

For me, though, that’s part of why I’d be interested in seeing him try to redeem himself. The idea that someone a bit higher up the food chain can realize that what he/the Empire is doing is wrong and try to atone for that is... appealing, I guess. Maybe it shows a bit of hope after all. Plus you can explore the whole issue of whether or not they CAN make up for the sins of their past, how committed they are to actually changing, and how those around them might feel about it. I don’t want an “Oops, sorry, my bad. Let’s move on and pretend that never happened” story, I want one where all of the ugliness and awkwardness is brought to light and explored.

I think the reason people do things is important, too. Kallus genuinely believed that he was doing the right thing and once that belief was challenged and he started to question it and do his own investigations he realized he was wrong and is attempting to do something about it.

And then you have someone like Kyle Ron, who knows damn well that what he’s doing is wrong and likes it because he craves power and thrives off the fear and pain of others. For a while I thought it might be interesting to see someone who has fallen so far try and claw his way back up while having to live with the consequences of his actions (as opposed to, say, Vader), but upon reflection and given the utter skin-crawling horrorshow that is his fandom I think I just want him to die and/or suffer eternal torment.

Basically for me I guess the redemption angle is all about intent. If the person thought they were doing the right thing and then changed because they wanted to be better then I’m willing to give them the benefit of a doubt. If the person is an amoral shitheel who is either being dragged to redemption against his will or is doing it for entirely selfish reasons then I’m quite happy to watch them fail and suffer.