#i had to spend years biting at outstretched hands. i still often do. im still very wary . and my heart breaks that you flinch too.

[tennessoui]

omgggg yes number 45 gimme some number 45 obikin PLEASE

ok,,,,,,this is no. 1 Soulmates + no.45 in love with best friend's partner but it kinda got away from me so it's almost 2k and also like there's world-building im awful at snippets. This is obikin but also mentions of qui-gon/anakin BUT it's a fake relationship. it's not in the story, but the premise obi-wan doesn't know is that anakin needed coruscanti citizenship to get their healthcare for his mom, and qui-gon decides to help him out by marrying him to give him automatic citizenship i uh might continue this if people like it because it was fun to write whoops

“We met at the spaceport three days ago,” Anakin says with a demure little smile, curling further into Qui-Gon’s outstretched arm. The soft lamplight glints off the golden band Anakin’s wearing on his finger. Obi-Wan has had a hard time looking anywhere else since arriving in his old master’s quarters, has had a hard time thinking of anything else except that he’d always imagined Anakin wearing a more bronzed shade of gold.

It had been a shock to hear that while Obi-Wan had been out on a mission, Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant with a husband in tow. Yes, alright, short courtships aren’t rare anywhere in the galaxy, especially between soulmates.

But Obi-Wan knows intimately well--better than anyone else in this room--that Anakin and Qui-Gon aren’t, in fact, soulmates.

Mace seems to be thinking the same thing because he states, with a slight question in his voice, “I was under the impression that your soulmate had passed into the Force, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re not soulmates,” Qui-Gon corrects placidly, arm moving away from Anakin’s shoulders--Obi-Wan can breathe again--so he can fiddle with the cuff around his wrist, which hides the faded name of his mate. “But now that the Jedi Order has lifted its marriage ban for non-Soulmate couples, I thought, why spend the rest of my life alone?”

Anakin catches Qui-Gon’s hand and places a kiss on the back of his fingers. Obi-Wan is going to scream.

When Anakin looks up to the assembled Jedi watching, he doesn’t look at Obi-Wan once. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy, the fact that other than very briefly an hour ago, Anakin hasn’t looked at him at all. It’s been five years. “And I’ve met my soulmate, but they…decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at this and forgets to bite his tongue. “Maybe your soulmate had other obligations that they had to fulfill,” Obi-Wan bites out.

He’d thought Anakin ignoring him had been awful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of having him look at him with eyes as cold as Hoth. “I think I’d know more about my soulmate than you would, master Jedi. Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Obi-Wan almost tells him to check his wrist if he needs a reminder about Obi-Wan’s name, but the words get stuck in his throat.

It’s probably for the best.

Obi-Wan’s spent five years and the duration of a war hiding the name of his soulmate from the Jedi Order, and he can’t say it now. His other half has made it quite clear that he can’t say it now.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says, standing suddenly. He knows he should stay, should sit through the rest of the intake interview the Council gives to all non-Jedi sentients that marry a Jedi, soulmates or no, but he can’t. He’s the youngest person to sit on the Council in written history, he’s survived a war, trained the stubbornest Padawan of her generation, and this--this--looking across the table at Anakin Skywalker, dolled up and petty and full of hatred for him as he wears another man’s ring, Obi-Wan’s former master’s ring--this is going to be the thing that kills him.

Luckily, no one tries to stop him as he leaves. Maybe they think he’s just reacting to the fact that his fifty-eight year old master came home with a twenty-five year old husband. Maybe everything he’s feeling is written out on his face. Maybe he should never have tried to hide Anakin away. Maybe he should have called for extraction from his deep cover mission as soon as their hands had touched and their soulmarks had appeared. Maybe these past seven years should never have happened.

Force knows Obi-Wan would sleep easier if he had never walked into that Tatooine bar. If he had never met Anakin Skywalker.

He tries to meditate in his favorite spot in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, but it’s an impossible task. Mostly, he sits in a classic lotus position and broods.

A few hours later, when Obi-Wan thinks he’s recovered some of his composure, the person who’s always been able to ruin it sits himself down in front of him with a lot of unnecessary noise.

“When you talked about this place, I thought it sounded like the biggest waste of water in the entire galaxy,” Anakin’s voice sounds...normal. Like they’re picking up the thread of a conversation they had just dropped a moment ago, as if five years and a wedding and a war don’t stretch between them.

But if Anakin wants to talk to Obi-Wan like they had before, he’ll try his hardest to meet him there. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Anakin’s lounging back, still wearing the ceremonial robes of a Jedi’s bride, the loose blue silk barely hanging onto one of his shoulders. Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes again, immediately. “The greenery wouldn’t be able to survive without the water.”

Anakin nods, looking around as if slightly disinterested by it all. When he’d been eighteen, he’d soaked up every story Obi-Wan could tell him about the Temple, about the Jedi. Those piercing blue eyes find him again. It’s as if he knows Obi-Wan’s thoughts, because he smiles in the most humorless way. “I used to think I’d live here, and then I could see for myself if the beauty was worth the excess.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s all he can get out of his throat. It’s very clear what Anakin isn’t saying. That he used to think he’d live here with Obi-Wan. That they'd be--that they'd be.

“Now I understand that there’s no winning that argument. What one man sees as a waste, another might see as a treasure.”

Obi-Wan can’t do this. He thought--maybe he could--but. He can’t. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, moving to stand on his feet. “I hate to leave, but I must attend to--”

Anakin scrambles to his feet and latches onto Obi-Wan’s covered wrist. “Do you?” he asks intently, his hold tightening. “Did you?”

“This--this is most inappropriate, Chosen Skywalker, please remove yourself from my person.”

Anakin, blast him, moves even closer. Obi-Wan wonders if he can hear his heartbeat from that far away or if it’s just in Obi-Wan’s ears. “You have to tell me,” he demands. He’s always demanded things from Obi-Wan. Stories, and kisses, and comfort, and promises. Obi-Wan had given him everything he’d asked for, up until the very end.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has changed.

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan snaps, yanking his wrist away from Anakin’s touch. Even through the covering, his skin feels burned. “Tell you that I hated having to leave you? Tell you that I’ve thought about you every night since then? Tell you that there was a war, that I had to fight, that I didn’t choose to go? That I had a duty to the galaxy, to the Jedi, to my family?”

“You had a duty to me!” Anakin snarls back, squaring his shoulders and shoving forward into Obi-Wan’s space. “I was your soulmate and you left me and I waited and you never once called me, never once tried to visit! And then the war ended and you never came back!” His voice breaks and the flood of words Obi-Wan desperately does not want to hear breaks with it for just a second. “Why didn’t you come back? I don’t...I don’t care that you had to fight. I knew I couldn’t leave with you, not until I had freed my mom. But you just. You left.”

“I’m not the same man I was, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His voice shakes and he has to turn his head away from his soulmate’s watery blue eyes. “The war--it changed me. It hurt, to fight and kill and strategize on how to more effectively fight and kill the next day. Four years of that, and I knew at the end I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s soulmate, least of all yours.”

When Obi-Wan had first met him, Anakin had been laughing. His head had been tipped back, curls falling over his shoulders. The noise had been loud and honest. He’d been radiant in the Force. It had taken weeks for Obi-Wan to really believe something so bright could be the other half of his soul.

“I wanted to,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Every night I wanted to, and it only got harder after the war ended. I never stopped wanting to. Wanting you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan wants to ask him why it matters if he believes him or not, but Anakin’s words from earlier float back to him. They decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me. He can’t let Anakin continue to think Obi-Wan didn’t want him, not when he wanted him so badly he ached from it.

With shaking fingers, he moves to pull down the collar of his robes, just far enough that he can pull out the japor snippet he’s worn around his neck since the day Anakin gave it to him. He slowly lifts it over his head and presents it to his soulmate. Anakin’s eyes are wide with wonder as he stares down at the necklace, worm almost smooth by how often Obi-Wan had rubbed the carving with his thumb. “Always, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out to grab Anakin’s hand and dropping the wood carving into his palm. He carefully folds the man’s lax fingers around the necklace.

Hating himself for doing it, but needing to do it anyway, he brushes his lips over his fingers in a ghost of a kiss. Beneath his mouth, the wedding band feels warm from Anakin’s body heat. It’s a shockingly cold reminder.

“May the Force bless you and your Chosen, and reunite you at every end of your every day,” Obi-Wan whispers the Council’s official blessings for newly-wed couples into Anakin’s skin.This is the last time he’s ever going to touch him. He doesn’t want to let go.

He must. He does.

[nakedmossy]

Cruel Summer - Part 1 [JJ x Reader]

[A/N: Hi again. I've missed you. It was time for something new. I found this story in a dream. Prepare for a mental trip, it's indicative of the year i've had. This is gonna go in a million different directions and I can't say i'm surprised. Ive written two chapters and i'm already like ...well, fuck it i'm posting it...I needed to get back into writing and this is what I got so enjoy. I have a playlist I used while writing, comment if you want it shared. As always, not that any of us need the reminder....but there will be adult content (whatever that means) and language and NSFW content so...keep me off your screen at the dinner table. Love y'all ...Mossy x]

You ease your car into park, your hand resting on the gear shift, the tires slowly rocking back and forth on the soft ground as the engine dies. Sunlight streams through your windshield as a cloud of dust and sand settles around the car, and you feel a trapped breath release from deep in your chest. The quiet, melodic hum of music relaxes your shoulders and through the trees you can see the water rhythmically hitting the shore.

You haven’t been here in a few weeks and you're starting to feel it; the tight and uncomfortable tensing in your muscles, the locked jaw, the flat expressions. The closer it gets to the anniversary the more you feel the need to visit. But the frequency of your visits is dictated by Her, and She keeps tabs on your whereabouts a lot these days. ‘Its not healthy to spend so much time there’ She would say to you, while pulling a Valium out of her bag to slide towards you. She has your therapist on speed dial on the landline. And she blames you for living in the past. Ironic.

You pull your keys out of the ignition, unbuckle your seatbelt, and let your muscle memory guide you out of the car and through the trees to the edge of the embankment where the sand and the sea grass take over. Flashes of Lacey running down the beach in front of you, looking back over her shoulder and laughing, are burned into your eyelids when you blink. She was everywhere here, every corner of this beach belonged to her. Her towel spread out on the sand at your feet, books with water damaged pages scattered across it, her bag tossed lazily to the side. Her board perched against the log you used to dry out your wetsuits. Her camera.

You close your eyes and listen to the wind move through the grass, her laugh echoing off the rocks. Come on! She would laugh with an outstretched arm. Come take a picture with me.

Her lips were supple and her nose was sun kissed, her hair bleached and tousled from the saltwater. She would motion for you to come over and you would go, because you always did, to fit into the frame next to her, cramming yourself in wherever you could after she found her best angle. She would hold up the camera and wrap her arm around you tightly, the smell of her tanning oil and sweat floating around you in a heady cloud, and at the last moment she would press her lips to your cheek and whisper cheese.

You blink and look at the water again, a seagull squawking as it flies over the empty beach. Reaching into your jeans pocket and feeling for the photo, you pull it out and look down, the moment she clicked the button frozen in time on the paper in your hand. Her side profile was radiant, the wind blowing her hair around her lips which were pressed to your face, you looked straight at the camera with a shy smile, a hidden smile, a quiet smile. An honest smile.

You run your thumb across the picture reflexively before sighing and putting the picture back in your pocket, it was one of the last photos you had together and it was one of the only ones you could clearly make out your own face. That always bothered you. Now you’ll never forget how happy we were today. I love you. She shook the polaroid until it was developed, then pressed it into your chest and winked, waiting for you to grab ahold of it, before turning on her heal and running towards the water.

Your chest burns for a moment before you straighten up and set your jaw. You feel good today, closer to her than usual. Today might be the day. You follow the path through the dunes towards the water and concentrate on the tide, watching the foam and the water snake along the shoreline. It’s windy, but not as windy as it usually is this time of day. The sky, clear and clean of any clouds, is the colour of blue that reminds you what happiness is. Or was, you know, before all the shit happened. When life was something you had the ability to process, sometimes even enjoy.

Now or never. Your head whips up at the sound of her voice and you see her, standing in the water. You feel the blood rush to your face, your core warming. There she is, running a hand up her stomach towards her chest and smiling at you, the kind of smile that would get good people into bad situations.

Slowly you slide your sneakers off and kick them aside, wiggling the sand between your toes. You’re not wearing a bikini but the beach is empty, so you close your eyes and listen to Lacey laughing from the water, come on scaredy cat, nobodies looking, as you peel your top off and drop it into the sand beside your shoes. You unbutton your shorts next and let them slide down your legs, stepping out of them hesitantly.

Lacey walks out of the water, so you keep your eyes closed, knowing if you open them she will be gone, and you wait for her to bite her lip and smile at you. There. Look at your body. You’re beautiful. Come on. She guides you towards the water with nothing but her own bare skin and confidence, nothing could ever touch her. You know its only a few steps until your feet are in the water, you should open your eyes and look around to make sure nobody is watching, but you don’t get to see her often anymore between the Valium and the other stuff, so you forgo it for a few more seconds. Today is the day, you have to do it. Time is running out. She’s all but told you as much.

“I miss you” You say, but your voice sounds foreign and it breaks and scatters into the wind.

Im right here. Lacey smiles at you like she always did, her crooked dimpled grin, her perfectly straight white teeth, her eyes shining. Now shut up and get in the water.

You feel the warm dry sand turn to wet firm sand beneath your feet, you know you’re close. It’s ours, all of it. The water. Just let go and let the Ocean carry you. You’re weightless. Isn’t it perfect?

Your breathing is shallow and your palms are clammy. There’s a tingling sensation in your thighs and you feel dizzy. You have to open your eyes. No, don’t. Not yet. Stay with me.

The water touches your toes and your eyes shoot open, you recoil and lose your footing, falling backwards. You crab crawl away from the water until the tide retreats and you feel your vision tunnelling as Lacey fades into the sunbeam above the water.

You scramble back to your clothes and pull your shorts above your sand stained underwear, your shirt smoothing your hair down as it settles back over your shoulders. You take a few deep breaths until your heart rate slows down. A tear springs up and sits in your eye for a few moments before falling and drying on your cheek. The beach is the best place to cry. The ocean is loud so nobody hears you, and the sun is hot so the tears dry fast.

You don’t want to turn around and look back at the water, you know she won’t be there. You’re alone, properly alone, just like she said you would be, psychic bitch. If she hadn’t been so charismatic and beautiful and conveniently wealthy, people would have outcasted her for being a freak a long time ago. What with all the tealeaves and palm readings and ‘gut feelings’. But they never did, her family had more money than the Kennedys and she looked like she walked runways for fun on the weekends, so she was untouchable. Your stomach starts to turn as you think about it so you blink the ground in front of you back into focus and start walking.

You have a few minutes of freedom left before She starts calling and asking where you are, so you walk slow to savour it. Who knows when you would be allowed out long enough again to go back.

You emerge from the tree cover into the parking area, pondering how many different routes you can take to get home to elongate the drive, when you hear a car door close. You look up, pulled from your thoughts, and squint to see through the bright sun.

“‘Scuse me!” A voice says, deep and friendly. A silhouette is moving towards you, so you bring your hand up to block the sun from your eyes. “Hey, sorry, do you live around here?”

You blink a few times as the silhouette gets closer and make out the figure of a tall man with wispy hair and baggy shorts.

“Sorry?” You reply, still trying to get a clear image.

“Im just trying to find the Marina but I have taken at least 5 of these side roads and all I keep finding is empty damn parking lots.” The man stops a few feet from you, close enough that you can make out a tan face with a toothy grin, and blonde hair. “First one with a pretty girl though, so I must be going the right way.” He smiles at you confidently, shielding his own eyes from the sun, but still squinting.

You look back over your shoulder to the beach, confirming Lacey is gone. You turn and look at the man who is watching you intently, hopefully, and smile quietly.

“Yeah, it’s uh…its just back on the main road, go 3 clicks south and take a right at the fork. You’ll see a fancy sign for a beach club, it’s just past that.” You look past him to the old Ford truck with rusted wheel wells and smile to yourself. “Assuming you’re not going to the beach club.”

The man laughs and smiles, looking over your shoulder at the beach before his eyes settle back on you. “Nope. Never been to one of those…legally.” He winks and backs up a few steps, then nods and says “Thanks” before turning and walking back towards his truck. He slows as he reaches it and stops, then turns back and pivots before jogging back to you.

You wait and watch, curious. He stops a few steps away and stretches out his hand.

“Sorry. That was rude of me. Im JJ.”

[moody-bloosh]

mirror, mirror (Illuso)

for some reason, i was in a bit of a fairy tale mood. so here’s my take on snow white ~! fem!reader too btw im sorry i couldn’t make it gender neutral :( here’s one of the passion projects I’ve been working on since last year <3 <3 I hope you all like it! 

tagging @a-nonnie-mousse​ bc she’s the only other illuso stan i personally know <3

content warning: yandere, manipulation, mind break, homicide, gore 

As the newest addition to the king’s harem, the latest flower in his blooming garden, you knew you should be thankful for the opportunity. For someone like you born the second daughter of some countryside lord, a spot in the king’s harem meant comfort, riches, and if you were so inclined, power. 

But for the sweet and simple you, you were already happy to be allowed such a privilege. There was no greater honor than to serve the king, you believed. Besides, some part of you marveled over how romantic it was. Innocently, you imagined that perhaps in the palace, the king would show you the love and affection you’d only known of in passing, just like the ones you were so fond of reading about in your books. 

And so even though it pained you to uproot yourself from your home, the only world you had ever known. You had taken the king’s outstretched hand and agreed to be his newest concubine. 

On your first day in the harem, the king gifts you with a mirror. A large ornate, full length mirror inlaid with pearls and gold. How it had filled your heart with so much love and adoration, you’d never had such finery back at home. 

Oh, if only you’d known that this was common practice for the king. 

If only you were a little wiser to the nuances of the palace. 

If only you had known better, you would have tried harder to seduce the king. You would have worked even harder to try and secure allies. But you did not know any better. You were the second daughter of a countryside lord and you were not wise at all to the politics that brewed in court. 

Before you knew it you were painfully alone. Seeing that the king was beginning to tire of you, the other concubines took it upon themselves to curry favor with him again. Pushed to the side, alone, isolated, you yearned for your home and yet you could not return. 

You were the king’s concubine now and you were his property. 

You had nobody in this painfully beautiful palace. Consigning yourself to a slow and silent decay, you decided to keep to yourself. Your heart too fragile to keep up with courtly intrigue and the painful words of the other concubines. 

All you had now were your books. Your books and your beautiful mirror. 

One lonely afternoon, you were lying in bed, reading when you heard the most peculiar thing. A distinctly male voice sounded through your room. Too youthful, too deep to be the king’s. You froze, fearful of an intruder. You held the book close to your chest, a makeshift weapon as you looked around your room. 

Your room looked painfully ordinary. Looking here and there for any sign of an intruder, you hesitantly walked around your room. 

“Over here~” 

You froze immediately. 

D-did the mirror just talk?! 

Bringing your hands up to your mouth to suppress the frightened scream that threatened to tear out of your throat, you considered the mirror once more. It was painfully maddening in its normalcy. Perhaps...perhaps you were just imagining things. Hesitantly, you gently brushed your hand against the mirror’s surface. When nothing happened, you breathed a sigh of relief and your expression softened once more. 

Maybe it was all just your imagination. 

“That’s a nice expression,” the voice said again, “you look pretty when you smile.” 

Your heart falls and your expression falters, as the mirror in front of you reveals a handsome man. With hair tied up in neat pigtails and his eyes seeming to pierce through you, you trembled. Biting back another scream, you found your knees buckling, too frightened of the supernatural happenings. 

However, before you could find yourself tumbling down to the floor, you felt strong arms wrap around you, holding you safe and secure. Looking up into the stranger’s eyes you found yourself transfixed by its beauty. Red eyes glittering like precious rubies, full, soft-looking lips curled into a smug smile that sent your heart pattering wildly against your chest. 

Illuso smirked. 

“See something you like, your highness?” 

“I-I...” 

You trail off, too confused by the sudden turn of events. 

“Hm? A little tongue tied I see, I admit, I do have that effect on people~” 

“Y-you... the mirror...” 

“Ah yes, it’s an interesting ability isn’t it?” 

“Who are you?” 

Illuso caressed your cheek tenderly. He drank in your flustered, embarrassed expression. So adorable, so pure. Holding you closer and leaning forward so that his lips were merely inches away from yours, Illuso whispered. 

“I can be whatever you want me to be, your highness.” 

“T-then...” You said softly, shyly averting your gaze from him. 

Illuso hummed. Of course, not even you would be able to resist him. As if considering his words, you took a moment to think before you looked back at him. He was still holding you tightly. Your heart pounded fiercely against your chest as you opened your mouth to tell him your wish. 

“Will you be my friend?” 

Illuso is true to his words, you find. Soon, the boring days you were trapped in began to be filled with happy memories that you would spend with Illuso. You found yourself smiling more often recently. Some days you would catch yourself smiling as you selected books for you and Illuso to read from the library or you would find yourself thinking of what he might like to have for tea that day. 

Naturally, the other residents of the castle begin to take notice of the sudden shift in your behavior. The concubines would gossip, jealous about how you could devour so much snacks by yourself and still retain your lovely figure. Suddenly, they were inviting you to spend time with them, to read with them, to be with them as they went about their sewing. You were pleased to discover that they weren’t as terrible as you had initially thought. Soon enough, you were swept away in tea parties and plays and private viewings at esteemed art galleries. 

It made you a little anxious at first to spend so much time with such intimidating noble ladies, you began to ease up around them. Even though at first, you had been loathe to part with Illuso, you found yourself spending less and less time with him. At the very least, you would make time in your evenings to sit with Illuso and tell him about your day. You would apologize that you couldn’t spend as much time with him as you had used to. And though he wasn’t one to openly complain you did take note of his huffy demeanor and promise to make it up to him soon. Sadly, and much to Illuso’s displeasure, you never really were able to keep your promises to him. 

Even, the king himself had taken notice of you. Your innocent joy and sweetness reminding him of why he had taken you to be one of his concubines in the first place. That was another thing you needed to be grateful to Illuso for. You had regained the king’s favor. You would cheerfully spin around in front of Illuso showing off the new dresses and the pretty jewelry the king would lavish onto you. You would tell him how happy you were that the king was finally paying attention to you again, blissfully unaware of the jealousy in his eyes. 

“It’s all thanks to you, Illuso,” you said to him. “If you hadn’t rescued me from loneliness then I would have spent the rest of my life sulking alone.” 

You grasped his hands gently, looking up at him with a sweet smile on your face. You looked at him so adoringly, so reverently. The sight of you, looking at him so lovingly had his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He worried that you would hear it. 

“I’m so very grateful for you,” you told him, giving him a small, chaste kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, my dearest friend.” 

Something ugly and dark rears its head in Illuso’s heart. 

Was that really all you saw him as? A friend? 

No. No. He couldn’t accept that. He would not accept that. 

You were his Queen, the only bright light in his dark world. And he was your savior, wasn’t he? The reason you had even begun to smile again, the one who had saved you from a dull life. 

As you spoke to him about the king, that wretched vile bastard who dared to monopolize your time, he thought long and hard about how he would bring you back into his arms. 

All he wanted was for you to be his and only his again. 

It is all too easy for Illuso to slink around unnoticed and whisper slanderous words about you to the other concubines. Soon enough they do his job for him, he watches as you are shunned once more. The target of vicious bullying and vitriol. You would quietly tell Illuso all about the horrifying ordeals you were forced to endure. And he would play the part of your every loyal, always understanding friend. 

You are the fairest of them all,” Illuso whispers, his tone as sweet as honey, and his touch so inviting. 

“They are simply jealous of you, my Queen,” Illuso would say, sweet, comforting, “you know that they are nothing compared to you.” 

His red eyes glimmered like rubies as he leaned out of the mirror, his lips coming dangerously close to your own. “I hate to see you so sad...” 

“Just say the words your majesty,” he says sweetly. “I’ll take care of them for you.” 

You aren’t as foolish or as innocent as Illuso thinks. Spending so much time in his company, it was only inevitable that you’d come to be corrupted too. You know full well what Illuso means when he offers to take care of your problem. Your fingers clench, ruining the delicate fabric of the new dress the king had given you. If Illuso notices the conflicted look on your face, he doesn’t comment on it. 

“Please,” you whisper. “Please help me, Illuso.” 

Lately, you wake up with tears in your eyes. Every night, Illuso would come to you with a smile on his face. Every morning, a new corpse would be found. Each and every death hangs on your conscience, makes you wash your hands and clean yourself with a little too much vigor. Tensions rise in the palace, the other concubines beg the king to let them leave. Your numbers dwindle and dwindle until only you and a handful of other noble ladies are left. 

You are the King’s favorite and you have lasted the longest. 

When he crowns you Queen as thanks for your loyalty, you assume that maybe this time you will be happy. You confide in Illuso and as always he nods and tells you that he is happy that you are to be Queen. 

When you tell him that you are excited to move into the king’s quarters, he stills. But he does not let any of his unsightly jealousy show. Instead, he digs his nails into his palm, hard enough to draw blood. He keeps up his gentle facade at least until you fall asleep. He watches you sleep, you sleep peacefully for the first time since his killings. He takes in the soft rise and fall of your chest and when you turn over to the other side, he finally makes his move. 

Stepping out of the mirror, he softly pads over to you. Caressing your cheek, he leans forward to plant a delicate kiss on your lips, just as he had done every night since he had ascertained his feelings for you. 

He thinks, thinks as hard as he can about a way to keep you out of that disgusting king’s clutches. It takes him a moment or two before he understands. Illuso chuckles softly, as the solution comes to him. Painfully simple. 

He just had to get rid of the king.  

The newest addition to the king’s harem: a sweet girl with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood. She was beautiful, so painfully beautiful you felt physically sick in her presence. When she is introduced to the king, he gives her a mirror. 

Almost identical to the one he gave you. 

As you are prone to do now, you run to Illuso. You ask him, voice dripping with betrayal and heartbreak how many? Illuso has the gall to look surprised and that breaks you just the slightest bit. 

“I know, Illuso. I know I’m not special. Tell me how many concubines have you offered your friendship? Your companionship? Did you give them something more?” 

And oh, how quick he is to step out of his mirror and hold you in his strong arms. Blanketing you in a warmth, you were loathe to admit you wanted. 

“Only you, my Queen, it’s always been just you.” 

“Then why me? Why someone like me?!” 

“Because,” and with his free hand, he hooks his index finger under your chin, prompting you to look him in the eye. “You are the fairest of them all.” 

The fairest? Really? How stupid did Illuso think you were? You looked so pathetic, so shameful reflected in his eyes. As if scalded by his sincere words, you try to tear your gaze away from his but you find yourself transfixed by him. He was handsome, he could have anyone in the harem. Before you can even say anything else, Illuso kisses you. 

And it is sweeter than any wine, more passionate than anything you’ve ever experienced, you close your eyes as you give in to his affections. The kiss is brief but you find that it is enough. 

When he caresses your cheek, you can’t help but blush as you lean in to his touch. You’ve never known what it truly meant to be wanted, to be desired. To be loved. You’d never received the love you truly wanted, the love Illuso was so willing to give you.

When he leans in to kiss you, you lean forward to meet him halfway. When his hands begin to rove around, you let him. 

You wanted him to give you the love you were so desperate for. And he was kind enough to acquiesce over and over through the night. 

Even now, the people still whisper about that dreadful day when the Queen had invited the king and all his concubines to a banquet, how she had given them all beautifully baked apple tarts, how even though she had taken a bite of one of those apple tarts she had survived the deadly poison within them. 

No one had dared to oppose you, dissenters were hushed, even people who would whisper insults about you would suddenly be found hanged in the town’s square. 

The New Queen is a witch. The New Queen was granted powers by the Devil, himself. 

The New Queen is always talking to her mirror. 

You were crying again, hysterical and of course, only Illuso could soothe you. 

Just as he had wanted. 

“It’s so terrible what the peasants call you,” Illuso had murmured softly as you nuzzled closer to him, “they call you the Evil Queen, the Mad Queen, even.” 

Illuso sighed as he cupped your tearstained face to wipe away your tears, “oh, if only they knew how lovely you really are.” 

You clung to Illuso all the more, you held him as if he was  your only hope and in a way he was. You don’t sleep well at night anymore. The images of that gruesome banquet forever imbedded in your mind. How they all retched and vomited blood after taking a bite of the apple tarts, how the king desperately grabbed your neck, trying to take you down with him until Illuso had appeared to slit his throat. 

In this horrible, horrible world, you could lean only on Illuso. He was the only one in this world who really loved you, and how fortunate you were to find someone like him.

Illuso cups your cheeks, using the pads of his thumb to wipe away your tears. 

So lucky, you were so lucky to find someone like Illuso. Illuso drinks in the devotion, the ardor in your eyes like it is the finest of wines. Smiling as he leans forward to seal a passionate kiss on your lips once more, you are only too desperate to please him. 

“My darling, my Queen, my _____. You truly are the fairest of them all.” 

[guildwarsstartrekskyrim]

Oh death

Ooh death Whooooah death Won't you spare me over ‘til a another year?

Previously, and set before this, this and this.

The fortress was not far from Gallowfield’s and boasted the name of Seanan.  A bandit enclave that now flew the mark of the White Mantle.  With activity in the Wildlands that centred around the bandits and what had been revealed as allies in the Inquest and Nightmare Court, one has to wonder what those two organizations must be feeling knowing that at some point the White Mantle would stab them in the back.

Often times it is much more reassuring to know your enemy than put faith in a suspicious ally.

Those thoughts were far from Wren Wennemein’s mind as she dismounted from her faithful steed.  Raven, a jet black horse, obediently moved off to a patch of grass far from his mistress.

Wren drew her sword as her eyes studied the fortress from the shadows of her hood. Her cloak billowed in the wind as the fading light of the day sparkled off of her armour. There was no stealth, no shadows and no hiding away to stalk and secretly infiltrate. Today was not a day for consoling words from a combat medic, no attempts at using a healing touch to keep death from claiming another.

Today, Wren was Grenth’s vessel.

Well what is this that I can’t see With ice cold hands taking hold of me

The bandits in the fortress saw Wren clearly, they saw her horse leisurely grazing off on some small grassy hill.  The two guards at the main gate laughed and began to leisurely walk toward her, weapons drawn and at the ready.

As they stepped closer, Wren took her sword in both hands and held it firm in front of her, the tip pointed to the sky while she held the hilt near her breast.  The two guards slowed their pace and heard her speak in a whisper that would chill to the bone.

“Came then Desmina, scorned and exiled by her people. And in her misery and wretchedness, did Desmina curse the gods for abandoning all who, like her, admired power and ambition.And asketh she, ‘Where is the god to whom I may give my undying devotion? Where is the god to whom I may beg revenge against those who scorn me?’ And rumbled then the earth from far below, and with a terrible groan, split open. The ground grew white with frost and ice, and from forth the frozen earth spilled the rotted, skeletal minions of Grenth. Appeared then the god, and with bony hands outstretched, welcomed the girl into His fold. Saith he, ‘I am your god. Follow where I lead, come whence I call, and the rotted corpses of the dead will be yours to control.’ And swearing allegiance in life and beyond, did Desmina thence become the god's first follower.”

The two bandits looked confused as they heard the words spoken of the dark god Grenth, that confusion turned to fear as the very ground seemed to become covered in frost. The plants shrivelled under the weight of the ice that began to crack and freeze the ground, the air became biting and cold and they could see their breath.

“May you serve Grenth for all eternity,” Wren said as her sword slashed through the air, cutting down the first guard. “You will have that time to think on your actions in life.” The second guard was impaled on Wren’s sword as she stepped to him, stabbing him straight through the heart. Those watching from the fort seemed to freeze in place, now knowing this lone guardian was not just some lone stranger. “The trap is sprung,” Wren called out.

The flash of a turret flared up as a rocket slammed into the side of the fort. Two more turrets were dropped by Sywyn and began sending out a spray of bullets toward one of the other gates to the fort.  On the other side of the fort, two guards fell as Shani sprang from the shadows.

“Ain’t nuthin’ like a co-ordinated effort,” Shani called out.  Inside the fortress there was confusion, but they could still hear the Sheriff clearly.  “Now all y’all best send out the leader o’ yer band o’ merry men.  Be better ifn ya give up the peckerwood thet holds this place, we can deal with ‘im an’ then move on.”

“We’ll even be all courteous like an’ place ‘im in the hands of the Seraph,” Sywyn called out.  “That way, he can spend the rest of his happy life in the confines of a 12 by 12 cell.”

“Ya hear thet, Wren,” Shani said with a chuckle.  “I do b’lieve our older brother is findin’ the pleasant side o’ the things we do. An’ still find room fer mercy within all o’ thet.”

“All that sun in the desert, I wager,” Wren said with a laugh.

“Hey,” Shani shouted toward the fort as she moved to join her sister.  Sywyn moved to stand beside Wren as well as his turrets continued to send a barrage of bullets and rockets to the fort.  “Is all y’all gonna comply an’ send out who we wanna see? Or we gonna haveta burn ya out. ‘Cause I’m fine with thet too!”

A smile crept over Wren’s lips as she watched the walls of the fortress and saw the movement along the top of the walls. “I think Grenth is gonna get some company t’night.”