#like it just. wouldn't matter. yeah sure they might be sad for a little while but after a few weeks everything would go back to normal and

[running-in-the-dark]

wondering how you know if the weight of everything is actually too much and if maybe the future just isn't worth it.

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

or

Logan has to learn to get along with the newest family member.

Logan isn’t always resistant to change; in fact, he would do about anything for his lover, for his Y/N. He spends most of his nights watching the garbage TV of the modern family that she loves, and he even let her get pink tiles in the bathroom when they moved in together, but this might be too far.

He knows something’s up as soon as he walks through the door. Y/N usually comes running to greet him with a sweet kiss, or if not, he can usually hear her stomping around upstairs doing God knows what. But today, he doesn't hear anything immediately when he opens the door, and Y/N certainly isn't there to greet him.

As he steps further into the house, he tries to pick up on any sounds. Is that water running? It's a little early for Lovie to be having her nighttime shower, but perhaps a change in routine was called for. As he approached the sound, he realized that it wasn’t the shower; in fact, it was the sink in the bathroom. He could see her back facing him as she hunched over the sink, muttering to herself.

“Y/N?”

She quickly jumped at the unexpected sound, splashing water before turning around.

“Hey, love.”

He quirked an eyebrow. She sounded rather guilty.

“Is everything okay, baby?” he asked, peering over her shoulder to try and get a glimpse of what she was doing.

“Yeah, everything—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “Is that a cat?”

In the sink that he was standing in front of, he swore for just a second that he could see a sopping wet cat shivering in the middle of it. She finally relented quickly, turning around to pick up the tiny thing and pulling it tight into her chest, causing her shirt to quickly be soaked with soap and water.

“Actually, no, Lo, it’s a kitten,” she continued quickly, “and his name is Squish, thank you.”

“Baby, why the fuck do you have a kitten?”

He could be mad; she looked so cute standing there holding the tiny thing close to her, just like a protective mother.

“I found him, and he was all alone. He looked so sad; I couldn't just leave him there, Lo.”

Okay, he definitely wasn’t mad; how could he be when his baby had been doing something so sweet and loving? He hummed.

“So his name is Squish?”

Y/N lit up instantly. “Yes! Isn’t he the cutest?”

He nodded vaguely along, checking out the kitten closely. It was pretty cute, with white and red fur and big round eyes that peered up at him longingly. He was a little hesitant to reach out and pet ‘Squish’ just yet, but perhaps admitting his cuteness was the first step to that. He shook his head gently when Y/N offered for him to hold the kitten; that was definitely a while in the future.

The start of their relationship was rocky; Squish truly was very cute and made his baby very happy, but the kitten hadn't exactly taken a keen liking to Logan. Perhaps this cat was super smart or something, but he felt like the cat could tell something was up, could tell that he wasn't entirely normal. And listen, it wasn't entirely unjust; he had caught Logan whipping his claws out once completely on accident, but he had felt so guilty for scaring the little guy that he had fed him for a week just to win his trust back.

But it wasn’t just that; whenever Y/N wasn't around, Squish was, well, rather cold towards him. Perhaps it was rather silly of him to read into the emotions and feelings of an actual cat, but he felt that he should be closer to the thing. They did have quite a bit in common, more than he was willing to admit, much to his dismay. But no matter their common ability to ruin furniture, he couldn't quite understand the thing. It wouldn't matter if it was anything else, but this little kitty meant so much to his lover that he felt rather guilty about their mutual distaste for each other.

It goes on like this for a little while; they tiptoe and walk on four legs around each other for a little while, Logan embarrassingly unsure how to handle the little cat except for feeding it every day in hopes of it taking more of a liking to him. Things do not change for weeks.

Y/N has to go out of town for a few nights; she promises to call him every night (after teaching him his way around FaceTime) and makes sure he has Squish’s routine down pat. She leaves early in the morning, giving him a quick kiss on the lips and a somewhat crushing hug before she does the same for their cat and leaves out the door.

And suddenly they are alone together. He feels like a deadbeat father, unsure how to handle hanging out with his kid. Feeding it and then leaving it to its own devices. However, he finds himself rather lonely; of course, he finds things to do. He sees some friends, fixes the broken shelf in the bedroom, and considers what color he should consider painting the bathroom. He finds himself a little lonely; he is the only human in the house, and the only other creature seems to be avoiding him if it's not dinner time.

On day three of Y/N's absence (not that he's counting), he sits alone on the couch. He has eaten a rather pathetic dinner and now sits watching an episode of Modern Family on basically zero volume. The little guy comes trotting into the room. Despite the cat being about the same size as his hand, he can hear its little paws clicking on the ground, or perhaps he is more in tune with his supersense than he thinks.

Squish jumps up, settling onto the opposite end of the couch to Logan. He reaches out to pat Squish, but he gets quickly rejected as the cat shakes off his pat before turning around. This is not going well. He remembers what Y/N said—that he enjoyed scratches behind his ears, although he's pretty sure she had referred to them as "scratchies.”

Fuck it, it was time for him to give Squish some scratchies. He reached out and carefully patted the cat behind the ears. The little guy quickly leaned his head into Logan's hands, rubbing against them with what he could swear was a small smile. Squish moved closer to him, placing his furry head on Logan's thigh. This was nice.

He had opened the floodgates, and now there seemed to be no stopping them. Squish went everywhere that he went, always following Logan around, running around at his feet. He had also taken to sleeping in the bed with Logan. Logan was rather obsessed with having the little thing sleeping on his bicep or chest. Squish had taken residence on his thighs during their now shared TV time and had taken to meowing outside the bathroom when he spent too long in the shower thinking about his Y/N (Squish had ruined his pace at least once with the meowing, but Logan had quickly forgiven him, scared that he had traumatized the kitten again).

In all his excitement, he hadn't told Y/N about this new development in his relationship with her baby. Of course, he had been texting her more often than not—all they had been saying was “I miss you” and “I love you more,” and their phone calls had often consisted of too much talking.

After what seemed to be a lifetime, Y/N came home. She had texted him that morning letting him know her estimated arrival time, but he had jumped to his feet when he had heard her car pull up in the driveway, quickly swooping up Squish in his left arm before rushing to pull the door open. He grinned at her.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, Lo,” she replied before he pulled her into his arms, hugging her close to his chest. He kissed her on the head.

“I missed you."

"I missed you too, love.”

He shut the door behind her as she turned to face him and gasped in surprise.

“My baby!” she somewhat squealed in excitement, and she reached for the kitten, pulling him into her chest and kissing him multiple times on the head.

“I see you are getting along well,” she grinned at Logan. He felt his cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, we've been hanging out,” he shrugged.

She reached up for his collar and pushed their lips together. He smiled into the kiss. God, he loved his Y/N (and their Squish).

Squish’s clinginess towards him tampered down once his mommy was home. The kitten still sleeps in the bed with them and often rests himself on Logan's thigh, but he has stopped following Logan around wherever he goes. Y/N has definitely noticed their newly formed bond; she often catches them snuggled together when she gets up to pee in the middle of the night and has to stop herself from cooing every time Logan picks him up, dwarfing the little guy in his big hands.

Late one night, Y/N is in the shower, and Logan finds himself alone with the cat. He picks up Squish, pulling him next to his face and kissing the small guy.

“My baby,” he mutters. “My baby, tiny baby,” he utters quietly, gently kissing the kitten on the head.

God, he was down bad.

[rationaliity]

progression | aventurine blurb

loving aventurine was as easy as breathing to you, something incredibly hard for him to grasp. he didn't get it at all. when he first walked into your life, he had this arrogant mask up, another one of his well preserved fabrications to protect himself. he was snarky to you. not necessarily rude, but he wasn't afraid to bare his fangs and show you that he was capable of hurting you if he needed to. he wasn't afraid of hurting anyone. another gamble he was putting his faith in, that he wouldn't be put in a situation where he would have to hurt you.

you loved him during that stage. every sarcastic 'friend' he tacked on to every sentence like it was more of an insult than anything else, every boundary that he crossed of yours, every little lie he spun to keep you at arms length, trying to protect you from his teeth. words hurt less than his bite. and yet, you were there for him even when he was sure he would have pushed you away, and it unnerved him.

" aventurine ~ " you called out from behind him to get his attention, before lightly jogging up to him, standing by his side. not in front of him, but beside him. " i know you might be busy today with business as usual, but i was hoping that you were free this afternoon ? there's this new coffee shop that opened up, and i though- "

" coffee ? sorry to disappoint you, friend, but i am busy this afternoon, " he shook his head, as if dismissing the idea outright entirely.

" oh, that's okay ! i'm still able to say hi right now while we're walking, so that's enough, " you chirped, but he could hear the unmistakable sound of disappointment and sadness in your tone, making the guilt inside of him at being the one who caused your unhappiness eat him alive. but the look on his face didn't change, his walls too big to penetrate.

he did find you at that coffee shop, though. " oh, hello, friend- " he had called out, approaching your table, sitting next to you without even asking. he saw your eyes light up, and for a second he felt the warmth in his chest burst forward, his heart beating against his ribcage. " what good fortune that i was able to finish my tasks a little while ago. i didn't think you would actually come here alone. " there was a hint of confusion in his voice, but it was masked just as quickly as it came.

after this interaction, aventurine got a little awkward with you. what was he expected to say ? what did he do if he wasn't trying to push you away ? he was clumsy with his words, often just silently nodding along as you talked, and sometimes bringing up tiny points. he wasn't good at conversation when it wasn't to serve an agenda. being in survival mode his entire life, he had no idea how to be social, much less to someone as kind as you.

no matter how much he stumbled and fell over his own words, you treated him the same. he approached you cautiously, as if he was afraid that one day you would get sick of him and throw him out of your life permanently. was his personality too much for you to handle ? was he doing something wrong ? he wasn't sure, this was uncharted territory for him. all he could do was throw his dice and hope for the best outcome, something that was so comforting now unnerving. he could bet every single one of his chips, every possession he owned, including his own life, but you ? betting on you felt like one risk he wasn't willing to take.

" hey- i was at this shop a while ago, and i was hoping that you'd want to visit ? with me, of course, " aventurine asked, trying very hard not to look how pretty you looked right now, how your smile made his heart flutter every single time without fail. " i saw something i thought you might like. i wanted to get it for you but i don't know your size. "

" oh ? yeah, i'd love to go with you ! " you agreed immediately, as if everything that you were doing before this was suddenly unimportant. " but you really don't have to pay for me, honestly. i can take care of myself. "

this through him for a loop, and he hid it well, but aventurine had no idea what that meant. did you not want him to pay for you ? or were you just trying to be modest ? it wasn't like he was hungry for money, it was fine on his pockets, and he didn't mind spending if it meant spending on you, of course. besides, what did you want from accompanying him if it wasn't to buy things ? that's what friends were for, right ? it was a mutual beneficial agreement between two people to be friendly with each other to gain something from another, right ?

he was pretty sure that was how it was to be friends, but you challenged all of that. especially when you bought him a drink from a shop. he'd just mentioned it offhanded that he could go for some boba tea, and you had agreed, saying that it would be really good right now. and then you bought him his ? that's not how that was supposed to work, he was sure of it. why would you go out of your way to pay for something for him that you yourself wouldn't even get to enjoy ? he was willing to buy you things to keep you around him, but you didn't need to buy him anything to keep him around.

the possibility that you didn't want anything from him other than his time and himself was confusion, but refreshing.

eventually late night outs became late nights inside, and aventurine found himself in a precarious position, on your couch, your body on the other side, cuddling up against a pillow. the intimacy of the situation felt like it was choking him. and he finally got the courage to ask you the question that plagued him - why ? why did you care ? why did you try so hard ? what was in it for you ? putting your bets on him was a foolish decision that he couldn't rationalize. even he didn't bet on himself.

" because you're worth it, " you shrugged a little, the answer's simplicity wiping everything from him. all of his fears, his confusion, his doubts, just for this moment. right now, he understood. you never pushed him out of his comfort zone, and let your companionship evolve naturally. he didn't even realize he had let you inside of his shell before it was too late. " because you deserve it. "

he thought you were worth it, too. trusting you, putting his faith in you even though you had the ability to hurt him. it was worth it. you were worth it.

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Make you mine - Part Two- Lucifer x fallen angel!fem!reader

Go to part one Words: ~2250 TW: swearing, mentions of sex

"You don't stay?" you asked, as you watched Adam getting dressed, your breath still feeling heavy. You've heard many angels say he was a busy man, but you at least hoped he'd spend the night with you.

"Nah. Got better things to do than watching you sleep, sweetheart." He gave you a cocky smirk as he got up, pulling his shirt on over his head. He took a couple of steps towards you, his gaze drifting over your body for a moment longer. Your heart ached at his words, a feeling of vulnerability washing over you, your eyes getting a bit teary.

"Hey, hey, what's with that look? You didn't seriously expect me to cuddle up with you and stay the night, did you?" he asked.

"Well... I hoped you would stick around for a while..."

He sighed at your words, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ok, here's what we're gonna do. Extermination Day is in two fucking days, babe. I have a lot of things to do." he explained, studying your reaction for a moment, before speaking again. "I might be able to stay longer after that. Just two more days. I'll stay a little longer afterwards, okay dollface?"

You smiled a bit at his words, nodding slightly as you covered your body with your wings. He turned around to leave, but something still bothered you, something you desperately needed an answer to.

"Adam?" you asked your voice low, almost a whisper. His hand stopped on the doorknob as he turned to face you, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Yes?"

Your wings wrapped tightly around you, almost like a protective shield as you thought about the right words to ask him.

"What are we?"

He raised an eyebrow at your question, a bit taken aback by it. "We're... having fun, you know," he said with a forced smile. "Does it really need a label, doll?"

You thought for a moment, not really knowing what to make out of it, but the sickening feeling in your gut surely told you it was not the answer you expected. "I... I guess not?"

"Right. Then there's no need to complicate things, is there? We're having a good time, and that's all that matters, right?" You nodded slightly, trying to force a smile so he wouldn't question you anymore, so he would finally leave you alone. "You sure you're fine? You look like you're about to cry or something," he teased, his tone more playful than concerned. You nodded again, the answer good enough to make him leave you alone in the cold room.

You weren't sure if you expected this to happen or not. You weren't even sure if he was gonna come back. But even if you expected it or not, it still hurt you like hell. You pulled your wings closer as if shielding yourself from the cold emptiness he left behind. You told yourself it was just a fling, but it never felt like that to you.

You couldn't wait for the day to become a proper exorcist. Maybe just then he'll finally give you some more credit...

You couldn't help but smile as you listened to Charlie explaining the whole purpose of her hotel. Adam did tell you some things, but you just now realise how much he kept you in darkness.

"I want them all to have a chance to redeem!" she said excitedly, but a sudden hint of sadness replaced the look on her face. "If only Heaven would listen to me..."

Her eyes widened as you placed a hand on her shoulder, your smile genuine. "I didn't know all these... They... kind of keep us away from the truth up there..." Her smile returned slightly. A part of her knew this would be the case. It was kind of hard to believe that no one in Heaven would share her dreams if they knew.

"Yeah, they usually like doing so..." Lucifer's voice echoed in the room, making your body tense slightly as you both turned to face him. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the two of you. There was a hint of a smirk on his face as he spoke. "I see the two of you are getting along." He said, his tone slightly sarcastic.

"Dad, I have the perfect idea!" Charlie said, the stiffness in your body slightly disappearing. "I have that meeting with Heaven tomorrow. Why don't we tell them (Y/n) is here? She told me she had some friends there so maybe-"

"Absolutely not." He said bluntly, the smile on both of your faces disappearing completely.

"But... maybe they'll take her back to Heaven..." Charlie protested.

"And punish her for betraying them?" You and Charlie looked at each other, the hope you might have had left slowly fading. He sighed, stepping closer, his eyes fixed on you. "Look... I know this place is... not your cup of cake, but trust me when I say it is better than what those exorcists would do to you." He said and you could tell there was a hint of remorse on his face. "Besides, Adam-"

"Adam?" you asked quickly as you heard his name, a glint of hope reappearing on your face. "Will Adam be there too?"

Lucifer looked at you, his expression hardening as you mentioned Adam. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he didn't like it one bit. "Unfortunately, yes." He said with a slight sneer. "He'll be there. All the higher-ranking angels are obligated to attend those meetings."

"Adam will listen!" you protested, the sudden pain in your back as you tried to move, making you calm down a bit. "He will tell them to get me back."

Lucifer chuckled darkly at your naive belief. "Oh sweetheart, you're quite naive, aren't you?" He said, his tone condescending. He leaned closer, his eyes studying your face intently."Do you really think Adam—or anyone up there—cares enough to even notice you? You're a deserter, a traitor to them. They won't hesitate to destroy you if they get the chance."

"No... you have to listen!" your gaze shifted between them, frustration building up inside of you. "I knew Adam. We... We have a history." you said, even though a part of you wasn't sure if you could call it that. But you really hoped he cared about you enough to take you out of this place... He used to say it, at least. "He'll come after me, please!"

You noticed his eyebrows furrowing slightly at your words, as he sighed."Even if Adam were to care about you, and that's a big 'if', what good do you think it would do? The Archangels would never allow your return to Heaven, and Adam certainly has no power there."

"Dad... I'm sure Adam defending her will surely... have some impact." Charlie said, knowing this might be your only way out. "We have to try at least."

Lucifer's irritation only seemed to grow, but his face slightly softened as he saw his daughter so determined. His eyes met yours once again. He saw hope in them - a very naive, but honest hope. He knew it would be in vain, but he couldn't help but think - what if you were right?

What if Adam changed and actually cared about someone? He knew he was very much able to, but were you, a simple exorcist, this important for him?

He sighed, clearing his throat. "Fine. But I will do the talking." his eyes shifted to Charlie. "You two stay here. This is a... delicate subject and I need to think how to approach it."

Charlie smiled, and you couldn't help but feel extremely grateful too. Your mind already wanders at how you will return and how the pain will disappear. But something in Lucifer's eyes intrigued you. It was a look that crushed your soul just a tiny bit. A look of doubt. And for a moment even you stopped to wonder -

Did Adam really care?

Adam stood in the chair in the meeting room, when he heard the door opening. "You're kind of late, Princess Morningstar," he said, a pinch of annoyance in his tone as his eyes were still concentrated on some golden papers.

Lucifer walked into the meeting room, his steps measured and deliberate. He took a few steps toward Adam, a hint of disgust on his face as he eyed his 'old pal'. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Adam." He said sarcastically, his tone dripping with false pleasantry. "You know how it is. Royal duties and all that."

Adam's eyes opened wide as Lucifer's voice echoed in the room. "You? What the fuck are you doin' here?!"

He smirked at Adam's reaction, clearly enjoying the look of surprise on his face. "Oh, I just thought I'd grace you all with my presence." He said, twirling his cane in his hand. "After all, it's not every day that Hell gets a chance to chat with Heaven's finest."

"You fucker! You're lucky I'm not actually down there or else...." he began, his hologram glitching slightly as the frustration built up inside of him. He stopped, a bad feeling coming his way. "This is not about your brat's hotel, is it?" he asked, sensing something more behind this meeting.

Lucifer chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Adam. "Oh, you know me too well." He said sarcastically. "But no, this isn't just about the hotel. I have a different matter I want to discuss with you."

Adam took a bite of his ribs, as he sat back down into his chair. "What is it?"

"I think you miss an exorcist, Adam."

Adam's eyebrows furrowed as Lucifer's words sunk in. He was about to take another bite of his ribs, but he froze midway. "What the hell did you say?" He dropped the ribs onto the table, his gaze turning sharp and focused on Lucifer. "Lute! Get yo ass here!" He shouted and the exorcist quickly entered the room, tightly holding her spear. "Are any of the exorcists missing?"

Lute shook her head firmly. "Absolutely not. I had them all assembled this morning for inspection. They all-" she stopped for a moment, thinking. "Shit..."

Adam's eyes narrowed as he saw Lute hesitate. He sat up straight, his mind racing. "Spit it out. What's going on?" he demanded, his voice harsh and impatient.

"There was one rookie missing..." She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, realising she'd been so busy in the past few days that she completely forgot to announce your disappearance.

"And you forgot to mention this until now?" he said, a hint of frustration present in his tone.

Lute winced. She hated to admit that Adam was right - she was slipping on the job. But she straightened up, trying to maintain her composure. "I had a lot on my mind, okay?! I've had to keep all those rookie exorcists in check while you've been busy with those Virtue chicks!"

"Not the point!" Adam intervened, his attention back on Lucifer. "So what if there's a rookie missing? We have plenty of more," he said, his voice nonchalant about the whole situation.

Lucifer smirked as he saw Adam's reaction. He had a feeling this would play out exactly like this. "Ah, but this isn't just any rookie." He said casually, a hint of mockery in his tone. "She told me that you were quite... acquainted."

Adam thought for a moment about all the rookies he talked to recently... too many possibilities. "Who exactly are we talkin' about here, Lucifer? What's her name?" His voice was now filled with a mix of intrigue and tension.

"Oh, you know her quite well, actually. She goes by (Y/n). Sounds familiar?"

"(Y/n)..." he repeated, a lightbulb lighting up. "Oh... Yeah..." he said, giggling a bit. "Eh, whatever."

"W-What?" Lucifer said, surprised by his nonchalance.

"Look, don't get me wrong. The chick's fine. We fucked a few times, but, hell-" he snorted, an amused smirk on his face. "I ain't gonna come down there for her."

"Is that so?" He said, his voice laced with a hint of anger. "You don't care about what happens to her? Despite your... history?"

"History? Slow down a bit... Did she tell you all these stories? About us?"

"Well, I-"

"Um, no." Adam interrupted. "Tell her I'm not coming down there to get her ass. If she survives until the next Extermination... I might consider it, but still, no." he said, getting up to make his way out of the room.

"Wait! You... You really don't care?"

Adam stopped for a moment, thinking. "Nope, not really. I have plenty of others up there." He turned to face him, a smirk on his face. "See? Take it as a gift. I know you have a kink for things that I fucked." His laughing echoed through the room as he disappeared, leaving Lucifer alone in the darkness.

"You little... insufferable..." He clenched his hand tightly around his cane, the veins in his forehead standing out.

The words Adam spoke echoed in Lucifer’s mind, gnawing at him. He’d seen it before—angels who cast aside loyalty like old robes. But there was something about you, something familiar in your heartbreak, that made it sting even more.

How was he going to tell you? How could he tell you that the only person you seemed to trust discarded you so easily?

How could he possibly look into your eyes, just to see the hope leaving them? How could he do that when every time he looked at you...

He saw himself.

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @diffidentphantom @helreyy

@athanasthos @selfship-and-fandom-shenanigans

@xghostnuggsx @vxllys @ustulia

[shadebloopnik]

This is gonna sound SOOO off or smthn but

Was the Perfect Family Harmony planned to be a weapon against the Bergens?

Long post ahead bc brain is rotting

Ok so as we know, the Perfect Family Harmony is smthn that's so powerful that its capable of shattering diamonds. Not just that but its one of the only thing capable of doing so(according to Floyd it was the only thing but giving the benefit of the doubt)

So we know its strong, and we saw it blasting off Velvet and Veneer off their platforms when they performed it, and they weren't even the targets, they were blasted away by just the shockwave that came with using it.

"Its that powerful."

Ok, so its definitely powerful enough to be used as a weapon right? Yeah it was relatively safe enough to use in front of a crowd, else they wouldn't have tried to do it during a concert, but that could just be when those harmonizing aren't targeting anything.

If it could shatter diamonds, how easily could it break cages? What would it do if it was used to target a Bergen? A whole Kingdom of Bergens?

Lets also go back to that concert, to that time John was obsessed with them getting it right. They were in the Troll tree, in Bergentown, a place where any of them could die during Trollstice. The Bergens were a huge threat, something that trolls, at their size, couldn't fight back against normally so they had to run instead right?

But what if they COULD fight back? What if they had a weapon so powerful that it might finally be able to free them? To defeat the monsters that tortured their kind for centuries?

What if John Dory found a way to help make sure nothing would threaten his brothers' safety ever again?

Like, it'd make John Dory's obsession make SOOO MUCH MORE SENSE

Like yea he clearly has OCD and anxiety and some bossiness and that definitely added to it all, but imagine if it was more than that?

Look at him during that performance. He was in deep. He had a wild look in his eyes, a sort of deranged obsession to have everything be perfect no matter what. It wasn't healthy, it was scary, maybe even downright terrifying for his brothers who had to be subjected to it.

But you know what else he looked like?

Terrified

Man was scared out of his mind. His anxiety and stress levels were through the roof. He probably was one wrong tune away from hyperventilating.

What if it was bc it was so much more than the fans? What if he put the salvation of the entire troll-kind on his shoulders?

One wrong step meant they were nothing.

One wrong step meant disappointing the fans.

One wrong step meant letting down the kingdom.

One wrong step meant another troll getting eaten.

Thats why when they failed, John blew up. He took all of that self-hatred of failing to use that weapon to defeat the bergens and poured it all onto his brothers.

"I know we can reach the Perfect Family Harmony."

"What if we don't want to."

John Dory, blind to how and WHY his brothers didn't want to follow his lead, felt betrayed.

To him, all he's ever done was to ensure their safety, everything was for the greater good. He'd done everything he could, his goals slowly twisting him into a crazed obsession. To hear his brothers say they didn't want to help anymore might've struck a cord too much. If you'd noticed he actually looked really sad and hurt when they started bringing up how much they hated being in the band, but it slowly twisted to anger instead. Kind of in a like, "I tried doing everything for these shts and THIS is how they repay me???" way. He was so stressed and stuck in his own head with his failures that he just couldn't see what his brothers were trying to say.

So in a fit of impulsive rage, he left. To him it probably was like that rlly childish way of saying "Yea im leaving, good luck dealing with the Bergens while im goneee." You know? Like how kids runaway from home when they get angry or upset over every little thing but come back when they realize how stupid that was?

"Im not allowed to change."

And he DID come back. Who knows how long, but he did. Imagine how he must've felt seeing their empty pod in an empty tree, with the knowledge that he could've done something about it. The Perfect Family Harmony could've saved them. They could've used it to break the cage, to fight the Bergens. Hell, it could've been powerful enough to wipe out all the Bergens if they do so wished.

"Im the oldest, I have to be the leader."

He and his brothers were the only ones who'd ever gotten close to getting it right.

"Why do you think I moved into the middle of nowhere? So I didn't have to be in charge of anyone."

The village was counting on them. Counting on him. He let them down. He failed.

"Freeing the village Four little brothers is a lot of responsibility."

They could've gotten it. If only John did it right. If only John did it differently.

If only John Dory was Perfect

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Ten: Truth

Chapter WC: 8,808

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none

A/N: Checked the wordcount on the completed chapters doc today and it's over 100k already?? anyway the next few chapters are for real my fav. i live for the drama

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Coruscant, 21 BBY

"I can't believe they gave me Archive duty," Ahsoka groans, rolling her eyes. 

You smirk, turning the page of the dusty tomb lying in front of you. You had managed to escape the ire of the Council thanks to Obi-Wan, but Ahsoka was not so lucky. She was sentenced to "volunteer work" at the Temple Archives indefinitely, a punishment that she seemed to take very personally. 

You had offered to keep her company while you were still recovering, and you had to admit, when you weren’t forced to be here, it was kind of fun. There was something calming about the Archives, the smell of old paper and leather, the dim light, the quiet.

You'd spent more time here than most other Jedi, and even though the work was often tedious, it was something you found peace in. Ahsoka didn't seem to feel the same.

"It's not that bad," you say, your eyes scanning the page. "Besides, if you hadn't disobeyed Anakin, this wouldn't have happened."

"Well, maybe, if he hadn't given the order in the first place—"

"Ahsoka."

"I know, I know," she sighs, her shoulders slumping. She pushes the crate she was organizing to the side and collapses on a nearby bench, her arms crossed. "He's just...so frustrating sometimes."

"Yeah," you chuckle. “He is.”

“Did you ever feel that way about Master Yaddle?"

"Sometimes," you reply. You glance up from your reading and smile at her. "But I’m sure I frustrated her much more. I’m still not sure why she took me as her Padawan, honestly."

"Because you're a great Jedi," Ahsoka points out. She grins and leans forward, her chin resting on her hands. "And, because, despite what you say, you're actually pretty nice."

"Nice?"

"Yeah," she laughs. "You're one of the few Jedi I can talk to about things. You listen. Not everyone does."

"You could talk to Master Plo, or Anakin, or even Obi-Wan," you say, closing the book. You look at her, a frown on your face. "There's a lot more Jedi in the Temple."

"I know, but..." Her voice trails off, and her expression grows sad, the humor fading. “You’re the only one who’s not trying to teach me some kind of lesson. Who isn’t expecting something from me. You don't care that I'm young, or that I'm not a real Jedi yet, or—"

"You are a real Jedi," you interrupt. You stand and walk over to her, taking a seat beside her, your hands resting on your knees. "Don't ever doubt that. I don't. I know how strong you are, and I know what you're capable of. And, so does Anakin. Don't let this one mistake define you."

She sighs and rests her elbows on her thighs, her chin cupped in her palms. "I know, but it's hard," she says quietly. "Everyone has an opinion, and they're all just waiting for me to mess up again. To prove that I'm not fit to be a Jedi."

"That's not true," you tell her. "The Council might be a little disappointed with your actions, but no one doubts that you belong here, Ahsoka. No one."

She doesn't respond.

You watch her carefully, your brow furrowed. It isn’t lost on you how similar her words are to your own internal monologue, and how often she mirrors your own thoughts and fears. She’s just a kid, and you remember being her age, the pressure, the weight of expectation, and the struggle to be enough.

While you doubt you’ll ever feel like you measure up, or will ever stop feeling like an outsider, you know, deep down, that no matter what happens, the Order is where you belong. You belong with the Jedi. There is no other place for you than here.

"If it makes you feel any better," you say, trying to lighten the mood. You nudge her shoulder. “You’re only continuing the tradition of disobedience set by your Masters before you. Anakin, Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon—“ you pause and let out a sharp breath before continuing “—and his master have all done their time here. Practically a rite of passage, I’d say.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges you back. "You're not funny."

"Sure I am."

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Master Kenobi ever had to do this," she scoffs. "I mean, he's like, the perfect Jedi."

"Ha! Well, I guess you'd be surprised." 

You smirk, remembering the many times Obi-Wan had come to your aid during your years as younglings, covering for you and, often, getting himself into just as much trouble as you.

It was always Obi-Wan, with his clever words and quick wit, who got the two of you out of hot water, and you always found it amusing how no one seemed to realize it was him who had started the whole thing. It was like people couldn’t see past the image they had of him, or their assumptions, and it made him the perfect accomplice. 

"We caused plenty of chaos back in the day,” you add with a fond smile. "I can't even begin to tell you all the stories I could share. I have years worth of them."

"Oh really?"

"Yep," you confirm. "Obi-Wan was a terror."

Ahsoka snorts and raises an eyebrow. "Now I know you're lying."

"It's true. He was a troublemaker. Still is, if I'm being honest,” you laugh. "We were the worst influences on each other. That's probably why we became such good friends."

"I can't imagine Master Obi-Wan doing anything even close to disobeying the rules," Ahsoka says. She leans forward, her chin in her palms, a mischievous grin on her face. You smile back and cross your legs, settling into the bench. "I'm going to need proof, or a story. Either will do."

"What do you want to hear?"

"Something crazy," she prompts. "Something he would never tell me. Something wild. And then I'll believe it."

You chuckle and lean back against the wall, your eyes drifting, the memories filling your mind. You could think of a hundred different tales, many of them far too embarrassing to repeat, and most of them you doubted would be appropriate to tell an impressionable teenager. You were not the best storyteller, but if Ahsoka wanted entertainment, you could oblige. If only a little.

"Okay, okay, let's see..." you muse, thinking. "Okay, here's one. When I was thirteen years old, Obi-Wan was a newly made Padawan, and I was still a youngling. One day, we had a day off from training, and, well, let's just say, we weren't exactly sticking around the Temple."

"Where did you go?"

"Well, Obi-Wan had heard about this place," you continue, smiling. "Apparently, there was this abandoned warehouse deep in the lower levels, converted it into a kind of club. It was the coolest thing we had ever seen, and we were determined to get in. Only problem was, we were a bit too young. Not that that stopped us. We had been going to this club, sneaking out, for about a week, before a member of the Jedi Council caught us."

"Which one?"

"Master Plo, actually,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. "We got lucky. I think he was more impressed than upset."

Ahsoka lets out a snort and covers her mouth. "No."

"Yes," you insist. "He caught us sneaking out of the Temple and followed us. We made it all the way to the warehouse before we realized he was right behind us."

"How did you get away with it?"

"We didn't," you chuckle. "I think we had a few choice words with the Council that night. But we got to go back to the club a few more times before we were caught again. Obi-Wan managed to get himself banned a few months later, though. Something about trying to fight a guy over a girl."

You look away, biting your cheek. Ahsoka didn't need to know that you were the girl. That it was the first, and the only time that the two of you had kissed. You were both so young, and it was nothing more than a childish attempt at romance. It was a bittersweet memory, tinged with a touch of guilt, and you had long ago buried it.

"I'll have to ask him about that," she teases. "I bet there's a lot more stories he'd never tell me."

"You can try," you challenge. "Good luck."

"What was he like?" Ahsoka asks. She shifts on the bench, turning her body toward you, her eyes sparkling. "Before he was a Knight, or a Master, or...all that. What was he like back then?"

"He was different," you tell her. You hesitate, your brow furrowing, and you shrug. "He was...happier. More carefree. He didn't take things as seriously as he does now."

"He's still pretty carefree," Ahsoka points out. She tilts her head, her gaze growing thoughtful, and a small frown tugs at her lips. "I've never really seen him angry, or upset. Except for when you were in the bacta tank."

You pause. You hadn't thought much about Obi-Wan while you were recovering. Your mind had been a bit preoccupied with other matters, but now, looking back, you had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders, and the way his jaw clenched every time someone brought up the battle. It had only been a week since your return, and yet, he seemed to have aged ten years, and the worry was still plain on his face. 

Even now, there was still a distance, a coldness, between the two of you. He hadn't been by the Healers Ward again, and he'd avoided you at the debriefing with the Council even though he'd spoken in your favor.

"He was worried," you say simply. You glance down at your hands and twist your fingers, swallowing the sudden tightness in your throat.

"I’m sure you’ve noticed that we share a bond. Something like a Master and Padawan bond. It's stronger, because we were raised together, and because our abilities complement each other, and, well, because we've spent our whole lives together."

"What is it like?" she asks. Her eyes are wide, and she's listening intently, her attention focused on you. "Having a bond with someone? Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," you confess. You let out a heavy sigh, and you look down, your expression troubled. "When the other person is in danger, or suffering, it can be difficult to deal with. And, sometimes, it can be overwhelming. Obi-Wan is quite skilled at shielding, but...I’m not so fortunate. I’m sure feeling my pain was not easy for him."

It’s an excuse, and you know it. But the truth was much harder to admit. Obi-Wan being upset enough at your injuries that Ahsoka had picked up on it was an uncomfortable thought. The reality of how deeply you had hurt him, and the fact that you hadn’t even considered how he would feel, was not something you were prepared to deal with. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.

"You're close," she comments, her voice soft. She hesitates, and she gives you a sad smile, her eyes searching yours. "I...I don't have a bond with Anakin. Not like you and Master Kenobi. I've always wondered what it would be like."

"It's strange," you reply slowly. You shrug and give her a rueful smile. "It’s been this way for so long, and I just...I don't know. I don't know what it's like not to have it. The closest we ever came to losing it completely was after..."

You trail off, your smile fading, and you turn away, unable to meet her eyes. "After the Naboo incident. Things were never the same, after that."

Ahsoka doesn't say anything.

You can't blame her. You don't have the words. There's so much left unsaid, so much you could tell her, but you know you won't. It's not the right time. Perhaps it will never be the right time. And so, instead, you change the subject, pushing the pain and the regret away, burying it under the weight of a smile. 

"What else do you want to know?"

Ahsoka's gaze grows thoughtful, and she leans back, resting her head against the wall, her brow furrowed. She looks up, and her lips purse, her fingers tapping against her thighs. 

Finally, she smiles, a wicked glint in her eyes. "What about Rex?"

Your eyes widen, and you can feel the color draining from your face, the shock making you speechless. You hadn't expected that question, and it takes a moment for you to regain your composure, your mind scrambling to think of a response. But Ahsoka doesn't wait. 

Instead, she keeps talking, the grin growing. "Rex told Anakin that you had saved his life."

"Yes," you say cautiously. You frown, and you cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "And?"

"Well," she draws the word out, and she sits up, her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped. "Anakin said he'd never seen you act like that before."

You open your mouth to respond, and then close it, unsure of what to say.

"So," she presses. "Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Friends."

"Yes," you snap. "Of course we're friends. He's a friend. We're friends. Is that a problem?"

"No, no," she replies quickly. "Of course not."

"Good."

"But—"

"Ahsoka," you interrupt, and you let out a sharp breath, your fingers rubbing your temples. "There is no but. Rex is a friend. I saved his life. End of story."

"Sure," she agrees. Her expression is far too innocent, and you're not going to play into whatever she's thinking. You stand and return to the table, picking up the book, and Ahsoka follows, sitting down next to you. "I just thought, maybe, there was something else."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," she says, feigning nonchalance. She pulls another book off the pile and begins leafing through the pages, a casual, carefree tone to her voice. "He's been asking about you."

Your head snaps up, and you stare at her, the shock giving way to surprise, and then hope, the flutter in your chest returning. "He has?"

Realizing your mistake, you bite your cheek and look back down at the book, your heart pounding, and your throat suddenly dry. You swallow, and you try to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks,and the feeling in your chest. 

Rex had been asking about you. He had talked to Anakin about you. Those were perfectly normal, innocent, things for him to do. Nothing strange. Nothing to indicate anything more.

"Mmhmm," Ahsoka hums, her eyes flicking up, a hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. She looks back down, the grin growing, and she nudges your shoulder. "He was worried the Council was going to punish you for saving him."

"That's it?"

"I'm not sure," she muses. She tilts her head, her fingers drumming against the book, her expression thoughtful. "He seemed pretty concerned. More than he normally is."

You shake your head and lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the text.

"I'm sure he was just being polite," you mumble. You keep your eyes on the page, but your mind is elsewhere, and the words blur before your eyes. You force yourself to keep reading, not daring to look up. "I doubt he was all that worried."

"Hm," Ahsoka says.

You wait a few more moments, and then, when Ahsoka doesn't speak, you glance over at her. She's looking at you, her lips pursed, a knowing smile on her face. You stare at her, and she stares back, and finally, you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh.

"Fine," you grumble. You shut the book and shove it away, leaning back in the chair, your arms crossed. "We are friends, and I enjoy his company. Is that what you want to hear?"

Ahsoka shrugs and grins, and you can't help the smile tugging at your lips.

"He's a good person," she says. She's not looking at you anymore, but she's smiling, and you can tell she's holding back a laugh. "Very loyal."

"Yes, he is," you agree. You look away, a frown forming, and your voice drops. "And a good soldier."

There's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, a heaviness, a sudden sadness that you hadn't expected. You're not sure what brought it on, but it's there, a reminder of the truth, of the reality. You swallow the lump in your throat, and you glance down, your fingers tracing the cover of the book, a strange numbness settling in.

"Yeah." Ahsoka looks at you, and her brow furrows, the teasing tone gone. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," you lie. You force a smile and shrug. "Everything's fine."

"You're sure?" she asks. She looks skeptical, her head tilted, and she frowns. "You look...upset."

"I'm not."

"You don't have to lie," she says. She shifts in her chair, and she turns to face you, her hand resting on your arm, her expression earnest. "If there's something wrong, you can tell me. I won't judge."

"I know," you reply softly. "But there's nothing to tell. I'm fine."

She doesn't believe you. You can tell by the way she's looking at you, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed. Ahsoka doesn't press the issue, though, and you're grateful for that. You don't want to talk about it, and, honestly, you're not sure if you can. Or, if, when the words come out, they'll sound as stupid as they do in your head.

"Now," you say, and you push yourself up, grabbing a crate. You walk over to the other side of the room and begin sorting through the books, setting them on the shelves. "Let's get back to work."

"Ugh, not more sorting."

"It's your punishment," you point out. "Besides, I've had enough excitement for one day. I could use some boring, manual labor."

"I guess," Ahsoka mutters.

You laugh, and you return to your task, the quiet settling over the room. Ahsoka sighs and does the same, and the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in silence, only occasionally exchanging a few words. 

The sun begins to set, and the shadows grow, and soon, the entire room is bathed in the orange glow of the sunset, the warmth filling the air. It's peaceful, and comfortable, and it's exactly what you need. No drama. No complications. No one trying to get into your head, or telling you how to live your life. It's the kind of solitude you haven't had in a long time, and, even if you can't enjoy it for long, it's a nice respite from the chaos.

You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long the two of you have been working, but the silence is broken when the door slides open. You turn and watch as Obi-Wan enters the room, a smile on his face, his hands tucked in his sleeves. He greets the both of you and comes to stand beside the table, his attention focused on you. His expression is serious, his eyes searching, and you avoid his gaze.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, his voice polite, and his words carefully chosen. You can tell he's uncomfortable, and it makes you uneasy. "I was hoping I might have a word with you, if you're not too busy."

"Of course," you reply.

You look over at Ahsoka, who’s staring at the two of you, her gaze flicking between you, and she smirks, standing and grabbing the crate she had been organizing. "I'll give you some privacy."

"Thank you."

She leaves the room, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone, the quiet a heavy, uncomfortable, thing. You don't know what to say, or what to do, and it's an awkward few moments before he breaks the silence, clearing his throat, his hands moving to clasp behind his back.

"I was wondering how you were," he says. He takes a step toward you, and he hesitates, his eyes dropping. "I haven't seen much of you these past few days."

"Yes," you mumble. You cross your arms and shrug, avoiding his gaze. "I've been, um, busy. You know. Helping with the Archives. And healing."

"I see."

There's another pause.

"So," he says. "Are you feeling better? Has the Healers Ward released you yet?"

"They released me a few days ago," you tell him as you turn, walking over to the window, your fingers brushing along the ledge. "They were quite happy with my recovery. It didn't take long for me to heal."

"That's good."

"And, I feel fine," you add, turning to look at him. "I've been back in training for a few days now."

"Good."

"Good."

"Well," he says. He steps forward and stops, his hand on the back of a chair, his expression guarded. "I'm glad you're back on your feet."

"Yes," you murmur. "It's, uh, it's good to be back."

He gives you a curt nod, and you nod back, and then there's another long, agonizing, silence. You look at him, and he looks at you, and when it becomes too much, you turn away, your fingers tracing the window frame, the metal cool beneath your fingertips.

"You said you wanted to speak with me?" you ask the window.

"Yes."

You hear him take a deep breath, and when you look over your shoulder, he's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. It's strange to see him so...distraught. So unsure of himself.

"I came to apologize," he says quietly. He crosses his arms, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "For my actions the other day. I was not myself, and I should not have acted as I did."

"Oh," you murmur.

"I was...wrong to have treated you as I did. You didn't deserve it. And I was out of line."

You let out a sigh and close your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"Please," he interrupts, and his tone is pleading, and it stops you. "I need to say this."

"Alright," you say. You move away from the window, and you lean against the table, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed. "Say what you need to."

"I was angry," he admits, and the words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. He pauses and takes a breath, and you can tell he's choosing his words carefully. "I was upset. You have no idea how much it hurt, seeing you like that. Lying there, unconscious. Not knowing if you would make it. I..."

He trails off, and he looks away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"And I know," he continues. He looks back up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can't help but see the pain, the hurt, the desperation. "I know that you would do it again, if given the choice. And I can't blame you for it. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"Obi-Wan," you murmur. You can feel your eyes burning, and you swallow the sudden lump in your throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"I know," he says. "I know."

"I wasn't thinking. I was acting on instinct, and—"

"I know," he repeats, his voice gentle. "It was not your fault. You did what was right, and, had it been anyone else, I would have been proud. You saved a life. That is something to be celebrated. But...you're not just anyone."

"I can't promise that I won't do it again," you tell him. "If the situation arises, I won't hesitate to save another soldier. Even if they're not a Jedi. Or a friend."

He smiles, a small, sad thing, and he nods. 

"I wouldn't expect any less," he says. He steps toward you, and he takes your hand, squeezing gently. "It is, after all, one of the many reasons I admire you."

You can't help the smirk tugging at your lips. "Well, that, and dazzling personality and my good looks, right?"

"Among others," he teases. His expression grows solemn, and he glances down, his thumb running over your knuckles. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sure the last thing you need is for me to be acting as I was."

"Well, with the amount of tantrums Anakin and I have thrown over the years, it's only fair that you get to have one every once in a while."

Obi-Wan grimaces and shakes his head "Please, don't remind me."

"You're not still mad, are you?" you ask. He tilts his head, a faint frown pulling at his lips. "I mean, you're not going to lecture me again, are you?"

"No," he replies, his tone wry. "Not today."

"Good."

"You're not completely forgiven, though."

"What?"

"I'm afraid that, if we're ever in a similar situation," he continues, his voice casual, his eyes narrowing, "and if you ever make me think you're dying again, I will be forced to have a very stern conversation with you."

You roll your eyes. "Obi-Wan..."

"I mean it," he insists. "I'll have no choice."

"Well," you drawl. You pull your hand free and push yourself away from the table, crossing your arms. "If I die, and you feel the need to lecture my corpse, by all means, go right ahead. I won't stop you."

He gives you a flat look, and you hold back a smile, raising an eyebrow.

"We'll see," he says finally. His lips twitch, and he sighs, rubbing his forehead. "In all seriousness, though, I am sorry. For everything. I was unfair, and I shouldn't have blamed you. I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you."

"No," you agree softly. "You shouldn't have."

"I know," he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching out to grasp your elbow, his touch gentle. "I don't want us to be like this. We've fought enough over the years. I want you to know that I trust you, and despite my fears, and the concerns I have, I will always support you. Whatever decisions you make."

You let out a breath, and his hand moves, sliding up your arm, coming to rest on the back of your neck. He gives you a smile, and there's a flicker of regret and sorrow before he pulls you forward, his forehead resting against yours. His grip tightens, and you put your hands on his waist, holding onto him.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"I'll always be here for you," he says softly. "Whenever you need me."

You smile and lift your chin, brushing your lips across his cheek, a fleeting, brief, touch. "And I'll always be here for you. Whatever you need."

He chuckles and squeezes your neck, his breath warm on your skin. "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Now," you murmur, and you pull away, your hands moving to rest on his chest. "What I really need right now is a stiff drink."

He raises an eyebrow. "That is not what you need right now."

"But it would help," you insist. "A lot."

"No."

"C'mon," you beg, your hands curling in the fabric of his tunic. You give him a pout, and he groans, his eyes closing. "It'll be fun. Just like old times."

"You are not getting me into any more trouble than I'm already in," he says. He pulls your hands off of him, and he holds them in his, a stern look on his face. "The Council has already spoken to me about your reckless behavior. I'd prefer not to give them more reason to doubt me."

"They won't know," you promise. You squeeze his hands, your eyes bright. "We'll be careful."

"You don't know how to be careful."

"Then teach me," you counter, a smirk playing on your lips.

He lets out a sigh, and his brow furrows, his mouth twisting. You can see the temptation in his eyes, the desire to give in, and it's only a matter of time before you convince him. He hesitates, glancing over at the door. "It is late. Most people should be gone by now."

"See?" you say. "Easy. Quick drink. No one will see."

"Fine," he concedes. "But we will not be staying long."

"Thank you."

You release his hands and step back, your fingers lacing together, your grin widening. Obi-Wan gives you an exasperated look and gestures for you to go, and you laugh and start to back away.

"I'll meet you at the usual place," you tell him. You turn and head for the door, calling over your shoulder. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Wouldn't dream of it!" he calls out, his tone amused. "Just...don't get us caught."

"Never," you promise.

You're through the door and gone before he can say anything else, and the moment you're alone, you take a deep breath and run a hand through your hair. It's not until you're nearly to your quarters that the nerves begin to settle in, and the excitement gives way to apprehension, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You're still a bit wary of Obi-Wan's sudden change in mood. It's unlike him to act like he did, and to be so openly hostile. And, as much as you'd like to believe that everything is alright, that things were fine, there was still something gnawing at the back of your mind. 

The look on his face when you told him how you saved Rex's life was burned into your memory. You couldn't help but be reminded of how he looked at you the day after your knighting, when you'd told him your plan to find Yaddle's killer, and he'd treated you like a child.

It was the same, the same disdain and anger, the same look of disappointment, and the same, cold, distance. The only difference was, this time, you hadn't done anything wrong. You had saved a life. There was nothing for him to be disappointed about.

But the look was there, the same unspoken accusation. And it stung.

It’s only then that you realize he’d neglected to let his walls down during the conversation. There had been no opening, no chance to see into his mind. No moment of vulnerability. You hadn’t noticed, and now, you couldn’t understand why. It didn't make sense.

Obi-Wan had never kept his thoughts and feelings hidden from you before. He had never been afraid to show his emotions, or his pain. It was always you who'd had trouble with it, who'd struggled with letting him see the truth. He was the one who always opened up.

And now, he wasn't. 

You shake the thought from your mind and continue on, ignoring the unease growing in your chest. He'd apologized then, and he apologized now, and he meant it. You didn't need the Force to know that. And he'd agreed to sneak out with you, which was more than he would have done if he was truly upset with you.

You would have a nice evening, and nothing else would happen. And tomorrow, the two of you would move on. Everything would go back to normal.

You reach your quarters, and you let yourself in, making a beeline for the fresher. You don't waste any time and strip out of your robes, stepping under the hot spray, and you wash quickly, rinsing the day's grime and sweat off. The water cascades down your body, washing the tension away, the warmth enveloping you, and for the first time in days, you can breathe, the knot in your chest loosening.

Once you're finished, you dry yourself and step back into the room, rummaging through the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown in your dresser. You pull out a simple shirt and a pair of pants, and you dress, slipping on a pair of boots and a cropped leather jacket. It's been too long since you've dressed so casually, and it feels odd, like you're not yourself. But, it's also a refreshing change from stifling robes.

You comb your hair, pulling the wet strands back into a loose braid, and you're ready. You check the time and grab a few credits from the dresser, shoving them into your pocket, and you're out the door.

You arrive at the bar a short while later, and you spot Obi-Wan sitting in the corner, a glass in his hand and his attention on the crowd. He sees you and smiles, and you make your way through the room, the noise and the heat hitting you. He's wearing civilian clothes, his hair loose around his face, his beard trimmed, and he looks almost relaxed. Almost.

You reach the table and slide into the seat across from him, his gaze appraising. You can't help but blush, and you cross your arms, giving him a look.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he replies. His eyes linger on yours for a moment longer, and then they trail over the rest of your body, his lips quirking. "It's just been a while since I've seen you like this. It's...refreshing."

"Well," you say, leaning forward. You lower your voice, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "I wouldn't want to draw any attention to myself."

He chuckles, and his eyes sparkle with amusement, a glint of something else in their depths. "I appreciate the effort."

You smile and reach over, plucking his glass from his hand. He doesn't protest, and you take a sip, the liquor burning as it goes down. You set the glass back on the table, and his gaze lingers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You raise an eyebrow and stare at him, and he shakes his head, pushing himself up.

"I'm going to get another drink," he says. He nods his head towards the bar. "Would you like one?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll be right back."

He leaves, and you watch him walk away, and the moment he's out of earshot, you groan, the realization of what you'd done, and where you were, setting in. It was bad enough that the two of you had snuck off to a cantina together, and were dressed like this, but it was even worse that it felt...odd. Strange. And you weren't sure why. It was the same as every other time you'd met him for drinks, and yet, it wasn't.

There was something different. Something...off. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it was there, and it made you uneasy. Like the calm before a storm.

"Hey," someone says.

You turn and see a man standing next to the table, a bottle of something in his hand, his smile friendly. You can't help the sigh that escapes you. It was going to be one of those nights.

"Hey," you reply. Your eyes drop, and you frown, the words on the bottle blurring. It's some sort of liquor, and a cheap one at that. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm hoping I could buy a beautiful woman a drink," he says. He sets the bottle down and pulls out the chair, sitting. You glance around the room, looking for Obi-Wan. There's no sign of him. "And, maybe, have a chat. Get to know each other."

"Look," you begin, and your voice is strained, the exhaustion starting to creep in. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not—"

"C'mon," he insists. He grabs the bottle and opens it, pouring a shot. He pushes it towards you, a grin on his face. "Just one drink."

"No, thank you."

“You won’t regret it.”

“No.”

"One drink," he repeats. He lifts the glass and nods, and when you don't move, his smile fades. "Don't be rude."

"Oh, I'm being rude?" you snap. You stand, and you tower over him, your hand on the table. He stares up at you, his mouth hanging open. "I've had a long week, and I'm not in the mood. Now, leave me alone."

"Alright, alright," he mutters. He stands and picks up the bottle, backing away. "You don't have to get so upset."

You don't reply, and he turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd. You let out a breath and slump back into the chair, rubbing your forehead. It's not long before you're joined again, but this time, it's Obi-Wan who slides into the seat, a bottle and two glasses in his hand. He notices the look on your face, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Another admirer?"

"Yes," you mutter. You take the glass he offers and down it, and he stares at you, concern flickering across his features. "I guess I'm not used to the attention anymore."

"Hm," he hums. He takes the glass from you and refills it, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't be out here like this. You're too..."

"What?"

"I just..." he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He looks down and frowns. "I worry."

"Obi-Wan, I'm not made of glass," you snap. "And I'm not some defenseless child. I'm not going to shatter because some idiot tries to hit on me."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

He looks at you, and he sighs, his eyes searching yours. He opens his mouth to speak, and you brace yourself for whatever he's going to say, knowing that it's going to be a lecture, or a reminder of why you shouldn't be out here. Of why you shouldn't be with him. That it's not safe. That it's a risk. 

But, he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, his eyes drop, and his jaw clenches, and when he finally speaks, it's a whisper, the words soft and gentle. 

"You're a beautiful woman. A powerful, intelligent, wonderful, woman," he says. He looks at you, his expression open, and you can't help the way your heart leaps into your throat. "You have an air of confidence and determination, and...you're breathtaking. It's impossible not to notice you. Especially here."

You gape at him, and his lips twitch, his eyes darkening, a hint of mischief in his gaze. "I can't blame him for trying. I would, too, if I were him."

You can feel the heat spreading across your cheeks, the flush creeping up your neck. He's always been honest with you, and open, but this is different. He's never said anything like this before. You feel yourself scrambling, trying to regain your composure, and when you do, you let out a shaky laugh.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," you say. You lean forward, your arms resting on the table, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that jealousy I hear?"

"Not at all," he assures you, and the sincerity is almost believable. He leans closer, and his gaze drops, his voice low. "If anyone is jealous, it's him. He'll never have you. Not the way I do."

Your smirk widens, and you laugh, taking the bottle from his hand and pouring another shot. "Well, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

You hold his gaze, and you down the shot, the alcohol burning. It's a dangerous game, and the both of you know it, and, as much as you want to keep pushing, and prodding, and testing his limits, you know better. It's best to let it go. It's best to move on. Besides, this was supposed to be fun.

"So," you say, pushing the bottle away, a small smile on your face. "Now that you're done worrying about me, can we finally have some fun? I didn't come here to sit and mope."

"Of course." He raises his glass and tilts his head. "To us."

"To us."

The rest of the evening is a blur. It passes in a haze of alcohol and laughter, the conversation turning to trivial things. There's no mention of the war, or Felucia, or the Council, and you're glad. You need a night off, and a break from everything, and you know Obi-Wan does too. The two of you have had so few chances to relax, and even fewer to spend time together. 

You find yourselves falling back into the routine of years past, and, as the evening wears on, the two of you become more and more carefree. You're laughing and teasing, and Obi-Wan's telling stories about his adventures as a young padawan, and your memories of the past come flooding back. The times the two of you have snuck off, and the things you've done, and the trouble you've gotten into. And it's nice. Comforting. To be with him, and to enjoy his company. Even if you know it can't last.

You've managed to drag Obi-Wan out onto the balcony, and the two of you are leaning against the railing, watching the people below, the wind ruffling your hair. You can feel his warmth, and his arm is pressing into yours, and the alcohol has left a pleasant buzz in your head. You're not quite drunk, but, judging by the flush in Obi-Wan's cheeks, he's further along than you are.

"I have a confession," he mutters. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a crooked smile. "I've missed this. Missed...us. Doing this. Being here."

"Yeah," you murmur. You glance at him, and he meets your gaze, his eyes bright. "I've missed this too."

"We should do it more often," he says. He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, his touch lingering, his thumb stroking your skin. "Spend time together. Outside the Temple."

"Obi-Wan."

"What?"

"Don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything," he counters. He turns to face you, his expression earnest, his voice soft. "I'm not saying that we should be together. Or that we should..." He trails off, and his eyes flick down, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. "But, I've missed this. And, I think you have too."

"Obi-Wan..." You let out a breath and run a hand through your hair, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're...different," you explain. You shrug and turn away, looking out over the city. "It's not just tonight. You've been acting strange for weeks. Ever since Felucia. I just..." You shake your head sigh, glancing over at him. "Are you sure you're alright? That everything is okay?"

"Yes," he replies, and the reply is quick, and curt, and too easy. You stare at him, and he shrugs, a frown tugging at his lips. "I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me," you snap. You turn and lean against the railing, crossing your arms, your glare hard. "Because, one minute, you're angry with me, and the next, you're...this. Tell me what's going on."

He holds your gaze for a moment, and then his eyes drop, his hand coming up to cover his face as a low groan escapes him.

"I don't know," he mutters. He takes a step closer and leans against the railing, his arm brushing against yours. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Obi-Wan..."

"I'm tired," he whispers. He looks over at you, his eyes sad, his voice hollow. "I'm tired of the war. I'm tired of the fighting. I'm tired of losing people. And...I'm tired of having to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"Everything," he answers. His hand drops to the railing, his fingers curling around the metal, his grip tight. "Who I am. How I feel. What I'm thinking. What I want." He turns and looks at you, his eyes meeting yours, a flicker of emotion crossing his features. "What I want with you."

"And, how do you feel?" you ask softly. "What do you want with me?"

He swallows and turns away, his eyes focused on the skyline, and you can see the struggle in his face. He doesn't speak, and the silence grows heavy, and uncomfortable, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

"Obi-Wan—"

"I care for you. I have always cared for you. More than I should. More than is right."

He turns to face you, and there's a desperation in his eyes, and a longing, and you know where this is going. You know what he wants to say.

But, he doesn't. Instead, he sighs, his shoulders slumping, and he shakes his head.

"You mean the world to me, and I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"You don't know that," he insists. He takes a step closer, and his hands are on your waist, his touch light, his gaze searching yours. "I'm not the only one who has changed."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're different, too," he says. His hands move, and they slide up your back, his thumbs brushing along your cheek. "The last few months have changed you. And I'm afraid of what will happen. What will change."

"Nothing's going to change," you promise, and your voice is low, and soft. "We're the same. We're just older. And wiser. And maybe a little more jaded. But, we're still the same. You're still the same man who was my first love, and I'm still the same girl who fell for him."

He smiles, a small, sad, thing, and he lets out a breath, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes close, and your hands move to his chest, the fabric warm and soft beneath your fingers, his heart beating steadily beneath your palm.

The tension in his body melts away, and his touch is gentle, his thumb stroking your cheek. You can't help but press closer, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight.

"I don't know what I would do without you," he murmurs. He lets out a shaky breath, and you can feel him trembling, the weight of the world, the pain and the fear, bearing down on him. "If anything happened to you, if I lost you..."

"You're not going to lose me," you repeat. You reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb running over his stubble, his beard rough against your skin. "I promise."

Obi-Wan doesn't say anything. Instead, he lets out a quiet, strangled, noise, and his lips are on yours, soft and warm and familiar. 

It's a desperate, needy, kiss, and it's all too easy to give in, to let yourself melt into him, his hands on your face and his mouth moving against yours. You haven't been kissed in years, and you haven't kissed him in even longer, and, despite your best efforts, you can't help but respond, your fingers sliding through his hair, a low moan escaping you.

His grip tightens, and his tongue is in your mouth, his body pressing against yours. You can't think, and you can't breathe, and you can feel his need, his desire, the emotions, raw and unguarded, spilling over. He's shaking, and his lips are insistent, and when he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark.

The two of you stare at each other, the silence stretching between you, and the gravity of the situation hits you. You've been friends for years, and you've been lovers, and now, here you are, on the precipice, and you're teetering on the edge. One more step, and there's no going back. One more step, and everything will change.

A sinking stone settles in the pit of your stomach, the fog of alcohol fleeing, and a wave of regret and shame crashing down. You can't believe what you've done. How far you've fallen. And how easily. After all the years you've spent avoiding each other, and trying to be friends, and now, here you are.

"We shouldn't have done that," you whisper. You push him away and take a step back, and he reaches out, his hand on your elbow. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"You're right," he says. His hand falls, and he looks away, a frown tugging at his lips. "We shouldn't have."

Obi-Wan runs a hand through his hair, his eyes closing, and he lets out a long breath. When he looks at you again, the guilt and the sadness in his eyes is gone, replaced by resignation. He reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, his tone gentle. "Come on, let's go home."

You nod, and he releases you, stepping back. You can't meet his gaze, and you turn, your eyes fixed on the ground, the two of you making your way across the balcony. He keeps his distance, and you keep yours, the silence between you tense and heavy.

You're both back in the Temple a short while later, and Obi-Wan leads you back to your room, his pace quick. He stops outside the door, and his eyes meet yours.

“Will you be alright?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you mutter. You can't meet his gaze, and you fidget, your eyes on the floor.

He sighs and lifts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Look," he says softly. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," you say. "I...shouldn't have let that happen."

"It's not your fault," he assures you. His thumb brushes across your cheek, and he gives you a smile. "We both let it get out of hand."

"Still, we shouldn't have..."

"No," he agrees. His hand falls, and he steps back, his smile turning wry. "We definitely shouldn't have."

You manage a weak smile, and his eyes soften.

"I meant to say this before," he starts. "I didn't want to interrupt the moment. But, I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"What I said earlier," he clarifies. He clears his throat and looks down, his gaze fixed on his shoes, his words hesitant. "I...don't want to lose you. I don't think I could bear it. And...I'll do everything I can to make sure that doesn't happen."

"You're not going to lose me," you promise. You smile and grab his hand, squeezing his fingers, your voice soft. "I'll always be here."

He squeezes back, his eyes soft. "I know you're still struggling with Master Yaddle's death, and everything that's happened, and, well, I'm here. It's not much, but my clearance can help. If there's something you need, if there's something that would aid you in your search, let me know. I'm not going to ask questions. Just...if there's anything that can give you closure, I'll get it for you."

"I appreciate the offer," you reply. "But, I don't think the Council would take too kindly to you helping me. Especially after what happened. They're probably going to be watching us both like hawks for a while."

"Right." He sighs.

"However," you continue. "I'd appreciate it if you could pull any records regarding the last few months she was alive. Missions. Debriefings. Anything."

"Consider it done," he promises.

"Thank you."

"Of course," he says. "Anything else?"

"Actually, yes," you say. "There is something else."

"Yes?"

You step forward and wrap your arms around him, hugging him, and he hugs you back, his cheek resting against your head. You hold him close, breathing in his scent, his warmth surrounding you, his arms tight around your waist. There's so much you want to say, and so many things you want to tell him, but none of it feels right. Not after what's happened, and the choices the two of you have made. And, for a moment, you just let yourself be, his heartbeat steady against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest calming.

"I love you, you know that, right?" you say quietly as you pull away.

He chuckles and brushes a stray hair from your forehead. "Yes, I do."

"Good." You step back and turn toward your door, looking over your shoulder at him. "Now, go. Get some sleep."

"You too," he says, his lips quirking. You can't help but return his smile, and he turns, heading for his room. He glances over his shoulder, and he winks. "Good night, darling."

"Good night," you call out.

He vanishes around the corner, and you turn and open the door, stepping into your room. The door slides shut, and you're greeted by the empty, familiar, sight of your quarters. The walls are bare, the windows are uncovered, and the floors are cold. It's not a welcoming space, and it never has been, but tonight, the silence feels particularly loud. You're used to being alone, but, right now, the loneliness is almost overwhelming.

You're not sure why.

Or, perhaps, you don't want to admit why.

Either way, the ache in your chest is still there, the emptiness still lingers, and you know it's not just from the alcohol. You try to ignore the feeling, and instead you settle on the floor to meditate, focusing on the Force and letting the energy flow through you. 

It doesn't work, and you know it won't. But, you have to try. The alternative is too much to bear. You sit for a few hours, your eyes closed, and your hands resting on your knees, until, eventually, sleep pulls you under.

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@silly-starfish

[casteliacityramen]

|| Previously ||

|| Content Warning: Blood/Grievous Injury and Self Harm ||

"How much time ya got?" Ayumi's guttural voice exits from below the curtain.

The ramen stand has broken even after the last couple of customers. While additional sales after this point is a gain on profits, it's not like they're in a rush to get rid of ingredients.

"I'm calling the shots until Ray gets back. I say when," Rio absentmindedly yawns.

Ayumi takes a deep breath in response.

"I smelled the blood on him before he got to our door," Ayumi whispers, gritting her teeth and clenching her eyes tight.

"Turns out nobody thought to block the area off or anything. Just a bunch of half-made buildings that might as well have been made out of wet cardboard.

"She got it worse than I did." Ayumi slips her hand over the stump, grimacing.

"When she fell, Jack evolved on the spot in the stress of it all. She wouldn't be alive if he had to carry her as a stubby little oshawott."

"The docs saved what they could, but the rest was gone. Buried under rubble. When Alex was called to the center and saw her daughter, he flipped his shit. I get it."

Ayumi's face darkens, clenching her jaw so hard that her facial hair twitched.

"What I don't get is why he took it all out on my son. He cussed him out. He threatened him. He said it was his fault! All of it!"

Ayumi shot forward, her voice echoing like a cannon onto the street, startling anyone unfortunate enough to be within hearing distance.

"He didn't even get a chance to properly clean himself until he got home. I had to help him do it. He couldn't lift his arms or say anything, he just cried until he passed out," She growls, shaking her head as her breathing got deeper and faster at the memory.

"I wasn't having any of that."

"Our supervisors forced us on different shifts. Then, after a couple weeks, Alex and Aila moved to Nimbasa. I haven't talked to either of them since.

"So yeah, when I saw someone who looked like Aila for a split second, my brain got fried. I thought for a long time about what I'd say to Alex, but Aila? Shit. It's been four years and I just..."

Ayumi's tensed shoulders fell, confusion and sadness mixing into her anger.

"What the hell were you thinking? Why did your dad do that to my son? Do you blame my son, too?"

"Y'know how it goes? When some tauros shit goes down and your brain keeps comin' up with scenarios? All of that sat in my head for too long. It got mixed into noise. When I saw someone who reminded me of her, the noise got the loudest it's ever been."

Ayumi takes a deep breath of air, sighing as she continues.

"Jack hasn't talked about it to me. Even now. He's actin' tough, trying to make sure nothing bothers him. But I know it bothers him. I hear him cry some nights. He won't talk no matter how much my husband and I try."

"Just like when I lost my arm, Jack and Hal were freakin' out. Constantly asking me if I was okay and if I needed help. Worried out of their minds. But I kept telling them I was fine. I was okay. Nothin' bothers me. Even though a lot of what I'm going through bothers me."

"I keep doin' that 'nah I'm good' shit whenever I have a shit day and I know they see right through me. But I'm the only one getting any sort of stable income and if I let them know how much I'm strugglin', they'll feel guilty or..."

"They'll feel like a burden," Ayumi groans, placing her forehead in her hand.

"You saw how that Umbreon was when he left. I don't want to see my baby and my man like that, bendin' over backwards to do more than they should. Feeling awful because they know I left my clan for them."

Ayumi peers between her fingers at the tip jar sitting behind the stand.

"Or doin' something stupid like steal from someone else's honest work. I know Jack's still a kid, and kids do stupid shit, but I know he's still beatin' himself up over the whole damn thing."

"I mean, ya asked," Ayumi sheepishly rubs her fingers together, retreating into the shade in a tinge of embarrassment.

"I did," Rio mutters, carrying the likeness of someone who attempted to take a drink from the forceful end of a pressure washer. Regardless, she collects herself, sits straighter in her chair, and gives Ayumi a hardened look.

"I don't know anything about being a mom, but it sounds like you're putting everything into it. That's more than enough."

"What if it isn't?" Ayumi whispers, her voice trembling.

"It will be."

Ayumi softly laughs at Rio's absolution. She's repeated those words to herself countless times, but hearing them from someone else was rekindling her slipping resolve.

Feeling a small weight fall from her shoulders, she slowly forms an idea.

"... Can ya do me a favor?"

For the first time since Ayumi started, the two ease up in their seats, using whatever time they had to finally relax. The sounds of Castelia City filled the silence in between.

"Y'know what?" Ayumi shattered the silence in a sudden (and loud) realization, much to Rio's chagrin.

"I was too focused on noodles and making you listen to my sob story that I forgot to ask you for your name," Ayumi laughs. Rio pauses, coming to the same realization before she also laughs and reaches out with her paw.

Referenced Posts: Ayumi mistaking @asktoastythearcanine 's Allen for someone else Graymont Design BuildJack Stealing the Tip JarRio's question to Ayumi

|| Pinned Post | Story So Far ||

[differenteagletragedy]

RIP MC (Sorry Cove)

Takes place anytime after Step 4. Cove loses (female) MC after a medical incident.

Cove stood at your closet, glancing over your wardrobe. He let his hands touch over every item, breathing in your smell that still lingered on the pieces of clothing. When he found a dress -- your favorite dress, not your nicest but the one he knew you felt the cutest in -- he paused, then pulled it out.

He put it on the bed in a pile of things to send over to the funeral home.

They'd asked him in kind, gentle voices to put together some things for you to wear for the burial, and it wasn't a task he was taking lightly. He knew your moms or Liz might want to pick something a little nicer, but he was certain he knew you best, and he knew you'd want to be comfortable.

He tried not to think too much as he opened your jewelry box, looking for something that stood out, or when he looked through your shoes and came across your beach sandals. You wouldn't be needing those anymore, but he couldn't bear to consider the depth of that.

It had all happened just so fast -- so incredibly, frustratingly, heartbreakingly fast. Your blood pressure was high, too high, but your doctors knew that, that's why they admitted you to the hospital. They put you in some medicine he couldn't remember the name of, something that went in an IV and made you a little loopy, but you were joking about it. You were still ok. You were still you.

Then it got higher, then it got higher again. He remembered nurses moving a little faster, more doctors he had never seen before coming in. He tried to ask what was happening, but only got quick reassurances, if anything at all.

"She'll be ok," they'd told him. They were wrong.

At one point you'd started seizing -- a sight he was sure he'd never shake from his memory. Then you stopped. Then you were gone.

The rest was a blur, and Cove wasn't altogether confident that this horrific moment, the costume design for your funeral, wouldn't end up in the same mess of grief that the rest of it had. He remembered his mom holding him. His dad crying. Your moms had talked to him for a while, but he couldn't for the life of him recall what they'd said.

Going over the dresser one more time for anything you might want to wear for your last outfit, he saw your perfume and stopped. He lifted it to his nose, considered it, then sprayed a bit on his wrist. When the scent fully reached his nose, he let out a choked sob and doubled over, as if he'd been punched in the guy physically instead of just metaphorically.

He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. What would life look like without you? He couldn't picture it and he didn't want to try. How was he supposed to go through each day without you by his side? You were in everything -- the ocean, the flowers, the summers spent making sandcastles and the winters spent curled up in each other's arms. Each moment brought another thought of something you'd done together that had marked him for life, or something that you'd never get to do together, no matter how badly he yearned for it.

Cove started breathing harder, tears rolling down his face. He couldn't catch his breath and he didn't know what to do with himself. He flailed his hands, sad little screams escaping his mouth, just utterly and completely lost.

Then his phone rang.

With a shaky hand, he pulled it out of his pocket -- your ma was calling. He answered without saying a word.

"Cove, sweetie," she said in a voice holding a massive sadness of her own. "We're outside, are you ready for us to come in."

"Yeah," he managed. "I think I've got everything together."

"All right, Pam and I will get it taken care of. See you in just a minute."

Cove hung up the phone and dragged his still-shaky hands over his face, trying to pull himself together. He picked up your dress, shoes and a little bag of accessories your moms could go through. That was good enough.

He was by the front door when Pam knocked lightly, and he opened it, not even bothering to try for a smile. They didn't either.

"Trade?" your ma asked.

Cove nodded. He carefully handed the outfit over to Pam, then reached out to grab the car seat that Noelani was holding. There he was -- your newborn baby boy, fast asleep in crisp white pajamas, impossibly tiny and totally clueless about the mother he'd never get to meet.

He looked over the baby, wanting to check once again to make sure he was ok. He knew he was -- little baby Holden had been closely monitored and given a clean bill of health -- but he no longer felt comfortable being too sure of anything if someone could get ripped away from him as easily as you had been.

"He's a great kid, Cove," Pam told him. "He's a good eater, a good sleeper. I think you lucked out with this one."

"I'm thinking he takes after his mama," Noelani added, fresh tears in her eyes. "You're in for a great ride."

He couldn't bear to look at them then, their own grief so plain on their faces. Instead, he kept looking at the baby -- his chubby cheeks, his tiny hands, his pouty little lips with drool pooled at the corners. He looked like you, and Cove couldn't tell whether that was a good thing.

"We'll get out of your hair and give you two some bonding time," Pam finally broke the silence. "Your parents are coming over?"

"Yeah," he answered, glancing up at them. "I told them to wait, I wanted to be alone while I ..." he gestured to the clothes, unable to verbalize what they were. He knew, and that was bad enough.

"Of course," Pam said. "Don't wait too long to call, all right?"

"I won't."

Your moms left, telling Cove to call if he needed anything and promising to call themselves to set up more time with the baby soon, and that was it. He was left in the home you shared, with the baby you carried, and you weren't there. You never would be.

The tears started again, and apparently the baby felt like having some bonding time after all -- he woke up from his nap and started crying too. Not bothering to try to stop this time, Cove just kept sobbing as he unbuckled the car seat and pulled his son out, so careful to support him properly. He held him gently to his chest, but before he could get up to prepare a bottle or check for a dirty diaper, the baby quieted, just soothed by the touch of his father.

"Oh, ok," Cove said with a tragic little laugh. "That works."

He wasn't sure how long they sat like that, taking solace in each other, but by the time the baby did start crying properly, he felt steady enough to stand up and make his way to the kitchen for a bottle. He still felt entirely broken, and the concept of feeling ok was laughably far away, but he could do this. He could take care of his son.

[vickyvicarious]

I think Jonathan talks to Jack the most out of all suitors before All That since he is the third main record keeper, but their interactions are off screen and alluded like:

"Harker has gone back, and is again collating his material. He says that by dinner-time they will be able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks that in the meantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he has been a sort of index to the coming and going of the Count."

And since the impression he gives to Jack is "quiet, business-like gentleman", yeah I'd say he'd use RP!

(in reference to this post)

Agreed! Jonathan also met Jack first of the suitors, he's staying in the guy's house, and of the three Jack is the least overwhelmingly rich. This is also kind of a side effect of Jack being the next main record keeper but in helping Mina go through the records, he may have gotten a bit used to reading his thoughts or even potentially hearing them spoken (depending on whether he was mostly helping Mina organize things she had already typed, or if he ever took a turn listening too) and thus felt a bit closer to him in a way even before much direct interaction. Not to mention, that interaction you quote shows Jonathan's interest in Renfield, which would naturally lead him first to Jack (I constantly curse the lack of Jonathan/Renfield interaction, it could be so fascinating had Stoker not just Forgot He Was There). Those may be a couple additional reasons he might want to or feel more comfortable coordinating with the doctor more directly. Also Arthur is still very sad and Quincey is still very concerned about Arthur so I can see them being a little less likely to initiate much socializing than they usually would.

But Jonathan's mostly offscreen, helping Mina with the records, going off hunting after boxes... Of course there are some offscreen conversations taking place, and they surely wouldn't be only with Jack, but if what we see in the documents is any indication, Jonathan is fairly quiet and only really speaks up about 'business' (AKA Dracula-hunting) matters. And even then mostly only when he has something new to contribute. He isn't going on any epic rants (yet) and he isn't volunteering to be the one to explain everything from his experience, just bringing up relevant points for discussion or connections. And if he is trying to a) be businesslike/professional b) seem as calm and sane as possible under the circumstances of these people knowing what he's been through and how it's affected his mental health c) be polite with people he is not very familiar with yet... then yeah, I totally can see him using RP during all this time.

So his outpouring of utter emotion on October 3 is a big change, to be sure. And dropping into his natural accent while doing so would be an excellent way to illustrate how every other consideration just completely falls away for him as soon as he knows Mina is being attacked. He can't spare any attention towards sounding sophisticated, his wife has been targeted by his former tormentor and he is out for blood (/vowing to be out for literal blood should worst come to worst).

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hi! I congrats on 1600 followers! I wish you more followers and inspiration~ Can I request 👀 for Malleus, Idia, Lilia, Azul and Cater? I'm sorry if it's too much. And maybe little sweet angst for boys? 👀

Hi, thank you for the ask!

Follower Event: Malleus, Idia, Lilia, Azul, Cater with "I've had more of those bad dreams, you were ten feet in front of me. I went running but I couldn't catch"

Malleus

A fae's life is long but a human's is short. It's a reality Malleus had to face when he met you for the first time when you dropped into the ceremony in the first part of the school year. He grew to like you, he wanted to spend time with you forever. But that wouldn't last for eternity, he knew that

One night, he had a dream. It was the first time he had a dream in a long time, and it wasn't pleasant. You were going back home, going back to the place you had originally fell from to come to Twisted Wonderland. While you seemed to be sad, you didn't turn around to look at him while he ran to hug you. But in a flash, you stepped into the mirror and disappeared.

Waking up with cold sweat, he looked outside of his window. Did Malleus really want you that badly? Sure you two were close, but you two weren't dating quite yet. He wasn't sure how to tell you his feelings since he knew he could be scary, but there might not be a lot of time left for him to truly express how he felt about you. He was determined to tell you the next thing in the morning

It was a calm day, he went first thing to Ramshackle to knock on your door. Malleus waited patiently, but no one was coming to answer. Finally, after twenty minutes, Grim came running from the main school direction. "W-what is it?" Malleus asked, a bit surprised that the magic beast wasn't in the dorm. "Y-Y/n *huff* they just found out they're going back!"

For a moment, it felt like there was an earthquake. Malleus looked at Grim with a surprised but disconnected look. "Is that so? Without even a proper goodbye?" He said and started walking towards the school. He couldn't let you leave like that, no, maybe he didn't want you to leave at all. Grim called out to him and said to not do anything bad but Malleus couldn't hear him. Maybe the magic was overflowing in the fae, he wasn't sure. But he wasn't going to let you go

Idia

He had a lot of nightmares, all the time. That was the main reason he didn't like sleeping and instead preferred to spend his nights downing energy drinks and playing video games. But it all changed when you came into his life, for once it seemed like he was at peace

Ortho was the one that had introduced Idia to you. He was reluctant at first since his younger brother said to Idia that you were super cool, and yeah you were! Idia didn't think he was worthy of getting much attention from you, but you opened up to him and let him be vulnerable around you. It was more than he could ask, and he soon found himself head over heels for you

But that would also start the bad dreams about you. It was just Ortho at first, but now it was also you. Monsters dragging you away, him hurting you somehow, or you just leaving him all of a sudden. They happened almost every night that he couldn't stand lying down on his bed.

"What's the matter?" you asked one night when he laid down but refused to sleep. "Ah, it's nothing, don't worry," he mumbled, but you could see right through him. "It's okay, tell me everything you need to, I'll listen." That was all it took for him to suddenly burst into tears. You were too kind, you were almost like the entire world to him. He told you all of this while you hugged him and patted his back

"Idia," you shook your head. "I'm not leaving, I'm not going to leave you. I'll always be with you." Ah, Idia felt it was unfair that he got to be around someone so amazing. You comforted him for the rest of the night, opting to grab a hot drink and cuddle with him

Lilia

Fae's are selfish creatures, it's just that Lilia learned to push that nature of his down. He was much wiser than Malleus so he knew just causing an earthquake wouldn't do much, but when it came to you it seemed like he couldn't contain his emotions.

Lilia would often tease you more than anything. He had no fear of jumpscaring you in the hallways or popping out from the corner with a "hah!" Either way, he liked seeing you flustered but this was mainly to mask his insecurity that you could one day disappear.

Fae live longer than humans. He knew you would one day leave without him. He had a horrible dream like that one night, and he woke up panting. It was a strange nightmare, one that mixed his days as a part of the army and his current life. He couldn't get rid of the image of your corpse in his head

Seeing you the next day so bright and happy made him feel better. "Lilia, you look a bit dazed, are you alright?" You asked, brushing his hair out of his face a bit. "Ah, don't worry about me. Just caught up in some thoughts," he laughed weakly, waving his hand to gesture it was no big deal. But of course this wasn't the case, he was still thinking about that dream he had. He could see you so alive but you could be gone in the next minute, who knows what could happen.

Lilia won't tell you how he feels directly, especially his fear of losing you one day. Thus, he makes a deal with himself that he'll enjoy every minute, every second he's with you. He can't go on regretting his life decisions in the future, right?

Azul

If there was one thing he didn't want to come true, it was a dream he had where he saw you leaving. It was a horrible dream, one where he had broken your trust because of his greed and one where you justifiably left him in his own dark desires. Azul knew your first impression of him was when he overblotted, but he wanted to start anew, and this time with you by his side

He started off awkwardly, with you having to hold the reigns most of the time in the relationship. Outside of dates and treating you out, Azul couldn't do much. He had a hard time telling you how he felt and things like that.

But this would change when he and you were studying together. He let you work on his desk while he slept. You thought you heard a mumble of your name and looked around but Azul wasn't awake. Thinking it was just your imagination, you were ready to go back to your studies but you heard a whimper next.

"Azul?" you looked at him, wondering if he was making those noises. Turns out yes it was him, except he was having a nightmare, one which was about you leaving. Azul was starting to cry, causing you to worry and try to wake him up from whatever torment he was going through. "Azul, Azul I'm here, it's okay."

Those words seemed to echo in the back of his mind. It slowly woke him up but he was crying a lot. He realized you saw him in his vulnerable state and was about to kick you out of the room but all he could do was reach out his arms and hug you. Holding him tighter, you told him it was all okay while stroking his hair, trying to comfort him

Cater

If there's one thing Cater regrets, it's letting himself take a bunch of photos with you. It wasn't that it was bad photos, but more that the memories of you would hurt him even more. You had left Twisted Wonderland only a few days ago, and all he had left of you were pictures

He had a dream one day, one that was about you leaving for your world. It was selfish of him to want you to stay, especially because you didn't even originate in Twisted Wonderland. But you were also the only person that looked at him for who he was. You let him be vulnerable, you didn't care if he wasn't always a bubbly photogenic student

Grim was the first one to tell him that you were leaving, but by the time he got there you were already going through the mirror, it was heartbreaking that all he could see was your back. "Y/n!" he shouted, wanting to say goodbye one more time, reaching out as he ran.

You turned around, realizing it was Cater and trying to stop the mirror from pulling you in. Maybe it could give you some time to say goodbye. But it kept pulling you in, and you had to fight the current that was taking you away from the person that you couldn't find the courage to say goodbye to. Cater and you took each other's hands and said your goodbyes, promising to meet each other again soon. However, it was only a minute long before you were gone

Cater stood there, silent and arms still outstretched. He wasn't sure how to act, it was also the first time Ace and Deuce had seen him so serious. Trey was about to ask Cater if he was alright, but Cater just gave him a sad smile and said "well, good things don't last forever, right?"

[raayllum]

This is just me being speculative, but I think Rayla already suspects that Callum used dark magic to escape his shackles. She could tell that he was troubled by something by the somber tone he had. And I think she's accepted that Callum ultimately had no choice given she was barely a minute from dying, and as such likely wouldn't hold it against him like she initially did the first time in S2. Like Callum with her, she's learning to accept the dark parts of him she may never truly know.

Yeah, I could see her putting it together on her own but waiting for him to bring it up (the way that he let her have that space with the coins) and I would like to watch a oneshot with that as the vibe.

I think, if she hasn't put it together (and she might not - she may not have even known he'd been chained below decks and assumed it was rope or he found some other spell work around the way he did with her literal ropes)... I think she'll be surprised and sad and maybe a little angry (aka worried) at first, but... Take a deep breath and hug him and make sure he's alright, knowing and trusting that he did it for a good reason (even if she probably doesn't think she's worth it) because he's torn up enough about it.

I've always been interested in exploring a version of 2x09 (and s3 by extension perhaps) where Callum doesn't wake up with the Sky arcanum, and they have to hash out where the lines are for him using dark magic. Cause I think while Rayla would never be happy about it... past 2x09 she doesn't really care.

R: Callum, please, come back. It doesn't matter what you did before, I just want you to be okay again.

Not that he's forgiven, not that she knows he'll never do it again, etc, but that it just flat out Doesn't Matter to her anymore. He did dark magic. So what? She loves him and she wants him to be okay.

So I think her primary emotion, upon finding out, will be worry that he isn't okay, since dark magic is dangerous and something he greatly dislikes as well but like - she loves him unconditionally. That's never going to change, either

[ostrichchariot]

Stuff has been really exciting recently. Jaysohn's really been enjoying it.

There's kind of really a lot of stuff happening right now.

Uncle Thorn's talking to the humans with Auntie Viola and Grandma, and Jaysohn's not tired, he's not, mum! But she told him they should go back and get some rest anyway now that things have calmed down a bit, and she said maybe they might see Sybil on the way. So maybe going back to the room for a bit wouldn't be so bad. And anyway, Lila's probably tired.

They don't see actually Sybil on the way, which is disappointing.

Lila settles down really fast like she always does, and then just lies there staring off into the distance thinking and not even running around while she does it or anything, like she always does. She just stays there listening, because she's really really clever, and that does mean she is also just a tiny bit boring sometimes.

Mum is sitting by the door, staring out into the warren.

"Mum?" says Jaysohn. "Are you going to die?"

Her head whips round in an instant, and she stares at him for a moment before she responds. "Am I- what do you mean, sweetie?"

"Well, you know, since you died but you came back, does that mean you'll never die?" asks Jaysohn.

She looks at him. She opens her mouth, then closes it again. She reaches out a paw, and places it, with excruciating gentleness, on Jaysohn's shoulder.

This is the flesh she tore into with raw power and savagery. This is the muscle she stitched back together with sheer force of will.

Under the fur, there is a scar, now.

Jaysohn thinks it probably looks really cool, and isn't sure why mum looks sort of heartbroken when he leans into her touch a little.

"I'm so sorry," she says. "I'm so, so sorry, Jaysohn."

Her eyes glisten with tears, and that's sad, but it's ok. Jaysohn doesn't mind, as long as she doesn't look like she did in that moment where she stopped being all weird and attacking him, and then stared at him like she wanted to be gone. Like she was gone, just not on the outside.

"Come on, mum," says Jaysohn. "I'm fine. I'm really strong, you know! Anyway, Auntie Viola exploded those humans, and you healed me, so it doesn't even matter!"

"It does matter." says mum, voice unusually forceful. "I hurt you, and that was wrong. That was unforgivable."

"Well you didn't do it on purpose, did you?" says Jaysohn. "Obviously. I could tell. Plus I know you would never do that unless someone else was doing it. Otherwise it wouldn't make any sense."

Mum's eyes soften, and she nuzzles him gently, pressing her nose into his shoulder fur. "No. No, I suppose it wouldn't," she says. "I love you, Jaysohn. I'm so glad you're alright. I'm so proud of you, you did so well out there."

"I caught the cloudless thunder," says Jaysohn.

She pulls back and stares at him, as though she hadn't quite realized what that meant until this moment. "...You did," says says. "You did. It can't hurt you. Can it?" She blinks a couple of times, looking almost overwhelmed. "You- you're very strong, Jaysohn."

"I know right?" says Jaysohn.

She looks at him, eyes soft. "You should get some rest, now. It's been a long day."

Jaysohn- well. He almost protests. He really does.

But it has been a long day.

And- there's something that's different, now, in mum's eyes. He doesn't know quite what it is. He just knows that it's not the same as it was yesterday.

"Only if you do too," he says.

"Oh," says mum.

She closes her eyes for a few seconds. It's quiet. Oddly calm, given everything that's just happened.

"I suppose it's safe now," she says. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah," says Jaysohn. "You know nothing's gonna mess with us. Auntie Viola exploded those humans."

"Yes," says mum, gently amused, "I think you mentioned that, sweetie."

"Well if Auntie Viola and Grandma are out there, no one'll ever get in at all unless they let them in on purpose."

"Your Uncle Thorn is doing a very important job out there too, speaking to the humans," says mum, for no reason Jaysohn can see.

"Yeah, he's there too I guess?" he says, a little confused.

"Alright," says mum, stifling a laugh, "let's sleep now." She curls up beside Lila, leaving a space open on the other side for Jaysohn.

Jaysohn wriggles in next to her.

She is warm. He can hear her heartbeat.

"You're warm," he says.

"I am," she says. "It's nice."

He moves just a bit closer to her.

"We can rest now," says Tula. "And in the morning, we can decide what we want to do next."

[ezra-editss]

"Dean doesn't reciprocate" MY ASS

I'm just kinda gonna write down my thoughts about this. I'm in season 7 now, I know what happens in the very last episode, but nothing else so I don't read any posts about the show here yet :) (just so yk and don't accidentally spoiler me) Oh and I do this mostly out of memory and some notes that I took, so this might be a little chaotic :,)

Okay, so the whole season 6 fight was crazy to me. The way Cas was watching while Dean kept on defending him. And he knew how much Dean trusted him. ("The worst part was Dean. He was trying so hard to be loyal, with every instinct telling him otherwise.") It hurt him, but the whole time he was, again, protecting Dean. And yes, he hurt Dean, but I think it was as bad for Cas to hurt Dean, as for Dean to be hurt.

Then, Dean apologizing for the others? They (thought they) were wrong and Dean had kept on trusting Cas, so why was it him who apologized? Because he knew it meant more to Cas when he did it? Idk.

Cas wasn't able to lie when he looked in Dean's eyes.. come on? Also, the fact Dean wasn't actually mad when he found out was really interesting. He was just extremely sad. Yes, his trust got broken and maybe he was just tired of it all, but it didn't seem like that to me, I felt like he usually got madder.

I love how they always share those sad looks when they go apart after the fights btw, such a best buddys thing to do.

It was really hard for both of them. We can see that Dean can't sleep that night and that Cas comes back to talk to him alone, because it only matters to him that Dean understands.

Oh and the "I'm doing this for you, Dean." I don't even need to explain his motives, because he reveals them himself.

Then the scene from my edit. (at the top) (it's kinda laggy, bc it's slow-motion, but anyways) They both have teary eyes a lot, but this is different. Dean turns aways because he knows he's gonna cry and Cas disappears before he really starts crying, but they are both fuckin crying about this. They're both just sad and want this to end. Even when Dean said he's gonna stop him and so on, it was way less threatening than usually. And Cas kept coming back when Dean was in danger.

But Dean still cared as well. In the first episode of season 7, when Cas asks for help, he pretends he doesn't care about him anymore for a bit, but you can clearly see that he still does. You at least can see it when he thinks Cas is dead. He's devastated.

It's kinda funny how Bobby's there but Cas very obviously only cares to make it up to Dean. Like he always says "they're my friends" but in reality he means Dean.

AND THEN.. Cas tries to protect everyone else again and sends them away but DEAN STAYS. I think he knew that there wouldn't be anything he could do, but it didn't matter.

Cas dies again. (give my man a break, please) Dean keeps the god damn coat? I think he might've done it, because he was hoping that Cas would come back again. Anyways, scene was devastating.

In the judge/court episode about Dean's guilt, I immediately hoped Dean didn't feel guilty about Cas too, but was pretty sure he did. My worries were confirmed in episode 5.

So yeah, I suppose that's the part where I am, I guess I have to wait 'till Cas comes back now :,)

I don't think anyone read all this, but I hope I didn't make any grammar mistakes, bc English isn't my first language, so I sometimes get stuff mixed up (I definitely made the tenses confusing). Anyways, rant end.

[suna1suna1]

Never Like in the Books | MD Oneshot

Finale spoilers!

Angst

N/V (kinda, one-sided)

N/Uzi (Background)

Just a little bit of angst, but it's not too sad I don't think. I have a goal for after this, and it's semi-related to this fic I posted yesterday

V didn't like talking about it much, but she was a book nerd. She enjoyed reading a lot of things, but... weirdly enough, she hated sad endings. Maybe it was because they reminded her too much of her own life. Her and N's story had ended the moment the Solver had come into their lives. They just didn't notice. 

Well, V didn't think N had ever noticed that it had even started. 

Not that it mattered now. At least she could escape into books, where no one disappointed you. Where the hero always got whomever they were in love with, always had more people in love with them than they knew what to do with. In books, V could escape herself. Could escape the memories and the Solver and... Become a little closer to whom she used to be. 

"Hey!" 

She looked up from her book to find N sitting on the floor next to her in the landing pod, grinning. "Watcha reading?" 

V narrowed her eyes, more out of habit now than any real malice. Uzi had been the primary Solver host for a while now, and she seemed to be keeping it well under control. That, and Cyn was dead. She no longer had any reason to keep N at arms length, but she still caught herself doing it. 

Not that it had ever really worked. N had a weird way of worming his way into everyone's hearts. Except J's, though V had never understood her hatred of him even in the mansion. 

"Nothing," she replied. "Just some trash I found in their bags." V gestured to a couple of frozen human corpses she'd dragged into the pod. One of them had been wearing a cute skirt that was surprisingly in decent condition, and if Lizzy didn't want it, V certainly did. 

The "trash" in question was a dystopian YA novel, and honestly, it was pretty decent. The characters were okay, and the plot was cool. All in all, she would rate it a solid three point five out of five. 

N tilted his head to try and get a look at the cover. "Could I borrow it when you're done with it?" he asked. 

V shrugged. "Sure. But isn't Uzi trying to show you that one manga where like, the humans have to eat other humans and stuff? I don't know, I wasn't listening when she tried to tell me about it." 

"She is! But we can't find the next volume." 

"Oh, that's always the worst." 

N groaned. "Right? And we left off on a huge cliffhanger!" 

"What was it called again?" V asked. If she knew the name she might be able to help them find a copy somewhere. 

"I... I forgot." 

V laughed quietly. "Don't let Uzi catch you saying that," she said. 

N chuckled, then his smile faded. "You haven't really been around much. Are you doing okay, V?" 

Wow... That was abrupt. 

V sighed. "Kinda?" she said. "It's... weird that Cyn's just... gone. You know? I spent... so long doing everything I could to protect you from her, to appease her just so she wouldn't kill you. And I guess... I feel... kinda useless now. Like, my whole reason for holding on, for still existing, is gone." 

"Well, that's kinda cool, isn't it?" N said. "You get to choose what you want to do!" 

V smiled and shook her head. "Yeah, but that's just it. I have no clue what I want to do. Well... Actually, I do know, but it's not happening so like... Who cares?" 

"I do," N replied. "What is it?" 

V looked at him, and she immediately realized that was a mistake because he was giving her the damn puppy eyes. She sighed. "It's nothing," she said. "Like I said, it's not happening." 

"You don't know that!" 

"Yeah, I think I do, N." You're already with her. "Can I read my book now?" 

N seemed to deflate, and even though she'd seen that look over and over again through the years, it still made her core feel like it was breaking in two. "Okay," he said. "You still up for that scavenging run later?" 

V nodded and turned back to her book, and N stood up and left the pod. 

Yeah, she got enough sad endings in her life. What was one more onto the pile? 

[gloriousmonsters]

Mememememe I want to see

please enjoy a selection from you're on a path in the desert, chapter 2: 'The Ancient', brought about by wondering what ganondorf's motivation is and being honest and brash enough he kind of likes you and is like 'sorry, kid' while murdering you to attempt a breakout in the first chapter. narrated by Zelda, starring Link and Ganondorf.

--------

You're on a path in the desert. Or... it's more of a beach, isn't it? You can hear the sea. Small crabs scuttle and hide among rocks smoothed by eons of lapping waves; the pristine sands glitter, here and there, with old coins and jewels set in tarnished metal. Pirate treasures, as if a ship was wrecked here long ago. A lonely blue sky arches high above, unmarred by a single cloud. A path of scattered white rocks, like sun-bleached bones, lead toward the edge of the water. At the end of this path, a man with evil eyes is imprisoned. A king. You, hero, must slay him; or it will be the end of the world.

Voice of the Curious: He didn't seem that bad!

- Yeah, he wasn't as bad as she hyped him up to be.

- Bad? He was very bad! I'm completely on board with the 'slaying' thing now.

- Hang on, how are we here? Didn't we die?

> I see what you mean, but he did very much kill us. That was a thing that happened.

Voice of the Curious: I guess, but he was so... sad. He just wanted to escape. He seemed like he'd been there for a really long time.

> He did.

Excuse me, who's this? And what are you saying about dying? Please don't tell me—

Voice of the Curious : We died and we came back to life!

- More or less.

- I died and it was terrifying and now I'm me and also this other part of me and they're both me and I don't know how that works or what's going on and I'm going to start crying probably

> This isn't the first time we've been here. Your 'man with the evil eyes' was the one that killed me, not the other way around.

He's not mine, and... It wouldn't be the same, the other way around. You need to slay him, not kill him.

- I get it. I'm a human, and he's a monster.

> Semantics.

Very important ones. Listen to me, hero. I hoped that this wouldn't happen, and I didn't want to scare you with the possibility. But please believe me—we're walking a fine line, now. All is not lost, but every failure widens his chance at escape.

Voice of the Curious: Really?

I do not like how you said that. This... voice, whatever it is, it seems very young. Don't let naivety influence you, hero. One failure means he's already found a chink in your armor—it is even more imperative you keep your guard up. Whatever he said, whatever he did, put it out of your mind. Focus on this. He is evil, and he will destroy everything if he escapes. You are the hero, the only one with the power to stop him. I—everything depends on you.

Voice of the Curious : That's a lot of pressure...

- I love pressure.

- I hate pressure.

 > Are you really sure I can do this?

Yes. You’re the only one that can. 

Voice of the Curious: Wow, she sounds... so serious. I don't know if I trust her, but I think she likes you.

Ha. That's... You matter a great deal to me. By definition, of course. You’re the hero, you matter to everyone. But we don't have time to sit here and talk about our feelings, whatever they might be. Your quest is the same, hero. It's time to go forward.

> (proceed to the prison)

N: At the edge of the water, the path of rocks continue—for a little while. Soon they're fewer and farther between, and in their place are footholds of debris, half-rotted hulls of wood, old chests rammed up on some invisible sandbank below the water. There have been many wrecks here, and as you pick your way forward, you see the largest of them up ahead. Splintered and broken, its massive hull impaled on the tall and jagged rocks that rise from the hidden seabed, like towers of some sunken castle. The rest of it is remarkably intact, but it looks ancient. Weathered, by years that have sapped color from cloth and wood and leached memory from material. Every detail blurred. The figurehead is faceless, nearly formless, like the... like the image of a loved one long forgotten.

> Are you all right?

Your path ends—or rather, takes a new form—at the side of the wreck. An old rope ladder leads up the barnacle-encrusted side. The old wood creaks as you ascend, but even that sound is... muted. This ship isn't just wrecked, it's becalmed. The muting of that sound makes you acutely aware of the absence of others. No birds cry in the sky; no fish splash in the water. The land behind you is already lost in a hazy fog. This is a lonely place.

Voice of the Curious: She's making it sound so depressing. It's sad, but it's also sort of cool, right? It's like an old pirate ship! It doesn't feel like a prison, it feels like... like a hideout!

Please be quiet. It's a prison. It might look... odd, but it's a prison.

Voice of the Curious : Do you think there's treasure?

...No.

Voice of the Curious: ...You want there to be treasure too, right?

I'm not interested. We have a very important job to do. To your left, across the weathered deck, a door leads to the fo'c'sle. It's not locked, but it's encrusted with barnacles, warped in its frame. Beside it, a sword is embedded in the wall, as if left there after a battle long ago. It gleams with its own light—

Voice of the Curious: It's not glowing, though. It's just a sword.

It's not—but... Ah. Yes. Well, it doesn't need to glow, does it? It's the hero's sword. It's made to kill evildoers and monsters. It's meant for your hand, and your hand alone. Take up the sword, hero. You'll need it if you want to save us all.

- But it's not glowing. Didn't you say it was important it glowed?

- What if I don't want to save everyone?

> take up the sword

- don't take up the sword

Sword in hand, you force open the door, rusted hinges screeching as you shove your whole body's weight against it. Before you is a sheer drop, lightless, only the first few feet visible in the foggy sunlight that filters past your shoulders. A rope ladder hangs over the ledge at your feet, vanishing into shadow. The air is musty, damp, and smells of moldering spice and rotting silk, wood permeated with gunsmoke and worried by the icy teeth of the ocean over the course of centuries. If this is the prison the king's been confined in, killing him will be a mercy.

His voice echoes up from the darkness, tired but commanding.

The King: I knew you'd return. Come here, boy. Let us speak face to face.

Voice of the Curious: He remembers us! And he sounds... older. I mean, he was already older than us. But he sounds much older now. 

Of course he's old, he's been in prison for a long time. Don't dwell on it or wonder about it, the more time and thought you give him the more dangerous he is. Just get down there and accomplish your quest.

> proceed down the 'stairs'

After what feels like half an hour of nerve-wracking descent, feeling for foot and hand-holds in the darkness, light begins to bloom below you. When you come to the bottom, a few minutes later, you find yourself facing another door—this one richly carved wood, remarkably well-preserved considering the state of the ship. It's hard to make out much in the light filtering through the cracks around it, but you can see intricate, geometric patterns, and the snarling face of a boarlike beast carved huge in the very center.

Voice of the Curious: What—

You waste no time fooling around and asking questions, and open the door. Striding within, you find yourself confronted with a surprisingly lavish room, dimly lit by old oil-lamps. Rich rugs cover the floor; a huge bed stands in the back of the room, partly hidden by curtains, and a huge desk carved with intricate details dominates another side of the room. Tapestries, paintings and maps nearly cover the walls, save for a section that seems dedicated to a number of weapons—at a glance you see twin swords and a trident. Everything feels a little... oversized, as if you're a child venturing into the room of an adult. When you look closer, you can see signs of wear and age—cracking paint, books with pages puffed by soaking and drying out, scratches in the fine wood and dust on the tapestries—but the overall effect is still opulent, overwhelming. This feels right for a prison meant to confine a king; it would be suitable for an emperor, confined to his office by the new regime, allowed to keep a pretense of dignity.

But across the room from you, there's a strangely bare section of the wall, interrupted by only two things: A porthole filled more by spiderwebbing cracks than glass, showing only blank darkness, and the King, who stands tall and studies you thoughtfully with pale gold eyes.

The King: You approach me, yet again, with your blade in hand. Interesting.

He's a big man, broad and heavy, a physique that might impress as brutish or sedentary if not for the way he holds himself. Straight-backed, imperious, with a hint of a fighter's grace in the way his stance shifts as his eyes track the step you take forward. There's no gray in his hair, or deep wrinkles on his face, but something about him gives an impression of great age and greater weariness. His face is craggy, but his eyes are delicately lined with black; he wears a topaz on his brow, and fine robes that inspire ideas of entrenched and confident authority. As he seems to reach an internal resolution in his appraisal of you, his teeth bare in what is hard to determine as a mocking smile or a grimace of pain.

The King: I suppose that if you try to kill me this time, it will only be fair. But I'd rather we talk.

Voice of the Curious: Ooh, talk! Yes! I want to know what's going on! Just, um, maybe we should stay at a distance.

Remember what you're here for. Don't listen to him, or him. Please, hero. Kill him now.

- slay the king

- kill him?

- You killed me last time, I'd like an apology before we do anything else.

> All right. Let's talk.

[panzershrike-pretz]

Lanterns

Part 4

Disclaimer: -----

Summary: A Goddess who lost her faith, trying to get back to her senses so her family doesn't fall apart.

Warnings: -----

Taglist: @malarkgirlypop , @bucky32557038ww2, @xxluckystrike (if you want in or out, just tell me!)

-> Image below found here.

Hydra hadn't noticed that she kept the lantern as she made her way back to shore. Her feet dragged along the sand, so lost in her own mind she coudn't even focus on whatever she needed to do - it only clicked when she found herself crashing against one of her crewmates.

"Oh, i'm so sorry! I didn't- well, i wasn't-"

"Is 'at yours?", Sirius pointed at the lantern, confused as to why his sister had it.

"Uh... yeah... kind of. An elder gave it to me at the church..." Hydra said slowly, incapable of meeting his eyes. She wasn't planning on dealing with him right now. "She was so sweet, i couldn't say no..."

Sirius smirked, walking around her as if to make sure she was in one piece, having a good look to see if she had hit her head against something. Then, he grabbed her by the hand to give her a little spin. "Ok. Who're ya and what'd ye do with my sister?"

"What? Why?", she laughed, smiling at is anttics.

"Well 'cuz the Hydra I know would ne'er be seen with one o' those", he pointed at the lantern once again, curious. "Ye'll keep it?"

"Why are you like this, stupid?" She scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. "As a matter of fact, I was indeed plannin' on keepin' it."

" 'Kay, spill yer beans. Ye ain't my Hydra, are ya?", he kept his stupid smirk, crossing his arms. Part of him was proud of his baby sister for deciding to keep it - and another, bigger part of him, was worried she might be really sick. "Go on, I know ye're just someone in disguise. Hit me with a bullet, ye Royal sea rat."

"Sirius! I'm not one of those bastards!"

"Well, one can only guess... I think I lost me darling sis'...", he said, trying to seem sad while wipping an imaginary tear out of his eye. "She'll be so dearly missed... I do wonder what is my part in her heirloom... Can I keep yer good stuff? I might sell yer clothes, those would make me get some good booty"

Hydra rolled her eyes at him, making her way towards the ship - but Sirius was right on her tail, questioning her every move 'till she stopped right on her tracks and stared him down.

"Didn't Sam give you something to do?"

"He did." Sirius nodded. "But I won't. As Ol' Athena said... not feelin' it."

"You do know that you're not in a position to choose, don't you?"

"Then why aren't ye doing what he told ye? If me memory isn't faillin' me, Sam told ya to get mor' coal and fire wood." Sirius watched carefully as his sister's face dropped in disbelief. He knew she had forgotten - and he also knew he was told to help her out, but decided not to simply to be lazy on the beach. "No prob, little Ibis, I can take the blame for ya. Ye know, like always."

"You just wan't something to manipulate me with, that's what you want."

"Yeah, that too... but I wouldn't like my sweet always-on-point smart-ass responsible baby sister to get in trouble, would I?"

Hydra could not believe her ears, having to contain her laugh. "You manipulative scurvy snake!"

Sirius shook his shoulders. "Worth a try."

As both started walking back - Hydra to drop off the lantern and Sirius to rub into Sam's face how useless he was -, they just let the sound of the waves hitting the beach fill the air. The man was whistling some song she could only make out half of - probably a sea shanty.

Some seagulls looked over at them, curious and unbothered, sitting over in one of the little docks where fishermen would sit all day long waiting for bites.

She still had Maria's words in her mind and wasn't really able to ignore it. Something inside her was screaming that she needed to step up to her own responsibilities and make her title worth it at least a little bit. She felt jealous, of course.

Sirius was also a God; he took care of the night, the stars, the dogs and secrets. The man was good at his job, even though he's not exactly that interested in it, seeing as he did nothing more than the basic stuff - Hydra knew he would much rather prefer to stay snuggled up with both Michael and the Captain, Jeremy. And they were good in their own realms too.

Michael would always talk about his duties some thousand years ago, when someone stops to listen to his tellings. He loves to tell stories about the old rituals and celebrations for the moon himself, dancing around at night with the wolves and people of his own little kingdom.

Jeremy, in another hand, was one of the youngest Gods there was, but he also provided enough. He made the wind blow strong into Blithe's sails and always looked for his crew with his protective demeanor.

Hydra decided not to mention Athena, Rodion nor Darty. They all couldn't care less for their duties - specially Darty, since their whole thing was looking pretty and cursing narcisistic people, or something. It was pure hypocrisy in Hydra's eyes.

She didn't even notice when Peggy came running in their direction, jumping in the sand. The woman only saw the dog when it was almost too late and she was already tripping both pirates - who had too much luck not to fall face first on the ground.

Peggy barked, wagging her tail while running around them. She wanted to play and wasn't much preocupied if she made anyone eat sand so she could have company.

Sirius laughed as he took Hydra's lantern out of her hands. He knew she needed some time and decided to drop it off with her things by himself - and also, be the only one who'll need to hear any rants about not doing their tasks.

Hydra looked at him while he walked, somewhat grateful. Then she felt Peggy bite ate her wing feathers, pulling the woman to play.

Come on! Come on! Come look at what I found!

The dog barked as she let go of Hydra, running head first into the beach's waves and submerging her nose, only to immediately back down with a big shell in her mouth. She walked over to Hydra, nudging her with with her nose so she could take the shell and throw it.

Hydra did exactly that. Too many times, to be clear. As always, Peggy would run after it, her whole body shaking and then jump, probably swallowing some sand as she came back to another throw.

Eventually, Hydra found herself sitting in a rock while the dog ran wild, taken by the zoomies. The lapwings and seagulls would land and then immediately fly off again because of her.

Peggy came happily to her again, carrying something in her mouth to show the woman. The dog had her tongue out and whatever it was she had with her was trying to wiggle it's way out. It was only when she was really close that Hydra noticed it was a crab. How the fuck did Peggy find a crab?

The animal wasn't exactly happy with it's new uber dog, and when it got the chance, Peggy screamed the loudest she could, being pinched by it's claws on her lip. She violently shook her head and sent it flying to the sand, right before barking all her swear words at it.

Bad bad! Bad! Not good, you behaved bad! Bad! Her mind repeated, as it was the worse thing she could think of for calling the crab. She sure hated being called bad girl, so it would too, right?

Well, the crab only stood it's ground, menacingly waving it's claws at her before running away to the nearest bush.

Peggy looked over at where it ran to, making a quick mental note not to grab anymore of those things. It would fight back. It was definetely not food, sadly.

"Did you learn anything from that, Peggy?", Hydra asked amidst tearful laughs. "Who am I kidding? You would never."

Peggy immediately forgot about her newest unlocked fear, making her way towards the woman and sitting with the head on her lap to get some good scratches behind the ear.

"What do you think, Peggy?", she asked. "Do you like the lanterns?"

I don't know, is it food? The dog looked up, interested.

"You know, sometimes I wonder what do you have in mind."

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

Sirius didn't really take long before making his way up to Blithe's main deck. He was lost in his own mind, staring at the carved drawings on that lantern, when he felt eyes burning at his skin and looked up, only to find himself face to face with a very pissed off Seamus who was having a very bad time.

"What? Did Dean not kiss ya today?" The God asked, forgetting completely that Sam was, in fact, expecting him to return with wood and coal.

"No. He actually did." Sam narrowed his eyes at the man. "Aren't you forgetting something, pretty boy?"

Sirius looked around, then it downed on him. He smiled, playfully.

"Ahhh, Sammy, ye know how things are... would ye forgive an old man for forgettin' stuff?"

"Not exactly when that old man looks younger than me. Where is the stuff?"

"Look, this time I do have a good reason!", Sirius started, hoping that his story would make Sam completelly forget about his lack of responsibility. "I was followin' Hydra 'cuz, ye know, she's the good siblin'. Then she simply vanished out of nowhere. And I was soooo lost... and sad... definetely sad. And lost."

"Bullshit."

"Wait! Lemme finish! Then I made me way back to beach, aye, but I was just really worried 'bout her. Then I waited 'till she came back... and she ne'er did."

Seamus rolled his eyes so hard he thought they were going to fall off his face. "Right. Then how would you have this lantern? Did some ol' bunch o' dogs bring it to you, flea bag?"

"The woman that came in her place, and me swear on me life-"

"Stop it."

"A'ight. She did come back, yeah, with this. Mine sister's just goin' badonkers and accepted this lantern as a gift from an old woman."

Seamus stared at the thing, deciding if he would believe Sirius or not. It was a really hard choice, seeing as he knew Hydra fucking hated getting anything to fo with the Night of Libero Sanctis and Sirius would actually come up with whatever excuse he could to cover up his lazyness. Eventually, though, he decided to quietly nod and go along. Something in him felt some slight hint of truth in Sirius' words.

"She's commin' around." The man said, tilting his head. "I'll let your stupidness slide and won't tell Jeremy."

"What would he do?", Sirius laughed. "Put me to sleep on the couch? The man loves me too much for tha', he cannt dream of sleepin' withou' me. Ye know, I'm actually pretty good to hug and..."

"I really don't need to know how's your love life. Shut your trap before I change my mind and have meeting the Cat o' Nine."

"Did you also do that to your men in the army?" Sirius teased, smug. "Did they know what a Cat o' Nine was? Is the cool and collected Cap'n Finnegan loosing his composure? Would yer men be proud?"

"No they fuckin' didn't because they weren't smatasses like you, shark bait! And, in fact, I think they would've begged me to put your down, dog."

"Ohhh, shiver me timbers! Ye'll have to stop hangin' the jib, matey!"

Sam frowned. He sure did want to shove Sirius down the plank.

Sirius saw this as a win. Making Sam unconfortable was one of his favorite past times, anyway.

He dropped the lantern off with Hydra's stuff before going up to the Captain's Cabin. The door was unlocked, so he saw himself right in, as usual, but found Jeremy was not there. Instead, was Michael, sitting in bed, reading a book.

The room was big and confortable - way more so than the lower deck stuffed with hammocks and snores all night long. Sirius smiled as he walked up to Micah, crawling into bed and letting himself fall just close enough to the other man so he would notice.

"Hey, darlin'", Michael smiled, closing the book before giving Sirius all his attention. "Are you alright?"

"Jus'... thinkin'."

"You don't do that often". Michael began playing with the other's hair, waiting to see if he had anything more to say. "What is fillin' yer mind, hearty?"

Sirius couldn't help himself - Micah was so sweet and welcoming, it always made him spill whatever he was holding in mind.

He spoke about how Hydra was acting weird, spoke about his fear for the crew's well being, about Athena's lack of awareness about how Jeremy wanted to shove her down the sea and never let her back up again... all the things he could think of, he spoke about. Spoke about his day, about the beach, about the lantern, about Peggy and about another thousand things.

And Micah heard every word, without interrupting his partner. He just stared into Sirius pretty face, making braids in his long hair while listening. After all was over, then it was time for him to speak.

"I understand you. I also feel like things are rough those last couple of months... it's not our fault, you know?" He tried to tell Sirius, but his own words were lacking the confidence to say it. "It's just what happens when people are stuck together for so long."

Sirius nodded, letting himself relax a bit more under Micah's touch.

"I fear it's actually a response to... whate'er Hydra's been going thru, ye know?" He admited.

"How so?"

"Ye know... she's a Family Goddess. Ye remembe' how when Rod's mom was sick and spring was all fucked up 'cuz of tha'? It's like somethin' like tha' is happenin' to us."

"Go on...?" Michael was actually curious to hear Sirius' theory.

"Maybe Hydra's crisis is wha' is givin' fuel to all those fights? Like... I can't explain but we're family and... kind of... she may be messin' with our bonds withou' noticin'" he said, confused at his own words. "Jus' think 'bout it... doesn't tha' make sense?"

"It does." It wasn't Michael who answered, but Jeremy, who was just quietly listening to their talk. He caught both in surprise, waving while making his way to sit at the bed with them. "Sirius has a good point. That may be the cause of the problem."

"Good, it means I'm the smartest of us now?" He smiled at the Captain, who could only laugh.

"Nah, I think that title stays with Micah."

"Thank you, love." The lycanthrope smiled. "Sirius is right, tho. Maybe Hydra really is havin' trouble and accidentaly lettin' it off on us. We should help her..."

"To be honest, she's already helping herself." Sirius said. "Maybe I should ask her to stay with us the Holiday? Maybe I can make her do it..."

"She loves you. Can't see her saying no to this pretty face." Jeremy winked at him, making Sirius blush and giggle under his breath.

"He's right. She'd be a cold heartless wench to say no to you. I could never!" Micah laughed, which make the other blush even harder.

"Oh, dear. I'll never get used to you two."

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