#and what spot would it choose—the body of someone who always sacrifices himself for others?

[moodyseal]

I'm still not sure what that "haze of roiling violet energy" Apollo mentions at the end of TON is—might be his soul or his essence or even his life force—but if it's in any way, shape or form connected to what is supposed to be his only mortal spot after he fell into the river Styx then the fact that it's located on his chest says a lot about his character

[mushroomwoods]

Soft.

the inherently good guy, the one who'd sacrifice his whole life if it meant saving those he cared for, the one who'd turn into someone else entirely if that's what his love wished for. that's who sky was, and even when some said it was too overbearing, he'd rather say it was just the soft spot he had for you.

character — Sky, romantic.

cw — typical yandere content, unhealthy views of relationships, manipulation/gaslighting, obsessive tendencies.

as aways, my interpretation of Sky is not the best, man's a fucking mystery to me, but still, I'm pretty proud of it even if it turned shorten than my usual works. @yourlocaltreesimp, the meal is served, darling, a hot n cute manipulative bastard for the main course. hope you like it <3

Sky presence was... soft.

Soft spoken, mild mannered, borderlining a shy demeanor and most of all, harmless.

A hero, the Hero of the Sky. The one who defeated a god all by himself, yet preferred to stay on the sidelines and watch as the others took the lead. A leadership he was more than capable of taking, but choose not to.

Sometimes his gentle nature made you forget about just how strong he could be, yet he made no point to prove it wrong even when you bickered playfully, saying you'd get stronger than him if he continued to laze around.

He would just smile each time.

You naively took that as a sign that he was playing along with your jokes, the ever so gentle and caring Sky, going out of his way to make you comfortable.

And well.

It wasn't entirely wrong.

He was indeed trying to make you feel comfortable around him. The lovely and caring you, who would shy away if Time so much as started to frown, or would actively cower if Twilight ever growled beside you.

That's why Sky felt like he had to try so hard to appear as mild as possible.

Always gentle, always caring, always the one you could turn to when you needed someone to rely one.

And it felt so fucking satisfying when his name was the first to fall from your lips whenever danger arouse, it was almost impossible for him to hide the victorious grin who stretched over his face.

Yet to you it just seemed like a friend eager to comfort the poor, restless you, too unaware of the hazy craziness hid just underneath his skin.

It was a wonder how you didn't notice when his fleeting touches started to turn more and more possessive, bruising even, when he was at the verge of losing his own damn mind. How he started to demand more and more of your time with each passing day, how any of your rest times were hogged away by the skyloftian pulling you away for a well deserved nap.

How his eyes thinned uncharacteristically when any of the other heroes ever dared spend a little too long beside you.

And of course said heroes scampered away as soon as his patience threaded on a thin line, after all, they were no fools to try and test the first reincarnation ire.

But you never noticed any of this, you'd possibly never do until you were too far in his honeyed trap, too willingly beside him to ever think of letting go.

After all, he had always been good at playing the good guy and if that was what it took to receive your love, he'd fully master this art.

Sky was soft, if only you didn't look at the visceral pile of bodies he faithfully hid from your untainted eyes.

[greatideas-badwriter]

SasuSaku: Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Ch. 6

'What have I done? Why did I agree to that woman's plight?' Sasuke just sent letters to many people to begin preparations for his upcoming wedding.

He couldn't believe his eyes and ears while having tea with Lady Haruno. Her behavior was more graceful and composed than what he'd seen through The Curse's eyes. The terror in her emerald eyes was mostly gone, and she no longer trembled at the sight of him.

What Sasuke couldn't wrap his head around was the fact that she was so determined to give her life away. Obviously, something in her upbringing had convinced her she had no choice but to die young. He'd eventually figure out what that was, but for now, he had to try and find a different way to rid of The Curse.

'I'm no better than that demon, agreeing to a young woman's sacrifice for the sake of my future.' He thought that, but he couldn't deny a sense of relief that there may just be a ray of hope. 'Is it truly okay to use Lady Haruno like this? She seemed happy when she left.'

He decided then and there that he'd try to find a way to save her and himself. Only if that failed would he allow himself to cherish her, to open his heart to her so that he may be cured. Until then, he must keep his emotions in check. To remove The Curse, he first has to hold someone dear. When he eventually does, that person would be in extreme danger of assassination from the royal family and his own self-preservation.

'Now, how do I prevent The Curse from getting in the way of our plans?' A startling realization swept over the prince. 'Will he lash out and try to kill The Lady now that she's agreed to this? Surely, he'll be angry for what she said about becoming my sacrifice instead of his.'

For the next few days, Sasuke wracked his brain for a way to come to a compromise with the demon, who was beyond livid about the situation. Each morning and night, he'd scream monstrous curses and threats at the prince.

Finally, he came up with something that could work as a short-term solution. Before dusk, he wrote out a letter and placed it on the floor of the closet before shackling himself as usual. Then, he waited. He didn't have to for long.

Soon, familiar agony crawled down his body from the spot where the wizard Orochimaru had bitten so long ago. Then, his own voice bled from his body, full of bloodlust and hate, "What is this foolishness! You have the audacity to try and make a deal with a demon, Boy?"

"Agree not to kill a single person, including Lady Haruno, until after the wedding, and I'll allow you to roam free at night."

"What do you stand to gain from this?"

Sasuke felt bitterly toward himself for putting an innocent such as his fiance in danger, so he admitted, "I'm giving you a chance to stop me from being rid of you, Curse."

Laughter shook his chest, bellowing loudly throughout the room. After a moment, The Curse mocked him, "You humans, always consumed by useless things like guilt."

The prince didn't argue. He truly was doing this because he couldn't stand the idea of taking another's life for his own. This felt like a sick and twisted way of self-punishment, or at least a handicap to make it more difficult to earn his freedom.

"A selfish man, you are." Sasuke was sure, then, that the demon would refuse the deal but was stunned when his own voice came again, "I agree to your terms. Let us see who the sacrifice chooses in the end."

An electric sensation flooded his veins.

'That must be the magic of the deal. It's too late to go back now. If either of us breaks the vow, the other will have complete control of this body.'

"Have you yet realized what a terrible position you've put my prey in? She'll suffer at the hands of this body regardless of who controls it." Sasuke's heart felt as though it stopped in his chest. He hadn't thought about that at all. 'How dare I pretend to have made this deal for her sake! She was condemned the moment she arrived at this manor.' He was only soothing his guilt by making this deal. No good would come to Lady Haruno regardless of whether the demon was free to pursue her.

The level of the prince's self-loathing grew by the day after that. At night, The Curse would visit Lady Haruno, enthralled by her unique behavior and helplessness. During the day, Sasuke would do his best to avoid his fiance when possible because he didn't want her to grow attached to him or vice-versa. Only when they were made to cooperate on matters of their wedding did they interact, and even then, it was in short bursts.

One week after the couple agreed to continue with their engagement, the official dressmaker of the royal family arrived.

"Yes, please do anything My Lady requests. Do not concern yourself with budget," Sasuke waved a dismissive hand at the tailor, eyes still on the paperwork on his desk.

Someone cleared their throat, and the prince looked over to see Sai and Ino standing on either of his sides. The tailor looked confused but patient as he stood before the trio. Sai spoke hushedly, "Pardon us, but perhaps you should join your fiance for the time being."

Sasuke was bewildered, "Why? Has she requested my presence?"

"It's not that, My Lord," Ino whispered. She glanced at the quiet royal employee nearby and lowered her voice further so he wouldn't overhear, "Rumor has it that our guest has wandering eyes and wandering hands. We believe his behavior would remain appropriate should Our Lady's husband-to-be were nearby."

Disbelief froze the prince's hands. His eyes locked strongly onto the dressmaker's. He hissed to his two employees, "Are you certain?"

The two assistants shared a glance before Ino nodded, "My friends at the castle are the ones who told me. I deem their judgement trustworthy, My Lord."

'How could Uncle and Brother allow such a fiend to continue representing the royal family?' An irritated Sasuke sighed, his glare not lifting from the guest, "Very well. Let us visit Lady Haruno together."

They located her in the library, and the party moved to her bedroom. Sai stood behind where Sasuke sat, sipping tea and having a tense conversation with the dressmaker while they awaited her and Ino to appear from behind the dressing screen. They'd already tried a handful of dresses, all of which suited her slender frame. All that was left were a few ballgowns and the wedding dress options.

"You share many physical traits with the heir apparent, My Lord. Though I must say you favor your mother more than he," the older gentleman offered.

The prince asked, "You were acquainted with my parents?"

"I had the pleasure of constructing Our Queen's wedding gown! What a beautiful and elegant woman she was. All who encountered her fell in love in an instant. Your father was a blessed man to have received her affection."

'Ah, no wonder he's still employed. He's worked there for decades. The royal family believes in tradition above all else.'

"Did you ever see your dear mother in her wedding gown?"

Sasuke's chest warmed as he recalled a massive painting of their wedding day hanging in the king's office at the castle. "Not in person, no, but the portrait of it was indeed wonderful. I'm sure she was pleased with your work."

The dressmaker chuckled, "Yes, well, all boys view their mothers as the most beautiful woman in the world, do they not? In your case, you'd be correct!"

The prince's nostalgia became bittersweet. It was true. In his memories and in the portraits that were left behind, Queen Mikoto Uchiha was graceful and dignified as an undisturbed blanket of freshly fallen snow. He recalled how comforting and warm her voice and embrace had been to him as a child.

Unconsciously, he responded, "I'd have loved to have seen her in her wedding gown at some point."

An understanding, solemn expression met the dressmaker's face, but they were interrupted by the two ladies stepping out from behind the dressing screen. His fiance's face was as pink as her hair. Her hands were to her chest as though attempting to hide her body, "I-I'm not sure this type of thing suits someone like me, My Lord."

"Nonsense, Lady Haruno! I've chosen dresses that will accentuate your figure perfectly. Trust this old man; you look stunning!"

Sasuke's eyes narrowed when the worker gestured for Lady Haruno to face the tall mirror, a hand hovering over her lower back as he shooed her hands away. The prince didn't like how friendly the dressmaker was, but he really didn't like the scars on his fiance's back. The velvety blue dress' back was low, baring much of her milky skin.

'This is what that maid was speaking about. There's no way those types of injuries were accidental.'

His glare turned onto Sai, who needed no verbal orders. The butler nodded and excused himself from the room to send orders to deepen the investigation into Baron Haruno's family. Before the tailor noticed the scars, Sasuke got to his feet and approached.

The employee naturally distanced himself. The pink-haired woman's face turned from pink to red as the prince loosely wrapped an arm around her waist to prevent her bare skin from being seen.

Without relenting his glare, Sasuke muttered, "Leave us with your design book and await an order by post."

Undoubtedly, the older man took the hostility as the prince being possessive of his fiance because he lifted his hands in defense and sheepishly grinned, "Of course, My Lord! I'll begin work the moment I receive your orders. Please excuse me."

Ino bowed before guiding the man out of the room and shutting the door behind them, leaving the duo alone. Sasuke immediately put some space between them, averting his gaze, "My apologies for coming too close. I was concerned for your comfort."

"Of course, My Lord. I am your fiance, so you've done nothing inappropriate." 'She says that, but she looks like a tomato.' For some reason, amusement warmed his chest, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the young woman fidget under his gaze.

"Um, Sir?"

"You are my fiance," the prince teased, not realizing at the moment how comfortable it felt to converse with Lady Haruno, "Should we not call one another by name? I suppose we've become acquainted enough for such a thing."

A small laugh passed his lips, and he tilted his head when she shyly placed her palms to her cheeks, "L-Lord Sasuke, then."

"Lady Sakura."

"Is it truly alright to purchase so many gowns, Lord Sasuke? I fear they'll go to waste on a body as plain as mine. Surely one or two plus the wedding dress would suffice, in case there are balls or parties we must attend before my death."

Just like that, the light-hearted mood disappeared. He cleared his throat, remembering who they were and the nature of their relationship, "The future is not set in stone." He recalled the emptiness of her wardrobe the day he first caught a glimpse of his fiance, "A princess should want for nothing. From now until we part, I wish for you to drown in luxury, if only as a token of my appreciation, Lady Sakura."

The pink-haired woman turned toward the mirror with a frown on her pretty lips, studying her reflection. Her voice was quiet as she admitted, "I do not like this dress."

Sasuke nodded, gesturing toward the dressing screen, "Make yourself comfortable, then."

Sakura bowed, face still bright with shyness, and returned to where he couldn't see her so she could change into one of her old dresses.

The prince watched until she was out of sight before looking at the doorway where the others had left. Sai and Ino were peeking through a cracked door, only to open it slightly with faces that seemed like deer catching a glimpse of a hunter.

He sighed, shaking his head, 'If I'm not mistaken, they're attempting to play matchmaker with Lady Sakura and me.' 

[dishtothedeath]

we shall all be healed | odile | mm trial 4 | re: new beginnings

What was the purpose of Odile, the black swan?

In all of her stories, she has no defined existence of her own; a character meant solely to be Odette’s doppelganger, to take from her what mattered most for the sake of her father. Even when she wants something, it is always the love of another, something to validate herself among all the others. Rothbart takes her feathers and sharpens her into a tool. And to Siegfried, she could never be anything but that white swan’s shadow, an imitation of his real love. When she dies, it is unceremonious, all at once, or it is in sacrifice, her life for someone else’s happy story. The page has turned. The book has closed. There is no other way that this story goes.

It’s already been told, but this is not the end.

There’s nothing glamorous left about Inigo. Raw, plucked, pulled out every light from his stage. Failure doesn’t begin to describe all of what he fell short on, with more years of his life wasted than were ever warmly enjoyed. Enough time tied to the ground will convince any prisoner that they never looked at the sky anyways. Each old mark left on his skin was a point of pride, another piece of himself lost along the way. To have survived this, to have made it past that. To surmount, to challenge, to overcome, triumph after triumph on the mountaintop, not yet realizing the path was underground from the start. A younger Inigo would see themselves in pieces and throw their outstretched hand to the side, stomp on it. I would never become you, they would say, because I am better than that.

Now they have no work to be proud of and no body to call their own, after years and years of putting themselves into every inch of it, ego found in right angles and right words and right turns. For once out of material, out of ways to retaliate, to make some laughable spot out of all this darkness. All of the lovable bits about them stained with blood and regrets and debts left unpaid, as high as rising water and churned like there’s a beast underneath the waves. Encircling the present moment like a leviathan, a poison flower in a vast plain. Inherently, something wrong and rotten to them, something that caused them to turn out this way.

Even so, Inigo looks at himself and feels nothing but pride. Not in spite of, but because. Nothing Tsuki could do or say could touch them now. To think they’d been had by another sad megalomaniac, grasping at whatever they could do drag everything down, perhaps there’s some irritation about lessons thrice learned, but! They are dancing on a different stage. There’s no use in comparison between two people, one who follows their disgust, and one who has learned to let in love.

No more kingdoms left to fight. No more wars left to wage. Time will prove who the victor of Dish to the Death was. Inigo feels that push of Alfie’s hand in theirs and takes it, a squeeze to try and aid the ache. Soft smiles, no warmth to be felt in their death senses, but the illusion of it just from what can be remembered. Even if now, they faded away, everything will be alright.

He has nothing left about Tsuki or Araceli to say. Leftovers from old chapters. Rather, Inigo speaks, and says:

[♫♫♫]

“Hey, Alfie? Where do you wanna go first? Spain? Greece? Whatever place over there has Frankfurt? Come on, we gotta start planning early if we’re going to backpack the whole way.”

The swan without any feathers chooses to fly anyways. Up to where the next leg of their tale begins, to where the night sky has its stars shine and never fade. To, at last, take their own dance upon the lake.

[fisherrprince]

do you have more thoughts on keyblade fighting that you need to put somewhere, because i have two hands ready to catch Should The Need Arise

anon: hey I heard you mention you’d analysed the combat styles in KH and what you said in the tags was already alluding to really neat stuff, but I for one would love to hear more of what you came up with!! so if you ever wanted to share any of your analysis then the floor is yours

aHAH, MY EXCUSE!!

Okay, so first some words on “standardized wielding styles”. These are styles shared by Terra, Aqua, Vanitas, Riku, and Xehanort and every other scala and daybreak kid. I will make the argument that the red style is the fanciest standard style, while the purple is seen often to make it easier on the little chibi sprites. BUT, I cannot discredit Eraqus, who uses the purple variant in bbs, nor can I discredit half of the Foretellers (Gula and Ava, at least, use this. Invi and Aced use the first type). So, two standard styles. For simplicity, let’s say one for primary offense, one for primary defense. The standard offensive style really wasn’t popular before Scala-era society.

check this difference out, specifically between ava invi and gula:

then between eraqus, hermod, and xehanort, and eraqus and terra.

These two were likely popularized and standardized for education in Scala ad Caelum for their predominant lack of obvious weak spots.

After this, we have unique styles. Those include Sora Kairi and Xion’s (similar to standard defense, but more mobile at the expense of form — Kairi takes after Sora but less confident, she hasn’t been hit that heavily yet), Ven’s (backhand, heavy range and mobility), Roxas’ (modified for two keyblades, but takes after Sora), and Axel’s (taught himself, comfortable with chakrams).

So! Let’s go.

.

Standard (offensive)

All styles have sub-variations, of a sense. Different wielders can choose where their keyblade points, and how they hold it exactly, based on what makes them most comfortable. Terra and Aqua point theirs downward, while Vanitas and Riku hold theirs above their head. What is recognizeable to this style is a hand for the sword, and a hand for guarding/blocking/items/magic.

It’s incredibly efficient. With only one hand on the weapon, you not only free up a hand for other things, but increase your range of movement with said weapon. Test it out yourself! The keyblade hand is always your dominant hand, held behind you for increased power when attacking (since you lose a significant amount of it by choosing not to grip with both hands). This style also decreases the speed of the defense you have, but with that increased mobility and swing power, along with a hand free to brace against the keyblade (defense strength up!), it makes up for it. Many people who use this also have strong barrier spells — both a testament to their preference for coverage and an acknowledgement that any directional block will take a little longer and be weaker if they try it with one hand.

The pointy end, though. What difference does it actually make, the height it’s at?

I think it’s half a matter of attack style preference and half intention. Riku, Vanitas, and Xehanort stab quite a bit. Aqua and Terra slice more. Not that they don’t do both, but it’s the first instinct. Aqua and Terra are also likely taught to hold their keyblade neutrally, in a safe position, until someone starts attacking. It’s polite! Eraqus also holds his one-handed, neutrally, until he gets into position. Riku and Vanitas learned to fight assuming everyone was out to fight them. Invi and Aced may like this style because of range (i hc she’s blind and strikes very very quickly, and he’s already very powerful with just the one arm and wants better motion).

and on character specifics: Terra often switches to two-handed, to copy his dad and add extra power to his hits without always sacrificing the empty hand. Vanitas likely was forced to relearn how to fight, as instead of solely being trained to be better at withstanding, he was constantly being made to better his own attacks. The moves Xehanort uses would best be replicated in the same style. Vanitas is wild for holding the massive spiky x-blade like that.

Now, what‘s good on this style does not correlate to what’s bad in the other. The two standard styles simply have different ways of dealing with each con they create or taking advantage of each pro.

(Here’s an interesting side note — Gula uses standard defensive, but in this instance, swaps. One hand… likely to display confidence! Wrong move, but hey. He got cocky. He’s also doing it wrong, and swaps back to two-handed to take Aced’s attack.)

.

Standard (defensive)

The main detriment of this style is the lack of ease of long range movement. Hold a wrapping paper tube out in front of you with both hands, then run. It goes to the side, or tucks in to your stomach, right? Dodge. Your legs will get in the way unless you know where to move that sword. It requires, interestingly, a little more discipline. You’d think Aqua would like that, but no, she wants movement and practicality, and she loves magic, and remember that you must take a hand off this style to grab a potion. You’d think young Eraqus wouldn’t, but remember that he’s a fancy royal lad.

The main draw, though, is tankiness, readiness, and power. You don’t need to move as much if nothing dares hit you! Ava and Gula might be attracted to this style because they’re not as physically strong, but want protection in close-quarters fighting. Using this style when your muscles aren’t as big but you still want to Hit Things Good, or when you want to be a boy you can’t knock over with a pail of water (horse stance rules), is probably solid advice.

Traditionally, this is a lot less like fencing, and a lot more like a samurai sword or kendo. Your blade is held in front of you, giving you very easy access to blocks and frontal attack/defense. In losing some twirly spinniness, you gain power and minimize your opponent’s ability to parry and block.

you gotta dodge master Eraqus so mcuh

All styles will swap between one and two hands for different moves. Eraqus, notably, swaps to a stance very similar to Xehanort when channeling a metric ton of magic.

Both of these styles require a degree of upper body/core strength, as does all swordfighting. I would be interested to see someone whose keyblade style relies on leg strength.

.

Sora, Xion, and Kairi

please look at the difference between the foretellers’ or eraqus’ two-handed grip and Sora’s. Do this with your shoulders and a top-heavy object.

They’re both in a hard stance, but hon. What are you, a gremlin? Anyways, a traditionally taught master would have… better form, even if it’s harder to learn at first. It’s habitual. Sora nearly crouches, and holds his keyblade back-pointed with two hands, which makes it easier for him to dodge roll, push off his feet quickly, and pull off those spinning combos he loves. It‘s really gonna hurt his muscles, in the future, though, since he’s doing a squat for like…. hours. Pulling on those shoulderblades and neck. Xion, too. Replicas had better have correct muscle dynamics. Kairi is brand new, so… maybe Aqua can teach her how to hold a sword so it doesnt hurt you.

Okay, now look at the grip itself. Held in front versus held to the side-back. They’re really attempting to combine both standard styles subconsciously, giving themselves more attack power while really wanting to keep that hard defensive parry, wanting to prevent all attacks to the front while also wanting mobility. It’s working for them really well, they fight like an anime character, and manage to get the best of both, with a minor sacrifice of length range that they don’t care about. We’re flexible and full of magic, baby! Holding the blade like this makes it pretty easy to let go with one hand without sacrificing that crouched defense position.

Now, Sora, specifically, is very adaptive. He’s had two keyblades, claws, guns, yo-yos, and a giant shield, to name a couple. He retains a bit of that alert crouch no matter where he goes, but Sora knows how he wants to attack and how to balance that with the most effective way to use his current weapon. He’s a smart kid! Sora has the most ridiculous shotlocks, which are also probably due to not always wanting to go standard for it. He also prefers to keep his focus on the enemy, which is evident in his reprisals and lack of very many effective “escape” moves.

Xion is very similar to Sora, but she does have some moves that are all movement. She switches to one handed for strikes a lot — using two for defending, one for smacking. In her data battle I’d swear some of those heavy hits are claymore-like. But anyways, since we’re magic, Xion cares not for the laws of exhaustion, and will ping about as a ball of light everywhere. Short range? Up in your business. Mid-range? In your business with one hand. Long range? Throws a boomerang. Hit her? No you dont. Ball of light. She’s above you and wants to bash your head in. (Vanitas also does this! A lot. It’s an easy way to catch someone off-guard. I’ll argue that the soras are very tough and strong, but not tanky. they want to avoid being hit a lot)

Another interesting note about Kairi. I say “unconfident” not because she doesn’t hit hard, but because her stance is also often tilted back, ready to dodge. It’s two handed, but almost all her moves are one. She does love spinning and throwing the thing! It looks like she’s been taking notes from the wielders she knows. It would be easy to teach her a standard style, I think. See here, she lets go on the strike, and by trying to do both, actually ends up with an advantage (being confusing) and disadvantage (losing both the power of two handed and versatility of one handed).

A counter to Sora and Xion is difficult to pin down. Time? Probably. Lack of heating pads. Something that takes all their attention is about the only way to get a sneak attack in, and then you have to hit hard. A counter to Kairi would be anyone who can knock her off balance. She needs a sturdier stance. .

Roxas

Roxas is interesting. He takes after Sora for the one blade. Wielding two, however, nets him a totally different way of fighting. Roxas’ clavicle muscles n… deltoids and stuff must be Ironclad. Also, two handed means you are very fast and sharp all the time. He has the advantage of standard defense (horse stance), and the advantage of offense (range of one sword, but twice).

Roxas generally attacks in two ways — simultaneous hits, and follow-up hits. Either he hits with both at once, or hits hard with the first one, and adds the second one as a bonus smack. He can attack by hitting in opposite directions with the two, like a drum, but that will be a little awkward and leave him prone to being tangled. That established, the follow-up hit method means he spins a bunch. As do we all.

Roxas gets a little complicated because we are not in the real world. We have magic and turning into light and physics that let you become a circular saw. So, typically, disadvantages would include: being unable to let go of a weapon to grab something or use an item, having just a very big silhouette to attack on, having difficulty with close-range attacks because Oathkeeper and Oblivion are kinda long, and convenience. Roxas gets to dodge #1 (keyblades can be unsummoned) and #4 (keyblades can be unsummoned). Speaking of dodging, he also gets to skirt the difficulty of dodging and rolling with two swords because he turns into a beam of light. But he can’t dodge how difficult it is to use two swords effectively — he needs to concentrate on fighting, and nothing else, or he risks messing up. He has to be very, very coordinated, and undistracted. Luckily he’s pretty good at making his opponents shut up, most of the time. Blocking is another thing — theoretically his blocks could be strong, but Roxas has no real brace: crossing your blades and taking a hefty stab might smack one of them back into your face. He mostly uses reversals and dodges, because of this.

The takeaway to this is Roxas is built for speed and power, and he is very strong. He’s a mid- to far- range fighter who if you’re not careful can snap you in half if you’re too close (be SO careful of that cross blade scissor).

A perfect counter to Roxas would be a tank that can grapple, and also be very distracting. If you can take hits, be talkative, and get close enough to stop his blades, you have a chance.

.

Ventus

This is a bizarre choice, my guy, but I get it.

Backhanded weapons are very impractical for a lot of... attacking, mainly in mid-range combat, and Ven likes to either fight very close or throw the keyblade like a boomerang (and hey, backhand gives it a good whip for throwing). His attacks aren’t meant to one hit KO, but they do come with a bit of power to them, especially on the backslash. Like holding a knife for gouging. It’s for very close defense — pretty good when Wayward Wind and Missing Ache have hooks.

Backhand also, while retaining that empty hand for potions and guarding, gives you an extreme coverage boost. By which I mean Ven’s sword hand now has a nearly 270 degree sweep of “I see you, don’t touch me”, very quickly, based on just flicking his wrist. It sacrifices a ton of strength/sturdiness, but you don’t need that if you’re dodging. You also don’t really need to block, which is slower, but relatively sturdy when Ven does it, as he blocks with mostly the chunky hilt between crossed arms. He sacrifices (again) a bit of strength for coverage — an attack would hurt his arms, not his chest, if he were hit head-on.

His attacks often have him flip the blade around in his hand, too. Quick swaps between standard moves and backhand ones. Basically, Ventus is built for moving, protecting himself, and quick attacks that wear down the enemy, not outclass it. Likely because he’s good at fighting, but everyone he’s fought hits harder than he can! It doesn’t matter how he holds it, getting hit will hurt. So he just. Doesn’t. He’s not a buff little guy — but he is a persistent one. Ven very likely made this up on his own, in Daybreak, and it was too hard to fix his whole style, but it was enough to correct most of his form so he doesn’t hurt himself too much. He is going to have to really stretch that shoulder and wrist (maybe get a brace), though. At least his neck is ok. … not sure about his knees tho dang boy that crouch

A perfect counter to Ven would be someone big and fast, who hits hard mid-range. He’s already been sparring with Terra, though, so when in doubt, try scruffing him?

.

Axel

Theres not a ton to say about him — he‘s not a swordfighter. He uses his keyblade like it’s a frisbee. Because that’s what he’s used to! His neutral is behind his back on his shoulder, which is terrible for readiness, but okay for chucking the thing. It’s good it has a sort of… ripstik like… boomerang quality.

Axel’s fighting style is completely made up, like most of the self-taught wielders’. His strengths lie in some of the benefits of standard offensive style (one-handed), and some of the same coverage stuff as Ven, having a cocked wrist most of the time so no one can sneak up around him without risking getting whacked very quickly, and having an interesting range due to the pointy end being basically on a spinny swivel wherever his hand moves. He’s not going to be good at close-range and he knows it — his attacks are mostly distance. And the guy has ZERO defense, combined with zero coverage when idle, so it’s for the better.

Distance-wise, though, he rocks. Treating the blade like it’s a flaming throwing weapon means his idle is actually great for sudden flick-tossing and attention-guiding for sneakier attacks, and his stance itself (…nonexistent) serves a different purpose: bait. Basically a big "come hit me". Fun, when you have a lot of fire magic and two friends who are beasts and love to take advantage of a distracted enemy — distance on the blade, proximity on the burning.

A perfect counter to Axel would be someone pinging around very close <—> very far and circling him incessantly. Like, data Xion could wreck him, as he has to wait for the boomerang to come back -- he no longer has two spinny wheels. Also someone with water magic.

.

SO! In conclusion! Having a teacher who teaches you correct sword usage rather than instinct may detract from overspecific styles that benefit you most but leave weak spots, but your muscles and your oversights will thank you. Everyone is glad we have the power of the Mouse and anime on our side.

Keep in mind again that I have done cursory research, and have had minimal actual sword instruction, I am not an expert and this is all for fun anyways :]

[tsrookie]

Always In My Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: On today’s episode of ‘I have no idea wtf I’m doing’, we have something that I cooked up because I had terrible WiFi and no other app but Google docs would open up.

Trope: Fluff, but a tiny bit of angst?

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: Their son has a very important question to ask.

——————————

The delicious aroma of chicken and rice wafted through the Brooks-Ramsey household. The couple worked side by side in the kitchen as they had all those years ago, the only difference being that it was now a dinner for five and not just two.

Allison Dolores Brooks-Ramsey came into their lives nine years ago, and while it was earlier than they would have wanted, they didn’t regret a second of their lives ever since they first heard her voice.

The twins on the other hand, were planned, but nothing had prepared them for the chaos that Nathan and Natalie would bring. A new broken object every week, a dozen fights for the TV every day, and yet were nothing short of tiny tornadoes when they joined forces.

It couldn’t be more perfect.

“What time did Jackie and Emilia say that they would bring the girls back?”

“6:30, I think.”

“Ah. So we have time till 7:00.” They shared a knowing smile. Two aunts taking their nine and six year old nieces to the mall meant a complete raid of the toy store, and a new guitar.

“You need to stop letting everyone spoil the girls just because you have a soft spot for them, Ethan. Ally’s grown old enough to understand that she has her daddy wrapped around her finger, and we don’t need Nat coming to that realisation as well.”

“I don’t- I can’t believe you would accuse me of not loving all my children equally!”, he exclaimed in mock offense.

“Mhmm. So why did I have to come up with an explanation to tell Nathan why his dad wasn’t on board with ordering dessert when he asked for it, but relented once his sisters kept bugging him for another five minutes?”

He opened his mouth in protest, but decided against saying anything for his own good. “Well what can I say? They’ve inherited their mother’s persuasiveness. And I can’t really say no to you, can I?”

Alyssa’s lips curved upwards at that. The playful look in her husband’s eyes caused her to finally break into a grin. “At least you’re self-aware.” Stuffing the rice into the bird she added, “But I can’t exactly tell our son that his dad is too in-love with his mom that he sees her in his daughters and hence can’t say no to them. He’d gag in disgust.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “That he would. Alright I’ll try a little harder to resist their charms. Wouldn’t want my only son to end up hating me.” He said it without a hint of worry over it becoming true someday. Over the years, he’d learned to put aside his fears of not being a good father, and with the help of some therapy, and Alyssa’s unwavering love and support, he’d locked up his insecurities in a box and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

They took the stuffed chicken and put it in the oven, washed their hands and plopped down on the couch for some rare downtime.

“Crap.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fred’s mom got called in, so she’s dropping Nate off on her way to work.”

Ethan sighed. “There goes the hour I planned to spend with my wife, who I barely get to spend enough time with these days.”

“I swear, you were never this busy when you were chief. I have no idea why my workload’s ten times bigger.”

“I do.” Ethan smiled with pride. “One usually does have a lot of work when they’re at the front lines of the battle for making free healthcare accessible for every single person in the country. My brilliant wife, though she could choose to leave most of the work to her very competent team, opts to take it all upon herself. So that’s probably the cause behind all the extra workload she complains about.”

She smirked and perched herself onto his lap. “Well your very brilliant wife also knows that you called my team very competent just to avoid hurting my feelings, and that you and I both know that they’ll be running around like headless chickens without me taking care of things.”

“I know, love. But you can still make them do a little more instead of working yourself to the bone while still making sure that you have at least one meal with the kids every day.”

She sighed. “Yeah, to make sure that they don’t forget what I look like.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, are we really going to spend our last few minutes of peace talking about work?”

Just as she uttered the words, the door burst open, and Nathan kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the couch as Alyssa slid down from Ethan’s lap. She shot him a look that very clearly meant What did I just say?

Ethan gave her an apologetic look and ruffled his son’s hair. “Hey buddy. How was your day at Fred’s? I know you wanted to spend more time with him.”

“I did, and we were just about to open his new LEGO set when Mrs. Watson told us that she had to run up to her office for some emergency meeting.”, he pouted. “But it was a nice day. We watched Thor: Ragnarok and Luca, and we would’ve watched another movie if his dad didn’t tell us that two movies were enough for a day.”

Alyssa shot him a mildly stern look. “Well he was right. You’re too young to have movie marathons just yet. Two are more than enough, unless you want to have a headache.”

“But mom, I’m not too young! I’m a big boy! I can swing along the monkey bars at the park faster than Natalie, and soon I’ll swing across buildings just like Spider-Man!”

“Well Spider-Man got bitten by a yucky spider before he swung across buildings. Do you want to be bitten by a gross and poisonous spider?”

“Mommy, not all spiders are gross and poisonous. Dad told me that when I was four and got scared of them at the zoo.”

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to her husband to convince her kids that insects were anything short of creepy and disgusting. In reality, they were, but as someone who ran a mile away at the sight of a butterfly, she wasn’t going to accept that.

“That’s right, Nate. Some of them are certainly very poisonous and dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that you should be scared of them. If you maintain your distance and admire them from afar, there should be no problem at all.”, he said with a pointed look at Alyssa, who just huffed in annoyance.

Nathan giggled, his brown eyes lighting up with amusement. He loved watching his parents playfully bicker. It was way better than seeing them- ugh, kiss.

“We were pretending to be superheroes and Fred used his full name for his pretend name cause it sounded cool, and it is. Fredrick Anthony Watson sounds like something from that show you and mom watch with the guys in the stuffy suits.”

“When did you see us watching the show with the guys in the stuffy suits?”, asked Ethan with a slight hint of concern. Whatever he and Alyssa watched on their free nights was definitely not kid-friendly.

“I don’t remember. Maybe a few months ago.”

Their year old puppy, Ivy, woke up from her nap and bounced into the living room to jump onto her favourite person. Nathan squealed with joy as the fluffy hair of the dog tickled his nose.

Ethan and Alyssa smiled at each other. Getting another dog after Jenner was a decision that took a lot of convincing, but their kids were responsible enough and it was impossible to say no after two years of constant pestering.

“Fred told me that he was named after his great-grandfather William, and that he was this really cool guy who saved a bunch of guys from getting mugged in a dark, dark alley.” He turned to look at his parents as Ivy snuggled into his lap. “Who was I named after mom?”

The question caught her off guard, and she glanced at Ethan for backup.

When they knew that they were having a boy, they immediately knew what to name him. They hadn't, however, anticipated Nathan Daniel Brooks-Ramsey to ask such a question this soon.

Seeing his wife at a loss for words, Ethan spoke up. “C’mere Nate.” He pulled him closer and pressed a kiss atop his head. “We once had a friend named Daniel. He worked at the hospital as a nurse, and he was close to your mom and Aunt Sienna when they were interns.”

Having found her voice, Alyssa joined in. “He was an amazing friend. He was the only nurse in the hospital who helped me out when things got messy, and cheered up Aunt Sienna when no one else could. He’d join us for picnics and movie nights, and you could always count on him if you needed something at the hospital.” She took a deep breath, and Ethan nodded. “Things were going well, but then in my second year, something really bad happened.”

“Oh no.”

“There was this bad guy, who wanted his revenge on another bad guy, and he was ready to risk his own life, and the lives of everyone around him to do so.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want to do something like that?”

Ethan smiled wistfully. “A lot of people in this world actually do. You’re a good person, so you know that it’s wrong. But some people aren’t, and they don’t care about other people getting hurt because of their actions. That night at the hospital, Danny tried to tell the bad guy that it was wrong, and to think things through. But he didn’t listen, and did something that hurt both himself, Danny, Uncle Raf, another friend of ours, and your mom.”

His little eyebrows creased with worry, Nathan asked, “What happened then?”

“He… he died. Along with our other friend, Bobby. Do you remember what we once told you about an autopsy?” Nathan nodded his head. “Well Danny asked for his body to be autopsied, and thanks to him, we were able to find out what was wrong with mom and Uncle Raf.”

He fell silent for a moment, remembering the horrors of the day, and how eternally grateful he was to Danny for being the reason he didn’t lose everything. He couldn’t imagine a life without the love of his life and his children, and he wouldn’t have either if not for the sacrifices that were made.

He looked up at Alyssa, and she squeezed his hand in support. “We’ll tell you more when you’re older, but to make it short, you’re named after a hero too. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you, your sisters, or mom here with me.”

Nathan wriggled out of his dad’s arms, and set Ivy down so he could hug his mom as tightly as he could.

“Well… if you can hear me Mr. Daniel, I just wanna thank you. Thanks for saving my mom. I love her so much and I’m so thankful that I got to meet her because of what you did. I wish I could’ve met you, you sound like a really cool person, and I’m sure you were. So yeah, thanks. A lot.”

Alyssa’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she held her son as she expressed her silent thanks along with Ethan.

What they had was precious.

Fifteen years had passed since they first met, and yet each day they fell in love a little more like they did when they held hands for the first time in the dim light of the NICU watching over little Ethan, or when she finally got to see the real him the first time she visited his place; the first time in years he let someone know a little of the worries residing deep in his heart.

With all the odds against them, it was a miracle that they survived, even more so that they managed to raise three perfect children who had more love to share than they could ever comprehend.

And they’d never forget all the reasons that made it possible for them to survive.

Ding!

The timer on the oven went off, and they got to their feet to get the chicken.

“Was he a good cook dad?”

“I… don’t really know, Nate. Your mom knew him better than I did.”

“Well there was this one time where he helped Aunt Sienna bake an amazing cake, so I guess he knew his way around the kitchen.”, Alyssa recollected fondly. It was for Jackie’s birthday, one of the few nights where the competition was completely forgotten about.

Nathan’s face melted into a glowing smile. “I love cake. So I guess I really would’ve loved him.”

She mirrored his radiant expression. “You definitely would’ve.”

“Why don’t you go play with Ivy while mom and I get the food ready? You can help us with the dessert later.”

“We’re having dessert?!”

Ethan grinned at his son’s excitement. “You bet we are.”

“Yay!” They watched as Nathan ran off to go play fetch with Ivy in their enormous backyard.

Ethan pulled Alyssa in for a sweet, lingering kiss as soon as he was out of sight.

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now hmm?”

“Something like that.”, he murmured as they broke apart.

She could see the ever-increasing strands of silver in his brown hair, and the faint wrinkles along the sides of his forehead, but his clear blue eyes were just as loving and devoted as she remembered from over a decade ago.

“We have a pretty good life, don’t we?”

Ethan kissed her again. “No, we have the perfect life.”

——————————

A/N 2: Aaaand I’m going MIA again. Honestly though, to everyone who’s read so far, thank you so much for sticking around. Means the world💙

P.S: I finally chose Chyler Leigh as my face claim!

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[blue-mood-blue]

They tell him that his name is Benzaiten Steel.

They tell him that he’s been shot.

Officially, publicly, his condition is unknown - they haven’t released any details yet, pending the investigation. As he understands it, the investigation amounts to his mother and brother pointing to each other in accusation, both of them held in separate interview rooms of the HCPD while Ben lays in his hospital bed. They were hoping he could give them answers, Ben realizes when the doctor and the officer both hover around his door uncertainly before turning to go.

But Ben doesn’t remember anything. He can’t tell them if his brother in law enforcement went corrupt or if his mentally ill mother finally slipped too far. If it was an argument, or an accident, or which of his incredibly small family is more likely to lie. He wouldn’t have been able to tell them his name if they hadn’t told him first, because Ben hardly remembers anything at all.

It’s the head injury, the nurse tells him at two in the morning while she gives him more pain medication. Not from the blast, which had caught him in the shoulder and was more than enough damage to a body on its own, according to her. He must have hit his head on something on the way down, gave himself a nasty bump and some swelling. Nothing to worry about too much, she added quickly after getting a good glance at Ben’s expression. Just... just the memories might not come back. Hard to tell with these things.

Ben chews over the possibility after she leaves, slipping in and out of sleep. He should want to know, right? He should be searching for those memories, and the way he fit between them. He should be looking for himself... looking for the truth.

There are two people in his family. One of them shot him. He can’t imagine a truth there that wouldn’t tear him in two anyway.

Ben takes a moment to pity whoever it was he used to be - must’ve had a sad life, in the middle of that mess. Couldn’t possibly have been happy, in that little apartment in Oldtown, no one to call or contact besides the people led away in handcuffs. Such a small, tiring existence... didn’t he feel stifled, trapped? He does now. He thinks about going back to that, and he can’t breathe.

Ben looks at the window instead. He can make out some stars, but only a few - it’s hard to see much around the light pollution and the dome. He doesn’t remember, but logic tells him he hasn’t lived the kind of life that’s ever taken him off of Mars; he’s never seen any of those stars, or the planets around them, or their moons - not really. He thinks he might like to, and it’s almost a surprise when the thought comes to him; it’s as if his mind has been cleared of some dome hemming him in, holding him in place, and now there’s room to want. Ben feels untethered, adrift... free. Free in a way he knows, somehow, he’s never been before.

It’s a heady feeling. For the first time since waking, Ben smiles. He could be free. He could reach up to those stars and never come back down.

Benzaiten Steel might not remember anything about himself, but he learns that he’s a good actor. When the officer comes back with more questions, Ben tells them he’s afraid for his life, more afraid because he doesn’t know who or what to fear. “Be honest,” he asks, voice shaking with something (not fear, but the officer doesn’t know that). “Do you think this could happen again? Am I really safe?”

Benzaiten Steel is declared dead, and Ben boards a ship.

~~~

He still calls himself Ben; everything else, he cuts away and leaves behind as deadweight. He’s Ben Nothing, Ben Nobody, and he runs between the stars like there’s something chasing him. He finds work where he can, and he finds that the most lucrative work is the illegal kind. He finds that he’s good at it, charming people with a smile or disarming them with a few tears, and then liberating them from whatever they have in their pocket, or safe, or bank account.

Ben is happy. Ben is competent, secure, well-liked in the circles he moves through. Ben is as free as he ever wanted to be, in this life or any other. And if he feels like something unnamed is breathing down his neck some days, well, he is a thief, isn’t he? There’s always someone after him, law enforcement on several planets at least. If he avoids Mars and anywhere too close to that little, red planet, it’s his own business. There’s not much on Mars, anyway; only the Cerberus Province and the connections he could make there, and it’s a small sacrifice to make for all of the things he gets to see.

Ben isn’t lonely. He just feels a little adrift sometimes.

And it’s years before anything catches him.

He has a jewel that toppled a dynasty with the conflict it caused hidden in his pocket, and he slips into a dark, mostly empty theater to wait out the afternoon and the authorities. He already has a spot waiting for him on a ship traveling several planets away, but it won’t take off for hours. He has plenty of time.

Ben pulls out his comms to waste some hours, ignoring the movie playing on the screen; a kids’ movie, probably with the hope that whole families would make the effort of taking a trip to the theater to spend time together. It was a bad gamble, with the only person there other than Ben asleep in a chair in the corner. Ben snorts; kind of a stupid thought, that anyone would bother when they could stream whatever old movies they wanted directly to their home.

He’s in the middle of a game when he looks up at the screen. There’s a woman fighting a dragon, and he isn’t sure what caught his attention until it happens again.

“Andromeda!” someone on the screen yells.

Ben’s head hurts.

Andromeda! a younger Benzaiten yells. He can feel the warm sun beating down on him, the familiar sounds of shouting down a street somewhere too far away to worry about. His voice, thin and reedy and so young, makes its best attempt at a growl. You will never escape me!

“You will never escape me!”

His head throbs, and he could cry with how much it hurts.

I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight, because good must always succeed! Someone with his face answers back, swinging a sword made of paper towel rolls and too much duct tape, and then breaks from the script: And I’m faster than you anyway, Benten, so I can escape whenever I want to.

For a moment, he rests on the divide between Ben and Benzaiten. If he tries, he could pull back - but he also knows he could no more let go of that voice than tear his own heart out.

Juno. A knowledge from the long-dormant pieces of him whispers an answer he doesn’t ask for, as it drags the whole of his messy, painful history with it. That’s Juno. Your twin. Your family.

Benzaiten is still crying, hurt radiating from his head and his chest, and there’s no one around to care so he doesn’t stop. He watches the stupid movie three times, then boards a ship and tries to hide the evidence with makeup and a bright smile. He’s two planets away by the time he thinks about going back, all the way back, and by the time he’s three planets away he’s decided that it would be a ridiculous idea.

It’s been years. Fuck, it’s been so many years. Does Juno live in the same place? What if he’s married now; out of the two of them, he was always the one looking for someone to hold onto him. Would he even want to see Ben?

The answer should be yes, but Ben’s not an idiot, he knows reality is more complicated. Juno buried him, and mourned for him, and maybe even started to heal - and Ben had run. Run without looking back, leaving a death certificate and open wounds behind him.

Is Sarah still alive?

The question stops him cold, staring through the window and the pieces of galaxy he’s passing. If Sarah is alive, he would have to see her, too. That’s a promise he made himself a long time ago - that he wouldn’t choose between them. He was the one who held the family together. He’d always been that.

The Benzaiten in his head, the person he isn’t sure he is yet - anymore - tells him she loves you.

Ben, here and now, tells him she shot you.

Both of those things are true. And when Ben pulls away from the window, he tells himself that’s what he’s afraid of, that someone he loved hurt him and could do it again, that he might let them in the foolish, stupid need to find out if the love was still there somewhere under all of the hurt. To know trying hard enough could mean getting better.

If there’s another fear, if he can feel the gravity of Mars pulling him back and down and heavy, he doesn’t let himself think it. And he’s gotten pretty good at deception, so he might even believe it.

~~~

Ben dances more, when he remembers dancing. Nothing feels as free as the movement, as his total control over it. Not even the stars.

How much of his running was escape, and how much was just running?

~~~

He still calls himself Ben.

He has his reasons. “Benzaiten” is too memorable, and sharing a face and a last name with a sibling seems like a really good way to get that sibling into trouble. There’s a reputation in place already with the name he used. There are days when he doesn’t feel like he fits in Benzaiten’s life. He finds plenty of reasons.

He doesn’t visit. He thinks about it, comes close - as close as a planet and one ticket fare away, once - but Ben can’t bring himself to step foot in Hyperion City. Hyperion belongs to Juno, somehow. He was the one who stayed (I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight), and going home feels like... trespassing. Ben knows Juno wouldn’t say that. It doesn’t stop him from thinking it.

Hyperion City has a newspaper, though, and a subscription service that seems a little optimistic in its range. Maybe not all that optimistic, since Ben regularly takes advantage of it - between jobs, and only on his personal comms. Most of it has nothing to do with him, but he skips and skims through the digitized pages anyway, looking for whatever hints of a life he can find. Juno is a private investigator now, which doesn’t surprise Ben. There’s an engagement announcement and no following marriage announcement, which does.

(Sarah is guilty, and dead, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t linger on the thought.)

Sometimes, when he feels brave, he imagines what it could be like. So what’s this about a gala at that new art gallery? You know, the one that lasted a whole night before it got blown up?

Juno’s laughter from the other side of the comms connection, maybe a little too young. Uh huh, I heard. The HCPD put it all over the news, along with how they saved the day. Or didn’t you hear that part?

They can say whatever they want, I know a Juno Steel case when I see one. Now, Ben adjusts on the bed, miles and miles away, glancing at the window to see if he can get a peek back the way he came, tell me everything.

Maybe the next time you come to see me, Juno says, and just like that the thought disintegrates. He can never put too many words in Juno’s mouth; there are just too many things he doesn’t know.

Ben gets lucky one day and sees a whole half a picture of Juno, looking out on a crowd. He’s not the focus - he’s standing next to some politician in the middle of a speech, a Ramses O’Flaherty who makes a lot of promises that sound like the “too good to be true, but wouldn’t it be nice” kind - but Ben will take what he can get. He can’t decide if Juno has more or less scars than he would have expected, given his line of work. He wonders how they all got there. Juno is standing on the stage with the politician; he must buy some of those promises to put himself so clearly in the man’s corner.

There’s a kind of worry in his gut about it, but Ben tries to take it as a good sign. The Juno he knew had a hard time trusting people; it would be nice if he’d found someone to believe in. It would be nice if that trust is well-placed.

Ben has to leave his comms behind for a job, taking a burner along instead, so he gets the results of the election at the same time he gets the announcement of O’Flaherty’s death and the conspiracy over Newtown. It doesn’t have to mean anything - just another politician who wasn’t what he seemed to be, or didn’t manage to hang on long enough to make good on his promises. That’s all it is.

He still looks for Juno in the stories he reads. He can’t seem to find him, anymore.

~~~

For the first time since they were nineteen, Benzaiten sees Juno across the room.

For a moment, he feels like he’s seen a ghost. A ridiculous thought, from the dead twin.

Juno Steel is so far away from Hyperion City, talking to Zolotovna in a resplendent dress as if he’s lived the kind of life that makes him belong, immediately and implicitly, among the disgustingly rich. Ben, who is there for a reason, he knows he’s there for a reason but fuck if he can remember why, tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring. He’s failing at that, he knows.

But Juno is here. Juno is here in the room with him, so different than he remembers, with so many more scars. With one less eye. Ben wants to ask when that happened, wants to demand that story, just as much as he wants to fade into the crowd and run.

He feels untethered; he feels like, if he runs, he’ll never find his way back again. Just this once, Ben lets himself understand that the tug of gravity pulling him back was never a leash around his neck as much as it was a rope around his middle - giving him a way back home. Juno had always been his anchor, keeping him from drifting too far.

There’s no going back, now. There’s no going home, no home to go back to.

Juno’s glance turns in his direction, and Ben is about to duck out of the way - an amateur move, guaranteed to catch his sibling’s eye, but he thinks he can be forgiven for being a little bit off his game - when Ben realizes he’s not who Juno is looking for. A man slips by him, tall and confident and familiar in a way that tells Ben exactly why he should be familiar. Juno can’t seem to help the way his face changes when he spots the man.

So the thief grabbed at Juno’s heart and pulled him away from Hyperion. That’s why Juno is here. It’s... infuriating, because there’s no way a common con deserves Juno Steel. Because it was never a thought in Ben’s head that Juno could be convinced to leave Hyperion, and he never thought to ask. (I do not intend to run. Running was Ben’s job.)

Ben is ready to do something stupid. He’s halfway across the ballroom, walking directly towards his brother well and aware that the impact will cause an explosion of a scene, when he sees Juno tilt his head.

There’s a comms in his ear.

Ben has been a thief long enough to recognize the habits of another thief - especially a new one.

He doesn’t remember what he came to this event for, but there’s nothing, mark or prize or job, that Benzaiten wants more than to understand the stranger in the dress who almost has his face. If he breaks something with an impulsive decision, he thinks as he continues to cross the room, well - wouldn’t be the first time.

He’ll let himself be selfish. That’s what Ben does.

[nbrook29]

Kiss or Slap

Sander doesn’t remember when exactly their group made the riverside near the Scheldt their new hangout spot, but he couldn’t be more grateful for it as a cold breeze washes over his overheated body, providing a momentary relief against the scorching heat falling from the sky. It’s probably why the park is fuller than it usually is on Thursday afternoons, packed with people spread on their picnic blankets, searching for a bit of shadow under the big trees and desperately craving a bit of wind. 

It’s so hot he doesn’t even feel like sketching, preferring to just lie on the grass without moving a single muscle, and dying in peace. Even the enticing smell of cinnamon rolls that Noor brought with her isn’t enough for him to reach out and take one from the basket, the action requiring too much movement on his part.

“Guys, come on, we have to start or we’ll never get it done! Sander, get your lazy ass up.” He grunts when he feels Leon’s merciless fingers jabbing him in the ribs.

“Can’t we wait until it gets a little less hot?”

“No, cause that’s not happening in the nearest future and we need new content,” Nathan butts in, followed by Noor, which makes Sander officially outvoted. So he heaves a deep sigh, puts his shirt back on and ruffles his hair to make himself more presentable, rolling his eyes at Noor’s appreciative whistling.

“Someone’s gonna snatch himself a bunch of kisses today with that smoldering look,” she teases, pretending to give him a once over.

“Is that your way of telling me you want one for yourself, sweetheart?” He’s immensely proud of himself when her entire face scrunches up in disgust.

“Eww, no, feels like incest at this point.” Which is kinda true given the fact they’ve known each other since kindergarten and became best friends making sand castles. He fires an obnoxious wink at her, fully anticipating a shove which comes as expected within seconds, with Noor calling him a creep in between laughter.

“Who should we start with? Senne? Wanna go first?” Sander watches as Leon takes out his camera equipment and checks the settings as the rest collects their things.

“I guess, yeah. And then Nathan after me?”

“I’m not doing it, man, you know Britt, she’s gonna flip out.”

“Be a good reason to break up with her,” Sander mutters under his breath, not really feeling apologetic when Nathan shoots him a glare. It would be a long time coming, and honestly, Sander can’t wait for that moment to come. Just being in her presence gives him chills, she’s that much of a horrible person. A few years ago, he read something about alternate universes and sometimes when he looks at her he can’t help but think there’s a history there with the two of them, in a past life or something. At least it would explain that weird energy between them.

If it’s true, he feels very sorry for that Sander. 

He roots for him to run far away from said devil’s spawn.

“I can go next, I don’t have the ball and chain,” Noor says innocently, but she’s smirking over Nathan’s shoulder at Sander who pretends to high five her in their shared hatred for Britt.

“Yeah, us lonely birds will sacrifice ourselves and take the hit for the wellbeing of our channel,” Sander laments playfully, making Senne snort.

“Dude, you’re on your own by your own choice.”

“And pickiness. Don’t forget pickiness,” Noor adds smugly.

Sander huffs in protest. “I’m not picky! I just...” He cuts off because he’s not about to just explain it all now.

“Just what?”

“Specific about what I want.”

Brown curls, brown eyes, shortish, lean, pierced ear, cute giggle, elegant hands and a smile brighter than the sun. 

To be exact.

“Yeah. That’s picky.”

“Whatever,” he replies grumpily, and decides to ignore Noor’s knowing look. Sometimes he feels like she has a sixth sense and can read him like a book. Or she’s just less oblivious than the boys in their friend group. That’s a totally possible option too.

Thankfully, she doesn’t push him further (she’s awesome like that), though Sander has a feeling she’s gonna grill him later when they’re alone. For now, she checks her lipstick in her phone as they all briefly plan the video.

Not like there’s that much to plan; a few days ago, they decided to shoot a kiss or slap challenge for their YouTube channel because it had been wildly requested by their viewers.

Sander still doesn’t quite know how he became a part of a YouTube channel in the first place, always considering himself to be a bit more, well, sophisticated than that? But Leon was into it from the beginning and made them all participate in exchange for free beer, until one day one of their videos blew up.

If you can call getting 100k views on one video blowing up. 

Anyway, they got semi-popular amongst Flemish teens and even managed to snatch a sponsorship with Mentos (however small the offer was) that paid actual money. And he had just managed to move out of his family house so any money coming his way he welcomed with no questions asked. 

So they’ve kept shooting silly challenges slash anything else that’s a trend at a given time and have been able to cover their art supply needs with what little they earned. And, though Sander refused to admit it in the beginning, it’s actually kinda fun. It’s definitely better than his part time job at Pull&Bear where he has to deal with obnoxious customers on an almost daily basis.

They record a short introduction near the river, quickly going over the rules and explaining that the three of them will be competing in who gets more kisses versus slaps. 

“Hey, you know what, this is actually unfair cause you both can kiss anybody,” Senne points out all of a sudden, receiving four pairs of unimpressed glances.

“No one’s stopping you from getting kisses from boys too, dude,” Sander is quick to shut him up, shit-eating grin on his face as he gives him his first (light) slap to the cheek. 

They follow Senne around the park with a camera as he turns on his charm and smiles sweetly at the girls he chooses for the challenge, doing surprisingly well on the first few attempts. But when they venture deeper into the park and he tries his luck with college girls, he gets 5 slaps in the row to the rest of the group’s utter delight. In the end, his results are a blow to his pride and even Sander feels sorry for him, giving him a pat on the back while trying to hold his laughter in at Senne’s grumpy face.

Noor does much better, naturally, as her upbeat personality and a wide smile have always made boys and girls turn their heads. She gets a kiss after kiss, blush after blush, and two phone numbers in the process. Senne argues again that it’s unfair because no one’s gonna slap a girl anyway, but Leon just calls him a sore loser while Noor shamelessly flirts in French with another girl right in front of the camera.

Sander’s very proud.

Taking a quick sip of water, he gives Leon a thumbs up and starts his round, coming over to three blond girls chilling near the skateboarding ramps, trying very hard not to come off as creepy and clarifying the kiss part being only a cheek kiss. The girls erupt in giggles, but they all grant him a light kiss. One of them tries to flirt with him after, but he shoots her down before she can get too into it.

“Such a heartbreaker, you,” Noor coos at Sander’s pained face when they all walk away.

“That’s you, and you actually enjoy it,” he quips back, sticking his tongue at her.

“I do not, shut up!”

Fifteen minutes and fourteen kisses later he’s officially in the lead, sealing his victory with a kiss number fifteen he receives from a cute redhead. He’s gloating in Senne’s bemused face about nobody choosing to slap him when he stops in his tracks.

It’s the proof of his hopeless infatuation that he’d recognize that laugh everywhere.

He looks around for its source, but he comes up short. Then, his eyes focus on the skatepark area and his heart starts beating faster.

Because it feels like a sign. Like the universe is giving him a chance to finally do something. Make a move.

“Hey, can we shoot one more try?” He asks the guys, trying to sound casual while glancing furtively in the direction of brown curls.

“You’ve already won, but I guess?”

Nobody questions him about his reasons, they just follow him to the ramp.

And he’s so fucking nervous. 

It’s incredible, really, how he generally has no problems talking to people he’s interested in, conversation flowing without him even trying, gaining easy smiles and appreciative looks wherever he goes, some natural confidence to him. 

But that boy. That boy is something else.

He makes him question everything he says, makes his palms sweat and makes his deep hidden shyness come onto the surface.

Sander saw him for the first time during Open Day at the Academie in may, strolling casually through the hallway with his friend, completely oblivious to the turmoil he was causing to Sander’s heart.

That was the day Sander saw an angel. 

Fate placed him on his path again sooner than he could’ve hoped, the boy participating in a 2 week film course at his school only several days after he saw him for the first time. And he tried so hard to convince himself to talk to him over that time, but he only managed a few smiles while passing him by in the hallway. 

That and that one stupid joke he said to him while they were waiting in line at the cafeteria that makes him cringe in despair just thinking about it. Seriously, it’s like his entire cool evaporates when he’s near him.

But, the boy laughed at it. So maybe it wasn’t as horrible as Sander is making it to be. Or he was just being nice. 

Robbe. 

Robbe, who he’s been crushing on ever since that fateful day in may.

Robbe, who was at the same party he was last weekend.

Robbe, who he talked to at that party and managed to calm his nerves enough to be charming and funny.

Robbe, who giggled, blushed and bit his lip at Sander’s dumb jokes that evening.

Robbe, who slipped through his fingers because Sander blacked out soon after.

He almost never drinks, but that one night he did, celebrating the beginning of summer break, and not realizing his usual abstinence meant he was now officially a lightweight. What an awful timing.

Robbe doesn’t notice him right away, having his back turned to him while talking animatedly to his friends. Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile to his face to hide his nervousness, he approaches them.

“Hey guys, got a second?”

He notices the recognition in Robbe’s face right away, and Sander shoots him a quiet “hi” when his eyes meet his, an unsure smile blooming on his face.

“Hey, what’s up?” One of the boys nods at the camera.

“I’m Sander, and we’re shooting a video for our YouTube channel, the kiss or slap challenge,” he quickly explains, the boys’ faces lighting up.

“Hey, we have a channel too! I’m Moyo, this is Jens, Aaron, and Robbe.” Moyo reaches out to bump his fist with him and damn, Sander has to find that channel if Robbe is a part of it.

Jens levels him with a look. “So, you want us to kiss you or slap you?” 

“Pretty much, yeah?” Sander chuckles because he’s aware it’s ridiculous, but he’s a man on a mission here, give him a break.

“I think Robbe should represent all of us, don’t you think so?” Moyo proposes, tongue in his cheek as he checks with the rest of his friends. Sander catches the death glare Robbe sends the boy before looking back at him and crossing his arms, looking a bit out of place. And, fuck, the last thing Sander wants is to make him uncomfortable.

So he asks softly, “you’re in?” and waits for agonizing five seconds as Robbe watches him, eyes narrowed, before his features smooth out and he smiles at him.

“Sure, why not.”

Relieved, Sander lets out a chuckle and tries to keep his cool. “Okay then - kiss or slap?”

Robbe squints against the sun and makes him wait another few seconds before he answers, but Sander’s not worried because there’s a soft smile on his face and obviously his angel wouldn’t-

“Slap.”

Wait, what.

He can hear his friends bursting in laughter at this unexpected turn of events while Sander can only stare in shock because how could he miscalculate the situation this much?

Gulping, confused and heartbroken, he asks, “you’re sure?”, to which Robbe nods with a poorly hidden glee.

“But you have to close your eyes cause I can’t hit you while you're looking at me.”

Heaving a deep sigh and trying to save a face despite the humiliation flooding his body, he nods and closes his eyes, steeling himself for it.

But it never comes.

Suddenly, he feels a hand cupping his cheek and he flinches a little, but then soft lips touch his in a kiss so gentle he blinks his eyes open, not knowing what’s happening.

“That was payback for you promising to call me and not keeping your word,” Robbe whispers against his lips before leaning away, something sad and wistful passing through his face. Sander is left completely dumbfounded, ignoring the hollering from the two groups as his eyes fleet all over Robbe’s face.

It’s difficult for him to collect his thoughts because holy fuck, Robbe has just kissed him and he’s internally freaking out. He finally manages to get his bearings when the remnants of a smile slip off Robbe’s lips.

“I-, Robbe, you have no idea how much I wanted to call you, but I don’t have your number.”

“I gave it to you. At the party?” He doesn’t look like he believes a word Sander is saying.

“Um, I kinda blacked out and don’t remember much after like one-ish?”

“You saved it though, I saw you typing it in,” Robbe argues again, but this time he doesn’t look so sure. “Wait, what’s your number?”

Sander watches him entering digit after digit before hitting call. He fully expects a plain number to appear on his screen, eyes widening when he sees what pops up instead.

zk bambieys 🥺🦌👁️💘🧡💖💞 calling

“Fuck, you did give me your number.” He’s not fast enough to hide his screen from Robbe, but he can't even feel embarrassment once he notices the frown disappeared from his face.

“Bambi eyes?” There's a teasing note in his voice, but his pink cheeks sell him out.

Sander scratches his head. "I was very drunk, you can't hold it against me. Also, your eyes are really beautiful," he clarifies, winking when Robbe laughs at his shameless flirting. "Hey, I tried to find you on instagram, but nothing came up. I was really hoping we're gonna bump into each other again. Sorry for being a dumbass and not realizing I had your number this entire time?”

“It’s okay.” Robbe shoves his hand into the pockets of his jeans, swaying on his heels. Sander decides to put them both out of their misery and take the initiative.

“So if I asked you out, would you say yes?”

It looks like Robbe’s about to nod, but then he bites his lip, an almost cheeky smile directed at him. “I guess you have to call me to find out.” And then he gets on his skateboard and casually skates away to the nearest ramp, pulling a surprised laugh out of Sander.

If he was intrigued before, now he’s totally smitten with this wonder of a boy, because damn. 

Their friends finally seem to regain their voices and speak over each other at what just happened, but Sander doesn’t pay them any attention, just takes out his phone again and pressing the call button. 

Watching as Robbe comes to a full stop at the top of the ramp, he cocks his head with a grin and waits until he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Sander.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Robbe laughs into the speaker.

“Will you go out with me?”

He meets his eyes across the skatepark as Robbe makes him wait again.

Then, with a smile so radiant it overshadows the sun, the boy finally gives him his answer.

“Yes.”

[marabrosca]

[REUPLOAD] - What You Seek Will Find You (Cullen x Lavellan)

a commission for @cullenvhenan with her OC immy 

words: 3k

summary: Cullen reflects on his heart's desires, and comes to the one thing he wants the most. (Cullen’s pov fic and his falling in love with Imryll Lavellan)

tags: pining, soft, romance, kissing

warning: contains mentions of racism/colorism but is never directly said to any poc

Read it on AO3

It was uncomfortable to see a chantry half full, Cullen decided. He couldn’t remember a time where he and his family would attend a sermon, and be joined by only a dozen people. The chantry in his youth accommodated with every seat and then some, as many late arrivals would continue to listen to the Revered Mother’s litany whilst standing in the back by the front door. Having the room be so scarce, having so many pews be empty, made the ceremony feel far more serious and intimidating than intended.

It was here that Cullen would be fulfilling his dream of joining the Templar Order, taking his vows and swearing to protect Thedas at the behest of the Andraste Herself. He peered over at the towering statue of the prophet, Her pyre burning brightly but expanding no more light into the room than a few candles. He felt himself shrink into his armor, picking nervously at his embroidered skirt as Andraste’s stone eyes bore into him. It was a dull service he had to admit. A withered old chantry Sister recited the Chant Of Light in an almost monotone voice, pausing every few lines to include the sacred blessings given to those joining the Order.

Cullen had practiced his vows more times than he could count. There were formal promises to make, but they came strictly with a list. When he had been given the list, the scroll lay heavy in his hands. The gold ribbon around it had made it seem as resplendent as the Chantry’s interior, and no less important than the impression it made. Each Templar was to choose their own vows, their own honest promises to the Maker.

Everyone is different, and we are all here for different reasons. But now we join as one, and must do what is expected of us. Therefore, it is the responsibility of one who chooses to walk the path of sacrifice, to pave the road they walk on.

It was something that was repeated to him in the upcoming weeks of the ceremony. There were many ways, as it turned out, to prove one’s faithfulness to the Maker. There was fasting, sacrificing of material goods (not that Templars had many personal items to begin with), excessive prayer, public preaching, and at least ten other things that Cullen could remember. There was only one that gave him pause: chastity, and the detachment to romantic relations, even within marriage. Cullen felt weak for admitting it, but the idea of a future in solitude wasn’t exactly appealing. Not that it was supposed to be. The idea was that a Templar-to-be would set aside personal desire and focus solely on duty, devoting themselves entirely to their service.

But Cullen saw no reason why he couldn’t do both. A part of him, a part he hid from others, was enamored with the idea of marriage. He’d caught himself many times dreaming of the day his soul-mate would enter his life, accepting the promise to live in each other’s hearts. It was indulgent and juvenile, but he wondered if perhaps one day he’d be in chantry taking entirely different vows than the ones he would proclaim that day. As far as Cullen could see, there were no obstacles in finding someone who was Andrastian. They’d have to be, wouldn’t they? Followers of the chantry and the Maker filled every space in Ferelden, and certainly he wouldn’t be traveling far from Kinloch Hold after the ceremony. Frankly, there was no reason to worry.

The young man heard his name and he stood, almost too quickly, and shuffled out of the pew, making his way to the Revered Mother. She looked at him with a kind smile, and he bowed his head in response. The woman’s hand hovered above him, pausing.

“Have you prepared your promises to the Maker, accepting His blessing as a holy child and servant of Andraste?” “Yes.” He replied firmly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

-

Decades had passed since that day, disappearing like a dream interrupted by daylight. At no point would Cullen expect anything he had experienced, or where he was now. Snow crunched under his boots as he surveyed twenty new recruits to the Inquisitor’s forces- the DalishInquisitor – yet they served just as devout to the chantry as he had once been. An uncomfortable, heavy force weighed on him at the thought; a reminder of his skewed mind from the past. It was a part of him he didn’t want to forget, so that he would never become that man again. He didn’t, however, want it to swallow him whole. That part was harder.

Two of the newest recruits, George and Elliott, were sent to fetch a requisition officer that had been surveying the Storm Coast for some time. The men seemed eager, and promising, and gave off an air of charisma that delivered a boost in morale. Soon enough they returned with the aforementioned officer. She was a tall, lanky elf with pale skin and large, striking emerald eyes. Her black hair fell to her mid-back, lips pink and puffy in the cold. Cullen greeted her politely, taking the missives from her hands as she smiled pleasantly at him. The officer followed Cullen to the desk planked beside the staircase extending from the ramparts. He didn’t miss the almost pungent smell of perfume on her, but made no comment. The commander settled the forms into a neat pile, getting ready to turn to his scouts, when he looked up and noticed that she was still standing there. He cleared his throat when she did not have anything to say. “Thank you, Deanna, for going out of your way.”

“No problem at all, Commander.” The elf smiled at him, folding her hands behind her back.

“Ah…was there something else you needed?” Deanna twirled a finger through a lock of hair, her cheeks turning pinker than before.

“Actually, I was wondering if you were busy tonight.” She replied, eyeing the desk quickly before settling her sights on his face. George and Elliott watched the sight, impressed with their Commander’s obliviousness to her body language.

“As it happens, I am very busy tonight,” Cullen answered, turning and handing the papers over to a scout without pause. “There is still much work to be done if Skyhold is to ever be inhabitable. And I fear the most difficult challenges are yet to come. Why? Does something require my attention?” Deanna’s smile sunk to her knees with her shoulders following suit. “Um, no, it was nothing. Thank for your time, Commander.” “And you, as well.” Cullen responded with a nod, watching the elf turn and make her way up the stairs.

-

As busy as the ex-Templar seemed to be, he had set some time aside that evening to have a walk down the ramparts with Inquisitor Imryll. Soon the easy stride had turned to a pause, then to a conversation, then to a kiss. It was clearly unplanned and unexpected- quite the opposite of how Cullen had always carried himself- but there was no doubt in the way Imryll held onto his back and caressed his hair, that she didn’t object to it.

Gossip spread like the Blight within Skyhold regarding the Inquisitor’s supposed “dalliance” with the Commander. A couple of messengers and guards that had been making their way by wasted no time sharing the tale of what they had witnessed, or exaggerating it.

“It was a sweep of passion! He grabbed her and they nearly dipped as if they were dancing!” “I wasn’t that close, so I couldn’t really tell, but Ser Rutherford appeared very harsh with our Lady Inquisitor. Do you think he treats all his women that way?” “She hypnotized him with blood magic, I swear!” The only things the tales had in common was that a kiss was involved, anything else could not be answered, much to the disappointment of the staff who were almost growing bored of the mundane. When the news reached Elliott, he was quick to share what he heard over a drink on the grass with George, who turned his nose up in disgust. “See that, I just don’t get.” “What’s not to get? You don’t know what a kiss is? Do you revolt women that much?” “No, smartass.” George took a swig from his flask before continuing. “I don’t get how someone would, ya know, go for an elf. Does he seem like the type? And that elf on top of it- what’s next, a Qunari?”

Elliott let out a cackling laugh, almost catching his lip between his browning teeth. “Not your type, eh?” “Not anybody’s type.” George tried to adjust himself on the ground, reaffirming his seat in the same spot once the dizziness ceased his actions. “At least you got- at least you got some lookers here, right? Like that one from before…that, uh, Deanna. Them ones with the big eyes and the curves and all- and have you ever seen an elf that was so dark?” “Not before the Inquisitor. Her eyes are black, did you notice? Do you think she’s blind?” “I thought all elves were ivory and lanky and- where did she even come from?” “Somewhere up north.” “Up north, bah.” George, not heeding the warning his body gave him before, took another large gulp. “If you asked me, I’d kiss an ogre any day before I’d even think about kissin’ her. She wouldn’t-”

Before he could finish his ramblings, a pair of hands grabbed them both from behind, lifting them by the collars and onto their feet. George almost vomited, feeling the searing burn shoot up his throat at the assault. Both men turned sharply to be met with the fiery eyes of their Commander. The men could feel their faces turn numb and a pulse beat in the back of their skulls. Elliott dropped his mug without thinking, licking his lips in an attempt to speak.

“Commander-”

“I don’t want to hear another word.” “But-” “Not. One. Word.” Cullen’s teeth stuck out starkly against his reddening face.

The recruits gulped, bugged-eyed as George swayed slightly from the alcohol. Cullen’s gaze locked onto the mug spilling yellow liquid onto the grass. “I see that your night of leisure has given you loose tongues.”

Cullen pondered what kind of punishment should bestow them. Perhaps they were to be bound and brought to the Inquisitor on her throne, and beg at her feet for mercy after confessing their crimes? The idea was enticing, but it was likely the display would embarrass Imryll, and he needn’t put more on her shoulders regarding her reputation. Besides, she hadn’t heard the words herself, so why hurt her feelings? No, that simply wouldn’t do. They needed to learn a lesson…a long-term lesson. Without warning Cullen grabbed them by the collar again and pushed them both face-first into the dirt. “You will clean this mess, and then pack your things. At dawn, you will be deployed to the Hissing Wastes, where you will remain until the hole in the sky is welded shut.” The Hissing Wastes was the most miserable landscape in Thedas Imryll had ventured to that he could think of. It was a constant scorching mass of dry air and sand, flipping the coin completely when all was frozen over at night. Only the most hardened travelers could tolerate its climate. It was a long-lasting punishment for a crime that could permanently scar having landed in Imryll’s ears.

Without another word Cullen turned on his heel and walked back to the fortress, ignoring the groaning coming from behind him. As he moved out of sight, Elliott wobbled down to pick his mug off the ground, and George let go of all the liquid courage in his stomach that had sealed their fates.

-

Days had passed since the new blood of the Inquisition seemingly vanished overnight, but Cullen’s hands still upturned into fists at the memory. He hadn’t been there when they were carted off, but it was reported right before that they wished to beg forgiveness. Cullen dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand and went back to his business like he was the only one in the room. He scowled, eyeing the ground with intensity as not to scream, a look that caught the eye of the curly-haired elf standing across from him. She walked up to him before he could react, kissing the knot between his eyebrows. All at once he melted, tense muscles going loose for a brief moment as he looked up. Her smile was concerned, and he felt his face relaxing as not to worry her further. “Are you alright?” she asked, grazing the back of her fingers along the side of his face, leaving goose bumps in her wake.

“Yes…I’m fine.” He let out a breath, willing himself to calm down. His hand reached up to grasp hers, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. It made them both blush, and Imryll’s fingers curled in his grasp.

“I had been wondering this for a while,” she started, not pulling away from his hold.

“That day you kissed me on the battlements…how long had you wanted to do that?”

Cullen couldn’t help but let out a laugh, smiling despite the heat in his cheeks. Her tone wasn’t mischievous, merely curious. A part of him advised against telling her; it was unprofessional at the very least to admit that he had wanted his lips on hers not too long after meeting, before Skyhold, even. Despite not being the best of friends at the time, Cullen found himself gravitating towards her, and desired her approval for more than just reasons regarding their duty.

He smiled sheepishly before finally answering her query.

“Longer than I should admit.”

-

Springtime scarcely differed from winter when it came to living on a mountain. Everyone still wore furs up to their noses and the courtyard was rarely full. Merchant deliverers unloaded their cargo as quickly as they could before ducking into the tavern. Orlesian noblewomen paraded their flower-adorned shifts about, calling attention to their “eye to detail”, modeling their appearance after the Skyhold garden. This, in reality, was meant to turn attention away from their unseemly reddening noses each time they needed to lift their mask and cough into a handkerchief.

Despite this -and despite her own hatred for the cold- Imryll could still be found tending to her plants- the ones that would survive the elements. She frowned as she lifted a limp stem with her finger, disappointed she wouldn’t be able to expand her alchemy skills just yet. Vivienne had warned her it was too early to start studying potions that required foliage, but in an effort to impress her, Imryll had tried it anyway. And now she was thinking of a way to dispose of the dead roots without embarrassing herself.

The sound of familiar footsteps behind her turned her attention away from the frozen soil, lifting her mood in an instant. “There you are. I was worried you’d still be out here.” Cullen sighed.

“Oh, yes. I was seeing how things were going,” she replied, gesturing to the frozen soil “Don’t tell Vivienne.” Cullen chuckled and removed his cloak, draping it over her shoulders.

“You’ll catch cold out here.” His touched his forehead with hers, watching as she scrunched her nose at the tickle of the wind.

“Walk me back?” Imryll guided them the long way around, entwining her arm with Cullen’s. Halfway there her legs had “gone completely numb from the cold”, and their only solution was to duck into an archway that housed a small stone bench. The elf laid her cheek on the part of his armor still covered by cloth, and sighed as his fingers glided down her arm.

“Feeling better?” “Not yet,” she replied, moving ever closer into his arms. Cullen held her tighter, making the Inquisitor smile. Her soft, round cheek was squished up against his chest, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. The atmosphere was too serene to believe. The moon now overshadowed the sun, leaving the walkway empty aside from them. Imryll gazed out at the greenery that still grew around them. But Cullen’s eyes were transfixed on her. In these escaping moments of peace, he found himself wondering what he would do in the future. If she survived- when she survived the impending battle with Corypheus- what would he do? He had been only a child the last time he lead a normal life, even though nothing for him would be truly normal again. Would she go with him? Would she go back to her clan? His stomach coiled at the thought, as selfish as it was. He wouldn’t blame her for returning to her people when this was all over, but surly he could not join her. The Dalish didn’t welcome humans as passersby, let alone a human lover. What if she left him? Did she not feel as strongly about their relationship as he did? Would she have to choose?

And more importantly, how would he declare the choice he’s made?

He couldn’t imagine a life without her. Despite the hardships and horrors he’s endured, having Imryll walk out of his life would be the breaking point. His gaze solemnly drifted to the bare blackness of the sky, subconsciously tightening his grip on Imryll.  

“Cullen? Is something wrong?” she asked, lifting her head.

“Oh- I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” “No…” the Inquisitor waited for an answer to her question.

“I think we should go back inside. I’m sure you’d be far more comfortable with warm tea in your bed, wouldn’t you say?” Imryll perked up at the thought and reluctantly sat up to stretch.

“Will you be joining me?” Imryll asked over her shoulder, half flirtatiously. “If my lady wishes so.” Cullen responded, chuckling and standing to join her on the walk back to her quarters.

“I do. But is that what you want?”

What I want… Without warning the commander hoisted her up into his arms, leaning his head down to kiss her lips. She let out a yelp before laughing, slapping lightly at his chest as he carried her through the garden. Wind brushed roughly against the pathway flowers, sending a few white petals into the air, catching onto Imryll’s curls. Their white littered the stone, creating an almost snowy effect as he walked. They went unnoticed by Imryll, who was too distracted reaching up to playfully peck at her lover’s chin.

What he wanted…

He knew now more than ever.

-

Imryll had taken some time to teach Cullen threads of Dalish before, but nothing like this.

“Sylaise enaste var aravel…”

The sound of her native tongue caressed his ears. Everything in that moment disappeared except for her; and although he couldn’t understand the words, he felt them in his heart. He wanted her promise to be true, and he trusted that it was.

“I swear unto the Maker and The Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days.”

As the words left his lips, they connected with hers. Perhaps he should have waited until Mother Giselle made the official decree, but he couldn’t wait another moment.

The kiss ended with the faint tickle of Cullen’s breath against her lips. His nose stayed atop hers, soft chestnut eyes barely open beneath his lashes. It was their first kiss as a married couple, a term they could barely comprehend. Cullen sighed blissfully, capturing the moment in his mind down to every detail as the setting sun painted them in golden light, as if the world turned just for them. Imryll’s skin blended with the rays. Her eyes reflected, but were not illuminated by the shine, creating a stark clear surrounding of white around the onyx that seduced him so many times.

Imryll took but a single step before she was whisked off her feet. A surprised yelp quickly turned to giggles as her husband hoisted her into his arms in a true bridal-fashion. Mushy bounced excitedly at Cullen’s feet and wagged his tail, attempting to angle himself so that he could leap up to join Imryll.

“Blasted-get down! I can’t hold the both of you.”

Imryll laughed joyously, taking her lover’s face into her hands.

“How long have you wanted to do that?”

Cullen smiled down at her.

“Longer than I should admit.”

[youwontlikethisblog]

How Was I Supposed To Know!

When Betty got her new look Armando had to place her feelings before his own. He had to make himself not only think about his own interest but also Betty's and learn to talk to her as a person instead of just his assistant that he confides in.

As both Betty and Armando said they had a cerebral relationship so their topics of conversation didn't go into the personal, at least Betty's didn't. Armando has always been open about his commitments to the family, Marcela, and Eco Moda and the struggles that come with that to Betty. He has tried to resonate and explain his side of things and as he says, he likes explaining himself to Betty.

So far their relationship has always been one sided. Betty is the one that is constantly giving in terms of emotional support and time while Armando doesn't really sacrifice much, in fact he doesn't sacrifice at all(And saying that he sacrifices himself by kissing Betty etc. isn't a sacrifice he's doing selflessly, but selfishly so it doesn't count as one). He was trying to to be careful of his temper way before he was aware that he could have feelings for her. He didn't always stick by that but there was an attempt at it but that's not enough.

The day Betty went to get her Make-Over Armando was already busy thinking of her. When Freddy asked him to not fire Aura Maria for being tardy again Armando said "Look Betty" looked confused, shook his head and then proceeded to talk about the subject at hand.

When Betty arrived to Eco Moda and he saw her he didn't react on the spot, in fact when he got mad that she had interrupted(honestly it's funny because when they end up sleeping together she ends up interrupting his entire seggs life.) his make out session with Marcela when he saw her reaction all of a sudden the anger vanished and a guilty and concerned expression sat on his face. When Marcela started to make fun of her Armando got angry at her and didn't even continue the flirtatious conversation he had been having with Marcela or make a move to return to kissing her. He gave her his back while in the past he went after her when she'd stop the make out when Betty would interrupt them. This time it's he who doesn't want her.

This starts as a snowball effect. The night before he witnesses people making fun of her and disrespecting her which caused him to get so upset and furious that someone would do that to Betty, again he starts slowly thinking about Betty's feelings before his own.

The next day that carry's on when Patsy Pats, Marcela, and Hugo make more fun of her and it contrast with a previous scene(You Betrayed Me! post and Betty's New Look post). He once more gets angry at them, shows his disapproval and visibly shows that he is on Betty's side on something so personal, even when he doesn't like it because he's thinking about how Betty must feel and he gets upset that people dismiss her or as he says; disrespect her.

What does all of this even have to do with this episode(The morning of Betty's B-Day)?

Armando shows up telling Mario that the previous night Betty was very passionate and that he had to stop her three times, that she said he loved him, that this and that. Y'know classic complaining.

Mario celebrated that Betty said she loved him, that it's what they had been working towards(I've always found it so gross how Mario does feel like he shares in that relationship and in turns Betty(this is a foreshadowing of the future). However, Armando has allowed this and he has welcomed Mario into that relationship and made him a third participant, even if it's by living through it vicariously). I will emphasize that Armando doesn't really go into detail in the scenes we get, he mostly only goes into it when he is being clueless about what to do next or when he's frustrated. Most of the times he withholds giving Mario too much detail, but he still does. It's like one moment he's doing good and I'm cheering him on and then the next he trips and falls backwards like ten steps back and I'm yelling at my screen!

Anyway lets get back to this.

Mario once again makes fun of him and tries to make him uncomfortable with telling him that he needs to put out or tell Betty that he'll do it through telepathy or artificial insemination. Armando tries to explain that he won't ever do that with Betty.

I know I keep explaining this little by little and because of it I keep bringing up stuff that I've already addressed in previous post but this is a slow burn so it's worth it.

Armando has always only ever felt physical attraction with women. What is physical attraction? Physical attraction satisfies the human body's desires and wants. As Armando said in the past; with the models he had been hooking up with he did want to sleep with them but as soon as it was over with he didn't feel anything. This correlates with his borderline s. addiction. We understand how and why he sleeps around with models. He is superficial(obsessed with perfection, especially when it comes to women's body), he has no "real" control over his life or future so he does it to feel like he does have control in choosing who he sleeps with and for escapism of his reality. We understand that so lets move on to the next topic of this subject.

He feels physically satisfied with the models and Marcela but emotionally he no longer does. So when it comes to Betty he deflects all attraction to her because he physically isn't attracted to her(I stress this out in mostly every post lol). However, Armando has a very strong emotional attraction to Betty, one that moves him and motivates him behind the curtains.

What is emotional attraction? Emotional attraction is to satisfy the human's emotional and spiritual body. In other words; one feels a satisfaction when all their emotional, spiritual, cerebral, and none physical needs are met and because of this their attraction continues to grow with that person.

While Physical Attraction is fleeting and not reliable; Emotional Attraction is stable and reliable.

Due to the fact that he has been a man who has only experienced physical attraction to women he ignores his emotional attraction to Betty and because of this spends most of his time confused about his feelings.

I don't want to always be repeating myself so I recommend you guys read(in case y'all haven't yet) my posts Betty, My Betty parts 1-3, Tonight A Dream of Mine Has Come True, You Betrayed Me!, Betty's New Look(I will edit this list in case I missed a post, I've been writing a lot of them lol).

In my post: Betty's New Look, I explained a lot more about Armando's seggsual behavior.

To a certain degree Armando does view Betty as a woman but not to the point where he is eager to jump her bones and it isn't until after they do(😏) that he does become eager for her and because it's all been based on an emotional attraction what he feels for her is something that makes him feel completely satisfied, both physically and emotionally.

Take notice of the previous episodes, when Armando and Betty were having emotionally charged conversations Armando was a bit more welcoming to kissing Betty. Before he fought Roman and Co. they were about to start a make out session(Roman make a joke that they were going to have a free 3x showing and the next day Mario said that if they were making those comments that it meant he and Betty must've been really busy) However days later when they're at the club Armando isn't all that eager to kiss her. He does kiss her but they're half honest kisses. It isn't until later that he's dropping her off, after they've somewhat had a conversation that involves their feelings that Armando welcomes and even initiates the kiss with Betty but when she starts getting eager he pulls away(I Don't Believe He Desires Me Part 2 post) and tells her that they can't get carried away and they have to be careful.

Since Betty tried a new look that same day Armando had to finally accept that he was her boyfriend and in a relationship with her but he also had to learn to take into account Betty's feelings and notice them as well. In that same episode he also had to begin to accept the idea of entertaining the idea of physical interactions with Betty.

This carry's on to the next few episodes. Armando is now somewhat aware of Betty's emotional needs and her desires and he is now personally affected when they are not met, especially when Betty is treated poorly, he takes it very personal.

In a sense one could say that Armando is coming around to the idea that he could possibly be feeling an emotional attraction to Betty.

As Mario and him continue to discuss how to go about cooling off Betty or whatever they hear a commotion outside of his office. The employee's are singing Las Mañanitas to Betty. They exit the office and Armando stops on his tracks as he realizes that they're singing that song to Betty. He visibly starts to breath rapidly and touches his forehead.

Now ironically both Armando and Mario share the exact same expression when they notice that Betty is the one being celebrated(although Mario had that same expression since he left the office lol).

Mario tells him "Ah, Betty's Birthday." Armando looks at him with his mouth opened.

"But I didn't know, she didn't tell me anything." (*1)He seems a bit angry and is still breathing rapidly.

"Well go on, congratulate your girlfriend."

Armando gives him a quick glance but his expression remains the same. He then stares at Betty who is across from the room. He swallows hard and clears his throat.

He no longer wears an expression on his face, even his voice is very professional.

"Betty we didn't know it was your birthday."

Bertha gasps and says "Sir you were the only that wasn't aware because everyone here knew or no?" Everyone agrees with her. Even Mario who is next to Armando says that they all knew. He's lying though because he too had the same surprised expression and now he's doing it to mortify Armando. Armando turns to look at him with wide eyes and his mouth open, he's surprised.

Could you imagine how he feels? His best friend who is a complete and total sleazbag "remembers" that it's Betty's birthday and that he knew all along but he, who is supposed to be the morally gray and better version of Mario, wasn't aware of his assistant's birthday, who so happens to be his girlfriend? He had two very important reasons to remember it. He must feel like crap.

"Listen Betty, allow me to cordiality extend a happy birthday greeting to you." He takes a few steps towards her and it looks like he wants to say and do more until he stops himself and notices everyone around. Betty too took a step or two forward but stopped as well. He slightly bows down and says "Happy Birthday." Betty smiles and nods once. Everyone starts chanting for him to give her a kiss. Armando turns to look at Mario and swallows hard and they awkwardly start to dance.

Betty leans her head up and moves from left to right while he licks his lips and he doesn't know where to kiss her but goes for the top of her head, well her bangs(it honestly looks like he was going to go for the lips for like a brief second lol).

Everyone starts to clap and Freddy, being the life of any party starts to go on a speech.

"Long live the party and the atmosphere of Eco Moda! Sir. Mario Calderón are you going to manifest yourself with another small kiss?"

Mario's expression is with wide eyes and a mouth hung open; shock. Armando looks at him with the same expression he always has in front of the employee's. Poker face however when Mario agrees Armando arches his brow at him. As Mario steps away to go give her a kiss and congratulates her, Armando is looking down and shifts.

After watching this exact same scene many times I find it interesting to say the least. Maybe I am reading too much into it but for the sake of this we'll say I'm not. Remember how Mario reacted when Armando said that Betty told him she loved him? He said that it was what they had been working for. To some degree, because Armando did somewhat share about his nights with Betty, Mario and Armando have been sharing Betty. Mario is incharge of the mechanical/details department and spelling things out for Armando so he can be successful in the relationship while Armando has been incharge of the mental, emotional, and physical department of the relationship. They are both Betty's boyfriend, except she is only aware of one. Mario is very aware of Betty's emotional and even physical needs because of Armando and he is incharge of hyping him up to commit to the plan, though on his part he does it for the sake of his money and his reputation, Armando does it for his ego, his confused feelings and lastly the company his parents funded and started(which involves Marcela and Daniel too and that's a whole other thing).

It also shows us that if Mario had taken Armando up on the plan that he should be the one to make Betty fall in love that he would have done so and even succeeded as he doesn't hesitate, walks towards her with his arms extended, touches her shoulders and gives her a kiss on the cheek all while smiling.

At first I thought, maybe he's amused that Mario now will have to do what he has had to do, or at least get a some taste of his medicine but as one does in body language, lets look at the context.

Before Mario agrees to give Betty a kiss when Freddy asks if he'll give one to her as well, Armando slowly turns to look at Mario with no expression on his face, except his eyes focused on him, when Mario agrees he arches his brow for just a second, as Mario walks with his arms extended towards Betty, he looks down, takes in a breath and closes his eyes.

I'd say there's a mixture of feelings going on here. For one, (*1)he's angry at himself for not remembering or knowing it was such an important day for Betty and two he doesn't like that Mario will kiss Betty, he feels frustrated over it all.

By the next camera frame of Armando we see him giving Hugo his angry face which is squinting eyes and lips on a line. His arms are folded in front of him.

Hugo as always insults Betty but the cuartel starts to chant for him to give her a kiss as well, who says that he won't because he has a cold sore, as he passes by we see Armando keeping his eyes on him, while still slightly squinting them, and his lips in a line but as Hugo gets closer to him his lips get tighter, he closes his eyes for a second or two and when he opens them briefly rolls his eyes and looks at the opposite direction for a second. We know Armando really dislikes Hugo but before at least to he tolerated him, however since the day Betty went and changed her look(for that day) Armando seems to have a special disdain for Hugo.

"Well then Armani, tell me did you give her her kiss already?" Hugo walks behind and stands between Mario and Armando.

Both Armando and Mario share different expressions. While Mario looks like he's throwing himself a self-pity party and wondering where his vanity and ego have gone Armando looks mad.

Marcela has now wrapped a hand around Armando's bicep and with the other she places it on it as well while she stares at him with a smile on her face.

"Yes." he respondes to Hugo, annoyed. His lips are drawn in for a brief moment(pursed lips). Previously he had been staring once again at the opposite direction of Hugo he stands to his left, now he stares to his right, but not at anyone or anything in particular. When he is done responding to Hugo his eyes move to glance at Betty, who looks at Marcela's reaction.

Marcela drops her hands and stares at him with disapproval. Armando once more, stares off to his right, with squinting eyes and lips tight in a line with his hands clasped in front of him.

Betty seems satisfied with Marcela's reaction.

However again, the difference in behavior between Armando and Mario is really interesting. While Mario scoffs but seems amused by Hugo's "jokes" Armando never changes his expression from anger except when he glances at Betty for a second, his eyes slightly widen when he hears Huge say "Ugliness is very contiguous." and then again glances away, squints his eyes, and then glances back at Betty.

Then Hugo proceeds to seggsually harass his bosses by groping their butts. Marcela looks at him amused, Armando widens his eyes but his mouth remains in a tight line and Mario turns surprised at Hugo.

I've got a hate-neutral thing with Hugo if I'm being honest. Whenever he's only interacting with Inesita I laugh at his "jokes", I say "preach" when he lectures Armando and Mario, and sometimes when he interacts with Armando I find him amusing but most of the time he could catch these hands. The actor is amazing. Hugo is a character that I personally don't like but even then I still find some of his scenes crudely funny and I hate that I do.

"Congratulations, Beatriz" Marcela says, Armando glances at Betty once more, his eyes constantly change expression when he looks at her, they go from squinting to softening, but his mouth still remains in a line. Marcela then walks away after Betty thanks her.

Armando then turns to look at Mario who is nodding and looks like he can breathe again,(but his expression that shows the slight smile for a second isn't because he actually does feel relieved, everyone is "laughing" at what Hugo did and he's trying to play it off cool. We know Armando feels uncomfortable with Hugo behaving this way towards him and we know that it affects him deeply(https://youwontlikethisblog.tumblr.com/post/655584505462161408/brutas-la-policia)) however he is still preoccupied with the second problem at hand, Betty's special day(I mean it really is y'all) and him trying to make up for it. However it's him, the not detail oriented at all Armando, who can't remember anything if it saved his life, who isn't very bright when it comes to feelings, he on the spot, in a way that doesn't alert anyone of his affair with Betty, needs to come up with something right there and then without the intervention of his very detail oriented side kick because it would alert Betty that Mario knows.

Armando suggest that they all buy Betty a cake and that they celebrate her birthday later on in the afternoon at the office(going in hand that he wants for Betty to cool off) and looks happy with the suggestion.

"No Sir we already took care of everything." Bertha replies.

"Well in any case, happy birthday, Betty." Armando smiles slightly when he looks at her but as he looks away from her and down his smile falls and he has a solemn expression on his face. He turns and starts to walk slowly.

The girls then start to question Betty about her boyfriend.

"What did he give you?" Sofia asks.

"Nothing yet." Betty replies timidly.

"But I imagine that he called you really early in the morning to sing Happy Birthday my love or no?" Mariana asks.

We get a camera frame of Armando and Mario standing at a distances eavesdropping the conversation. While Mario seems concerned(Remember they still think Nicolas is competition) Armando looks curious and mad as he observes Betty.

"No, minimum he presented himself in the morning and filled you with kisses."

"No, we haven't spoken yet." This implies to Armando that Betty is talking about him, not Nicolas.

"Ay no." Bertha inhales. "What a a downer to have a boyfriend that's not romantic, can you believe that?" While Armando attempts to keep a poker face, his eyes are still focused on Betty and he feels bad. Mario aka Mr. Dimples aka the Love Guru, aka Betty's third boyfriend(if we include Nicolas on the list) looks amused though because he knows he can have a field day with Armando over this.

"Would it be that he doesn't know? But that's crazy, no?"

"Sofia" they gasp.

"Enough Sofia, calm down y'all, don't y'all see that they barely started dating? Lets not ruin Betty's Birthday." Mariana aids Betty.

"Well I think it's really sad. Minimum he should manifest himself later on." Sandra says while Mario and Armando continue to overhear. Armando starts to bite his bottom lip(self soothing) and looks at Mario from the corner of his eyes who gives a slight nod.

They've got their solution!

Armando must manifest himself later on.

The last scenes I'll discuss on this post and will be "brief".

The following scene of Armando and Mario in his office(With the doors closed) show us a very pained Armando who is beating himself up while he gives Mario his back who makes Armando feel a lot worse.

"Did you see? Did you hear? What a disappointing guy." Armando looks pained. He blinks rapidly, grits his teeth and breaths rapidly as well. "See this poor girl finally has a boyfriend and how does he celebrate her birthday?" Armando has his brows furrowed. "with total abcentism and indifference." Armando now squints his eyes and draws in a quick breath while tightening his lips. He now sees that Mario is trying to make him feel worse instead of helping him.

"Enough!" Armando yells at him. "Damnit Calderón!" he walks to the other end of his desk and turns to look at Mario with a sad and defensive look. "I didn't know it was her birthday, I completely forgot(indicates that he actually knew the date) besides it's not like I was supposed to know!" He rebuts. "I was with her 'til midnight and she didn't say anything!" he whispers worried.

"Brother she's a woman. She probably expected that you'd remember. She probably thought that last nights outing was to celebrate her and midnight came around and what happened? Nothing. Nothing" he hisses at the end while squinting his eyes at Armando. "Could you imagine what she's feeling right now?" Armando parts his lips just a bit, he grits his teeth, his eyes squint slightly while his brows furrow and he has his arms folded in front of him. All of this helps us draw the conclusion that he's mad at himself and feels really guilty and worried about it all.

"What happened to your love, you obsession for her?" Mario's tone allows us to know that he isn't really criticizing Armando. He is enjoying his pain and enjoying the control over it.

"Stop criticizing me, Calderón." Armando looks at him annoyed and points at him. He straights up and walks behind his desk. "Stop criticizing me and help me find the solution, yeah? Please." he begs.

Then Mario starts to give him his stupid suggestion which is his version of the Marilyn Monroe singing Happy Birthday to Pres. Kennedy. Armando tells him that he prefers that he give him a card and a gift, that he'd conform to that.

"Yeah of course, a [insignificant] gift and card, a pat on the shoulder and done 'I saw you, good, what a pleasure' done no?"

"Well like Freddy says, forgive me but pardon me, I don't have anything else to offer Betty."

"Man what about an invitation to go out to dinner tonight?"

"An invitation for dinner? Sneak away from Marcela? For what? So she can kill me?" He hisses this = his main problem and unlike before by the lack of "worse/worst" we can conclude that that is biggest worry next to the one he names next "beside with the state Betty's in? No."

"Well yes you went out last night but what happened? Midnight came and you didn't celebrate anything. She continued being more Cinderella than ever before and you? Shun her out all night and you want her to forgive you? With an insignificant gift?"

"Do you not remember the fierce state Betty's was in? Do you not remember that...fire she's had lately?" he asks urgently. "Besides it's her birthday. I won't get out of that if I take her out tonight." He tries to defend.

He feels terrible for his emotional callousness towards Betty and how that has to affect and hurt Betty. Armando has gone through a transformation in the past few episodes where now what ever happens to Betty he feels personally, it's called empathy, but it is magnified by the intensity and growth of his emotional attraction to her and while he gets angry when people disrespect her, he now feels angry at himself that he's the one that's hurting her in that moment and guilty for the pain she might be feeling.

However, when Mario again starts to suggest that he needs to take her out despite her fervent state, Armando's lack of(ignorance of) physical attraction to Betty is highlighted as now he cares more about himself than he does about Betty's feelings.

What does Mario get out of this? Well he obviously doesn't want their hard work to be thrown out the window but that's not really it. Since the start he has always been suggesting or insinuating that Armando sleep with Betty. What does that have to do with the plan? Aside from the fact that he's a deprived man? I think he just wants to make fun of Armando for it and hold it over his head to say "See you're not so perfect, you're worse than I am because at least I don't sleep with "exotic" women I find repulsive and do it for money. I do it with women I don't manipulate like you have with her."

"Man I don't know." Mario throws his hands up in the air. "This is your decision. You're touching very sensitive points in the soul of a woman." He exclaims and points his finger up as emphasize. Armando now looks at him with furrowed brows and wide eyes while he rubs his lips with his fingers(context clues allows us to determined that he does this to self-sooth because he feels stressed). "You could be throwing everything, all of our work, over the ledge. You could be creating a resentment factory just three meters from where you are." He points to her office. " Like that!" He snaps his fingers and Betty enters the office. "Just like that." He continues to snap his fingers and turns to look at her.

"Yeah bring it immediately, don't forget about the thing I made you responsible of." Armando looks worried.

"Yeah. Count on that." Mario nods and looks determined. Betty looks at him nervously and then proceeds to walk towards her office.

Now Armando doesn't look at her, instead he worries his bottom lip, stares at his computer, fidgets with his fingers and thumb and has furrowed brows, indicating stress and guilt.

"Beatriz." He calls out to her, looking up but not towards her. He finally lets his guard down as he drops his hand and shakes his head and worried he asks her " Why, huh?" he finally turns to stare at her and then spins on his chair to her direction "Why didn't you tell me anything?" he stares at her and stands up. "Why didn't you tell me you were turning years? I'm feeling really awful, I didn't know anything." Armando continues with the worried expression and his tone of voice matches this. He does feel really awful about it all.

"Oh sir... I was just embarrassed to." Betty timidly says and looks down and fidgets. Her behavior is a lot like a kid here where she shifts on her feet and sways around gently and stares down with a shy smile on her face.

"How are you going to feel embarrassed over your birthday, Betty? It's a very important date for me." he tries to reason and explain to her. "I wanted to share it with you." he says sincerely.

"Oh Sir, I know you're a very busy person with too many problems like for me to expect that you remember something that is especially really dumb like this." Armando looks hurt over this and also frustrated.

"It's because this isn't dumb for me, not at all. This date isn't dumb for me, Beatriz." He states.

"But it doesn't have an importance, Sir."

"No, for me it does have importance, your birthday is important to me." He is now moving from frustrated to being mad.

"No it doesn't."

"Yes it is." He tries to "play" along.

"No, Sir." Betty timidly smiles and replies.

"I said yes!" He screams at her. "That for me your birthday is important and what? For me it is!" He yells and stares at her with wide eyes, flared nostrils and lips tight and then he realizes that he screamed and yelled at her. "Your birthday is important.." He widens his eyes and walks to sit behind his desk.

"Yes, Sir." Betty looks down and looks hurt over his reaction. She was simply playing around and in her own way flirting with Armando, who doesn't like it when Betty tries to invalidate his feelings, especially when they are related to how he feels about her.

"How embarrassing, Beatriz, I didn't want to yell at you much less the day of your birthday. It's just that it makes me nervous when you tell me-when you don't tell me things." Betty looks at him and studies him(lemme finish his sentence because it actually holds meaning "it makes me nervous when you tell me that I don't feel what I feel." this is all based on context clues so I'm guessing that is what he wanted to say at first).

"Sir" She takes steps towards his desk "If I tell you it isn't it's not so you don't feel guilty over it. It's because for me it really doesn't hold any transcendence so why would it hold that for you?" She smiles.

"How is it that it doesn't hold transcendence for you? Explain that to me because I don't get that."

Remember how I keep pointing out that Armando has always been curious about Betty's personal life slash her intimacy? Here he is asking her a personal question and for the first time Betty is going to give him a glimpse of it.

"Normally when people turn age they make a huge celebration, inviting their friends over to their house, they sing, dance, but I've never been enthusiastic over that, well the only time that I had a birthday party it was because of my parents because I was turning fifteen but it was so so bad, so concurrent, that I never did anything like that for my birthday again." She chuckles.

What has Armando's behavior been like?

At first he was obviously paying attention to her but as she started to talk about her experience he first seemed surprised in an a "oh my god it's happening, nobody panic, it's happening." kind of way and the more she expressed herself, the more he felt for her as his final expression is one of him being sad. The corners of his mouth are down, there's a slight pout on his lips, he stares at Betty with his eyes slightly squinting at her.

"Don't worry, Sir." She smiles and walks to her office.

Armando follows her with his sight but as she shuts the door he stares off somewhere else with his brows now furrowed and his pouting intensifying.

For one he feels like he finally gets something into her personal life and the fact it's something that potentially has such an negative impact for Betty, at least enough to make her not want to ever have another party again, makes him sad. Though Betty didn't say exactly what went wrong, Armando can imagine what it could have been as he too was fifteen at some point and he knows how cruel people can be, especially fifteen year old's so it makes him sad that she's gone through that.

A few scenes later, the girls go ask Betty out for lunch for her birthday. Armando walks to grab a glass of water and starts to eavesdrop their conversation(He do be liking el chisme too, especially when it involves his fav. person, Beatriz Pinzón Solano.) as he hears the girls basically talk ish on her boyfriend for having yet to ask her out or make plans with her for her b-day.

Mariana again tries to aid Betty against the girls critique of her boyfriend.

"Beatriz." Armando calls to Betty, who was on her way to her office to grab her things after the girls left. "I wanted to ask you a favor and that's that you won't make plans for tonight." He stops looking at the book he head been "reading" when the secs. where at the door, and takes a step towards her. "I would love it if we could celebrate your birthday together." He is honest in asking her out.

"Really Sir?" Betty smiles big. Armando seems content with her reaction.

"Well of course, Betty. This is real." He smiles at her.

"Oh Sir but I don't want you to have problems with Ms. Marcela, we already went out last night." She whispers the final part.

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of Marcela." he smiles and tries to reassure her.

Betty again tries to invalidate his efforts by saying "Ay Sir I don't want you to get into trouble." and Armando reacts classically'; angry Italian chef hand gesture.

"But I'm telling you no, take it easy, so what do we do then? Huh? Lets go out, yeah? Us together. Or what? Do you have some other plan?" He started off frustrated in an angry way and moved on to distrust.

"Nonono how could you think that?"

"I just wanted to know" we hear him say in a low tone.

"We'll see each other later on."

"Betty." He stops her again from walking into her office and winks at her while sending her a kiss via express mail(same day delivery?). Betty then flutters her right eyes and smiles at him and goes into her office.

His reaction after she leaves his him doing an "Ow" expression but he seems at peace with it.

Now moving forward to a new scene but still in the same time frame, Mario walks into his office and asks for any updates and I'm just mentioning this because I find his reaction funny.

Armando clarifies that he's taking Betty out to dinner later on that day and Mario smiles at him and starts to "clap" silently since Betty is in her office.

Compared to earlier in the day, Armando now looks like he's back on his grove. He looks at peace with his relationship with Betty, that she finally shared some personal information with him, they've set up a date, he doesn't feel bad that he forgot her birthday because she told him she didn't want him know(but she did want him to remember, she said so the previous night when her mom asked) and Mario is getting the gift, all is well.

Marcela in classic style then goes to be a controlling and possessive girlfriend once Armando leaves to lunch with Mario and starts to go through his things and finds AA's picture on his desk.

Aura Maria then tries to hype Betty up about her b-day date with her[Betty] boyfriend and that she'll give her tips later on for it.

Dumb Nicolas calls Eco Moda when Betty's off at lunch so he can talk to Patsy Pats again and because he's dumb like that(I love that character but when it comes to Pats I can't stand him) he starts to pretend like he's rich so he can get her attention

Fast-forward some scenes, Betty is back in her office when her phone rings. When she picks up Nicolas is singing "Happy Verde To You" while Don Hermes looks at Nicolas with annoyance.

"Aw Nicolas." Betty says sweetly and we see Armando slowly pick his head up(he was looking at some papers down on his desk that he was signing) and squint his eyes and turn to Betty's office. "I didn't think you'd remember my birthday. Very nice gesture." She chuckles.

For this next conversation I will omit what Nicolas says so we can view it from Armando's point of view.

"Aw Nicolas." Betty smiles and sounds flattered. "Ah Terra Moda?" She teases. "Oh um, but go out to dinner tonight?" she looks towards the little frosted window in her office, that's indirectly towards Armando's desk. "No it's not because of that, Nicolas." She explains. "What happened is that..." We now get a frame of Armando being nosy, again, and eavesdropping on the conversation, carefully paying attention to what she's saying. "my friends here, the girls from the cuartel have invited me out to celebrate my birthday and I'm already engaged with them." she lies. "Yeah don't worry about it, Nicolas, in any case, thank you so much." she smiles(you can hear someone's genuine smile through their tone of voice) "They'll turn up, don't worry." She teases.

Armando can conclude that Nicolas asked Betty out but she rejected him and lied to him, could be that he believes Nicolas was probably asking Betty if she had plans with another guy or didn't like him anymore, so Betty explains[lies] why she can't go out with him. Then that Betty is trying to reassure him that he'll find someone.

I omitted Nicolas responses because we get Armando's reaction a lot here so it has to mean that we're supposed to draw to the conclusion that it is important for us to know that Armando still considers Nicolas a threat but that he feels like he's winning now.

Now Armando's last reaction is more satisfaction than anything. He feels like he finally scored against Nicolas and he feels good about it.

Betty is now lying to Nicolas and not making plans with him so that she can go out with Armando, making him her number one priority once more and that makes him happy but because he hears Betty's enthusiasm and how comfortable she is while talking with Nicolas it doesn't build his confidence that Betty doesn't have anything with Nicolas.

However problems arise when Nicolas tells Don Hermes that Betty is going out with her friends and makes Doña Julia call her work friends so they can invite them for a celebration party at her house.

When she calls her mom to talk to her about it and when she hangs up Betty now has to find a way to fix this.

Take into consideration that Betty does want to go out with Armando but that after he yelled at her twice for Invalidating his feelings or efforts of him wanting to celebrate her birthday, she now has to consider his feelings and doesn't want to make him feel like he isn't important to her.

She goes out into his office and stands there, waiting for him to acknowledge her.

"What's up?" He asks when he stops typing.

"Sir um, what time do you think we'll be leaving tonight?" Armando has his hands laced together in front of him as he answers Betty.

"Around seven. Why Betty? What's going on with that face of yours? Like something worries you?"

"My parents are organizing a party for me and they've invited all my friends, including you."

"What Betty? Do you pretend I go there with all those women, the most gossipy women of all of Eco Moda, to your house?" here Armando is no longer willing to sacrifice. "To celebrate a birthday? that bore me, they bore me profoundly. I don't even celebrate mine, not in my house or anywhere. I find it very fed up." Betty's entire demeanor is sad. "but if you have that engagement then go ahead on do it. We leave our thing for another time."

"No, no, no." Betty kicks into gear. "Sir forget it. You come first. I prefer to go out with you." She reassure him. To her after his two outburst earlier this translate to him doing it as a reverse therapy kind of way, saying it isn't a problem, that he doesn't like those kinds of party's anyway, and added with his somber tone, Betty does think he is trying to not make her feel bad for it but that he does want to go out with her.

"You already have an engagement go ahead and comply with it."

"Sir let me fix this."

"No-no wait." He says as she leaves his office.

Armando isn't upset or arguing with Betty or trying to convince her to go out with him because he knows Nicolas isn't the one she's going to go out with. Now Armando, though being callous and honest, tells Betty that he doesn't like birthdays that they bore him and are nuisance and that he doesn't even celebrate his,

Betty then comes up with the plan for that night everything is fixed. Armando however fails to read the bold letters, I'd say lines but by this point everything is spelt out in front of him. He is being callous.

"[...] You decide at what time you want us to go out?" She smiles.

"But um-but-nonono- Be-Betty I-It's not necessary for you to go through all of that. Really I feel embarrassed with you, the party, the cake at your house-"

"No-"

"No really I-I don't know-"

"No Sir I talked with everyone; With my family, my friends. Everything is fixed." She smiles. Armando however doesn't seem too happy about it.

"Yeah?" He asks worried. "It's not a shame?" Betty picks up on this and looks away from him.

"Well Sir, I won't insist more." She takes in a deep breath and gives a small smile. "Pardon me." She starts to move towards her office.

"No-no, Betty come over here." He scratches his ear lobe in an effort to sooth his anxiety. "What time do you want me to pick you up?"

"No Sir, don't bother."

"What time do you want me to pick you up?" He speaks loudly and frustrated, however he is trying not yell at her.

"At ten?" She says softly and smiles at him. He nods and forces a smile. "Thank you, Sir."

He does the same expression once Betty enters her office, the "Ow" but at peace with it expression.

Armando is now making more of an effort to place Betty's needs before his own. He is now understanding, even if its a little bit, his feelings towards Betty, at least to the point that he is okay with some of them.

Betty is still timid but she's picking up his cues and when she questions them and she pulls away Armando tells her that it isn't like that at all. It's so important to understand this because many people have this misconception that Betty took advantage of Armando later on that night. I already talked more about this, however not that in depth related to that specific scene in the post I Don't Believe He Desires Me Part 2.

'Til next time!

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

I’ve Got You

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars + Original Character

Collection/Series: N/A

Pairing: Captain Bear (Clone Trooper OC) x Fat/Plus Size Gender Neutral Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: G

Warnings: Reader is a little self-conscious of sitting properly on his lap

Summary: When there aren’t any seats at your table, Bear offers you a place to perch. 

Notes: I love one (1) man. This is a short one, it’s technically more of a prompt than a one-shot, but eh!

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Nights out with Bear, Delta, Sunny and Kal have become commonplace for you. It’s how you find yourself at the bar of your regular cantina, the White Lothcat, ordering your group a series of drinks. Some more alcoholic than others. It’s busy tonight, more so than usual. Every seat is filled, every space frequented. It’s a surprise your group managed to get a table at all, but then again, Bear managed to clear a room simply with his presence. Few people wanted to get into a fight with the giant of a man. You suspect his presence is the only reason you have a table at all. 

You’re jostled and moved by bumping shoulders as you wait for the bartender to make your drinks. Coruscant’s bars and cantinas were always filled with a diverse group of species, the common and the less so flowed through them like a stream. You could see other groups of clones too, the same familiar face, but with individual differences that made them strangers to you. 

A cough reminds you to turn back around, the Devaronian bartender is urging you to hurry up with an impatient look. You hastily pay for the round of drinks and grab the tray, trying to make it back to your table without spilling a drop or being knocked to the ground by someone. 

You return to the table with the group's drinks having successfully maneuvered yourself through the crowds without losing the drinks.  Passing spotchka to Delta, a Dantooine Ice-twist to Sunny, a Fuzzy Tauntaun to Kal and a simple soda to Bear, who as per usual, was not drinking in favour of looking after his men. He always designated himself as the sober member of the group to make sure everyone got back safe at the end of the night. 

You look for a seat at your table only to realise all the spaces are full. With a frown you look around the Cantina hoping to spot a chair you could borrow, but find none as the place was unusually busy. There was barely even a spot to stand in, you’re reminded of this fact as a twi’lek brushes past you, jostling you when his hip collides with your own. 

When you look back at your group, Bear is patting his thigh, gesturing for you to just sit there with a small smile and a come hither motion of his fingers. Dimples form at the corners of his mouth and his freckles dance with crinkles that appear around his eyes. You’re hesitant, knowing that you are not small or dainty, that you are in fact rather heavy, but his gesture is insistent and so you perch yourself carefully on the edge of his knee, mindful not to put your whole weight onto his leg. Not wishing to make him uncomfortable and instead sacrifice your own comfort as you awkwardly balance your weight, drink in hand. 

It is not comfortable, not because of Bear, but because you are balancing on the very edge of his knee, holding most of your weight in your own legs as to avoid sitting properly or heavily onto him. His thighs are thick and broad, but you perch, barely on him, not having a good seat for your wide hips. 

Bear’s hands splayed across your waist, fingers falling between the divots and folds of your side. You are ever so aware of the fact that he can feel every roll and bump in your side as he rests them there. His grip is sure and firm, however, as he pulls you back onto his leg properly, till you're sitting snug against him, hips pressed back into his own and back against his chest. He does not allow you to perch yourself awkwardly for long, ensuring your are sat securely on his thigh.

His breath is warm against your ear as he wraps one arm full around your front, pressing it into your soft stomach comfortably. “You’re not hurting me, you’re not heavy. I’ve got you, mesh’la.” 

There’s something so utterly exposing and yet comforting about the fact he knew, that without being told he recognised what you were doing and sought to reassure you and correct it. 

“Are...are you sure?” You ask, hesitant to hear the answer, but still needing to know that it was okay to lean heavily into him, to press backwards against him. 

His beard and his curls tickle your cheek as he presses his chin into your shoulder and whispers back at you, “Certain. You’re not going to hurt me, Mesh’la, get comfortable for me.” 

You have to force yourself to do it, but you make yourself relax into him, press your weight back against his chest and lean into him. You force yourself to stop thinking of how you distribute your weight as you sit there, but every joke and silly comment in your ear from Bear has you relaxing more and more, and has your thoughts quieting throughout the night. 

You grip the arms around your waist, tracing through the hair there, over the freckles and scars that litter his skin in an absent kind of way as you feel yourself become drowsier and drowsier the more comfortable you get. 

Bear is warm and comfortable. Thick thighs built to be sat on, broad shoulders to lean your head back against, a warm chest that pillows underneath your back. He smells like sandalwood and soap, clean and warm, his skin is soft beneath your hands and his breathing is calming, lulling you into a drowsy state that has you wanting to fall asleep right there. 

His fingers rub circles into your soft stomach as his arms crowd around you, keeping you close. Your companions just give you both a knowing look but choose, for once, not to make a teasing joke or comment. 

You decide, in that moment, that you could get used to this. You could definitely get used to this.

You’re certain you must have fallen asleep at some point because you wake drowsy and confused to Bear telling you he should get you back to your quarters and to bed. You don’t have the awareness to even get up, but that’s okay, Bear thinks. He doesn’t mind as he lifts you into his arms, your soft body pressed against him. 

You are not small, but neither is he. He’s strong, even for a clone and has little problem cushioning your head in between his shoulder and neck as he carries you back to base. You press into him, burrow closer in a way you never would have at the start of the night and it makes him smile, to know you are comfortable in his arms, that you trust him.

You fall asleep again on the journey to your quarters, shallow breathing and twitching eyelids as you drift off. He does his best to stay steady and stable through the journey, not wishing to jostle you until he has little choice. You don’t wake again that night.

When you wake the next morning you are tucked into your bed in your quarters, a glass of water on your nightstand and your shoes carefully placed by the door to your bedroom. There is a little note on durasheet written in a careful hand by the glass of water. You reach for it as you sit yourself up. 

It says two little words, ‘good morning’ followed by a smiley face drawn with little zabrak horns. You can’t help the smile that twists at the corners of your mouth. You could definitely get used to this.

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

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[morganaspendragonss]

The Broken Soul of TK Strand (1/?)

so, that bonus fic i mentioned. i cannot take credit for it - it is a translation of 'la esencia rota de tk strand' by road1985, which in turn was inspired by my fic, 'out, damned spot'

i am so grateful to the original author for not only taking the time to write something based on one of my works, but also for allowing me to discuss the plot with her and translate it into english, especially when i am still learning her language. the only thing of this that is mine is the translation, and i sincerely apologise for any mistakes on this front 💚

ao3 | 3k | hurt tk, worried carlos, rituals, kidnapping, angst and hurt/comfort

The man leaned out from the alley and watched the scene. He had spent so much time preparing, he had carefully chosen the victim from many candidates weeks ago, and now it had all gone to shit because of a cigarette and some curtains embroidered by an old woman for her grandson.

He liked the fire. It was erratic, unpredictable, and powerful, just like his Lord, just as he himself aspired to be.

He watched the flames and longed to get closer, to touch them and know first hand the home of his master. But he still wasn’t prepared; he was missing one more sacrifice, the last one. He just needed one more soul, and then the doorway to hell would be open for him.

But it wasn’t just any soul he needed; he couldn’t choose the first stranger who crossed his path. That would be too easy - his Lord had told him so in dreams. To open the door to hell, he had to find pure souls which were close to the dark side, good souls that had been through horrible experiences and whose pain could be extracted together with their body’s vital liquid.

With each one of the souls he had already extracted, he had improved the ritual a little more. It was becoming cleaner, more discrete, and it seemed that the police still hadn’t found the other three bodies. With luck, he would finish the ritual before that happened.

But because everything couldn’t be perfect, the fire had ruined his plans.

He had spent days researching the people living in that building. All of them had problems, but David Archings was his target. An orphan and divorced, it was said that his parents died because of him, and this had destroyed his marriage even though the police found no proof. Now he lived alone in a small flat where no-one ever visited him.

He was a sad man, consumed by grief, and few would miss him.

But the fire had taken him before he could do anything, and this delayed his plans.

Or not.

Whilst he watched the flames consuming the building, the firefighters arrived. They worked quickly and in a matter of minutes, the fire was under control and almost extinguished.

He hated these people who always destroyed the work of his Lord. Who were they to put out the flames of the kingdom of darkness?

On more than one occasion, he had thought out teaching the firefighters a lesson, showing that that they weren’t and never would be stronger than the power of his master.

But there were always so many of them, always with police involved. For someone who enjoyed going unseen and carrying out assignments quickly, it would be too complicated and too much work to hurt them.

Despite everything, that night, the cards played a very different hand, one which could solve all his problems.

In that first moment, he didn’t know why he noticed the young paramedic, but there had been something about that that caught his attention. He had a special aura, which changed from dark to light and dark again, depending on the moment.

It was easy to focus on him. If men interested him, he would say that he was truly attractive. If he were searching for a pretty face, there was no doubt that the boy had it. He didn’t know him at all, but he could tell that he had a sad smile which hid fear and regrets - exactly the kind of darkness that he wanted and needed.

“TK,” an older man said, one of the firefighters who, judging by the resemblance, was clearly his father. “We couldn’t have done anything even if we had arrived earlier.”

“I know, but I can’t get the idea out of my head that it was my fault we got here late.”

“It could have happened to anyone.” The older man put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You are one of the best firefighters I know, and now one of the best paramedics. We all have the right to make mistakes sometimes.”

The man began to see some of the darkness he needed for the ritual, but he needed more.

Another man, a police officer, came closer to the young man and opened his arms. The firefighter buried himself in them and the officer kissed his head. It was obvious that they were a couple; they weren’t hiding that they were together, and there was a great love between them. The officer was worried for the paramedic - it almost seemed like it had been taken from a romantic novel.

“Ty, your father is right. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened. Tommy said that the man was dead before you got here.”

“I know, but I always think that it’s not fair, that things could have gone another way.”

The man smiled; the paramedic blamed himself for these two deaths but it was easy to see that he carried more guilt inside him.

“When these things happen, I remember what happened to me. If it hadn’t been for my dad always worrying about me, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“That’s a thing of the past and, look, thanks to it, you are here. Have you thought about it that way?” The police officer kissed him and they hugged again before leaving.

It was incredible. He had only thought about taking a soul who was close enough to what he needed. But that paramedic who had been a firefighter, that TK, was exactly what he needed. He was a broken soul, an aged vase in danger of shattering into a million pieces. A firefighter, perfect for punishing those meddlers, and, further, in a relationship with a police officer.

But he was surrounded by people and in the middle of a shift; he wouldn’t be able to take him that night. His master had taught him to have patience, so he let him go, taking note of the firefighters’ station number, so he knew where he worked.

The idea that he would have the soul he was sure was the perfect subject excited him greatly. He didn’t want any mistakes or to find him with a perfect family at home, so he decided to wait and do things right.

*

TK didn’t sleep well that night. They returned to the station after the fire, but he needed time to get to sleep and he woke up many times. When he finally did manage to sleep, he had nightmares about the idea that they could have saved those two strangers.

It wasn’t his fault, not directly at least, but if he had been ready earlier, if he hadn’t forgotten to replace the bandages in the ambulance, they would have arrived on time. Maybe then things would have turned out differently. He couldn’t be sure of course, but the nightmares did nothing but tell him just that.

He got up. Everything was still; with a little bit of luck nothing else would happen and they could finish the shift calmly and go home. But this didn’t make him feel any better, so he made himself a tea - if he had a coffee he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink - and left the station. There were barely any buildings around it, so there was always a beautiful view of the sky.

A little while ago, they had placed some deck chairs on the small back patio and TK sat on one, with a blanket around his shoulders as it was a cool night. He drank the tea slowly as he watched the stars; they never changed, no matter what happened below. Whether people lived or died, the stars remained unshakeable and, in a certain way, this comforted him.

He liked the idea that there were things that couldn’t be changed, things that always happened in a certain way and, as much as he or anyone tried, it couldn’t change.

He closed his eyes - maybe he would be able to sleep out here, and in the worst case, he would catch a cold and spend a couple of days in bed with Carlos. That didn’t sound bad at all. TK drank the last drop of the tea and tried to relax; he had almost managed it when a noise at his back grabbed his attention.

It sounded like a crack, like branches breaking or something similar. He got up and peered into the darkness but there was no-one there and nothing moved. The sound returned, a little closer; maybe it was a wounded animal or one that was trying to get into the station’s trash in search of food.

“Hello?” TK called, only to feel like an idiot a second later; he already knew that there was no-one there.

He headed towards the trash cans but there was nothing there, and he sighed in relief - he would not have wanted a pissed-off raccoon to throw itself at him. TK turned around, but a dark figure, wearing a large coat or cape that didn’t even show a centimetre of skin, appeared in front of him.

“Who are you?” he asked, taking a step back and throwing two of the dumpsters to the floor.

He received no response other than seeing the gleaming edge of a knife the man had taken from under his clothes as he approached him.

The station lights turned on - throwing the dumpsters had raised the alarm. The stranger turned - he wouldn’t be able to do what he wanted, but before Paul and Judd arrived, he used the knife against him. TK raised his arm in defence and shouted at the sensation of the blade cutting his skin. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor, but no-one was there save for his friends running towards him.

“TK, are you okay? What happened?”

He looked around him, but the stranger had already managed to disappear. “Where did he go?”

“Who? Hey, that cut looks bad,” Judd said, helping him to his feet.

“There was someone here, he attacked me with a knife.”

Owen and the others arrived a moment later, and searched the station, but found no-one. Judd pushed TK to go back inside so that Tommy could treat his arm.

“It’s not a deep cut, but it has nicked a couple of veins so it looks worse than it is,” his captain said as she finished bandaging his arm. “You said that a hooded stranger did this? It’s possible that you tripped and cut it on glass or a broken bottle.”

“There was someone in front of me, he had a knife.”

“Something tells me that the fire today affected you a lot,” Owen said behind him. “Captain Vega, don’t you think it would be a good idea for him to go home and rest?”

“No! I’m fine, really. That man attacked me and then disappeared.”

But they forced him to go home.

Carlos was waiting for him; he had been asleep but he always left the sound on his phone in case anything happened to TK. Judd had called him and told him what had happened and that TK had been put in a car home.

He met him at the door, barely having time to prepare himself before TK was hugging him.

“I’m not crazy, babe, and the fire didn’t affect me so much that I’m having hallucinations of people attacking me.”

“Shhh, I know. I know you’re not crazy.” Carlos left kisses on TK’s forehead and cheek, and did the same when he took his hands, kissing the palms and the back as he led him to the sofa. “You need to sleep and relax. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“But…”

“But nothing, baby. Sleep, and I’ll stay awake so no-one else tries to hurt you.”

TK wasn’t sure if Carlos believed him or not, but he always felt safe in his arms. He let go and, without bothering to change his clothes, curled up next to Carlos on the sofa. He sighed, feeling his arms surrounding him, and closed his eyes.

They were all right about something - between the last shift and what had happened by the dumpsters, he was exhausted and needed sleep, so it wouldn’t hurt to do it.

When he woke up, Carlos was still awake, reading. By the yawn he gave, it was clear that he had fulfilled his promise and not slept all night.

“Are you feeling better?”

TK looked at his arm, hoping that what had happened the previous night had been a dream. But the bandage was still there.

He nodded. It was stupid to think that someone wanted to hurt him, or that they’d wait around the station until dawn to do it. Maybe it was true, maybe he had had a nightmare about the fire and ended up cutting himself with glass, like Tommy had said.

The kiss to his cheek brought him back to reality.

“Should I make breakfast?”

“We could do it together?” TK offered, but Carlos clicked his tongue and laughed. “Okay, sorry, what I meant is that you make breakfast and I’ll lend a hand.”

“Perfect.” With another kiss to the forehead, Carlos circled his waist and made him get up. He looked happy, with that warm, perfect smile that made TK feel as if nothing could go wrong. “What’s up? Why are you looking at me like that?” Carlos asked.

TK shook his head and the smile returned. His arm didn’t hurt and the fear of the hooded stranger disappeared all at once. He took Carlos’s hand to go to the kitchen and they spent the next hour making a breakfast that, between laughs, games, caresses, and a round of sex on the kitchen island, ended up more on them instead of being eaten.

“Happy anniversary,” Carlos whispered in TK’s ear, feeling the fast beat of his heart.

“Oh, are you serious? We’ve been together for a year today?”

“You forgot, right?”

“Babe, I’m so sorry, I… No, I did forget, but I’ll make it up to you.”

Carlos took off his flour-covered shirt and gave him a quick kiss. “You don’t have to, don’t worry,” he said, before heading to the bathroom.

“Carlos, babe, wait.” TK tugged at him. “Everything’s been so perfect with you. And it’s gone so fast too. When we started dating for real, I didn’t want to give myself hope that we would last and I decided to take it day by day. I was always scared that…”

Carlos took his face in both hands. “I’m not Alex, nor could I ever be Alex.” He never lost his smile; even now that he was hurt, he kept smiling and kissing TK. “And I’m going to be here, with you, forever. I love you, Ty. I love you so much, so I’m going to carry on as if I hadn’t heard anything, and I’ll wait for you at the precinct at six tonight so we can celebrate our anniversary.”

“Okay, though what we just did…”

“That was just the appetiser. Babe, you have no idea what I have prepared for tonight.”

*

TK worked that shift like normal, though every once in a while, he looked at his arm. He’d convinced himself that it was impossible that someone would have attacked him. Why go to the station to hurt him? Why him? It didn’t make sense.

Luckily, the shift was quiet and it enabled him to rest; they only went on one call and the rest of the day, Tommy and his father both told him to take it easy. But now that he wasn’t thinking about the fire, he couldn’t get out of his head how bad Carlos must be feeling after TK forgot their anniversary.

He had to do something, to somehow make it up to him.

“Can I leave a little early today?” he asked Captain Vega, before telling her everything that had happened.

“Go, buy him something pretty - forgetting the first anniversary is very serious.”

*

He had studied the area, parking the car somewhere that wouldn’t appear suspicious, but also a place where he could see the soul he lacked.

His blood was perfect; the ritual he had done last night had been a success, and its taste was exquisite. Now all that was left was to take him and prepare him for the final ritual.

He had decided to wait until his shift was over, but there was no doubt that fate was helping him, as he saw him leave two hours early. He got out of the car, seeing him put in his headphones, and raised his hood to avoid the wind.

“Hey, TK!” a voice behind them said, the only thing that hadn’t gone as he expected, the only thing that made him improvise.

He hid the syringe he carried in his jacket pocket and, gripping tightly to the iron bar he’d found nearby, hit his victim in the head.

TK fell to the floor, sounds reverberating around him, barely able to see anything other than white lights.

“He’s already left,” said another voice inside the station.

“I’m… I’m here. Help,” TK breathed, his voice barely there. Even that was painful as he watched the stranger, the same from the previous night, approached him with an iron bar in his hand. “Dad… Judd… Please.”

“For the return of the Great Dark Lord,” said the other man, closing the gap that separated him from TK. He knelt in front of him and placed the iron on his chest. “For the Lord of the Dark to walk the earth, you will give your life, your blood, and your soul. You are the fourth chosen. The fourth cardinal point to mark his return.”

“Please, you’re wrong… I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

“You are. Soon you will see.”

Before TK could say anything else, a second blow to his head left him sprawled on the ground, like a broken toy.

[ladykissingfish]

Under the Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Six // Hidan

Hidan

“Ah; you fucking lucky bastards! I should charge you all for this; to kiss an elite follower of the mighty Jashin is a privilege you assholes don’t deserve. Except you, Konan. In fact if you want to move the mistletoe to my bedroom then — ow! OW!! Kakuzu let go!! I was only kidding; can none of you take a fucking joke?!”

Konan

She sighs before she goes to him. He’s made a big deal all day about kissing her in particular, although she doesn’t get why. She feels nothing other than friendship for him, and, despite his ramblings, she doesn’t think he feels anything stronger either. Nevertheless, it’s her turn. She steps up to him and he reaches out and takes her small hands, giving them a surprisingly gentle squeeze. “You ready for this, gorgeous?” But something about that, about the word “gorgeous”, sets off the normally calm Konan. She yanks her hands out of his and plants them on her hips. “Gorgeous, beautiful, sexy — that’s literally all you ever say to me. I’m more than a pair of tits; I have a fucking brain in this head!” Hidan blinks, startled. “That’s - the first time I ever heard ya curse, Konan.” He grabs her hands again. He speaks in a soft voice and apologizes, and tells her that he has nothing but respect for her. “I only wanna kiss you so bad ‘cuz you’re beautiful INSIDE and out, and you bring lots of light to my shitty darkness.” She blushes and thanks him, and he takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss her lips. Just a soft touch, but both of them are smiling afterwards.

Deidara

Both of them are hesitant to do this, to say the least. Hidan won’t ever admit this, but he’s held a small physical attraction to Deidara since the day they met. Very small, and *purely* physical, but still. He doesn’t like thinking about it, because to do so would be him admitting to himself that his own sexuality isn’t as black and white as he’d thought it to be. He tells himself that if he likes Deidara at all, it’s simply because the guy looks ridiculously similar to a woman. Deidara doesn’t wish to kiss Hidan because, although HE will never admit to it, Hidan scares him. The man’s proven immortality throws a wrench into Deidara’s long-held ideals of what life (and art) are ultimately about: beauty made greater by virtue of being fleeting. But Hidan being able to live forever — could it be that Deidara’s partner Sasori has been right this whole time? That art really is eternal? Still, everyone is watching, so the two shake off their feelings, and Deidara approaches him. “Keep your tongue in your mouth, okay?” “Same goes for you, blondie.” Hidan gives himself very quick peck to the lips, but both men are blushing quite hard regardless. And even as brief as that was — Hidan makes note to ask Deidara what kind of shampoo he used later, because he smelled absolutely incredible.

Kisame

After the last kiss between them, when it was Kisame’s turn, Hidan is hesitant to get close to this guy again. But Kisame is grinning, and appears to be in a good mood. “Ah, come now, Hidan; surely we can let bygones be bygones?” Hidan starts to curse at him, but catches himself just in time: after all, his mouth was what got him into trouble last time. So he merely nods and stands still, while Kisame approaches him. “Are you afraid, Hidan?” “Ah? Why would I be —“ “I can smell the fear coming from you.” Hidan folds his arms in front of his chest and demands to know who wouldn’t be afraid at the thought of possible dismemberment. Kisame just laughs and promises he’ll behave himself. He leans in, locks eyes with Hidan, and flashes his teeth — before giving Hidan a closed-mouth kiss on the forehead. Hidan let’s out a shaky sigh of relief, and Kisame walks away, laughing.

Itachi

Like Deidara, Hidan has a bit of a grudge against the raven-haired Uchiha. He’s fallen victim before to the power of Itachi’s sharingan, and the calm, quiet way that Itachi reacts to Hidan’s jabs and wheedles always serve to irritate. But even so — Hidan has to admit that the guy isn’t all THAT bad (certainly not the hell-spawn that Deidara makes him out to be, anyway). There was a time once when Hidan caught a cold, and Itachi braved going into his room to bring him a cup of sinus-clearing tea. Itachi steps up to him and nods, and Hidan leans forward and kisses him on the cheek. An oddly sweet gesture, and one that Itachi seems to like, as he actually smiles before he leaves. Hidan watches him go, thinking (and not for the first time) that having a talent like the sharingan is completely wasted in someone who isn’t immortal. Maybe he should talk to him later about joining the Jashinist movement ...

Pein (Nagato)

If the Akatsuki is a family, and everybody (save Konan) are Pein’s children, then Hidan is undoubtedly the problem child of the group. The loudest, the most foul-mouthed, definitely the most violent ... but still. When Hidan could find an ounce of maturity, and focus, he was one of the best members of the team. And Nagato finds his regenerative abilities to be amazing, and, if there was ever the time and opportunity for it, would love to study Hidan in-depth. Pein approaches him and Hidan bows his head, an act of respect he gives to the Leader ... and ONLY the Leader. Pein delivers a light kiss to the forehead and walks away. He can hear Hidan mumbling behind him about “those damn piercings could kill somebody” but chooses to ignore it.

Zetsu

Oh, God. Hidan smells like human blood most of the time (thanks to his many gory sacrifices), and Zetsu is attracted to this scent like a bee is to a flower. He’d hang around this guy all day if he could, if not for the smell then to act as clean-up for the bits and pieces of his victims that he leaves behind. But Hidan doesn’t quite care for the plant man, to say the least. He didn’t sign up for the Akatsuki to be made to work alongside non-human freaks of nature. When Zetsu walks up to Hidan, the gray-haired jashin lover is nervous, to say the least. Zetsu puts his hand on Hidan’s face, leans in, and kisses his nose. It should only take a second, but Zetsu lingers over the spot for an abnormal amount of time ... and Hidan realizes it’s because he’s sniffing him, like an animal. “Okay, freak; get the hell away from me!” But Zetsu doesn’t move, in fact tightening his grip on Hidan’s face. Hidan is surprised; Zetsu is quite a bit stronger than he’d realized. His surprise turns to fear when the expression in Zetsu’s eyes shifts, and Hidan hears a very noticeable stomach-growl come from him. Hidan is seconds away from fight or flight (he hasn’t quite decided yet) when Tobi comes into the room, seemingly breaking the trance Zetsu had been in. Hidan breathes out a sigh of relief as zetsu keaves, giving silent thanks to the moron in the mask.

Tobi

After “scaring” Zetsu away, Tobi gleefully announces that its his turn with Hidan. “Ohh boy, Hidan-san! You and Tobi are gonna have fun!” Hidan is actually quite eager for this; not so much for the kiss itself, but for his chance to see this freak up close and unmasked. Tobi looks behind him; nobody else is around. He turns back to Hidan and slides his mash halfway off his face, revealing his pale skin, dark, long-lashed eyes, and full lips, pursed into a grin. Getting closer, Hidan can detect faded, jagged lines extending from the right side of his forehead to the bottom of his mouth. Still, even with them — “Fucking hot”, Hidan mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. Tobi grins and cups Hidan’s face, staring into his eyes. “So are you,” he murmurs, and is it Hidan’s imagination or is his voice ... different, somehow? Well, no time to think about it; suddenly Tobi’s (unbelievably soft) lips are on his own, and for the first time since this encounter started, Hidan feels a feather-touch of unease. The way Tobi’s kissing him ... this isn’t how an idiot kisses. What in the name of Jashin — and then just as quickly as it began, it ends. Tobi slides his mask back into place, and skips off to the kitchen. Hidan has to take a few moments to collect himself, and in the way-back of his mind is a small voice urging him to warn Deidara to watch himself around Tobi. About what? Hidan doesn’t know the specifics. All he knows is those two are alone a LOT for missions, and if Tobi really is more than he seems, then — But then again, why should he care what happens with the blonde jerk, anyway?

Sasori

Another person that annoys Hidan. He was in the Akatsuki for almost an entire year before he’d realized that the ugly body that he was in, wasn’t even his own. His surprise when he witnessed a hatch open and a childlike-looking redhead step out was unprecedented. Learning that he was in his 30’s meant that Hidan should have shown him the proper respect, but Hidan just couldn’t take orders from somebody with the face of a young boy. Sasori seems to know this, and therefore avoids interactions with him as much as possible. Now, however, contact is unavoidable. “Can you even reach my face, shorty?” Sasori tilts his head and seems to really be considering Hidan’s question. Suddenly, without warning, Sasori’s wooden arm detaches itself from Sasori’s body, and hits Hidan full-force in the center of his stomach. Hidan curses and doubles over, and while he’s bent Sasori takes the opportunity to go to Hidan and kiss his forehead. “I can reach you just fine, brat,” he murmurs, before leaving. Hidan has a quick recovery time to all forms of pain, and he’s quickly back on his feet, staring after Sasori with anger — and a tiny bit of admiration.

Kakuzu

“Hey old fucker; you’ve been waiting all day to get a taste of this, eh?” Kakuzu just rolls his eyes at Hidan’s comment. He’s not sure what he did, either in this life or another one, to be partnered with a creature as odious as Hidan. Normally with people that Kakuzu finds no value in, he kills, plain and simple. But Hidan is neither plain nor simple; no matter what Kakuzu hits him with, he keeps getting back up, just as loud and irritating as ever. But ... even someone as gruff as Kakuzu has to admit that Hidan isn’t all that bad. It’s actually a bit lovely, to have found another person (besides Sasori, who has made it clear that when everyone else expires, his complete solitude is something he’s looking forward to) to be with to share the blessing (and curse) of immortality. He walks up to Hidan and grabs him by the forearms, forcing him into stillness. “What the hell, old man?! Let go of me before —“ but Kakuzu interrupts him by inclining his neck and kissing his lips. Hidan’s mouth is soft, and he has a taste to him, something akin to cinnamon or pumpkin. Kakuzu let’s go of him and starts to walk away, when suddenly Hidan reaches out grabs him, pulling him into another kiss. Kakuzu is surprised, but he makes no attempt to break Hidan’s hold on him because ... this is nice. This feels good, this feels natural. Almost like — and then a sudden explosion makes them both jump; Tobi comes running past them, with Deidara (and his bombs) on his heels. “Get back here you little shit!!” Kakuzu sighs, and this time when he turns to go, Hidan doesn’t stop him. But Kakuzu can feels Hidan’s eyes on him, following him all the way to his room.

[alia-turin]

Hey dear Alia!

How do you feel about a little prompt that displays Eredin's lifestory?Just a little one? 🥺 You did it justice when writing some stories about Caranthir and Imlerith as i am curious what's the deal with Eredin being The Eredin we all know and admire.😋

Hello anon, I know I have been sitting on that for more than two weeks but there were several ideas stewing in my brain. I think there is a lot of angles you can approach Eredin, there is just so much to him you can explore. I think I picked his soldierly side as I just enjoy writing stuff like that, I hope you do like it. Please check the warnings and if that is not your cup of tea do let me know, I won’t take offence, but I do want you to enjoy it and there are certainly other stories to be told. 

Warning: Violence, death, graphic descriptions 

AO3 Link

Eredin sat in his tent looking over maps trying to find the weak spot of the fortress. There wasn’t one, he knew it, staring at that map will not make an entrance for him, he had to fight. But fighting will lose him men, and losing men was not something he could afford right now. Not now.

“Any bright ideas?” Imlerith looked at him from the other side of the table, Eredin didn’t respond. He hated admitting defeat.

He remembered a time when he was younger, much younger. He wasn’t even of age then, just an arrogant boy with a talent. The throne room was filled with people, the king sitting, how mighty was Auberon then, Eredin could remember himself looking at the king and thinking that was how a king looked like. Eredin had walked through the throne room, people looking at him and nodding in approval, and why not he was to be the youngest general Aen Elle ever had. All these years of blood and sweat, his father making him sleep in the barracks like a common soldier had paid out. He walked to the throne and knelt, when he raised, he was Eredin, the youngest general they all had seen.

“I built that fortress.” he said in frustration. It was brilliant truly, it was not indestructible, everything could be destroyed even this pile of stone. But Eredin built it to withstand sieg for months.

“They will starve.” Imlerith added.

They would, but months from now. Eredin didn’t have months, he couldn’t be away from Tir na Li,  not now.

“You want to storm it.” the only other man in the tent spoke. Aedan has been silent through the whole discussion, that wasn’t typical.

Like him, Aedan was one of the younger soldiers in their unit. Son of a common soldier he had talent for fight that could rival even Eredin’s. But where he was calm and cold, Aedan was fire, hard to control, never followed orders or at least not as they were given. They were opposite in almost everything, even the way they looked, Aedan’s golden hair versus Eredin’s raven, sapphire blue eyes versus Eredin’s emerald green. Somehow the man grew on him and he trusted him with his life. For hundreds of years now he had never allowed himself to relay on one person as much as he relied on Aedan an the man never disappointed.  

“I say we wait.” Imlerith’s words made Eredin focus again at the task at hand. He knew that was the wise choice. He could win either way but why risk his men over few rebelling humans. Imlerith was right, but Eredin couldn’t wait. There was a bigger game for him and he was missing on it here.

“I agree. Let them starve.” Aedan, still unusually serious, added.

“One for waiting, one for starvation. Attack it is. We will storm at nightfall.” Eredin looked at his two most trusted men, Imlerith’s pale blue eyes were fixed on the map, Aendan’s were pinned somewhere behind Eredin. Unusually quiet. Neither of them protested, he knew both of them were against the idea, if he were them, he would be as well. He knew it was a bad idea, but he had to choose between his ambition and that fortress...were his  men worth his ambition? They were. He would sacrifice his men now, so he can make it better for them tomorrow. “Aedan, you will scale the wall, from the sea. Pick fifteen men.”

The blonde just nodded. Both of his generals walked out of his tent in silence. Eredin was left alone, he had a few hours before the night covered the sky and it was full moon. Bad time for a surprise attack but he could not wait.

He kicked his boots off and undid his sword belt leaving it over the map. He needed to rest, but he could never sleep before battle. He did lie down on his bed, there was some strange comfort in camping beds. They were uncomfortable, small and your back hurt after sleeping in one for too long, but it was familiar.

Eredin never doubted himself, doubt was a feeling unfamiliar to him. He was the youngest general to ever fight for the Aen Elle and he was the leader of the Red Riders. He had made some bad decisions and some tough decisions, but today just couldn’t get out of his mind. He was about to storm a fortress, he knew it was a bad idea. He knew there was a better way to do it, but he couldn’t wait.

Years ago shortly after Lara was killed, he had come back from a hunt. Aedan and two of his other captains were with him. They had walked in the throne room, Auberon sitting in the throne, Avallac’h and Ge’els next to him. It was hard to shock Eredin, but he was shocked this time. He had been away for weeks and when he came back the king was a shell of a living thing. Eyes unfocused, skin pale, his body looked weak. Eredin had always had a dream, but nothing like this sight to make him want his dream to be reality. It wasn’t, however Auberon’s frail look that made him put his plans in motion, it was the look on his men’s faces. They all had seen Auberon before, he knew what they had seen, their strong and unfaltering leader. Now he was a ruin. The mages had failed them.

It wasn’t that moment when he had made his mind he wanted to be a king, but that was the moment that made him realise it wasn’t just his ambition he was fulfilling. The Aen Elle needed a strong leader, and Auberon was not that anymore. He had planted the seeds long before that and he continued planting them long after, but he had to be in Tir na Lia, not on the other end of the kingdom dealing with human rebels.

He watched as the masons worked on the cenotaphs, sounds of metal against stone filling the air, dull and grim. That was what was left of his most trusted men. Almost all of them were gone. Grey stone and white marble. He wasn’t sad and he wasn’t grieving. They got warrior’s deaths and that was all they could hope for. He was angry. Pointless deaths born of weakness and bad decisions. He wondered if the plan all along had been to deprive him from those he trusted the most.

“Ceiran had a child.” he had heard Aedan’s step behind him but the man had been standing in silence until now. It wasn’t just Eredin losing friends, it had been both of them. “I will look into it.”

Eredin nodded. When he took the crown no  more of that. His men would die soldier’s deaths but it won’t be for nothing.  

Eredin walked out of his tent and he found his way to where Aedan and his men were preparing. They were all ready to go, nobody wore armor, just normal dark clothes, no capes, no swords, only knives, their faces covered in dirt and charcoal, everything shiny from their clothes either covered or taken off.

“Let it be known that Eredin Bréacc Glas likes it the hard way.” Aedan pointed at the full moon.

“I will give you an hour to scale the cliffs and then another thirty minutes to get half of the fortress, after that the soldiers inside should be looking in the opposite direction, but not for long.” Eredin turned to Imlerith who had just joined, fully dressed in his armor. “Put the rest of the men on the ridge there, spread them, but make sure the archers have good range and visibility when the commotion starts, I need you on me.”

“What are you going to do?” Imlerith asked before he put his helmet on.

“Negotiate.” everyone who heard that started laughing.

Hour and thirty minutes later Eredin, no armor, no sword, was walking to the fortress. One of his soldiers next to him, holding a while flag.

“Another step, pointy ears, and that arrow goes between your eyes.” a human from behind the walls shouted.

Eredin didn’t need to make another step, he needed to be right here, right now. He always rehearsed his plans in his head, multiple times looking for weaknesses. This whole plan was dangerous, but it was going to succeed even if it was just due to his sheer will. He was exactly where he needed to be, he built that place, he knew every stone and every brick, that was the place, not too far, not too close.

“My name is Eredin Bréacc Glas and I am here to negotiate with your leader.” He had to be confident it will go his way, otherwise all it took was one arrow, maybe two and that would be all for Eredin.

“We won’t surrender, pointy ears” another man shouted.

“Not here to negotiate that.” he paused. He had to win time, that is all he needed. He could see movement on the walls and more torches coming to the front. What did old poets say? There is no actual difference between bravery and stupidity? Someone must have seen Eredin in this very moment to say that. “I want to give you the fortress.” he could almost hear all the men behind the wall gasp in surprise and the mummers. Or maybe he was imagining it, after all it was very far.

“Well, gather your men and leave, butcher, no need to negotiate if we already have your fortress. We know who you are Eredin, General of the Red Riders.” it was the voice of the first human. Butcher wasn’t really a creative way to address him, but humans were not creative in general.

“No, but if I just withdraw my forces, someone else will come, someone more patient than I am. I want to negotiate, what are you going to give me, so an Aen Elle never bothers you.” as soon as he finished that he heard new noises, screams and shouts of surprise. Metal hitting metal and more humans shouting.

“Kill him!” a human screamed, but Eredin was already running to the fortress, his back hitting the wooden gates, the arrows couldn’t reach him here, but he hoped Imlerith moved his ass faster. Aedan had scaled the wall faster than he thought, which was good because there was only so much talk of defeat he could pretend without breaking the pretend. The man that was carrying the flag for him was on the ground, ten arrows sticking out of him.

One.

Imlerith and the rest of his men rushed at the gate under a storm of arrows. He could see some of his men falling, but most made it. Imlerith’s back hit the gate and he passed Eredin his sword belt.

Nobody spoke, his men’s shields were raised, but still allowed some well placed arrows to sneak. Eredin counted -

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven

Eight.

Aedan and his men were surely taking their sweet time.

Screams from inside, dull sound and the gate opened. Eredin rushed in but stepped to the side to talk to the soldier who had opened the gates for then. He had expected Aedan.

“Where is your captain?” he asked as he watched his army pour inside.

“He went to look for their leader.” the man answered as he pulled a sword from a dead body nearby and took it as his.

Eredin started running to where he knew the main hall was. Kill the leader and it will all be done. Aedan had the right idea, but the man had only a knife.

Some of his men followed him, he was cutting through everything that was human and stood in his way, his clothes soaked in blood as he was not wearing armor, his sword leaving a bloody trai behind him.

He reached the main hall, the doors were closed but it took him a kick to open them.

“Eredin!” a tall human from the other end of the room shouted. He was holding a severed head in his hand. “Your dog came sniffing.” the human threw the head and it rolled in Eredin’s feet.

Eredin looked down. The golden hair was a mess, Aedan’s face was oddly calm, but his bright blue eyes were turned into glass now. He could hear one of the men behind him choke and gag. It was just a moment but it felt like hours. That was disrespectful. He launched at the human, there were others in the room but he did not care. Aedan had a knife and no armor. The man had armor and a sword. Eredin didn’t have armor but he had his sword and that was planty.

The human was injured which made Eredin’s easy task even easier. Took him two moves to disarm him and then another one to get him on his knees.

“Size him.” Eredin ordered two of his men who had come closer. “And take his armor off.”

His men were not gentle, they tore the straps of his armor and pulled the gauntlets. Even without armor the man was still large for a human.

Eredin grabbed him by the throat and pushed him to a nearby table, with his free hand he reached for his knife and pushed it into the man’s wrist nailing it to the wood. The human screamed in agony.

“Knife.” Eredin ordered, someone passed him another one and he used it to nail the other wrist to the table.

When he finally looked at the room, his men had overpowered the humans, everyone else here was dead. Imlerith walked in his armor covered in blood. He looked at Aedan’s head and stepped around it carefully.

“There were women and children downstairs and we are bringing them to the courtyard.” Imlerith announced. “We also found a pyre, we could identify items from the garrison here, they put them to the sword and burned them.”

“Do you have family, human?” Eredin turned to the rebel leader. “I’m sure you do. You humans breed like cockroaches. Was it what provoked you to do that? You didn’t want your daughter or your son to serve us. To be a slave like you. You should have slit their throats in the crib before they grow up if you wanted mercy for them.” he turned to Imlerith. “Behead all of them, don’t care what you do with them before that.” The man on the table screamed this time not in pain it was frustration.

Eredin had not forgotten about him. He walked to where Aedan’s body was lying, his hand still gripping a knife. Eredin took the knife from the dead fingers, he wouldn’t need it anymore. He slowly walked to the man who had started struggling against the restrain, but pointless, Eredin dug the blades too deep and the pain was probably more than a human could take.

“Was it worth it human? Rebelling?” the man struggled and didn’t answer. Eredin smiled as he pushed the dip of Aedan’s knife in the man’s throat, feeling flesh and bone give in under his weight. The man tried to scream but he choked on his own blood instead. He stepped back and watched the man die in agony.

Eredin turned his gaze to Aedan’s severed head. His oldest friend. Hundreds of years fighting next to each other. Killed by a human rebell. Human, who somehow saw weakness in Aen Elle and decided that he could carve his piece of history. Tir na Lia desperately needed a change.

Nine

He watched the mason work on the marble over Aedan’s tomb. Dull chiseling, scratching the back of Eredin’s head.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Eredin didn’t need to turn to recognize Avallac’h’s voice behind him. “Auberon sends his gratitude.”

“Let me guess, he feels unwell?” he didn’t even turn to face the Sage. Avallac’h would do everything to defend the king.

“He is busy Eredin, humans rebelling is not our only problem.” there was annoyance in Crevan’s voice. “Was it necessary to kill all of them?”

“If you are soft on rebellion, Crevan, it grows.” Eredin knew Avallac’h wasn’t sentimental about the humans. It was about the fact that they disagreed on principle. He did not approve of Crevan’s methods nor the other way around. Auberon was growing weaker by the day, it was all a matter of the right moment now, however he had to figure out a way around Avallac’h as well.

He looked back at Aedan’s tomb and all the other statues and graves of Red Riders and soldiers who had died. Some of them had good deaths, some of them had avoidable deaths but most recently all of them had deaths that could have been avoided with better leadership. He was going to fix that. The Aen Elle would be the force to be feared, again, not a dying race of old men and women.  

[soukokuwu]

➤ genre: angst, fluff

➤ pairing: chuuya x reader

➤ synopsis: breaking up with the love of your life is never easy.

➤ word count: 1.6k

➤ a/n: inspiration? “Lose” by NIKI. i just couldn’t get the song out of my head and decided to just vibe with this. ^.^

We only meet at the intersect

You were eighteen when Chuuya’s azure orbs caught your eye.

He was rough around the edges, always the fiery, hot-headed brute in any room, with the crimson hair to match. Exceptionally violent when his temper takes over, like asteroids slamming into a planet, and like a star exploding when he’s forced to use corruption.

Yet his fingers were able to dance across your skin as gentle as a soft summer breeze, and the hot temper gave way to subtle, fleeting signals of affection. The way his usually loud, boisterous voice cascaded into soft hushed tones when he spoke to you. Chuuya was a workaholic, all of his hours usually went into slaving away for the Port Mafia. But even that yielded to making time to find you, even if it was for no particular reason at all. Luckily he wasn’t one to nitpick about the details — because he never could for the life of him figure out what made you so entirely different from anyone else.

But you were.

You were nineteen when Chuuya took the leap of faith, showing you the gravity of his love.

He kept mum about his work, until he couldn’t anymore. Every instant he had to shy away from talking about what he did, every instant he denied you access into his real life, his mind — it felt like he was pushing you away, like he was allowing other people a chance to swoop in once you were pushed far enough.

And once you find out, your reaction was understandable. Horrified, confused and without any words uttered, you left him behind in the restaurant, alone with the doubts of whether he should have come clean at all. Was it worth losing what little of your friendship there was? Was it better to have made a clean breast of it and lose what was dear to him or would it have been smarter to keep you in the dark, keep you close?

But a ray of light came a month later in the form of liquid courage.

Chuuya wasn’t the one who came forth, no. He had considered himself burned from being honest, he thought you hated him. No, if anyone needed to do or say anything it would have to be you. He knew that nothing could make up for what he’s done or what he’s going to do as a Port Mafia executive. It was his family. And he would never give that up. A hard thing it was, for civilians to accept. The murders, the frauds, the sacrifices.

Which is why he didn’t know what possessed you to knock on his door at 2am in the morning, an open bottle of Romanee-Conti in one hand and his heart in the other.

You were twenty-one when you two started cohabitating.

It was a step in the right direction — you two barely met due to his busy schedule. You used to always have your phone on hand, desperate to know whether your boyfriend was safe after a long day’s work. To which he oftentimes forgot to account for; he was too tired. That, and he wasn’t used to being responsible for someone else’s feelings.

But this alleviated your insecurities, and it satisfied his wishes to spend more time with you.

The mornings were sunlight streaming through the cracks in satin curtains, cups of black coffee with occasional breakfasts of toast and eggs and fleeting kisses goodbye. The afternoons were distances, unavoidable work calls, meetings and ‘I miss you’ texts. The nights were hugs welcoming each other home, spills of crimson locks over his bare shoulders, bodies melding into one and ‘I love you’s by midnight.

Closets were full, black coats and grey waistcoats sharing vacancies with flowery dresses and black poly skirts. The pantry was more filled than ever before, now that Chuuya had someone living with him to eat with, to enjoy with. Bathrooms now had two sets of everything, toothbrushes, towels, cups. Walls were now occupied, the dull white paint masked by colourful memories framed in gold and black.

The collection grew and grew.

You were twenty two when you spotted the embers fading.

When sunlight cracked through the curtains and there was nobody in bed next to you. Either one of you always woke up earlier than the other. Time was not made during the busy of the afternoon, with either of you choosing to take a siesta during unoccupied minutes. The eventides of passion turned into nights of sex. You found yourself wishing he’d touch you like he did in the beginning. And he found himself wishing he was as into it as he used to be.

And one night, in the dead silence, as you two stared up at the ceiling in bed — it was the first time in a long time that you two shared the same thought.

Chuuya remembered when you taught him how to love, how you filled the void in his heart, helped him get over his insecurities, healed the numbness he felt about his humanity. The subtle efforts he had put forth because he deemed you worth it — and he still did. But that didn’t change facts: this wasn’t working out anymore.

He broke your heart each time he had to go away on long missions. He broke your heart each time he came back with bruises and a hardened expression. He broke your heart each time he had to keep a secret from you in the name of work. He broke your heart whenever you had to mask your true feelings to take care of his. And he hated hurting you.

You remembered when Chuuya taught you the importance of accepting someone for who they are, how he always tried his best to put you before himself in each decision he made, how he put aside his temper and his ego in every argument you had, how the two of you would always work them out. The two of you were made for each other, but it was painfully obvious: the end was awfully near.

You broke his heart each time he saw through the fake smiles. You broke his heart each time you didn’t bear to check in on him because you didn’t want to hear tomorrow’s headlines early. You broke his heart by giving him everything he wanted, but never could convince himself he deserved. And you hated disappointing him.

Neither of you wanted to do this. But it was a ticking time bomb. Both of you had been dragging this on for far too long — to decide to escape from this only to find yourselves running back to familiarity. It was a too-small house. Either one of you left, or you both stayed cramped in there until neither of you could take it anymore. Two options, but only one outcome.

This time, in the dead of the night, enveloped in the darkness, you took the first step.

“This isn’t working out.” A slight crack in your voice, but a very apparent ache in your heart.

“I know.” Quivering lips and the same gaping hole he had before he met you.

“I still love you.” Your confession.

“I will never stop loving you.” And his.

Chuuya is twenty-four when he finally lets himself consume an off day.

Life has been empty again since the day you moved out. He still remembers hugging you to sleep for the last time that night. And can still remember the overwhelming desire to pull you back in his arms as you walked out the door the next morning, to tell you that you didn’t have to go, that the both of you could work it out — but you both know he’d be lying. Some things you can never come back from. When something dies, they should remain that way. At least his memories of you remain sweet, and only because you left before things could take a turn for the worse.

This is a fire that he doesn’t see could possibly rekindle.

It’s life.

It’s been two years.

Waking up in an empty bed still sucks. Chuuya eyes your toothbrush by the sink. He can’t bear to remove it. It raked confusion in his one night stands. Not that he cares. They never mattered. They weren’t you. And there is still two of everything in the bathroom, but he never lets anyone use the other set. Doesn’t even know why, he just keeps it this way.

But the walls are empty again, all the memories tucked away in a box in the corner of his now emptier closet. He’s never opened them once. He’s afraid of the emotions if he ever does.

In the kitchen he eyes the barrenness. Since you left he hasn’t bought much of anything for himself. Takeouts are his best friend. Besides, he can’t cook as well as you. Something bugs him to make a grocery run though. He listens to it.

Chuuya scoffs looking in his basket, something tugging a subtle smile on his lips. You’ve even managed to keep your influence on him — everything inside is food you’d like. Your favourites, in fact. Love is weird.

And so is life. It has a way of disrupting your journey; it can pull two people together only to force them apart, leaving their hearts in a silent call for each other. But it’s also weird in the sense that it can bring the two people so close to each other yet again, but at the same time offer no further assistance.

Because in the opposite aisle, there you are, shopping for food that happened to remind you of him.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise @fyowyn-writes

[pandoraborn]

Alive.

Alivebur?

Names don’t matter anymore. He’s just Wilbur now. There is no Ghostbur or Alivebur or anything in between. Both were just parts of his personality, parts he chose to separate so he didn’t have to handle the responsibility and guilt over his previous actions.

Coming back to life hurts. There are aches and pains in body parts he’d forgotten existed. There’s the physical pain, the sensation of a sword being run through his stomach. There’s hunger pangs; he hadn’t eaten in months. He’s too thin, too worn out, and there’s no time to collapse and let himself exist as a human again.

There are emotional pains too. He remembers. He remembers everything, both alive and dead. It’s all racing through his mind, spiraling around and around until he wants to cry, to vomit, or both. He wants to stab himself with a sword again to bleed out the agony over how much of a villain he’d become, but everyone around him is hedging away from him, purposely keeping a tight grip on their weapons. He can see Eret keeping a white-knuckled grip on their sword. Next to them is Tommy...

Tommy.

Wilbur brings his fists to his eyes and presses in until he sees spots even through closed lids. If he can drag the pain outside of his head, he won’t feel as strong of an urge to cry every time he looks at the teenager.

He’d seen how much Tommy had been effected by his aftermath. He’d been so selfish, only thinking of himself, not sparing any thought for someone he thinks of as a younger brother. Sweet, innocent, annoying Tommy, who’d suffered so much at his hands, at the hands of everyone else.

“T..Tommy..” his voice is raspy, weak. His hands drop and he blinks to clear his vision. It hurts to speak at all. It feels like there’s a blade going into his throat every time he swallows. “Tommy I...”

“Wilbur.” Tommy’s voice is monotone. His face is blank and emotionless, but his eyes still give away everything. Wilbur can see the months of damage on Tommy’s face. The sunken eyes, the set jaw that indicates clenched teeth, the way his brows are furrowed in worry. His eyes...There’s so much pain there, just under the surface. Pain and guilt; Wilbur had seen it first hand. He’d sat back and allowed Dream to hurt him. Punish Tommy, over Wilbur’s actions.

He reaches forward, first barely brushing his fingers against Tommy’s shirt. He’s real, he’s really there in front of him. Wilbur then presses his fingertips down on Tommy’s shoulder, finding something to grip onto. He squeezes, feeling how tense Tommy is. When’s the last time Tommy was able to rest? Or even just relax?

When’s the last time he got to be a sixteen year old?

“Tommy, I did this to you.” Wilbur’s voice is a whisper, unable to speak any louder. “I did everything to you.”

“Wil...” The hard edge in Tommy’s gaze is fading. Wilbur can only see the hurt now. The anguish and lament over what his older brother had become. He hates himself. He can’t imagine how Tommy feels toward him; does Tommy hate him too?

He half hopes so.

“Tommy I... I’m so...”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Wilbur.” Tommy’s the spokesperson, clearly. Wilbur sneaks a glance around, there’s not many people. Tommy, Tubbo, Eret, Phil, and Ranboo. They’re all staring at him, but Wilbur can’t tell what they’re thinking. Only Tommy. Only Tommy matters...

No, wait.

He pulls back, sparing a second to cup Tommy’s cheek. The reunion can wait, he wants to address something. Someone.

“Phil.”

“You’re alive,” Phil says, just as quietly. There’s a sadness in his eyes too. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Phil, you did this.” Wilbur turns away from the courtyard and walks to the edge, overlooking the destruction. “You did this to us.”

“I had to,” Phil says. “You don’t know what it was like, watching the government turn innocent people into tyrants, and repeating the same mistakes of their predecessors. I watched Techno get executed because of it, I watched you die-”

“You killed me because I asked you to!” Wilbur snaps, whirling around to face the group. He can see Tubbo flinch. “What happened last time wasn’t Tubbo’s fault, it was mine! I had become someone I didn’t want to be because I didn’t want to see L’Manburg fall into the hands of a tyrant! You and Dream and Techno? You were wrong. This wasn’t the government, this isn’t a message, this was tyranny! He’s your son!”

He points a finger at Tommy. “He’s your son too, and he needed us. He needed all of us to band together, to save the one symbol of peace and freedom that was left. I planted those seeds, I scattered them for people to cultivate and grow, and instead you set fire to the very ideals we all once had. You cannot tell me it didn’t matter.”

“I was hoping you’d understand. Wilbur, I hurt too,” Phil said softly. “I never wanted to be dragged into war, I wanted peace. Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good, and if this truly brings about peace, then I was happy to do my part.”

“I don’t trust you,” Wilbur says. “I made my mistakes, I too turned to Dream for destruction, and instead of all of us paying for it, Tommy paid for it. Tommy was the one--no, Tommy is the one paying for all our sins, and I’m not putting this on him anymore. You can think what you want Phil, but I’m done. I’m not coming back to life just to watch chaos and anarchy run rampant, I’m going to help Tommy, for once.”

“I don’t want to choose sides, Wilbur.” Phil looks down. “I was hoping you would come with me and Tech-”

“You’re always going to put Techno first, aren’t you?” Tommy interrupts. “We need...I needed you, Dad. I needed you and you weren’t there. Wilbur wasn’t there, Tubbo wasn’t there, you know who was there? Dream! It’s fucked up, the way no one cares! I’m... I’m a child. I can’t keep doing this on my own!”

“You’re not alone,” Wilbur says. He wants to cry again. He wants to stab himself, just seeing the anguish on Tommy’s face. “I’m with you. Whatever you decide, Tommy, I have your back.”

Tommy looks at him, looking him up and down. Are those tears in Tommy’s eyes, or is that a trick of the light? “How do I know I can trust you this time?” He asked. His voice is so broken. He’s no longer looking at Phil, who’s turning to go. “How do I know you’re not going to stab me in the back?”

“I don’t know how to convince you to trust me, and maybe you never will. But I’m here again, and I’m going to do for you what I should have done a long time ago.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to help you get your discs back from Dream.” Wilbur presses his hands to Tommy’s shoulders again. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Phil rounding the corner and disappearing out of sight. He hopes one day they’ll reunite, but for now, Phil can have Techno. His two children have each other.

“Together, Tommy, I promise.”