#fight the agony with spite

[kingratclown]

My body wants me to kill my motherfucking self

But I wanna build puppets and write stories

So I'm not gonna give that piece of shit the satisfaction ���

[lassieposting]

Concept:

You are Bhaal, god of murder, and someone is praying to you.

And that's not necessarily unusual. Lots of people pray to you, usually for the untimely death of a rival, an ex-spouse, an overseer. The prayer itself is a small and broken thing, bloody and raw, whispered by a man whose vision is dulled by agony and the dark spectre of approaching death. The pathetic not-quite-survivor of some rather brutal torture, wishing murder upon his captor. You take a moment to enjoy the fear, the pain, the suffering - and then you tune him out. There are millions like him, and your favour is for those willing to do their killing themselves. Besides, that wretch will be nothing but a corpse all too soon.

Except...he doesn't die. You never feel that timid little spark of existence stutter and go out. Far beyond the breaking point of a mortal body, this one lingers on, clinging to being with fingers all but stripped back to bare bone.

It's intriguing enough to warrant a second look and - interesting. The prayer comes from a vampire, a pretty little corpse becoming an even prettier corpse under the skilled hand of a cruel master.

It is not in your nature to intervene. You favour the strong, not the weak. The master, not the slave. Your first instinct is to leave the wretched little thing to his fate.

But the thing is. Your child - your favourite child, shaped from your own flesh, coldest and most brutal of your progeny - has gone and got a boyfriend.

And you don't like him.

You don't like the effect he's having on your chosen, the way they're becoming distracted, attached, less devoted to their true purpose. And right now, your nature takes a back seat to your desire to get rid of that smug, arrogant little Baanite whelp, Enver Gortash. Your granddaughter's spiteful machinations have given you an opening, but you know they're bound to run into one another eventually, and it will all start over.

The vampire is beautiful. Well-trained. Accustomed to brutality. Already purged of sympathy and compassion, eaten up inside by hatred and bitterness and harm. And immortal; able to survive the worst of your son's inclinations. At this point, he'll do.

So you redirect a nautiloid. It's not that you're showing the creature any favour - it's just pragmatism, really. He is simply a tiny piece of a very large puzzle.

And then you watch.

You watch the vampire take the spectacular murder of a young bard in stride.

You watch him identify your memory-addled, sanity-challenged offspring as the most dangerous one in their sad little group of unwashed tragedies - the strongest protector, the solution to his fear of being discarded or returned to his master.

You watch him expertly lure your progeny into a pit trap of sex and lies and manipulation, dressed up with honeyed words and an exaggerated performance of desire.

Your child comes face to face with Enver Gortash and remembers nothing - feels nothing. They only have eyes for Astarion, and you are filled with satisfaction. The vampire is pathetic and fearful now, but already he plans to take over his master's ritual, and then he will be perfectly placed to feed your child's very worst impulses, to bring out the sharpest edge of the darkness inside.

You watch the vampire say, "I want us to be real."

You watch your child happily become a glorified comfort blanket, your masterwork living weapon reduced to little more than a prey animal, a do-gooder, a sacrifice.

Watch them vow, "I will be the person you see in me."

Watch them talk the blasted creature out of going through with the ritual at all.

Watch them start fighting their own nature for the pantomime love of someone else's broken toy.

Watch them turn on you.

And you decide, with the benefit of hindsight, that Enver Gortash was not that bad, actually.

[himehomu]

With Walpurgisnacht Rising coming in 2024, I want to talk about something that has been bothering me since Rebellion. It was never the “plot twist” of Homura separating Madoka from her godhood nor her taking those godlike powers for herself thus becoming the devil. It was always people's reactions to Homura doing this and the way they based her entire character around this specific moment that really rubbed me the wrong way. Saying she's a selfish monster who's trapping Madoka in a fake world for her own personal gain or that she's taking Madoka's agency away from her and making decisions for her that directly rebel against what Madoka wants... And, to that, I just want to know.... do literally any of you know what Madoka actually wants or are you just basing her character around her sacrifice?

Yes, it was for the benefit of all Magical Girls and yes it freed them from their cycle of selling their souls in the name of hope just to die at the hands of their own grief and despair, but Madoka didn't plan to abruptly cease to exist at the cost of it?? She didn't want to be stuck between life and death only existing as a deity meant to eradicate Witches for all of time. Madoka wished to erase Witches before they are born from the past, present, and future. Going back years upon years in time, destroying Witches and mercy killing Magical Girls; fighting forever, past and future, for all time. Ceasing to exist as an individual, only able to materialize and interact with someone when they're dying of grief and sadness and pain; relieving them of that pain so that their last moments won't be in agony, so they can die in peace, but there's none of that for Madoka. There's no death, no closure, no release, no freedom from this hell of being a weapon and nothing more.

But, Madoka would never voice these struggles and frustrations. Because Madoka isn't that kind of girl. She's the kind of girl who shoves all of her problems down and bases all of her self worth on how much she can do for others, how happy she can make others, and how useful she can be. She forces a smile and masks her pain because she doesn't want to burden anyone with her problems. She puts herself down constantly, risking her life trying to help others because she cares so little for herself. Without being useful, she believes her life has no value. And Homura knows this. Because Homura knows her. I feel like most people take Madoka's bright pink colors and smile at face value and don't realize she's chronically depressed. That's why in the first timeline, she and Homura naturally got along so well: they were both girls who hated themselves and based their self worth on how they made others around them feel, both self-loathing girls who deem themselves worthless if they're not useful in some way. Madoka was just better at hiding it than Homura was. And she still is by the 100th loop.

But, in Rebellion, when her memories of being a god are taken away from her, and she's given a hypothetical scenario of her fate, she says "wow that sounds awful and scary and lonely and I would never do something like that." The Flower Field scene is one of the most brilliant and misunderstood scenes in all of anime. Majority still to this day argue that, since Madoka doesn't have her memories, her words hold little to no weight, and Homura is simply hearing what she wants to hear. So, naturally, they disregard what Madoka is saying, assuming it's just Homura being selfish. And that's where they mess up. Because, the fact that Madoka doesn't have her memories here is the whole point! Homura is already well-aware that if Madoka had her memories, her self loathing would result in her caring so little for herself that she sacrifices herself every time which is why immediately after Madoka's words, she assures Madoka that she is indeed "strong enough to make that decision." Homura just wanted to confirm if Madoka would still miss her life pre-godhood in spite of that, which she outright says she does.

There are also arguments that Homura was somehow influencing Madoka in the labyrinth aside from just not remembering becoming a god, but Shinbou already stated in an interview that this wasn't the case, and that these were Madoka's honest words. In fact, Madoka's true feelings regarding her godhood are revealed for the first time within the lyrics of Madoka's character song (sung by her VA Aoi Yuuki) that played as the ep 1-2 ED titled “Mata Ashita”. The song is about Madoka post-series which consists of Madoka wandering around aimlessly, quietly observing as humanity resumes without her, lamenting on the life she lost after becoming a god and wishing she could have been more honest about her feelings to Homura in ep 12, asking her to realize she's lonely.

[I'm pretending that I'm used to being alone, but I'm not really that strong.

The scenery is the same as always, the city is the same as always.

Even though I think everything will stay unchanged.

I still feel like I'm the only one who's tiny. Instead of "See you later."

I should've said, "I'll stay for a little longer."

I wanted and hoped that you would realize it.

But with the words "See you later,"

I lie to myself again.

And hide my true feelings beneath my usual smile. Saying, "See you later," I wave my hand.

Cracking a smile, yet I'm feeling lonely.

The truth is, I still have more to talk about.

But even my voice saying, "See you later"

is so near yet far from you that it can't reach you.

So let me say this like I always do, just once more: "See you tomorrow"]

This is definitive proof that even BEFORE Rebellion, this was already confirmed to be Madoka's true feelings.

The second time Madoka's true feelings post-godhood are adressed is via Madoka and Homura's concept movie quotes explaining that the God (Madoka) is clearly suffering in her “heaven”, which is more like a prison of isolation. The lizard girl (Homura) takes pity on her and separates her humanity from her godhood, thus making her human once more. Here are also some direct quotes from Magia Record which provides even more context for what Madokami is experiencing:

All of this, with the addition of Madoka's words in the Flower Field scene being confirmed to be her real and honest feelings, puts the whole “pulling madokami down from heaven” scene into a different perspective. Considering the entire reason why Madoka even became powerful enough to become God in the first place was because Homura's 100+ time loops linked multiple parallel universes together with Madoka at their center, and it's confirmed Madoka was suffering as a god, I would think people would be happy to see Homura reverting Madoka back to a human being and rewriting the entire universe to be a world where Madoka is happy and free, surrounded by her friends and family???

The fact that Homura's love for Madoka was so strong throughout 12 years of 100+ time loops, it turned Madoka into a goddess but when Homura was able to see just how isolating and lonely godhood was for her, she took her godlike powers for herself because she loved her and was willing to take on the exhaustion and isolation of immortality as the devil to spare her of anymore pain and sadness. Homura freed Madoka from a nonexistential purgatory prison and a decade later she's still demonized for it, how insane is that??

[ophelian-darling]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬.

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, Giorno Giovanna and Jolyne Cujoh - gn reader.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : There's more than a way to say I love you, yet there are many too ways to say I hate you.

TW : Obsession, delusional thoughts, verbal abuse.

enjoy ♡

𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫:

♡ : Thank you for everything you do for me, JoJo.

It fills him with blessing to know how much his words and actions are something with great meaning in your eyes. Faithful servant when in love- except that everything he does sources from the warmest atoms of his soul and from the deepest corners of his heart. Jonathan fights the world to see you happy, and rests with a smile when he earns the slightest curve of your lips; to him, it's the ultimate gift he can ever receive- your Love.

- You mean nothing to me.

Tears- everything that would wash him with agony strikes at once. the sensation of tearing the flesh of a heart open accompanies your words; deeply cutting and painful, causing all of his insecurities to float : Am I being useless again darling? Am I being a burden? Have you grown tired of me? He can't help it when he sheds these tears: He had lost all of your affection and care. the only source of warmth he had, now doused in the cruelest way possible. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 :

♡ : I like you , you're awesome!

Just imagine it, that ghost of a blush coffined beneath a confident smirk and a glinting wink! Joseph catches a love fever once you state that his presence around you is enjoyable. He feels that he already aimed at the moon by gaining your trust and company- it meant that you were besotted with him in return, regardless of whatever you said about considering him as a mere brother or a dear friend. JoJo sees the colors of your eyes soften as you say so, it is surely, undoubtedly love!

- We're done.

a swift of a cut that it doesn't elicit any pain at first, then it's repeated again, slightly stinging, then it rolls down your tongue, fully sinking in his soul. How could you?! Was the thing in the middle of your chest a hard stone to not see or feel a fraction of his love towards you?! a heavy realization of being used falls on his head like a heavy anvil: the blood in his veins floats just right under his skin, painting anger as red, yet the pale dread underneath can't be helped. Why? He would scream at you, but the reasons were nothing of an importance, you just toyed harshly with his feelings. 

𝐉𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐮𝐣𝐨 :

♡ : I'm always by your side. 

It ignites a pleasant warmth within his heart and shines through his eyes; it confesses his undying love and loyalty for you, regardless of whatever mean words he utter. No force on earth can banish him from you: From the depths of Inferno to the ends of earth and above in the heavens, He would remain with you forever, his lineaments engraved under your eyelids and in the darkest curtains of your vision. JoJo doesn't show it, but he's on cloud nine to know that you're staying as well- that he finally earned your love. 

- Nobody loves you, not even me.

He's already aware. Half of people fear him, the other hates him, and there were you, probably feeling something negative swirl inside you towards him, now confirming it with each spiteful letter you let out. Couldn't you just shut the fuck up and swallow it instead of saying it out loud? He spits, the words of you reiterating louder and louder in his mind that now he can't unhear. You've just ruined everything for him, he had peacefully thought that everything went well, that your protests and complaints were just a childish fit- but now, it's all so grotesquely real: you truly hated him, and for the first time ever, he has no idea what he should do. 

𝐉𝐨𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐚 :

♡ : You're cute! I like your hair!

Nobody can stop him, the boy with a heart of diamond and eyes of warm seas! Everything in his eyes glints with beauty; especially you: everything about you is a well crafted detail, say your eyes, your smile or the contours of your face. The subject of his daydreams- they were made of spring rain drops and cotton candy, the enchanting human whom he had a silly intense crush on called him cute! Was there even a better time to be alive? to be praised by someone you adored was the epitome of being coddled beyond any wishes of a young man madly in love!

- Look at you, pathetic and ugly.

Huh?! 

It's all that he can think of as a response. Your words take a slow effect on him; as if he was trying to process it in another different light, in a gentle way that didn't convey the clear in them. At first, He's at sixes and sevens for a few minutes: people who are in love together were supposed to have each other's back, to boost each other's confidence and accept them whatever and whoever they were- so why were you saying this to him now? obviously it wasn't a joke, your voice was too cold to warm the words into a playful comment, he would have accepted them if you were just a tad above expressful, not a doll that just stares back eerily. He should be angry, but it just melts in tears, all of his hidden insecurities emerge into existence, and not even Crazy Diamond is able to fix the shatters of his heart. 

𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨 𝐆𝐢𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 :

♡ : You mean the world to me.

Galatea to Pygmalion, Juliet to Romeo, Layla to Qays- You to Giorno. Romanticism wasn't something he was versed in, but in a blink of an eye, the world fell into a pink blur, filling everything with such amour a human never had in a little heart. GioGio ponders to himself that you were an Angel, a poor pure plumed creature that tripped and fell into the land of the stained; worth to be kept in a vitrine till the sun burns away. The smile that dances on his lips when he hears your gratitude, the joy he feels when his efforts of shielding you are finally noticed by you equate the flow of sweetness he tasted for the first time he saw you: Love.

- You're a monster. 

The gray flicker in his eyes blends with the greens of his irises; it doesn't reflect on your face that you just hurt him, while having the audacity to brand him as a monster. His patience contained all of your attitudes, he bottled up every evil word you threw at him and continued to offer more than he should for the sake of winning back some or little of your affection, but to no avail. The mayhem under his skin is concealed by force, consuming whatever left of his patience as he makes you toe the line. You're selfish- you always were, yet he can't help his love for you. 

𝐉𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐣𝐨𝐡 :

♡ : Good Girl! 

Valentine, Friends and dates- High school sweethearts and kisses! Her world is a ridiculously colored picture of a sunny day; her imagination paints a world where she is with you and nothing could ever go wrong. How much would she offer to just touch the tips of your fingers with her hands? nothing less than what she is able to count! JoJo wanders around you in the excitement of a puppy around its master, waiting for a treat or a word of praise for pleasing them. She wants you to say it again, over and over again, to no end! A Good girl was a girl in Love! 

- How annoying you are. 

She had heard someone she loved before say this, but who were they? 

Remorse falls heavily on her like a dark curtain- She'd just ruined the best thing she ever had in life. She blames herself for being too clingy, too needy and too desperate- she carries the shame and burden like weights on her shoulders, staggering as the remains of her confidence seep through the fractures. Your sweet words and praises were brightening her existence; was she to be something if you didn't adore her? The talkative, open and daring Jolyne is now nothing but a silent, gloomy and wounded little girl, asking for a little of love and receiving none no matter how much she gave. 

[novarunestone]

Was tagged by my lovely friend @tkwritesdumbassassins to share a snippet of a work in progress. Here's a peek at some first-time intimacy with Taliesin and Lucanis.

Lucanis does not understand all of the elven words but the soft tenor of her voice is enough to calm his nerves. She does not go far, remaining in his sight and well within reach if he were so inclined to draw her back to him. He returns his focus to his breathing, transfixed by her. The anxious pressure in his chest lessening as he times his breaths as he had been taught as a fledgling.  Until she bends at the waist to peel off her trousers entirely.  “Cazzo,” he croaks. He isn't sure where to look. He isn't sure if it is shameful to look. Or if it is somehow more rude to not look. In any case, he cannot bring himself to avert his eyes. He is enraptured, enthralled, utterly lost at the sight of her. He can barely breathe when she straightens up before him, naked as the day she was born and waiting for him. Ready for him.  “Raspberries,” Spite hums in the back of his mind. “Oak and lightning. Want.” “Tali,” Lucanis sighs in wonderment. “Sei così bella…” The mottled and twisted scar against her lower abdomen does not inspire the anguish and self-blame that it once had, he is relieved to find. That fateful day in the Hossberg Wetlands had been what had finally spurred him into action. The thought of losing her before ever getting to truly know her had been agony to consider. The resulting kiss they'd shared in Treviso a week later had been the soothing balm to that aching wound. It had been a vow to continue to fight and be unwilling to give up.  There is another thin, aged scar against her hip, likely made by a blade. The muscles of her thighs that are wrapped in smooth olive skin that he longs to sink his teeth into. The thatch of dark hair at their apex that sends his heart positively racing. She is an alluring canvas of soft curves and strong muscles and well-worn battle scars. She is a life lived fully. She is his.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

John Wick falls in love.

And everyone thinks, “oh, this girl must be a total badass. A ruthless woman with a heart of iron and an ability to tame even the most beastly of mankind.”

Except then they meet her, the wispy ray of sunshine holding a bouquet of wildflowers freshly picked from her homegrown garden, smiling and leaning up to steal a kiss from her dark, brooding shadow, and… Did John Wick just blush? Did John Wick just smile and nuzzle into the warm neck of a giggling, delicate woman in a sundress?

Yes. Because after a lifetime of pain and agony, after he’s already accepted this fate of brutality and death and darkness, after the only touch he’s known is hard and unforgiving, Helen appears like a ray of light. And she is soft. So soft. All teasing touches and playful kisses and laughing while burying him in the sand.

Silly little games and tickle fights and ancient, perishing fairytale books wrapped in blue shiny ribbon waiting in his front seat after he tells her he’s always wanted to restore them. Holding him, always holding him—his rough, ugly scared hands that she insists are beautiful. His bruised cheeks. She wraps herself around him in a protective cocoon—his bright little guardian fending off the oppressive, terrifying, massive darkness—shushing him back to sleep, scaring the nightmares away with her sweet reassuring whispers.

Loving him, not in spite of, but for everything he is. Never being afraid of him. Giggling while he growls, batting her eyelashes and sticking out her tongue and only screaming with laughter when he gets her. Rolling her eyes when someone trembles in his presence, when she hears the rumors about his merciless and ruthless nature. Putting him in funny poses for photographs in the park, on their couch, in his car.

Praising him, always praising him. Hailing his good deeds and achievements so intensely that all he can do is stammer and stiffen and look away when it gets overwhelming, when he doesn’t know what to do with all of that abundant love she’s giving him so freely. All of that abundant love he didn’t even know existed.

Helen is so different from everything, so kind and forgiving and loving. He doesn’t deserve her, doesn’t mean to fall in love with her so quickly, doesn’t want to dim her heavenly light with his looming past, and certainly doesn’t expect the opposite…

Because now, he smiles more than frowns, laughs more than wails, kisses more than bites, caresses more than punches.

Because now, John Wick falls in love with the warm, ever-burning hearth that is his Helen, and she sets his world on bright, brilliant, beautiful fire.

[nightcolorz]

Armand could definitely 100% have prevented Claudia and Madeline’s death like obviously he is so full of shit 😭😭 he just chose not to. I dont think he was lying about being held captive, though. It seems more likely to me that he allowed himself to be imprisoned bcus the ultimate outcome would be desirable, rather then like, he was secretly orchestrating it all like a devious Master mind and was only pretending to be a prisoner to trick Louis. I think Armand was genuinely being imprisoned, but he could have easily escaped (as if the vampire Armand couldn’t win in a fight against Sam The Twink), and chose not to because it’s in his best interest for Claudia and Madeline to die 😭. While part of his betrayal I think comes from a comfort Armand takes in learned helplessness, where taking action feels less safe then leaning into victimhood, so armand chooses to accept helplessness rather then play the hero bcus helplessness is comforting, it was also definitely part “I want these two people to be gone from my life and this seems like a sure fire way to let it happen while I get to remain mostly blameless” 😭. Armand finds Claudia’s whole existence horrific and cruel. I don’t think he particularly likes or dislikes her as a person, he doesn’t seem to know her very well nor care to know her (he actually says this in tva lol), so I don’t think he considered letting her a die an act of spite.

Armand thought of Claudia as a suffering, rabid, sick and diseased animal that needed to be put down for its own well being. He considered her death an inevitable tragedy that “could not be prevented”, and bcus of his perspective on vampirism as a horrible curse that can only be spared through very specific very calculated and clean cut means, he wanted her death to come as quick and painlessly as possible. From Armand’s perspective, if he saved Claudia from death by execution, he’d only end up watching her excruciatingly loose her mind and self until she eventually killed herself or got put down by Armand or someone else Nicki style so that she wouldnt need to live in agony anymore.

Which, his whole perspective there is flawed, and fucked up, and dehumanizing of Claudia, but it makes sense why he would think that way. Armand considers vampirism to be always bad, regardless of the subject turned, and always smth he would hate to inflict on someone. So claudias turning, is not only cruel to Armand, but unforgivable and unsalvageable. He’s seen a lot of fucked up vampires in his time, a lot of botched turnings, and he knows from his experience how much of a toll vampirism takes on anyone, let alone someone in the body of a child. His whole “I will never turn someone into a vampire ever in my life” thing comes from this. So, of course he won’t save claudia from such a clean cut, blameless death 😭. He considers it an act of mercy, when he pictures the alternative as “Claudia clings to Madeline as she painfully looses her mind and eventually dies”. Which, comes into why he didn’t save Madeline either lol

Armand doesn’t particularly value life as smth to be worth preserving, he is very willing to view other ppl as commodities when it helps him. But he does value preserving peace and limiting other’s suffering (which is why he kills so gently). Armand is so horrified by Madeline being turned, partly bcus I think he saw himself in her. He sees a fledgling who he believes will inevitably loose her maker, the only person she rlly cares about, to horrible gruesome death, and he knows that once she experiences that her life as an immortal will be cruel and unbearable. So once she is turned, Armand sees another lost cause who will be better off if she is killed before it can get bad. What Armand misses when it comes to Claudia and Madeline, obviously, is that they r more resilient and self sufficient then he sees, and taking away their agency by deciding they have no hope and must die isn’t the mercy he sees it as but is actually like, fucked up and horrible. Armand is so blinded by his trauma fueled dog eat dog view of life as a vampire that he can’t see that.

I think the reason armand considers the perks of Claudia and Madeline’s death a priority over Louis’s happiness (and horrible grief that will ensue when his loved ones die), is bcus Armand considers Claudia and Madeline’s death an inevitable consequence of Louis’s unforgivably cruel actions. He doesn’t resent Louis for it I don’t think, but he definitely thinks that Louis will need to atone for what he’s done whether Armand wants him to or not. So, Armand is ok with Louis grieving (as long as it doesn’t turn to resentment of Armand), bcus it was ultimately inevitable, and comparatively less cruel then what he would have to witness alternatively. It’s a rip the Band aid off type of thing 😭😭

in conclusion uh Armand is bad but Armand has his reasons and Armand isn’t one dimensionally villainous, he has a ton of complex trauma induced reasons for the way he thinks, and his actions r more often then not coming from a warped view of “the kind thing to do” that comes from his lack of understanding of how kind the world actually is and can be (dog eat dog mindest etc), bcus of how horribly traumatized he is. thank u good night

[slyvester101]

Club au where the reds and blues work at a club that Carolina owns and totally doesn’t use as a cover for the undercover work she’s doing in the city with the Freelancers to take her corrupt asshole of a father down.

Church, being Carolina’s sister, hangs around the club basically every night since he gets free drinks and has become the official unofficial manager and recruiter for the place since Carolina and the Freelancers are usually too busy going on missions to take down warehouses or gang members working for her dad, planning missions in the rooms upstairs, or acting as innocent members of society that totally aren’t plotting to kill the Director and tear his illegal operations down.

The first of the reds and blues he hires is Sarge and Lopez, who are the club’s cooks. Sarge haphazardly tosses ingredients into a bowl and it comes out edible somehow? He doesn’t even toss in the necessary ingredients for the food; he put a chicken, a bag of chips, a whole bottle of garlic seasoning and a watermelon into the oven and out comes a beef burger with loaded fries. Lopez is in agony trying to figure out how he does it. But it always ends up good. In fact, it’s so good that it ups the club's foot traffic and creates a much better cover to all the cartel members coming in and out to talk with the Freelancers.

Grif and Simmons come next, Grif being the no nonsense bartender who gets to listen to all the juicy gossip going around the club as well as the annoying drama that gets dragged to his bar. He makes a damn good drink so the bar gets a little crowded when he’s clocked in and he complains endlessly to Simmons.

Simmons is a waiter/occasional assistant cook who can guess a person’s order just by looking at them (something about statistics and body language and a bunch of stuff that Grif calls him a nerd for) as well as know their intent and reason for being there with just a couple words. He weeds out a lot of undercover cops. They both get scolded since they constantly get distracted while flirting talking at the bar.

Tucker was next, a dancer with enough spunk and spite to fill the whole club and moves that leave everyone jaw dropped and star stricken. He loves dancing and loves entertaining the crowd even though he has to deal with a lot of shit (he can split-kick a sucker unconscious if they even think about touching him because unfortunately, people think they have the right to touch you when you show off a little skin and dance in front of a crowd. Sometimes people think they have the right to touch you just because you exist and they’re an asshole). But it pays well and he gets the freetime to spend with his son, who is the main reason he works hard for those extra tips to support him, so it makes up for the less favorable situations.

Caboose and Donut were hired one right after the other; Caboose being a bouncer who knows every patron by name (not always the right one) and can carry three full grown men over his shoulder with a smile on his face; Donut being a DJ/event planner/decorator extraordinaire and is basically just an assistant manager at this point with how much work he does with Church to keep the club up and running, but he refuses to take the title because it doesn’t “fit his vibes”.

All the reds and blues know some kind of illegal shit is going on with their bosses, but they stay willfully ignorant about it and only get involved when they think something will put the club at risk. They all love the club and all the people who work there so they work hard to keep it from being shut down by cops or blown to hell by a rival gang or whoever the fuck their bosses are fighting.

That being said, they’re all rather wary of the Freelancers despite Church’s insistence that they’re not bad people (mostly) and wouldn’t bring any harm to them (probably). Things are civil between the two groups, especially since the Freelancers are the one writing their checks, but there’s this underlying tension and nervousness that no one can seem to break.

The Freelancers are kind of disheartened that Church’s friends aren’t really keen to talk to them more than they have to, especially the dancer who hasn’t said more than a word to any of them and will literally get up and leave in the middle of a conversation to avoid talking to them.

This changes with the addition of Caboose and Donut, the two balls of sunshine giving the club a bit more energy, a lot more color, and a bit more balance.

No one is willing to anger the giant bouncer who can easily lift a table with one hand and the feisty DJ who can get you banned for life with another. There’s a lot less creeps roaming around and the whole club seems to relax at the changes Donut makes to the club and the safety Caboose brings.

Carolina seems to lighten up around Caboose, which in turn makes the reds and blues feel less on edge since she doesn’t look like she’s gonna murder one of them. York and North are finally able to get some more friendly conversation outta Grif and Simmons after Donut gets York and Simmons on a rant about hacking as North and Grif snicker at their geeky counterparts. (“I am not a geek! I am a nerd! There is a difference!” “The fact that you know the difference between a nerd and a geek makes you a geek.”)

Maine, who would sometimes work as a bouncer when not on a mission, finds Caboose rather companionable and likes to stand with him outside and listen to him chat during downtime. South comes by a lot more because Donut has somehow started a passive aggressive off between her, himself, and Tucker (and occasionally Church but he’s more overtly aggressive so he doesn’t really count). It’s a lot more fun than it sounds. Connie likes chatting with Donut and adores the gossip sessions she can get outta him, Grif and Simmons. There is a lot of tea to be shared around the bar.

Everyone agrees to keep Wyoming and Florida from meeting Sarge. That is a war crime waiting to happen.

Wash isn’t at the club often (none of the Freelancers are) and instead drowns himself in work with Carolina, planning and plotting and mapping and debating. He’s a bit more standoffish, a bit more gritty and a lot more like his Recovery One counterpart in canon. He’s cold, he’s calculative, he’s bitter, but he’s also patient and knows they can’t rush their takeover of the Director. It worries the other freelancers, seeing how mean and withdrawn he’s become, especially after knowing him as the upbeat, if nervous and oblivious rookie who did everything he was told with a smile and a lot of puns.

But he’s still convinced to come out for drinks to relax after a particularly stressful mission that went off without a hitch. For as distant as he’s become, he’s still a softy underneath and caves at York and North’s insistence that he needs to let loose a little after spending so much time under duress.

Wash hasn’t looked around the main level of the club since Tucker, Caboose, and Donut have been hired and is rather surprised by how lively and joyful the club has become. Caboose greets him with a smile at the door, happily introducing himself to the “new friend” coming into the club. He calls Wash “Mister Washingtub” and helpfully tells him that it’s performers night, so be nice and respectful to everyone who goes on stage or be kicked to the curb. Wash doesn’t doubt that with how massive the guy is.

When they walk in, he gets an armful of bright pink and a chipper blonde man guiding him and the other Freelancers to a reserved seating area near the front of the stage. York and North laugh at his face as he’s dragged by the hand of this upbeat man.

The whole club has changed since he was last there, much more open and welcoming, the decorations not as drab or outdated and the bar and stage have been renovated into something Wash can only describe as glamorous. Even the patrons and workers have changed, more smiles and jovial laughs echoing over the music, more people dancing on the floor or chatting at the bar. It’s so full of life and excitement that Wash is half convinced he walked into the wrong building.

He reacquaints himself with Simmons, the no longer skittish waiter with clumsy hands. He gets a polite smile from him before he rushes back to the bar to chat with Grif, the much more relaxed and not quite as grumpy bartender.

Wash is still reeling a little by the time the music stops and the man in pink is up on the stage starting up the event of the night. Singer after dancer after comedian go on and on throughout the night, entertaining the crowd and adding to the high spirits of the place.

It all comes to head during the final act, a dancer who has the whole crowd applauding before he’s even on stage.

Lavernius Tucker.

Wash is just as hypnotized as the rest of the crowd as Tucker swings and dips and spins around the pole on the center stage, showing impressive feats of strength as he pulls himself up and flips around with poise and precision. It’s beautiful and artistic and you can tell how much love and work has gone into the man’s routine.

The dance ends with thunderous applause and Wash sits there in awe at this graceful dancer taking bows and tips at the front of the stage.

Maybe he should come to the club more often.

[underatreedrinkingtea]

Something Golden, Something Glistening

So I decided to write my first ever fic!! If you want to read on Ao3 there is a link below.

Spite x Rook

Spite wakes, Lucanis finally succumbs to slumber, he needs the rest after their trip to Arlathan Forest. And Spite has a mission of his own, he needs to speak to her. To Rook, her eyes always seem to look his way. Spite needs to know why, how. Nobody other than Lucanis can see him. He is..curious.

He walks to find her, finally he catches a hint of her scent and follows. Smells like vanilla, apricot and tea leaves. He ends up in the Lighthouse’s music room, her back is turned to him sitting by the harpsichord. Candlelight all around fills the space, but Rook is somehow surrounded by complete darkness. There is stillness in the room. She is humming a tune unfamiliar to him, but her emotions are sad. ‘Taste like agony, torment and shame!’, Spite exclaims to himself. Another mystery that needs to be solved for another time. 

“Spite, come to talk?” Rook says gently, not surprised he is here.

Purple eyes narrows. “You know. It is us. How!?” he asks impatiently. Rook turns around to observe him, her gaze feels heavy on him yet gentle, a warmth he’s not used to. Everything is usually sharp edges, harsh words spoken between him and Lucanis. Never a balance, always on pins and needles. She is so aware of him. It feels good. After a while Rook says;

“It’s good that Lucanis finally gets some sleep, I understand why he doesn’t want to but… maybe you and I can work together, speak to him?” Her voice is gentle and friendly.

‘She ignores the question! We want to know!’

Spite takes a few steps towards her. “ Agh! No. Answer us!” he grunts abruptly and fixes her with an aggravated look. Lucanis can wait, now it is his turn to be heard. ‘I matter too!’ He thought she was different when the mage and her dwarf companion rescued them from the Ossuary. Was he wrong?

“I apologise, Spite. Of course you matter. I don’t want you to think otherwise. I’m also curious about you two as well. But you are right, one thing at a time.” Her warm, gentle voice settles him a bit. He perks up, ‘Curious about us?!’

“Yes!” she grinned at him. “It’s funny you know, I can feel you all around, it’s the first thing I notice when you’re present. I see you clearer than most, your aura shines so brightly. It is hard to look away”, a soft smile is on her face. Dimples.

Spite walks closer. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch her. But for now it’s enough to be near and feel her warmth, so golden and fierce.

She pats on the seat beside her, inviting him in. “Come sit with me.” Her tone is still light and gentle.  Not tense, not scared at all. Rook wants him here and he does not know how to feel, unsure now. Once he is sitting down the smell of vanilla, apricots and tea hits him more intensely. He gazes at the half empty cup of tea infront of her. Lucanis would disapprove, he is sure of it. His heart calls out for coffee. He turns to glance at her now, golden hair so bright, a soft and kind face looks back at him. Scars that resemble lighting on the side of her face, rosy flushed cheeks. And her eyes, grey, blurry and cloudy. ‘Pretty.’ Some type of injury as well, Spite wonders?

“My eyes they…I have trouble seeing at a longer distance. Many colours are lost on me. A lot of my world is grey now. But spirits and the Fade are overwhelmingly colourful. I have learned to use the Fade to help me see the world in a new way. People now look more like an..aura at a distance. If that makes sense?”, she tells him calmly.

That explains why her companion were extra observant around her when they fought the Venatori vermin. Rook fought well still, the sight was mesmerising and passionate. Then she tasted like thick smoke, lightning and death. When Rook fights she is like a knife, piercing and quick-witted. Now all he feels is hot golden bliss. It was distracting, he only wanted more.

“I will. Watch over you! No one touches you!” Spite states forcefully.

“ Spite-” she protests.

“No! You fight well. And dangerous. I want to. Help!” He doesn't want to offend her, never her. He needs to make her see. ‘Listen’. Giving her a firm look. ‘Let. Me. Help.’ Spite will not look away until Rook understands. They stare at each other, equally stubborn the both of them. Who will crumble first? Not him, he likes when he gets his way, used to it. He wins, dominates. Despite looking at him so intensely, she is still so..relaxed. Her face perks up and gives him a mischievous look. At last she breaks their eye contact and laughs.

“Okay, you win.”

He grins. ‘Hah! I knew. I win!’ Spite is pleased and ready to leave. He got what he wanted. As he stands back up she takes his hand. Warm, so warm and firm. Purple glow meets a grey cloudiness. She gives him her dimples again and his- Lucanis heart flutters. Her scorching look warms him inside and out, it is almost too much to bear. He needs her to drop his hand. It tingles.             

“Will you make a contract with me? Let Lucanis sleep and not do anything stupid while he rests?”

 “No fun!” Spite objects. 

“Hmm..what do you say about hanging out with me again, here? Still holding his hand, but this time she squeezes it softly.

“And do what? Want to. Explore.” He demands.

“We can do that too, if you want. But I want to come with. Is that okay with you?” Rook suggests. Spite thinks it over, it could not be so terrible. He will ask her more questions and she will answer. He is very good at getting his way, this could work in his and Lucanis favour. Get information, Be useful.

He makes an irritated noise and sighs. “Fine! Contact accepted. And I want. To try. Tea!”

Rook only responds with a laugh and he once again sees her dimples.

[allwormdiet]

Extermination 8.5

Skitter is now one for three on interacting with New Wave kids without making them hate her.

Also fun fact I actually hit the image limit while making this post so I had to nix a few of the smaller observations made, there's just that much shit going on

Neat to meet more of New Wave, but boy I wish it was under different circumstances

Also Taylor you were so close to making that descriptor of their anguish work, you shouldn't have acknowledged it

How fucking harrowing must it be to let your daughter go anywhere near the fucking thing that killed your son.

Also I like how even as Skitter realizes that this is not the time or place, she's still indignant at being called "the girl."

What an awful fucking day for all of them. What can even be done, what can even be said?

Just a wet fucking cat of a girl, being carried through the air.

Oh hey Coil, bet your asshole is clenching really fucking hard rn

I wish there was a way for Coil to drown down there without killing Dinah too, but alas

Also absolutely insane that this has all been in the span of, what, an hour? Maybe a little more? What the fuck

And here's Parian proving that she's actually a huge badass

"Why manipulate cloth" honestly my first assumption is that it's bc her power is cloth control

Really fucking funny that people apparently keep thinking that superpowers are magic, though

We hardly knew ye.

I did learn that this is a retcon; Browbeat survived in the initial version of the story, although he quit the Wards in the wake of this attack and never comes up again. The retcon was in... 2019? Reasoning is speculative but I guess people kept making stupid jokes about Browbeat and he got tired of it?

Hey you know what though, really good showing overall, better than a bunch of other capes today

Okay so did this attack go through Leviathan? What the fuck is going on with this Flechette girl, that is utterly fucking cracked. Armsmaster's fucking nanothorns couldn't hack that, what is she doing where her shots do this kinda damage.

Leviathan likes playing with its fucking food, which is weird as hell

This dramatic fucker

God that's so cool, just opening up a fucking chasm in the middle of the battlefield.

...I wonder if it was trying to get into the bunker like Coil was afraid of. I know enough about Noelle to know that could've gone really fucking poorly.

Laserdream is cool, does she get much love in the fandom or is she too peripheral a character for that?

This is kinda funny ngl

That's a lot of fucking dead people, Jesus H

Taylor you are genuinely being too cool about this, your arm is still broken

He can do anything he wants down there, it's terrifying

Very funny that Armsmaster's brand-spanking-new halberd is being put to better use in this fight by people who aren't him and for purposes he didn't intend

Haha, wuh oh!

First indicator that Coil's got some pretty remarkable commercial ties considering he managed to sneak his own fucking Endbringer shelter in for private use and nobody noticed.

Also, god that's gotta be fucking terrifying

...I think like 99% of things that have come up in this arc are fucking terrifying if we're being real for a second but I'm gonna keep saying it

Seeing someone who treats you like dirt and have a happy life outside of treating you like dirt is a certain kind of agony. Also fuck Gladly on principle tbh.

Ah fuck

She could have so easily given into spite and let them all suffer and die. She was under no obligation beyond her own drive to be good, to be better, to be better than Gladly. And that's why she's among the best of these fucking people.

And so the bug girl, both creepy AND wet, goes in there and saves everyone left standing by shoving the Halberd up Levi's nonexistent asshole and baiting him back out the shelter

She's a bigger hero than so many of the others

This might be one of the most intensely and personally terrifying moments of all. Paralysis and drowning hand in hand. A slow and insidious kind of horror.

Rachel Lindt MVP

Well hey, cool of Rachel to be concerned though

They should be giving Bitch the key to the fucking city for this, honestly

This poor girl sacrificed the closest thing she has to family to buy even a fraction of extra time for this asscrack of a city

And then there's this fucking asshole

Imagine if God thought you, personally and specifically, fucking sucked. What a weird feeling that must be.

Skipping past the downturn in the fighting and the teleportation bc we have to get to the conclusion of the chapter

Taylor did more to save this whole city than any of these people can even imagine, and they manhandle her into a cot and cuff her broken-ass arm because y'can't be too careful with villains, can you

This is going to go so poorly

Current Thoughts

Taylor did more, in the moment-to-moment breakdown of tracking, fighting, and responding to Leviathan, than like 90% of the other capes in this whole fucking deal, and nobody will ever know the full extent of it. She might have honestly saved more lives than Armsmaster, because he was too busy fucking grandstanding in the moments leading up to his, ahaha, disarmament.

Skitter is a hero, idgaf what anyone says. She earned better than what she's about to be fucking put through, that's for sure.

[jumpywhumpywriter]

PROMPT: Whumpee (Nico) Drugged for His Own Good part 1

TW: tortured, recovery, escape/rescue, drugged

PROMPT: a whumpee being drugged for their own good, looking up at their friends with fear/anger/betrayal in their eyes.

MY WRITING:

Nico was safe at last, surrounded by friends after months of brutal torture. He'd almost died in that wretched place so many times he'd lost count. But now he was at a familiar building, laying on a bed with his closest friend Marcus watching over him.

Nico had argued that he was fine, but the dozens of viciously-inflicted wounds across his body suggested otherwise. But he didn't want to be a burden. He didn't like to talk about what he went through in those months, but the memories haunted him every second of every day.

He put up a strong facade for his friends, mirroring his once tough-as-nails personality, trying to act normal again, but inside he was broken and afraid. He was afraid to sleep, for the nightmares. Afraid to eat, for the spoiled food he'd had to consume that made him deathly sick. Afraid to bathe, for fear of being drowned.

He was once the strongest member of his team as their leader -- unphasable, the most confident and level-headed of them all... but now... he was a hollow shell of who he once was. He wasn't the great and noble leader he used to be, but he desperately didn't want to let his team down.

He'd already done that once, the moment he'd made the heroic choice to sacrifice his life in place of Marcus's, given himself up to Villain to save his friend's life. That's how it had all happened. All the agony he'd endured... the days of endless suffering... it was supposed to be Marcus. Villain had tortured him for endless hours just to spite him for that sacrifice. Mock him for it. And it had taken months for Nico's friends to track down Villain's hidden hideout and rescue him. He'd been half-dead when they found him, barely clinging to consciousness.

And now here he was, trying to fit back into an old life with new limitations. His left leg had been shredded to bloody ribbons during captivity, so bad that it was hard to even walk a few steps. He'd probably never be able to fight again, lead his friends into battles.

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed he was laying on, gently rubbing his shoulder reassuringly, one of the few places Nico wasn't injured.

Nico had been hit with shrapnel from an explosion when he was at Villain's hideout, when his friends had blown in a metal wall to rescue him. The sharp shrapnel was buried in his abdomen, and his friends insisted he let them do surgery to remove the pieces that were dangerously close to vital organs, but every time he'd refused. He was terrified of the thought of being knocked out, an unreasonable fear because it reminded him of all the times he'd passed out from the agony during torture after screaming his throat raw and bloody, ruining his voice. He hated the thought of being that vulnerable, that exposed again.

But his friends had continued badgering him about it, trying to convince him to let them take the shrapnel out... except for today. For some odd reason none of them had mentioned the shrapnel today, despite constantly talking about it every day prior.

Nico's head pounded with pain, his whole body a vessel of pure agony. He'd been stuck in bed for three days now, barely able to do more than sit up and lay down again.

Marcus stayed with Nico almost every hour, sleeping on the floor just to stay near him and make sure he was still breathing. The guilt must be tearing him apart, knowing that Nico suffered all the pain in his place.

"It should have been me," Marcus said quietly, voice cracking as he rubbed Nico's shoulder.

"No," Nico wheezed, "it was my choice to make. Don't blame yourself for it."

Marcus still looked heartbroken, but he shook his head, reaching to the table at his bedside to pick up a glass of milk. "At least drink something," he offered sadly. Milk and other nutrient-rich drinks had been one of the only ways to sustain Nico, seeing as he couldn't keep any food down.

Marcus helped Nico sit up, and Nico couldn't suppress the sharp cry of pain at even that simple movement, making Marcus wince sympathetically. Nico took the glass with trembling hands and forced himself to drink. He had almost finished, when the room started dimming, and he stared down at the near-empty glass with dawning realization.

"No... you wouldn’t really..." He breathed out the words, tearing his gaze from the glass to stare at Marcus in sheer disbelief, utter betrayal twisting his features at the knowing expression on his friend's solemn face.

"I'm sorry," Marcus whispered, guilt and shame filling his eyes. "But we have to get the shrapnel out before it kills you." He stood up from the bed to stand in front of Nico.

Nico's face was devastated and hurt, before helpless anger took over. With an anguished shout, he summoned what weak strength was left in his ravaged body and lurched to his feet, swinging a punch at Marcus's face. Marcus easily sidestepped the attack, and Nico stumbled, a cry of agony tearing loose from his chest as broken ribs ground together. His legs buckled, the burst of strength gone, and he crumpled. But Marcus caught him before he could hit the floor, holding him up.

"...How could you?" Nico choked out, eyes stinging. The one friend he thought he could trust with his life had betrayed him.

"Because you're not taking care of yourself," Marcus answered softly. "And someone has to keep you alive."

Like a dam that was shattered, all the agony, all the feelings and pain Nico had been suppressing surged to the surface, hitting him all at once. He tried to jerk out of Marcus's grip, but Marcus held him tightly against his chest, limiting his futile struggles.

And then Nico couldn't help it anymore. He broke down, sobbing pathetically, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn't care anymore if he was falling apart piece by piece in front of his friend, his teammate. Didn't care if Marcus could see his weakness and pain.

Nico's whole body shook and trembled, and another anguished sob escaped him as the world around him grew fuzzy and distant, falling farther away with each passing second.

"It's going to be okay," Marcus murmured soothingly into his ear, the guilt openly edging his voice. "You can let go. Rest."

But Nico was terrified of that lingering darkness creeping over his conscience, if he closed his eyes he might never wake up again. But it was getting harder and harder to fight it. He slumped against Marcus, slowly going limp in his arms even as he cried and sobbed helplessly into his friend's shoulder, the pain overwhelming. It broke Marcus's heart to betray him like this, but it was for his own good.

"No... please don't let me... fall asleep..." Nico begged pathetically, his voice starting to slur and fade.

Marcus's face twisted with regret. "I can't do that, but I can assure you that I'll wake you up when it's over."

"...P-Promise?" Nico croaked, his voice now barely more than a raspy whisper.

"I promise," Marcus answered without a beat of hesitation.

Nico clung to consciousness with everything he had, but the sedatives were too strong, and eventually it slipped out of grasp, tossing his mind into darkness, and he gave up, letting himself go limp. He was distantly aware of his friend gently lowering him to the floor, but nothing more.

Next ⏩️

Masterlist

[itsabouttimex2]

Feeling evil rn :)

So I'm roleplaying with LSO MK, and currently the Y/N is very injured in their first fight against someone, since they decided to be a sneaky monkie kid and try to train themself somewhere again from MK.

Problem is that Y/N hasn't really be trained at all and doesn't know how to fight or even USE the staff.

And the Monkie Knight is not reacting very well at ALL.

Let’s Start Over:

 Battle Scars

You lay weakly across the ground, breathing hard and heavy. Arms roughly scraped against smooth concrete, shins kicked to swollen bruises. Blood from your nose and mouth. Head pounding. Everything hurts.

But you aren’t in any real danger. Not since your mentor’s prompt and almost brutal arrival on the scene.

“…Monkie Knight? How… how did you know I was…?”

Jin- and Yin, even though there was only supposed to be one of them because that was the rumor circulating and you wouldn’t have come out here on your own if you had known it would be both instead of just one-

Jin and Yin both lay limply across the ground, broken limbs strewn sloppily about their prone bodies.

They aren’t dead.

MK wouldn’t kill in front of you. Really, he doesn’t like to kill at all. But especially not in front of his cherished student.

“I told you,” your mentor whispers, clutching your head tight to his chest. “How many times did I tell you, kiddo? How many times did I lecture you about this? We spent hours going over this.”

Your wounds are many, each one a different shape, size, severity. Red and purple paint your skin, bruises and gashes along the length of your limbs and chest.

Nothing fatal, and that was clear at even a casual glance- but it didn’t make your mentor any less worried.

“Idiot,” he murmurs to your ear. That mild insult is the literal harshest word you’ve heard escape his mouth. Maybe you’ve earned it, with a stunt like this. “My little idiot. I can’t trust you at all, can I? You are never going outside without me again.”

MK presses a kiss to your forehead, stroking sweat-stained strands of hair from your eyes. “I shouldn’t have taken my eyes of off you, not even for a moment. I should’ve gotten here sooner. I should’ve protected you,” says a small and guilty voice, as though you had been killed instead of beaten down by two gibbering idiots. “I won’t let you get hurt again, Y/N.”

It’s rare that he calls you by your real name- you’ve been affectionally dubbed Clover, a reference to your position as the fourth bearer of the Ruyi Jingu Bang.

If MK is dropping that moniker, it’s simply more proof of how serious things have gotten.

His arms snake around your body, one hand resting under your thighs, the other supporting your upper back. Another kiss to your bleeding forehead, then he speaks:

“Let’s go home.”

You can’t bring yourself to answer beyond a nod, some level of shame and embarrassment sealing your lips. All you manage is a short nod before settling into his arms for the trek.

Every step forward is near agony, jostled about in spite of how careful MK is trying to be with you. The ground nearest to him is left uneven from the prior fight, broken and crumbled by powerful impacts. You bounce about, feeling all the bruises along you scrape against the torn clothing on you. At your first whimper, the Monkie Knight looks down at you, caught between worry born of anger and a deep pity.

“We’re gonna have words, Y/N, trust me. But I’ll get you patched up first, huh? Just close your eyes and let me get you home.”

Doing as requested, you try to focus on the beat of your mentor’s heart instead of his droning footsteps and the buzzing pain blooming across your skin.

The journey is slow and grueling, but MK reassures you several times both verbally and physically, stopping to adjust his grip on you and taking a moment to praise how well you’ve been doing.

And soon enough you’re home on Flower Fruit Mountain, bundled up under a blanket as MK stomps about the house in search of medical supplies.

“I can’t believe you. I cannot believe you, Clover. Pulling a stunt like this. Hands out. Now.”

You offer them up without hesitation, causing MK to falter with his sternness. “Good,” he praises, taking your left hand between his own.

A golden seal crackles to life on your palm, a severe restriction of powers. “No more staff.”

Then, he takes your right hand, prompting an exact replica of the first glittering power-limiter to sparkle into existence. “No more clones or shape-shifting.”

A final kiss to your forehead prompts a much more ominous seal to blossom across your skin, a bright golden line winding all the around your head, reminiscent of a single-banded crown.

“And no Mystic Monkey form, either.”

Something deep inside you starts to ache, a severance of your true identity forming within. All from a simple fatherly action that is no doubt being performed for “your own good”.

“Hands,” he repeats, grabbing a washcloth and a small water basin. You offer them again, a little slower this time, struggling to accommodate the newfound emptiness in your chest. MK begins to scrub your arms clean with a mild soap and warm water, frowning as he surveys the damage.

“You’re lucky. So, so lucky. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, you would have… they would have…”

A pause. Your mentor takes a deep breath. He pushes a small washcloth into your hands, frowning a little deeper as he rolls up the fabric of your pants.

“Pat your arms dry,” is his simple command. You slowly do as told, feeling as though your arms have been burdened with lead. As you work the wetness from your tattered skin, the Monkie Knight tends to your legs.

When all the wounds have been cleaned and your arms are no longer smothered in water and soap, MK takes them again and starts to apply large bandages to the worst of your wounds.

Each one is glittery, some shade of gold or red, branded with a smiling monkey face in the middle. They had been pricier than any store brand, but your mentor didn’t mind shelling out for the extra quality and cute designs.

The brighter colors and sparkling material made you smile when they caught in the light, and you smiling made him happy. They were an investment that paid themselves back several times over, in his opinion.

Your smile is one of his favorite things, now that he thinks of it. It’s proof that he’s doing well as a mentor, that he’s keeping you healthy and safe.

But looking at your face right now shows only regret and pain- maybe a little bit of emotional hurt alongside the discomfort caused by the struggles of battle.

“…I love you,” he says, hoping to cut the cold tension with a few warm words. “Even when you make bad decisions.”

“…I love you too,” is your delayed answer, causing the Monkie Knight to sigh in relief. Maybe you’re only saying to because he said it first. Or maybe because he’s done so much that you think you owe him that love.

Maybe you were on the verge of saying it yourself, without prompting or reason.

Regardless, MK drops everything to scoop you up in his powerful arms, his muscles straining to give a proper squeeze, pushing every bit of air free from your lungs.

“I won’t ever let you go again,” he says.

You doubt that he’s joking.

[lvstfv1]

— '' Stop Waiting ,, ♫.*

> re6!aeon

✦ [ the ending we've all needed. ] ✦

✦ [ fluff, angst ] ✦

word count :: 1,428 words

not proofread !

'Let me breathe for once,' she cursed in her mind, the thin leather sticking to her sore legs, reflecting the orange light of the sunset as she struggled to fight for her life; time was running out. She almost had enough. The metal sleeves of machine gun bullets flooded the ground with ringing noises filling the scene along with crackling sounds of the fire caused by this atrocious disaster. Alone yet again, she had to keep going, and so the attacking continued under pressure.

He chanted once again, never ending, like an irritating piece of gum stuck under her heels. "You'll be mine," too bad, she was born in a fucked up world like this one. She was born to live like an independent woman, with the potential to have a powerful yet peaceful job, and a nice living environment with her family in China. In spite of that, only forced to fight for her own peace, and the corrupted world's. The unwanted criticism from everyone pushed her back, but not too far away to fall off the edge.

Just as everyone expected, Ada had no one to rely on. No one at all. The only person that would remember her, would only be those few, most already gone to be remembered. She had thoughts of them, kind of as a motivation to keep her going, knowing that she does not want to lose any more lives she shared a memory with.

She wasn't the easiest to be knocked down, was she? Ada was agile and had inevitable mercenary skills most of her life. She had no one to rely on. That is a constant reminder for her. To remember the fact that she was alone, and at the mean time, the fact that she was a survivor. She had that slight sting in her heart everytime she thought about her lonliness, regardless, she was exceptionally used to it by this age.

Revisiting the situation, a simple spray of bullets removed her from her cloud of thoughts, the fog fading away, and instead, plain darkness right infront of her eyes. Ada was knocked down. Darkness lurked her head, her exhausted form collapsing on the end of the bridge.

Silence filled her ears, only a light ringing inside of her ears.

Who could come and save her? Barely anyone knew her and her true intentions. She was hunted by the BSAA, and a bad reputation diffused amongst the population. Ada wished she had lived a normal life. The only person who could remember her, did. He always had. Not Simmons, not Chris. That someone she had barely hung out with, yet knew the best of her.

"Ada!" That voice echoed in the distance, the unconscious spy laying almost lifelessly on the ground. The man's eyes widened in agony. A bolt out of the blue, Leon never knew she would fall this hard. Fall in what way? Every way. A risky jump from that perished elevator, his partner, Helena watching in anxiety.

'Come on.. get up,' Leon repeated with panic in his mind before actually reaching out, hesitant. "Please be okay," he prayed with his heart, holding onto Ada for dear life as he fired with anger at the sickening monster. She felt it. Emitting warmth, a strong body, at last shielding her body as it absorbed the uninterrupted bullets, rough, thick hands carrying the weight of her delicate body. "Ada.." He muttered with growing fear and hurt.

Come on, Leon. He'd missed out on her his entire life. It wasn't his fault entirely, as Ada distanced herself from Leon, because she knew she could never get his trust back, seeing his growth for almost fifteen years. How? it was just that they suffered that horrendous night in raccoon city together, and since then, they were stuck together. What an event, making two mutual pining folks lingering onto each other's presence for over a decade. It all happened too quick.

Ada could not comprehend the situation. Being as intelligent as she was, a cold joke, seeming to warm up their interaction more. "I was just resting my eyes," Leon thought it was foolish that she tried to build herself back up when he could be the one protecting her now, especially after years with Ada unconditionally being his guardian angel. It was the time for him to repay. Although in the end, we understand their way of loving and who would end up saving each other before one of them leaves again.

Ada had always thought, she was incapable of loving. Growing up in an environment where she had to stay mysterious for her own good, she handled her emotions well, well enough until that night. The thought of hurting Leon projected back to her a little too extremely, exposing that vulnerable side of her that she never even knew had existed. Betraying missions after missions to make it up to him, although he didn't really notice them. Yet, he understood. Leon definitely did.

Simmons, his obsession with Ada only turned her stomach. So many choices she could've picked, why Leon?

As he hung over the edge of the bridge, that hand that just held her getting demolished by the stomach-churning antagonist of the century. "Can't always get what you want, Simmons," a sharpened rod of metal piercing through his cracked body as he fell forward, landing to be wrecked by the vigorous flame. A smirk lingered on the corner of Ada's plump lips, satisfied and relieved.

Leon chased after Ada on the other side of the building as she pulled a smooth getaway, with her grapple hook, that had been durable for ages.

"Ada-" He immediately grabbed her arm firmly, not allowing her to move away, his shiny eyes with a glimpse of hope as his eyebrows locked together.

Her head tilted down as she stopped her movement. She broke the silence with a scoff, full of emotions buried deep under it. "You know I can't stay." Ada finally had a proper response, but the last thing he wanted to hear.

A slight curve on his chapped lips, reminding him of when he pushed Ada away on their second meeting. "Ada-" Leon called out, bluntly blocking her way, his mind full of hope that she would get his meaning. She didn't mind, an intrigued expression on her pretty face. "Hm?" Her arms crossed infront of her chest. She was anticipating.

Hesitation filled Leon's facial expression. It seemed like he was struggling with making the right decision. 'Come on Leon. Haven't you seen what I've done for you for all these years?' Ada's eyes spoke, eyebrows began to close together as the air got denser.

Ada had distanced herself and shut herself down for too long, not begging for his attention yet beginning her own radiation. Leon was the spark she needed to fill that hole of darkness within her, although, she knew she didn't deserve him at all.

"I don't want to see you for the last time."

His shaky voice seemed to hit a nerve in her body, a strong one. Eye contact was lacking, air stiff and tense, bodies frozen as the world kept quiet around them, only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

They finally made a decision to face each other. 'So cute,' she whispered instinctly to herself. His teary eyes seemed to wetten her own pair too. Leon gulped loudly, holding himself together so he wouldn't shatter like he did as a rookie; although that part of him was still in there, somewhere. Maybe younger three years, but hes a vulnerable puppy at heart, courageous government agent at sight. It was overwhelming for the both of them. How could Ada reject this offer? She wasn't exactly working for anyone now. She didn't have to run away, did she? Her heart was racing, breaking her scale of being the spy she was. It could change their lives, 'it' referring to the decision she had to make after desolated events between them.

A gut wrenching feeling festered within her. Ada never wanted to distance herself away. Lovers was all she wanted to be, despite her distancing away during every interaction between them. She knew what she wanted.

"Mm." She hummed willingly. Not exactly an exciting tone, although she knew damn well how much joy and relief she was in.

Sore and awkward arms wrapped around each other's torso in an instant, tears drenched their shirts. Warmth was spread amongst them, as all that could be heard were their joyous sobs and hearty chuckles.

[namixart]

It Takes Two

Read on AO3!

"Whatever happens, you can't fall in love with me. Even if you think you have, it's not real."

Cloud takes Aerith's request and turns it into a challenge.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” Cloud sat down across from Aerith, and she spotted his frown through the fire burning between them. Their small camp was tucked away in a corner of the Mythril Mines, on a ledge that Cloud and Barret had deemed reasonably defensible. Still, someone needed to keep watch, and it was Aerith’s turn. With Cloud now sitting silently across from her.

Across. Not beside her. Confrontational and direct in a way Cloud usually wasn’t when he joined her during her shifts. Curious.

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

He shot her a half-glare, as if she should’ve guessed what he was talking about from his complete lack of preamble. “You know,” he said, predictably, gesturing vaguely with his hand. Confrontational, yes. But still uncomfortable with words. That was a clue as to what he meant, at least. But she wasn’t going to bail him out of that one. Not if he couldn’t even get it out himself. It’d buy her some time, at least.

“I really don’t. You know me—I’m a talker. Can’t remember ‘em all.” She shrugged with a smile.

Cloud huffed. “Oh, I’m sure you remember this one. It’s a doozy,” he said sardonically. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself. “‘Whatever happens, you can’t fall in love with me. Even if you think you have, it’s not real.’” He opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Ring a bell?”

Verbatim. Even two weeks after their shared dream, two weeks of fighting and travelling and trying to change their fate, her words were burned in his memory. Just like the look on his face was burned in hers, she supposed.

Aerith let out a half giggle. “Ah. That does kinda shake a tambourine. What about it?” Stalling, stalling, stalling, buying time until she figured out what to say, what to do. He wanted an explanation, he wanted a say, he wanted the truth, and she couldn’t give it to him. The Whispers had taken it away. She didn’t know why she’d asked him that anymore, but she knew it was important. She knew it was for the best, in spite of the sheer agony it brought her to deny herself the chance to try. The chance to love him. It was important, but she didn’t know why anymore. And now Cloud would want to know.

He frowned at her. “Bullshit.”

Aerith blinked once. Twice. Furrowed her brows. “Well, that’s not very polite,” she said, forcing the airy cheer in her voice. Not what she was expecting, either. “What do you—”

Cloud shook his head. “Bullshit,” he repeated. “You can’t ask someone not to—you can’t ask me that.”

In spite of herself, Aerith cracked half a smile. There he was. Confrontational, yes, but he couldn’t say it twice. Her heart squeezed with affection for her—no, not hers. Never hers. Just Cloud.

“Why?” she asked. She’d beaten him to the punch. A well-placed why was a dangerous weapon. And, when aimed correctly at Cloud Strife, it had the power to make him swerve away from uncomfortable topics like they would burn him.

But he just frowned harder. “Because you don’t get to put that on me.”

Caught off-guard again, Aerith stared. “What?”

Cloud finally averted his eyes from her. “You can’t put that on me,” he repeated. “If you don’t feel—If you don’t want—” He gestured awkwardly between the two of them, and the flames of the campfire trembled— “then fine.”

Aerith forced a smile. This was what she wanted. It was. Distance between them. To protect him. From a threat she didn’t even know anymore. It was what she wanted. “Good. Then—”

“I’m not done.” He met her gaze again, stubborn and resolute. “You don’t get to put this on me. It takes two.”

“Huh?” Thrown off-balance again. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Aerith was supposed to be the one in control of her reactions. “What do you mean?”

Cloud crossed his arms. “I don’t get why you’d ask me that. And I doubt you’ll tell me.” He raised an eyebrow. Touché. But not for the reasons he thought. “I just know it’s got something to do with Whispers and fate and the Planet and all that.” He made a sharp, frustrated gesture in the general direction of the rest of the cave. “I know you wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”

“That’s right,” said Aerith, slowly. Where was he going with this?

Cloud pressed his lips together. “But you can’t put it on me. I don’t even know why it matters.”

She sighed. “Cloud—”

“It takes two,” he repeated, insistent like he was anchoring himself to those words, “so, if it’s that important, why don’t you not fall in love with me?”

“What!?” exclaimed Aerith, immediately regretting it when her voice echoed a little too loudly in the tunnels. “What?” she repeated in a whisper.

Cloud shrugged, faux-nonchalantly. “You heard me.”

“I did,” said Aerith. “But you—I... You can’t—”

He fixed her with an unimpressed look. “Oh, and you can?”

Aerith frowned. “That’s different.”

“Really.”

“Really.”

Cloud leaned forward, closer to the fire. It cast shifting shadows over his face, but the Mako glow in his eyes was steady. “Explain, then.”

She looked away. “I can’t. Not even if I wanted to. The Whispers—they took that knowledge away from me.”

He frowned again. “Then why—”

“Because I know it was important,” she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “I know I was trying to protect you. And that hasn’t changed. So, please—”

Cloud sighed and leaned away. “Fine. Wasn’t expecting an explanation anyway. Still. It’s real unfair of you to put it on me.”

She shot him a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry?”

Cloud shook his head. “Nah. Not good enough. Puttin’ it back on you.” He crossed his arms. “Like I said: if you care that much, you try not falling in love with me.”

Aerith felt the competitive spark tingle under her skin. “Maybe I will. Won’t.” She giggled. “You know what I mean.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Ball’s in your court.”

A beat.

She stared at him. “Wait—You don’t mean... You’re not—” He couldn’t. It had only been two weeks and she’d warned him.

He couldn’t be in love with her. He just couldn’t.

Finally, Cloud’s usual awkwardness seeped back into his eyes as he realised what she was asking, what he’d implied. “No! I–uh, I’m not. No,” he said, stubbornly looking away from Aerith. “It’s the, uh, the principle of the thing. It takes two. And I don’t see why it’s gotta be on me.”

Because someone has to be responsible here, thought Aerith, and I might not be. Not if you keep saying stuff like that.

When she didn’t reply, Cloud leaned towards her again. “Shouldn’t be a problem for you. Right?” he said, barely above a whisper. “It’s what you want.”

Aerith held his gaze. “It’s not a problem,” she lied.

Something flickered on his face. Aerith tried not to think about how it looked a lot like hurt. “Right,” he said.

She let a small beat of silence pass, then she cracked a smile. “Did we just—this a game of chicken or something?”

Cloud chuckled. “Or something.”

She pouted. “That’s so childish.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it takes two.” He held a hand out over the fire.

It takes two to tango, it takes two to fall in love, it takes two to make a stupid childish bet.

Aerith took his hand. “It takes two,” she agreed, gripping it tight for a moment.

Cloud nodded slowly, then shook his head. “Right. I, uh, I better let you get back to your shift.” He let her hand go and stood up. Aerith tried not to notice how he’d held onto her fingertips for just a second too long. “I, um, I’m glad we cleared that up.”

“Yeah,” said Aerith, as she watched him circle the campfire to get back to the tent. “Right. Glad.” They’d cleared nothing up, and they both knew it.

He paused. “Night, Aerith.”

She turned back to the fire. “Night, Cloud.”

After one last beat of silence, she heard the quiet rustle of fabric as he slipped inside the tent.

Then, left alone with just the crackling fire to underscore her thoughts, Aerith realised what she’d just agreed to.

“Shit,” she hissed, burying her face in her hands.

Betting Cloud she wouldn’t fall in love with him, daring herself not to get close. It was kinda like betting on a horse with a broken leg.

She was so, so screwed.

---

Despite what he’d implied during their conversation at the campfire, Cloud didn’t really act any differently around her the day after. Well, maybe there was an extra glance he’d toss her way while they were striking camp, maybe a lingering touch as he helped her up a ledge, maybe a hint of something in his voice when he spoke to her.

Or maybe it was Aerith being hyper aware of him.

For all that he’d laid bare his grievances the night before, she wasn’t really sure about his feelings or his intentions. He’d said it was a matter of principle—that it wasn’t fair of her to put the responsibility of them not becoming involved on him. He’d said the ball was in her court. He’d said he wanted a say in his feelings.

But he hadn’t actually said what his feelings were. Or what he wanted from her, from them. He’d simply rejected her request and issued a challenge, in his usual awkward fashion. Translated: I’m not going to try not falling in love with you. You do that, if you like.

Aerith could do that. Probably. She just had to ignore the burgeoning feelings in her chest. Easy. Those very feelings were totally not the reason she’d tried to engineer an unrequited love situation for herself by pushing Cloud away.

She could do it. No biggie.

Aerith was used to charmers. She knew how to skirt around their words, how not to fall for them. She was a flower seller; she was used to guys coming onto her while she was just trying to make some Gil, she was used to dodging their advances. She’d had Zack Fair. She knew how to handle charmers.

The problem was that Cloud wasn’t one.

Cloud was awkward, and sweet, and earnest, and blunt.

“You good?”

And he was walking right beside her.

“Hm-mm,” she said, linking her hands behind her back. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You, of course.” She winked, relishing in the way he cleared his throat and looked away. How Not To Get Attached 101, one hundred percent foolproof, Aerith-brand pointless flirting.

“Get real,” he muttered, shooting her a small glare. “Or have you lost the game already?”

Okay, maybe just seventy percent foolproof. Aerith giggled. “Nope. Just teasing.”

Cloud rolled his eyes. “You’re always teasing.”

“That’s me.” She winked.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “That’s you alright,” he said, letting a fond note slip into his voice.

Aerith swallowed a knot in her throat and turned away to look ahead.

Cloud wasn’t a charmer. And that was the problem.

---

“You ever feel like life is mocking you?”

Aerith couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Sometimes. Like right now.”

Cloud groaned as they both followed Naomi down the sunny streets of Costa del Sol. She and her friends wanted to see a real couple on a date, Cloud wanted to get paid, and Aerith wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed at Johnny’s and disappear. How was she supposed to keep her distance from Cloud if they kept straight-up dating?

“You don’t get to say that,” he muttered almost absentmindedly.

She winced, but he wasn’t looking at her. He didn’t seem to have noticed he’d said that out loud, so she let it slide, averting her gaze as well and frowning a little bit. For the first time in a while, she couldn’t quite read him. Was he happy about their predicament? Was he annoyed? Embarrassed? A combination of the three?

The girls had called them a couple. Aerith wished it was that simple.

She closed her eyes for a moment. If they were a couple, she could’ve reached out to the side and taken Cloud’s hand in hers, entwining their fingers as they walked. If they were a couple, maybe he’d be complaining about having an audience on their date while a cute blush coloured his cheeks. If they were a couple, she wouldn’t feel like her life was mocking her.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” said Cloud. His eyes were focused on his feet, minding his step.

Aerith swallowed a knot in her throat as she leaned close to him. “Well, you know, there’s no rule book. We can just be ourselves. Have fun just hanging out, y’know? Let ‘em think what they want about us.”

Cloud looked like he was going to argue, a spark of fire flickering in his eyes as he shot her a glance, but the resolve on his face waned just as quickly as it had arrived. Aerith bit her lip. This job was a bad idea.

But… But maybe it’d be fun to pretend, just for a while, that they could be a normal couple. That they could spend an afternoon roaming a charming seaside town together, enjoying each other’s company. Then again, the indulgence was dangerous. If she reached out and took his hand, would she let go when the day ended? Would he?

She sighed. No. Better to stick to her guns. They would have a pleasant time with the activities Naomi and the others had planned for them, and then they’d return to the rest of the group and tell them about their weird job. They’d go back to the hunt for Sephiroth and nothing would change.

Nothing would change, nothing had to change, if nothing changed he’d be safe, it was what the Aerith of the past had wanted, and that Aerith knew better than the Aerith of the present, because the Aerith of the present didn’t know anything except for the burning need to keep Cloud safe, no matter how much it ripped her heart in half, and—

A warm weight slipped into her hand, hesitant but determined. She blinked twice, hard, chasing those frantic thoughts away from her mind. She looked down at the hand holding hers, then slowly back up at Cloud, who was still resolutely facing forward despite the fact that pink dusted his cheeks.

Aerith heard herself make a small questioning noise through the fog in her brain.

Cloud shot her a glance, part plea, part glare, part challenge. “We’re on the clock, aren’t we?”

She nodded slowly, but the words stayed stuck in her throat.

He shrugged, jostling her hand. “Let’s give ‘em what they want, then.” The statement felt loaded, a little bitter, a little teasing. What the girls wanted. What about what Aerith and Cloud wanted?

“Right,” she breathed. She didn’t want to picture how dumb she looked in that moment. She felt sluggish and slow, as if she’d woken up from a deep slumber. But it was just Cloud holding her hand.

His small smile was halfway between relieved and smug, and Aerith idly thought that she kinda wanted to kiss that look off his face. Unfortunately, it would only have made him even more smug and, well, she couldn’t have that on top of losing their stupid little game.

So, she just looked ahead, at Naomi waving them over to the Run Wild stand. If Cloud tightened his hold on her hand just for a fraction of a second, she pretended not to notice.

---

“I thought you’d gone to bed.”

Cloud played a loud, startled chord on the piano as Aerith came up behind him. “Uh,” he said eloquently. “I haven’t.”

“I can tell.”

He winced, his shoulders stiffening.

She paused, biting her lip. She hadn’t expected to run into him just yet. She’d thought she’d have more time to get her feelings sorted. But there he was, in the same small Gongaga hut she’d chosen to find some shade in. It looked to be some sort of community centre, not unlike the one in the Sector 5 undercity, but it was almost empty. Just Aerith, Cloud, and a heavy blanket of unease weighing them both down.

She was supposed to be mad at him, wasn’t she?

Forget about that loser.

Hate to break it to you, but the man is dead.

Horrifically insensitive, to say the least. And very unlike him. Sometimes, it was like there was something bubbling just under his skin, something that had burst out for that one moment. Aerith had no idea why, out of all possible topics, he’d reacted that badly to Zack specifically. Or, rather, she had two ideas that maybe were the same idea, but she hated all of them.

Idea one: it was the degradation, that uncomfortable elephant in the room, that ticking clock threatening to take Cloud away from her—no, take him away from them—at any moment. For as much as they all avoided talking about it, she knew it weighed heavily on everyone, Cloud most of all. Yet, Aerith couldn’t quite shake the feeling that while, yes, something was wrong, it wasn’t degradation. It was something… different. Maybe something worse.

Idea two: it had nothing to do with Zack and everything to do with her. The thought made her stomach churn a little, in ways that she couldn’t quite identify—and she hated herself for that. For the small, selfish part of her that was, maybe, just a little happy at the thought that Cloud could’ve been jealous.

Idea both-of-them: the thought of Aerith and Zack had bothered him, but the intensity of his outburst had been amplified by the thing going on with him, degradation or otherwise.

Aerith hated all of those ideas. But she couldn’t hate him. She couldn’t even be mad.

Cloud cleared his throat, without turning around on the stool. “I, uh…”

She hummed quietly. She shifted her weight on her feet for a moment, considering. Then, slowly, she took the couple of steps needed to close the distance between them and sat down on the stool beside him. Cloud gasped quietly, then hurried to make more room for her.

Aerith took a deep breath. She didn’t look at him, just kept her gaze trained on the sheet music in front of him. It was titled Hollow. “You, uh…?”

She felt him stiffen. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him fiddle with his hands in his lap. “Shouldn’t have said that stuff.”

“No,” she said. “You shouldn’t have.” She frowned. “Why’d you say it?”

There was a long, excruciating beat of silence. “I… don’t know,” he murmured, like he was struggling to get that much sound out of his throat. “I don’t—It just came out.”

Shit. The degradation.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Aerith shook her head. “I’m not upset. Not at you, anyway.”

“You… aren’t?”

“No. Just—” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “I’m upset at things, I guess.”

He shifted slightly to turn back the pages on the sheet music. “Yeah. Me too. That’s why I came here.”

“To play?”

Cloud hummed. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d get my thoughts in order and then come find you but, well…”

Aerith giggled quietly. “But I found you first.”

He shook his head. “Yes and no. You did find me first, but…” He sighed. “Thing is, I can’t get my head on straight.” She finally looked at him. He was frowning deeply, thumbing the edge of the sheet music without really seeing the notes. “I’m trying to find a single thought that makes sense, but there are none. It’s just static.”

Aerith nodded slowly. “Wanna talk about it?”

Cloud lowered his gaze. “No point. I keep asking myself why the hell I said that, but I come up empty.” He furrowed his brows. “I never want to hurt you, no matter how ticked off I get.”

Ah. So their conversation had bothered him.

Damnit. It was idea both-of-them after all. Aerith winced.

Cloud continued, oblivious to her reaction. “I’m not stupid—I know saying shit like that’s gonna upset people. It’s just that sometimes it’s not worth the effort to spare feelings when there are more important things to do.” He shook his head. “But never with you. You’re—” He cut himself off. He sighed, looking back down at his hands. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Wish I could tell you why I said that.”

Aerith bit her lip. Slowly, she reached out and took one of Cloud’s hands in hers. “It’s okay,” she whispered.

Cloud finally looked at her, still frowning. “It’s not. I shouldn’t—”

She shook her head. “Not that. It’s okay if you can’t tell me why you said it.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, then let it drop to his hands again. “I guess.” She could tell that he didn’t really guess, but she didn’t push it. She knew how frustrating it was to find static where information should have been in her mind. It was like that when she tried to remember what the Whispers had taken away.

Cloud sighed again, letting some of the tension leave his shoulders. Not all of it, though. “Can I ask you a question? It’s, uh, related. To—” He made a vague sweeping gesture with his free hand.

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “Shoot.”

“Zack,” he said, wincing a little. “Is he… Is he the reason why…?” He trailed off.

When he didn’t speak again, she frowned. “You’re gonna have to finish that thought, Cloud. I’m not a mind reader.”

He grimaced. “Right. Sorry. Back in Midgar, when you asked me… that.” He was blushing and refusing to meet her eye. Clearly he’d used up all his bravado when he’d quoted her request to her face and turned it back on her.  “Was that because of Zack? Because you still like him?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He tossed her an odd look. “You don’t think so?”

“I told you. I don’t remember exactly why I asked anymore. But I remember everything about Zack.” She smiled a bit. Hard guy to forget, even after he’d disappeared, even though all in all they hadn’t spent that much time together.

She felt Cloud stiffen, and he delicately pulled his hand from hers. “I—sorry.”

Aerith furrowed her brows. “Why are you sorry?”

He winced. “I’ve been pushy. And unfair. Sorry. I won’t get in the way, I promise.” He sounded a little strangled, like it pained him to say those words out loud.

Almost in spite of herself, Aerith half-laughed. “In the way? Of me and a guy who disappeared on me five years ago?”

Cloud stared at her for a moment. “But you said—”

Aerith sighed. “It’s complicated, okay? I liked him, but then he just… vanished. I never got any closure.” She closed her eyes. “But… Cloud, our situation is complicated too.”

“Aerith, seriously, if you still—”

“That’s not it.” She didn’t know why she wasn’t taking the easy way out, why she didn’t just let him believe she still liked Zack. Maybe it was because, in spite of everything, she hated lying to him. Or maybe it was just selfishness. “Zack’s got nothing to do with you and me.” She gave his shoulder a light nudge. “Promise.”

Cloud shot her a glance. “But you’re still playing your little game.”

She half-laughed. “Your little game. And yes. Still in it.”

His shoulders slumped a bit, a mix of releasing tension and sagging dejectedly. “Getting mixed signals here.”

“I thought I was very clear in Midgar,” she said, shrugging. “You’re the one who decided not to listen to me.”

“I still think you were unfair to dump that on me.” He was pouting a little, now. Cute.

Aerith stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, you dumped it right back on me, didn’t you?”

“It takes two,” he said, without meeting her eyes.

She hummed. “It takes two.”

A moment of silence fell over the two of them. It was almost comfortable now, only slightly weighed down by the uncertainty and the stupid, stupid games they were playing. Aerith just had to keep telling herself it was better like that. She was already too close to the edge of the precipice; she couldn’t keep dancing on it. She would fall, and take Cloud right down with her. He didn’t deserve it.

He pressed his lips together, then opened his mouth to say something, and Aerith knew she had to stop him.

“I know how you can make it up to me,” she said, straightening up. “For what you said.”

Cloud blinked at her. “I thought you weren’t mad.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I am a little. But I know how you can make it up to me.” She leaned forward and tapped the sheet music. “Play me something.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the piano keys like he was seeing them for the first time. “I’m, uh… really not that good.”

Aerith clicked her tongue. “I’ll be the judge of that. C’mon, I wanna hear! I’ve heard Tifa play, it’s only fair. I have to figure out who’s better.”

There was a spark of competitiveness in his eyes, but he quickly looked away. “…Probably her,” he said, slowly like it took a toll on him to admit he wasn’t the best at something.

“Won’t know until you play. Chop chop, music man.” She grinned.

Cloud let out a breath of a laugh, then gingerly laid his hands atop the keys. As he started to play, Aerith closed her eyes and sighed.

The song was nice, slow and melancholy. He would stumble on the keys, every once in a while, and then he would play the next notes a little too loud to compensate. It wasn’t perfect, and Tifa was better, but it was still nice.

And, best of all, the music filled the air between them so that no unwelcome thoughts or words could get through. Inside the music, there was quiet and peace.

---

Aerith hadn’t known that you could see stars before the sunset.

She sucked in an excited gasp of crisp Cosmo Canyon air as she looked up at the celestial  phenomenon, clasping her hands in front of her. Cloud had told her about the bright evening star that appeared in the Nibelheim sky before all the others, before the sun had even set, but seeing stars in the violet early evening of the Canyon was still magical.

“How are you still surprised by this?” chuckled Cloud, holding the celestiograph up to his face. Well, that was what Caesar had called it, but all it was was a fancy camera. Cloud was surprisingly good with it, and was quietly proud of himself in a way that was very different from his smugness when it came to physical feats of strength or agility, but no less endearing.

Aerith huffed. “How are you not?”

He shrugged. “I thought the other one was cooler.”

“You just can’t appreciate beauty in life and nature.”

He snorted, but didn’t reply.

Aerith walked a few steps away from him, closer to the stars—infinitesimally so. She’d always known that the light fixtures in the underside of the Plate in Midgar were a sorry imitation of the real things, but she only really realised that now. The sky, the stars made her feel so small and young compared to the rest of the universe around her. A wave of emotion hit her, and she couldn’t tell which part was hers and which was the Planet’s. She brought her trembling hands together in front of her, and she closed her eyes in a silent prayer.

A quiet click came from behind her.

She straightened up. Cloud was finally satisfied with his shot composition, then. She turned around, only to find that he wasn’t looking at the sky. Both his gaze and the camera were fixed on her.

He froze like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar, and the camera chose that moment to slowly spit out the picture. She shot him a perplexed smile. He returned it, hesitant but fond. Then, again, click. Aerith giggled, shaking her head—click.

“Cloud, c’mon,” she said, half-laughing and half-scolding. “What’re you doing?”

Instead of answering, Cloud just hit the shutter button again. And again, and again, click-click-click until Aerith walked up to him and snatched the camera from his hands, with the string of printouts trailing after it. Still giggling, she held it out of his reach, knowing full well how easy it would’ve been for him to just steal it back even as he made a half-hearted attempt. “Had your fun?”

Cloud chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “Think so.”

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, stepping away from him and taking the camera with her.

He shrugged. “Dunno. Felt like it.”

She hummed. The line burned on the tip of her tongue. Why did I do that? I was appreciating beauty. If Cloud had been a little more like her or like Zack, he would have said it. But he wasn’t. She wondered whether he’d thought of it and just chickened out, or if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. After all, it was right there. But she couldn’t quite picture him saying something that cheesy and flirty with a straight face. It just wasn’t his style. He probably thought little comments like that were insincere, empty.

Aerith smiled, remembering Costa del Sol.

They ’re just thoughts. Let ‘em be dark and ugly. You’re not. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.

Cloud didn’t do insincere. He wasn’t a charmer or a flirt. He was just himself.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, taking a couple of steps towards her.

Aerith shook her head. “Nothing, nothing.”

He held out a hand. “Can I have that back? We still got a job to do.”

“Not yet,” she said, hiding the camera behind her back with a smile. “You know, it’s not really fair.”

“What is?”

Aerith rocked on the balls of her feet. “Well, you have all these pictures of me and I have none of you.” She delicately detached the string of printouts and handed it to him.

Cloud took it, but he stiffened a little bit and scratched the back of his neck, looking away. “You, uh, want a picture of me?”

“I want a picture of us. Let’s take a selfie together,” she said, holding up the camera as she hopped to his side.

Cloud just nodded as she pressed herself even closer to him, delicately taking his arm. She shot him a smile, then looked back to the camera. Click. Cloud stilled for a moment.

Giggling, she lowered the camera to take a look at the picture. “Aww, we look—” She cut herself off when she saw it. In the photo, Aerith was slightly dishevelled from the wind, but she was smiling happily at the camera as she leaned towards Cloud. But Cloud… He was turned towards her, with soft eyes and a half smile, fond and thoughtful. She pressed her lips together as she thumbed the edge of the picture. He looked at her like he was looking at a painting, or a sunrise, or the starry night sky. He looked at her like he—

Aerith blinked twice, hard. She wondered if that was how he always looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention.

Cloud cleared his throat. “Ah, sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I ruined it.”

But Aerith slowly shook her head. “No, no. It’s perfect,” she said. She took the printout and held it up to her chest. “Perfect.”

He turned to her, silent for a long beat. His expression was indecipherable, but at the same time he looked the way Aerith felt: uncertain, balancing on the edge of their dumb precipice. Or maybe he was waiting for her at the bottom, wondering if she would ever take that step. And she wanted to, she wanted to join him so badly.

But she couldn’t.

“Aerith…” he whispered, a plea.

She closed her eyes and turned away. “Let’s just take the picture and go,” she said. Her voice was steady, at least.

“Aerith,” he repeated a little louder, but still strained. She heard him take a hesitant step forward.

“Don’t,” she said. “Just—please, don’t.” She bit her lip, willing her heart to slow down.

“Why?”

She stilled, sucking in a sharp breath. Ah, there it was—the well-placed why used as a weapon. She’d have been proud if she didn’t feel so damn sad.

“It’s better this way,” she said. “Trust me.”

“You don’t know that,” said Cloud, frustrated. He circled around her to try and catch her eye, but she turned her face away. “Maybe you used to, but you don’t know anymore. You said it yourself.”

Aerith pressed her lips together. “Things don’t stop being true because we don’t remember them anymore.”

He crossed his arms. “But what if they were never true? What if they changed?”

She shook her head. “I’m not risking that.” I’m not risking you. “Know what hasn’t changed? Me wanting to protect you.” She attempted a smile. “And me not losing our game.” If the conditions of the game required her admitting it out loud, anyway.

Cloud regarded her for a long moment, then sighed. “I hate this game.”

She snuck a glance at him. He didn’t look all that upset—more mildly exasperated. Aerith smiled hesitantly. “It was your idea.”

“Never claimed it was a good one.”

“Well, you’re stuck with it, mister.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re stuck with it. You’re the one playing.”

Cloud was not subtle when he wanted to throw a jab at her about something. Still, Aerith let it slide. “C’mon,” she said, handing him the camera back. “Let’s finish the job.”

As he pointed the camera at the stars again, she delicately tucked their selfie into her jacket pocket, next to her heart.

---

When Aerith opened the door to her room at the Nidhogg Inn to find Cloud standing in front of her, she wasn’t all that surprised. He’d been on edge around her for a few days, always fidgeting and hesitant. Sometimes, she’d catch him just… looking at her, studying her like she was going to vanish at any moment. It was clear that he needed to talk to her. Aerith just hoped it wouldn’t be a confession of some sort. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending.

“It’s kind of late,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Something wrong?”

Cloud pressed his lips together. “Can we talk? Alone?” He shot a glance over her shoulder, to the room where Tifa and Yuffie were still asleep.

She nodded as she stepped out of the doorway. “Lucky I was the one who answered, huh?” she said with a small smile.

Cloud didn’t return it—just shot her that same long look she’d noticed in the days prior. “Let’s go,” he said. He made a jerky movement as if he’d wanted to take her by the hand and then thought better of it. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him.

Aerith hummed as he turned around and made for the stairs. He led her out of the inn, in the chilly Nibelheim night. She rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “This better be good,” she chuckled.

“Dunno about good,” he said, shooting her an apologetic glance. “But it’s important.”

She nodded. Cloud paused for a second, as if considering where to take her, then he gestured to the water tower. “C’mon.”

They climbed the ladder in silence, then sat side by side in the same spots they’d been in just hours before. It was slightly less cold up there, and Aerith realised there was some sort of machine behind them, buzzing quietly and emitting a bit of warmth.

Cloud caught her perplexed look and shrugged. “It’s the same as when I was a kid. This thing’s responsible for all the water in the village, and it overheats like crazy. Weird that it hasn’t changed.” He looked away. “Didn’t think to bring a blanket, so I figured this was the next best thing.”

Aerith smiled a bit. “It is. Thanks.”

He hummed, but didn’t say anything else.

She let a few moments pass in silence. Then, she sighed. “You know, if you just wanted some company, I don’t think you’d have taken us all the way up here. Out of earshot of everyone else.” She lightly kicked her heels together. “So, what is it?”

Cloud stiffened. “Right.” He took a deep breath, and Aerith braced herself. “I, uh, I talked to Red—Nanaki.”

She blinked at him. Not what she was expecting. “Okay?” she said. “What’d you talk about?”

He fiddled with his hands in his lap. “He asked me not to say anything, but it’s too important—a-and I guess you already know about it anyway. Besides, it’s about you, and—”

“Cloud.” She put a hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Start over?”

“Uh, sorry.” He winced. “He said… He said that you two could see the future, back in Midgar. Before the Whispers,” he muttered. “Is that true?”

She grimaced and looked away. Why, Nanaki? “True enough,” she replied. “But I couldn’t tell you what I saw now.”

Cloud nodded. “That’s what Nanaki said too. Said that you lost that knowledge.”

“That’s right.”

“Is that why you didn’t want me to lo—like you?”

Aerith drew in a sharp breath. His words were soft, but measured, careful. He had to have rehearsed them all in those moments where he’d looked like he wanted to talk to her. She couldn’t face him.

When she didn’t reply, he continued, “Because you saw something in our future?”

Slowly, she nodded. “…Yeah.” She felt him still. “But I don’t know what it was. I told you before.”

“You have.” Cloud sighed. “Nanaki said that… He said that he thinks you’re in danger.”

Aerith kept her eyes trained on the dark silhouette of the house in front of her. “He did, did he?”

“Please don’t play dumb.” There was a strained note in his voice, now. A desperate note.

“I’m not,” she said, biting her lip. “I told you, I can’t remember. But we’re all in danger, aren’t we?”

Cloud scoffed. “You know what I mean.” He let another long moment of silence pass. “Listen… Whatever it was, we changed it, right? The Whispers—”

She shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t know. We’ve been over this, Cloud, I’m not risking it. I had a good reason for asking you that, even though I don’t remember it anymore. And now you know why.”

“What about—” He cut himself off with a frustrated noise, pulling up a leg to his chest. “So that’s how it is. You make all the decisions and I just have to follow ‘em.”

Aerith frowned. “That’s not fair.”

“No. It’s not.”

Silence fell again. Aerith fiddled with her hands in her lap. Cloud was upset, frustrated, angry even. She didn’t know how to make it better without making it infinitely worse. Without putting him even more at risk. Maybe it was better this way—the anger would be temporary, whereas whatever was waiting for him in the future she’d forgotten was a permanent scar, a pain that would never leave him.

“Hey,” he started suddenly. “If you could see the future back then… Does that mean you knew I was going to…?” He gestured vaguely between the two of them instead of finishing his question, but Aerith didn’t need him to.

Did you know I was going to fall in love with you? Were we always doomed? Was there ever a chance?

She sighed. “Dunno. Maybe that’s the future we averted.” She attempted a small smile. She didn’t even believe her own words.

And Cloud didn’t either, judging from his scoff. “Aerith.”

“What?”

“C’mon.” He looked away and whispered, so quiet that she almost missed it, “It was inevitable.”

Aerith clenched her hands on the edge of the platform. Hearing him say that should have filled her with joy. Yet, all she could feel was regret, dread, and fear. “I didn’t think you believed in fate,” she said shakily.

He tossed her a sidelong glance, then shook his head. “I don’t. Fate’s got nothing to do with it.” He took a deep breath. “It’s because of who you are and who I am.” His voice was trembling just a little.

Aerith pressed her lips together, feeling her eyes starting to sting. She knew how hard it was for him to be vulnerable like that, to lay his feelings bare and risk getting hurt for it. And she hated herself because she had to do just that—hurt him.

“Cloud—”

He shook his head. “Don’t you get it, Aerith? I can’t let anything happen to you—I won’t.” He looked at her, defiant and determined. “I promised Nanaki, and I’m promising you. I’ll keep you safe. No matter what happens, no matter what you say.”

Aerith stared at him, tears in her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him, to hold him close, to apologise, to kiss him until all the hurt and all the fear were forgotten. But she was terrified. It was all so much, too much. She was just glad he’d never said the word love.

“Cloud,” she whispered, desperately trying to hold back the tears. “Cloud, please—”

Emboldened by her reaction, he reached out and gently touched her cheek. “It’s real. So real that it feels like I’m drowning.” He sounded like it too, quiet and strangled and tender.

She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, pulling her face away from his hand. “Cloud, I—please, don’t do this,” she whispered.

Cloud retracted his hand like he’d been burned. “I—I’m not doing anything,” he said. “I told you before. If—If you don’t feel—if it’s just me, then that’s fine. But you said that it wouldn’t be real, and you’re wrong.”

She knew. She’d always been wrong. But she couldn’t afford to be right.

Aerith shook her head again. “Cloud, what do you want me to say?”

He made another frustrated noise. “I want you to stop lying to me, I guess. Be a nice start.”

“I… I’ve never lied to you,” she said in a sigh. “Wish I had, honestly. I could’ve told you I was still in love with Zack, and we wouldn’t be here right now. But there are questions I just can’t answer.”

Cloud shot her a glance. “Because…?”

“Because I’d tell you the truth,” said Aerith. “And it’d put you in danger.”

He leaned a bit closer. “I can take care of myself. What if I was okay with that?”

“I’m not.” She bit her lip. “I’m just not.”

It was hard to breathe. She stood up suddenly, leaning a bit on the water tower so she wouldn’t lose her balance.

“Aerith?” Cloud shot to his feet as well, holding out his hands as if he wanted to steady her.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m going back.”

Cloud looked torn for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, or do something. But in the end he just nodded stiffly. “Right,” he said. “Let’s go.”

She turned around, unable to look him in the eye any longer. They made their way back to the inn in uncomfortable silence, with Cloud walking just slightly behind Aerith. Once they got to her room, she stilled with her hand hovering over the doorknob, and Cloud stopped as well.

“Aerith?” he called softly.

She shook her head and took a deep breath before turning around. “I’m sorry, Cloud,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.” She let her gaze fall to her feet and pressed her lips together.

Cloud didn’t say anything right away. Aerith saw him shift his weight from one foot to the other, then he took a hesitant step forward. Gingerly, his arms came around her shoulders as he pulled her into a gentle hug. Aerith swallowed back a sob as she brought her hands to his waist, not quite hugging back but not pushing him away either.

“I wish I could do something to help,” he whispered in her hair. “You’re hurting too. I wanna make it go away, but… But you won’t let me.”

She shook her head, but didn’t reply. They stayed together like that for a long moment, both unwilling to be the one to either step away or bring them closer.

Aerith felt his lips brushing against her hair again. “Aerith,” he murmured. “It’s real.”

She tightened her grip on his waist, just barely, just for a moment. “I know,” she replied. “I’m sorry.”

---

Cloud hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a second, not since she’d appeared on the virtual stage of the Gold Theatre, clad in white and ready to sing. She’d felt his gaze burn like it was the sun looking at her, following her every movement, listening to her every word. And it was just as well, she figured, since it was all for him.

Aerith couldn’t give Cloud all that he wanted, but she could give him something at least. A song, a moment, a memory.

A date.

She hadn’t called it that, of course. It was just a friendly outing between friends who were friendly. She was kinda glad, actually, that the rest of their companions had also come to the showing of Loveless. Granted, they were sitting apart from Aerith and Cloud, but it helped dilute the tension. If Aerith concentrated enough, it almost felt like the two of them were just part of the group, even if a little physically far.

And if she concentrated further still, she could almost make out the voices in the Lifestream laughing at her in the back of her head. Did it still count as denial if she was self-aware about it?

Cloud linked back up with her at the exit of the theatre, after all of their friends had already left the premises. Aerith waved at him with a small smile, and he returned both.

“So!” she exclaimed, bouncing up to him. “What d’you think?”

"I think you were amazing,” he said, sounding a little dazed. “You write that song?”

Aerith hummed. “Just wanted to try my hand at it.”

He half-laughed. “Right. And now you’re gonna have producers at your doorstep.”

“Well, sadly I don’t have one of those right now.”

“A doorstep?”

“Yeah.”

“What about your mom’s place?”

Aerith giggled. “She’s gonna chase ‘em off with a broom.”

They laughed, then she smiled at him. “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”

He nodded slowly, then averted his gaze. Silence fell, but it was soon interrupted by the loudspeaker: “Attention, all park guests. The Skywheel will be closing soon. Don’t miss out on your chance to experience the Gold Saucer from a truly breathtaking angle!”

Oh, the Skywheel. Aerith thought vaguely that she and Cloud had never gotten to go during their first visit to the park. Things between them were still complicated, but maybe back then she could have played it off as more of a casual date. She couldn’t do that anymore: they were both in too deep and her self control was the last thin line of defence against disaster.

But she really had to stop assuming she was the only one making decisions.

Cloud, next to her, cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

“Hm?” She turned to look at him. “Where?”

He nodded towards Event Square’s exit. “Skywheel. I wanna see what all the fuss is about. Besides, uh, we got unfinished business.” He scratched the back of his head without looking at her, but she could still see that the tips of his ears had turned pink.

Aerith felt herself soften. “Unfinished business, huh?” she said quietly.

Cloud hummed awkwardly.

She thought for a moment. There was something else she could give him. A little bit of closure wherever she could.

“Okay,” said Aerith. “Let’s go.”

He snapped back to her, as if he hadn’t expected her to give in without a fight. “Uh, yeah. Let’s.”

On the way to Skywheel square, they were quiet, but Aerith didn’t mind the silence. The air between them was charged, though, even more than usual. Maybe it was the way Cloud kept sneaking quick glances at Aerith, maybe it was the way she kept catching him because she was doing the same. More than once, she found herself desperately wanting to reach for his hand, wanting to hold him. Wanting, wanting, she wanted so much. And knowing he wanted the same things was agonising.

The crowds around them were loud and rowdy, excited, normal. More than anything, Aerith wanted to be normal. Just for a little while, she wanted to be a normal girl on a date with a boy she liked and who liked her. Was that really so wrong?

She sighed deeply.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached out and slipped her hand in Cloud’s. He jumped a little, startled, and turned to her, eyes wide as saucers. He didn’t pull away, though. “Aerith?”

“Just for tonight,” she heard herself whisper. “Okay?”

Emotions flashed over his face in fast succession: joy, disappointment, pain, anger, acceptance. He closed his eyes and looked to be counting to ten. “If that’s what you want,” he said. The hurt note in his voice was impossible to miss, but Aerith ignored it all the same.

It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the best she could do. One Skywheel ride, one night, one date to get it all out of her system, and then they could go back to the way they were without having to wonder anymore. Or, at least, she prayed it would happen like that.

She smiled a bit, and he returned it, then she lightly pulled on his hand. “C’mon,” she said. “This way.”

The loudspeaker in Skywheel Square was still giving out the announcement about the ride closing soon, with an attendant eagerly waving excited guests closer. Aerith and Cloud joined the queue, but they didn’t have to wait long for their turn. Aerith hopped into the spacious cabin first, giggling at the spectacle of lights already visible from the windows. A quiet thump behind her told her that Cloud was on board too, and she turned to grin at him. He sat down first on one side of the cabin and, after some consideration, Aerith settled a fair distance from him—not far enough to be awkward, not close enough to be intimate.

As their cabin slowly began its climb upwards, Aerith’s attention was pulled outside the window. The fireworks show was starting.

“Wow, look at that!” she exclaimed.

The sky was an explosion of colours, mixing together in beautiful shapes all around them. She couldn’t see the stars in the sky, replaced by the light of the fireworks. Below and all around them, the rest of the Gold Saucer’s attractions and events were in full swing, from the roller coasters to the Chocobo races to the flash mob in the Terminal Square. It was loud and chaotic and frenetic. And yet, inside the Skywheel cabin, all was quiet and intimate.

Aerith glanced back at Cloud, only to catch him looking at her the way he had back in Cosmo Canyon, the way that was forever immortalised in the picture Aerith kept carefully tucked in her jacket pocket. She bit her lip.

“I know I’ve been weird,” she said, quietly. “And a little unfair.”

Cloud shook himself out of his reverie and raised an eyebrow. “A little?”

She half-laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me, either.” She frowned. “You know… when we first met, there was something about you that really bothered me.”

He furrowed his brows. “Hey,” he said softly, without any real animosity. “I know I was kind of a dick, but—”

Aerith giggled. “Not that. Although…” She winked and he rolled his eyes, then she shook her head. “No, it was something else. It was in the way you talked, the way you carried yourself… I haven’t seen him in five years, but suddenly there was you, and if I wasn’t careful I’d start thinking he was there, wearing your clothes and your face.”

Cloud nodded slowly. “Zack?”

She hummed. “But he wasn’t. It’s always just been you. You, running around the slums with me. You, saving me from Shinra HQ. You, here with me right now.” Aerith sighed and leaned back into her seat. “You’re different, and things are different, and that’s okay.”

“Aerith—”

“But… there’s still so much I don’t know,” she continued. “So much that’s fuzzy and unclear.”

The degradation, her stolen memories, Sephiroth looming over it all. It felt so much bigger than her.

She stood up. Cloud’s eyes were on her, she could feel them, but she couldn’t meet them. “The thing is, Cloud… I’m trying so hard to find you.” The words were just flowing out of her now, as if someone else was speaking through her. Cloud was Cloud, he was right there, but he wasn’t, and—

He echoed her thoughts: “But I’m right here.” He blinked twice at her.

Aerith sighed. “I know, but…”

He let a long, uncomfortable beat pass. “Degradation, right?” he asked, quietly.

She froze. She turned around. He’d stood up as well without her noticing, and he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed and eyes planted on the fireworks show outside without really seeing it.

“…No,” she heard herself say. “Not degradation.” As she said it, she knew it was true. There was something else keeping him from her. But she couldn’t begin to guess.

Cloud took a tentative step towards her. “Then what?” he asked, maybe a little sharper than he’d meant to.

She flinched, and it seemed like the cabin flinched with her. The floor disappeared from under her feet, and she tumbled forward. Instinctively, she put her arms up to brace herself for the collision with the seat or the floor, but the only thing she hit was something warm and solid. Aerith blinked up at Cloud, as dazed as he looked. Maybe he’d caught her, maybe they’d just crashed into each other. Either way, she was gathered into his arms, feeling his pulse quicken under her fingertips in tandem with hers. He swallowed thickly as he looked down at her.

“I, uh, I think one of those solid holograms hit us,” he muttered.

“Oh,” she said. “Scary.”

“You’re okay. I got you.”

It was her turn to gulp down a knot in her throat. Cloud didn’t take his eyes away from hers, and they were so intense that they were burning.

“If it’s not the degradation, then what is it?” he asked quietly, not letting her go. “You said you want to find me—help me make that happen. I… I want you to find me. Just tell me how to let you.”

Aerith just stared at him, her mouth hanging slightly open. “Cloud…” she whispered. “I—I don’t know. I—”

The moment dragged on for a few tense, electric seconds.

A burst of fireworks exploded with a loud bang, and the sound cut between them like a knife. Aerith jumped out of his arms with a gasp as her world once again expanded to contain things other than Cloud Strife. “Woah,” she said, pressing a hand on her heart. “Is it just me, or was that way closer than the others?”

Cloud shook his head. “Uh… Oh, we’re just getting close to the top, I think.”

A glance out of the window told her that he was right. “I see,” she said, sitting back down. “This is safe, right?”

Cloud shrugged as he sat down too—again, just far enough from her as to not be intimate, the moment from before gone like a mirage. “It’s fine,” he said. “Not that Shinra gives a shit about people’s safety, but if this thing were dangerous, nobody would wanna set foot on it. Huge loss of profit.”

Aerith giggled and leaned back in her seat. “Reassuring. Kinda.” She sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to enjoy the show, then.”

He hummed, then turned back to the fireworks. Aerith studied him for a second. The moment was gone, but not forgotten. He still had a crease of worry between his brows, and her hands itched to reach out to smooth it over.

She bit her lip. Slowly, hesitantly, she scooted closer to him. “Forget about what I said, okay?” she whispered. “Let’s not worry about that. Not tonight.”

Cloud tossed her a sidelong look. “Forget about it?” He huffed a little. “You say the strangest stuff, and I’m just supposed to forget about it?”

“Yup,” she said, popping the p and forcing a playful grin on her face. “You know me. I don’t always make sense.”

He held her gaze for a moment longer, doubt clearly painted on his face. Then, he sighed and turned away. “Fine,” he said, dropping his eyes to the floor. He still looked unsteady, though, and like he wanted to ask a million questions. That wasn’t a look she wanted on his face—not now, amongst the fireworks in the sky.

Aerith only hesitated for one more moment. In one swift motion, she closed the rest of the distance between them and took his arm in her hands, leaning her head on his shoulder. She felt him stiffen in surprise under her touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Aerith?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Just for tonight,” she said. “Okay?”

Cloud didn’t reply, but neither did he relax. Then, just as Aerith was about to let him go, he slowly moved. Delicately, he took one of her hands from his arm.

Aerith frowned a little, but sat up straighter. That was fair. She couldn’t keep expecting him to humour all her mixed signals—to be okay with her constantly pushing him away while she held him tight. She opened her mouth, an apology ready on her tongue, but Cloud laid her hand down, palm up, between them. A fraction of a second, and his own covered it, threading his fingers through hers.

She gasped quietly and looked up at him. He was still turned away from her, but when he felt her eyes on him, he shot her a sidelong glance. Red dusted his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, but his eyes were focused, daring, challenging. And they were an open book.

Not just for tonight. It takes two, right? I ’m in if you are.

Aerith couldn’t help but smile up at him a little shakily, feeling as if her heart was going to jump out of her chest. She looked at her bodyguard, at her friend, at the man she loved. There he went, fighting for her again, and again. It took her everything she had not to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him silly, to apologise for everything she’d put the both of them through. But in that moment, just being there with him, holding his hand, would have to be enough. As she closed her own fingers around his, Cloud finally relaxed next to her, and gave her hand a light squeeze. Aerith let her head fall against his shoulder again and closed her eyes.

“Just for tonight,” she repeated softly.

This close, she could feel Cloud’s sigh hit the crown of her head, a veneer of calm betrayed by the pounding of his heart, impossible to miss from where she was leaning against him. Aerith wondered if he was looking at her, but didn’t check. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if she met his eyes and found love and longing there.

She settled for looking at the fireworks again, holding his hand just a little bit tighter.

Five minutes later, as they stepped out of the cabin, Cloud extended a hand to help Aerith down. She took it with a small giggle, and ignored the way he held onto her for just a moment too long with practised cheerfulness.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said, locking her hands behind her back. “I had fun.”

Cloud hummed. “Me too.”

She glanced at the dwindling crowd in the square in front of them. “Ready for tomorrow?”

“Course. You?”

“Born ready!” She flexed playfully, drawing a chuckle out of him. “We should go get some shut-eye. Gotta be in tip-top shape to kick Corneo’s goons’ butts.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

Cloud went ahead, and Aerith followed him after just a moment. He seemed a little distracted, as if he had something else on his mind. She shook her head. Probably thinking about their strategy for the battle the next day. She supposed the real anomaly was Cloud thinking about something other than their mission for a whole evening.

The walk back to the Haunted Hotel was a silent one, but not uncomfortably so. There was no hurry in their step, as if neither of them quite wanted the night to end. That late, the park wasn’t as busy or loud. It felt more normal, more like a real place with real people rather than an endless party. Aerith kept glancing at Cloud, feeling a small smile playing on her lips.

One night, one perfect night with him. It would have to be enough. It would be enough. No harm in wanting to draw it out as long as she could.

But there was still a limit to how much she could dig her heels in, to how slowly they could walk. In the end, they stepped out of the lift and onto their floor.

Aerith sighed, hopping ahead of Cloud. “Well—”

“I’ll walk you to your room,” he said, coming up beside her.

She shot him a bemused smile. “Isn’t it, like… ten metres away from yours?”

Cloud cleared his throat, looking away with a faint blush on his face. “Still.”

Aerith giggled. “Alright, then, Mr Bodyguard.” She took his elbow. “Do the gentlemanly thing.”

To her absolute delight, he actually held up his arm a little higher as he gently tugged her forward. As promised, they walked right past the boys’ suite, and stopped just two doors over. Aerith let go of Cloud’s arm to rummage in her pockets for the room key. She didn’t want to wake Tifa and Yuffie up.

As she finally fished it out, she turned with a grin. “Looks like we’re here,” she said. “Thanks for the escort.”

Cloud nodded slowly. He was still blushing and refusing to meet her eye. Aerith cocked her head to the side. “What is it?” she said, leaning forward to try to catch his gaze.

“Uh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I—If this really has to be just for tonight… There’s something I wanna do before tonight ends,” he said quickly, snapping his eyes back to hers.

Aerith blinked twice at him. “Oh?” she said.

He didn’t say anything right away. He gingerly took a step forward and took her hand in his, while his other hand hesitantly rose to brush over her cheek. Every move was slow and deliberate, like he was giving her the time and space to stop him or step away. But Aerith was rooted to the spot, frozen by his touch and what he was asking. She felt her eyes go wide, and she knew she had to say something. But when her mouth fell open, no words came out.

A little bolder and surer of himself, Cloud tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, a gesture so tender and gentle that Aerith felt a bit like bursting into tears. He pressed his lips together and swallowed thickly. “Can—Can I…?”

A stronger person might have said no. A stronger person might never had let them get to this point at all. But all Aerith could do was nod.

A flash of disbelief passed over his face, as if he’d still expected her to say no. Then he furrowed his brows and leaned closer to her until their lips were a breath apart—hesitant until the very last second, like she was going to break or disappear.

“Cloud?” she whispered.

He blinked and shook his head a little, as if coming out of a trance. Then, all at once, the hand on her cheek slid to the back of her head as he nudged her towards him to finally close the hint of distance between them.

Cloud’s kiss was just like him: gentle, nervous, but determined and a bit rough. Aerith felt her room key slip from her hand as she wrapped both her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back. Cloud’s other hand, the one not cradling the back of her head, went to her waist, pulling her even closer.

Aerith knew full well that this was a huge mistake, that she was throwing all her efforts to protect him down the drain. She supposed they would be in good company with her self-control. Because, damnit, she’d wanted to kiss Cloud for so long, and now that she was doing it she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop.

He broke away for a moment, but didn’t go far. “Aerith,” he murmured on her lips. “I—”

“Shh.” She closed the gap again. He seemed to have no objections to that, because his grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her even closer.

Cloud kissed her like he wanted to tell her something. It’s real, Aerith, it’s real, please, don’t let it be just for tonight, I’m tired of games and secrets, I love you, I love you, I love you.

And Aerith kissed him like she wanted to answer. It’s real for me too, I don’t want this to be just for tonight either, I’d lost our stupid game before we even started playing it, I love you, I love you, I love you.

She could feel the pounding of his heart almost as if it was coming from inside her chest, and she wondered if he could feel hers the same way. She smiled over his lips, and he just kissed her harder, while his hand at her waist shifted to rub gentle circles on her back. Aerith pulled him even closer, trying to commit everything about him to memory. His warmth, his taste, his scent, the way his hair felt threaded through her fingers—just him, just Cloud.

Down in the lobby of the Haunted Hotel, the grandfather clock chimed—midnight. And, just like in a fairy tale, it broke the spell.

Aerith froze with her hands tangled in Cloud’s hair as she returned to reality. The reality where they couldn’t be a normal couple sharing a good-night kiss after a date, where they weren’t supposed to be in love at all, where Aerith had to be the one to know better, despite how much it hurt.

Cloud pulled away from her. “Aerith…?” he called, voice a little hoarse. His whole face was flushed crimson, and his pupils were blown wide. His hair was even messier than usual and his mouth was hanging open, huffing a little through kiss-swollen lips. He looked stunning, and she’d done that to him.

Aerith screwed her eyes shut, willing that image to disappear from her brain. “It’s tomorrow,” she whispered, fighting to keep her voice even.

She felt him stiffen in her arms. When she looked at him again, it was like something had cracked in his expression. He stared at her like she’d just stabbed him, shock and hurt clear as day. She wished she hadn’t looked. “I’m sorry,” she said, slipping out of his grasp.

Cloud let her, and his arms fell limply to his sides. “Aerith, I—” He pressed his lips together. “I’m sorry,” he muttered then, averting his gaze.

Aerith shook her head. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She fought the urge to cup his cheek in her hand, settling instead for a quick pat on his upper arm. “Good-night.”

Quickly, she picked up her room key and unlocked the door. As she slipped through, she looked at him again. He hadn’t moved from his spot, and he still had his eyes fixed on the floor.

Aerith forced a smile. “Hey, chin up,” she said. “Gotta be in tip-top shape tomorrow, right? Better get some rest.”

Cloud blinked twice as he met her gaze again, then frowned. “Right,” he spat out, bitter and hurt. Aerith winced. He seemed to notice, and something in his face softened. “Right,” he repeated, gentler but no less upset. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Good-night, Cloud.”

“Night.”

If she looked into those big, sad eyes of his any longer, she knew she would have jumped right back into his arms, so Aerith quickly shut the door between them. With a sigh, she leaned her head against it and closed her eyes.

She hated herself.

And she hated fate, and the Whispers, and the Aerith of the past who was calling all the shots for the Aerith of the present, and her stupid, stupid feelings pulling her in every direction at once. More than anything, she hated the hurt darkening Cloud’s face, the bitterness in his voice, and she hated that she was the cause of all of it.

She felt like crying, but she didn’t deserve to.

After what felt like an eternity, muffled footsteps came from the other side of the door, and it occurred to her that she hadn’t heard Cloud walking away after she’d closed it. She gulped down a sob at the thought that he might have been standing there that whole time, alone in the hallway, maybe hoping she’d come back.

“I love you,” she whispered, barely loud enough for even her to hear. The words tasted bittersweet on her tongue: sweet, because they were true and beautiful; bitter, because she was saying them to a closed door.

---

Aerith was sure that the owner of the bar was going to kick her out any minute now. She just hoped that her half empty glass of foul bottom shelf… whatever would be enough to convince him that she still counted as a customer, rather than an anxious little thing hiding away at his counter far too late in the night.

No. Half full. Her glass was half full. It had to be, because then everything would be fine at the Temple and they’d get the Black Materia back and they’d all be okay and—

“That any good?” came  Cloud’s voice, soft behind her.

She straightened up, then shook her head. “No,” she said, not particularly caring if the owner heard her. She still pushed the glass towards Cloud as he sat down on the stool next to hers. “But you can try it, if you want.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink.”

Aerith shrugged. “Don’t do it often. I don’t like it when my brain’s fuzzy. Usually.” Tonight, I wish it was.

Cloud hummed. “Yeah. Same.”

Neither of them said anything for a long beat. Aerith bit her lip. They hadn’t actually gotten a moment alone since their date at the Gold Saucer. The day after had been… a lot. The Coliseum match, the Turks, Cait Sith’s betrayal, the panic and anxiety of it all. There had been no time to talk, no time to rest. Only once, in the night, had Cloud reached out for her. They’d been riding in the buggy, crossing the desert in their desperate rush to make it to the Temple of the Ancients before it was too late. Aerith had thought that almost everyone was asleep—except for Tifa, at the driver’s wheel, and Cid, operating as her navigator. Aerith couldn’t sleep, though. Thoughts of the Black Materia, of Cait Sith, of the Ancients, of Sephiroth kept running through her mind a mile a minute, and she just couldn’t stop. Until someone shifted next to her, and then suddenly there was a hand in hers, warm and solid. She’d turned to Cloud, blinking slowly. He hadn’t said anything, just brushed his thumb over her knuckles. Then, he’d nodded towards his shoulder—an invitation that Aerith had accepted with a sigh of relief, greedily taking in his warmth as she rested her head on it and closed her eyes again.

There had been no need for words that night. She wasn’t sure it was the same now. It was the calm before the storm—one night in Costa del Sol before they would board the Bronco and sail North. To face whatever was waiting for them there. Suddenly, the silence was suffocating.

“You worried?” she asked, folding her arms on the counter and sneaking him a glance.

Cloud sighed. “We’ll be fine. We’ll get the Black Materia back.”

“We will.” She hummed, leaning her forehead down on her crossed arms. “Still.”

“Still what?”

Aerith drew in a deep breath. “I think I’m more than worried. I’m scared,” she whispered.

She felt his hand land tentatively on her shoulder. “I got you,” he said. “I promised you I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”

“You did.” She turned her head a bit to look at him. His eyes were soft, understanding, but determined and focused. “Thanks. I’ll keep you safe too.”

Cloud cracked a smile. “That’s not how bodyguards work.”

Aerith giggled, straightening up. “It’s how this one works.” She leaned on the counter again, this time on a propped elbow. “He acts real tough and strong, but he still needs his favourite florist to bail him out of trouble every once in a while.”

He playfully rolled his eyes. “As if.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, then gave him a small smile. “I protect you, you protect me. Deal?”

Cloud nodded slowly. “Deal.”

Quiet descended once again. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, but it was charged. As if they were both waiting for something.

In the end, Cloud was the one who broke it. “We need to talk,” he said, furrowing his brows seriously.

Aerith gave him a lopsided smile. “We are talking.”

He frowned, but it was almost more of a pout. “Aerith.”

“Yeah. I know.” She sighed. “Sorry.”

Cloud took a deep breath. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, with no progress on his starting sentence. Aerith giggled quietly, and he shot her an unhappy look. “Give me a break.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, still smiling. “Go on.”

He inched his hand forward on the counter until it brushed hers. Without breaking eye contact, he gently entwined their fingers. Aerith stilled a little, but let him.

Letting out a sigh, Cloud stroked circles with his thumb on the back of her hand. “If I ask you a question, will you promise to answer me? And tell me the truth?”

Aerith bit her lip. “Cloud—”

His hold on her hand tightened. “Please,” he whispered. “I need to know.”

She looked into his pleading eyes, and there was nothing she could do but nod.

Cloud broke eye contact, but didn’t let go of her hand. “Our game,” he started. “Still playing?”

Aerith wanted to laugh. They were still speaking in code. She supposed it was easier than the alternative.

Do you love me? Are you still trying not to?

A few days before, she would have tried to find an escape. She’d have teased him and avoided answering. But she was tired. So tired, so sad, so scared, and maybe a little tipsy too.

So, she shook her head. “No. I lost a long time ago.”

Cloud sucked in a sharp breath. “You did?” he asked, so quiet that she almost missed it.

Aerith hummed. “I tried. I’ve been trying. But… I guess I always knew I was going to lose, didn’t I? That’s why I tried to put it on you.”

“Too late,” he blurted out. He grimaced slightly, then cleared his throat. “It was always too late.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

He was blushing to the tip of his ears and refusing to meet her eye. “Yeah. I think the dream was when I knew, but…” He shook his head. “It’s like I told you in Nibelheim. It was inevitable. From the moment I met you, I was always going to—” He cut himself off and finally looked at her again.

Aerith could only stare at him. She’d known he had feelings for her now, but… “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “All this time—”

Cloud scoffed. “After two weeks? After two days? That’s creepy as hell.”

“I suppose,” she said, giggling as she drew closer. “But it would have saved us a lot of headaches.”

He frowned a little. “And you? You could’ve said something earlier.”

“I could’ve.” She dropped her gaze to the ground. “But I told you—I was trying to protect you. Guess I was always doomed to fail there, huh?” She swallowed a knot in her throat. “I’m scared.” Then, she felt his hand on her chin, gently tilting her head up to meet his eyes again.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “And I’ll be here. As long as you want me to.”

Aerith pressed her lips together. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen now. I don’t know what we’ll find at the Temple. I just—”

“We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

She nodded a little shakily. Then, she closed her eyes. “Okay.” His hand slowly shifted so that he was cupping her face. As he gently stroked the skin under her eye, Aerith sighed and leaned into the touch. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. “You’re still here, fighting for me, despite everything.”

Cloud chuckled. “I told you before. You’re you and I’m me. You’re worth it. That’s all.”

She smiled. “Inevitable, right?”

“For me it was. But it takes two.”

“Well, it was inevitable for me too,” she replied, stealing a kiss from his palm. “But I just want the record to show that if anything happens, I tried.”

Cloud scoffed. “Noted. But I won’t let it.”

Aerith hummed, studying his face. His eyes were focused, but soft—soft like in the picture, soft like on the Skywheel, like at the water tower, like at the bonfire, like on the beach, like in the dream. She leaned a little closer to him. “Can I kiss you now?”

Cloud stilled for a fraction of a second. Then, instead of replying, he just closed the distance between them. This kiss was nothing like their first: no rush, no nervousness, no uncertainty. Just quiet affection and relief.

“I love you,” murmured Aerith without breaking contact. “I love you.” And, this time, it was all sweet. So sweet.

In response, Cloud let go of her hand to cup her face with both of his and pull her even closer to him. He muttered something against her lips, something she couldn’t quite make out, but it didn’t really matter. She had a good guess.

Cloud was the one to pull away first, this time. His eyes shone with love and relief, and Aerith thought that she wanted to drown in the Mako blue. “I won’t let anything happen,” he repeated, barely above a whisper. “I’m not losing you, no matter what.”

Aerith smiled, tracing his jawline with a delicate finger. “Promise?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

[h-didanart]

Don’t mind me, just uh, felt like writing in a fancy way I guess? Idk, I kinda just made this so yeah :P

———

“I would die for you” thinks the former killer, the little fox that’s now their little sibling yelling over some game he lost.

The cub is fierce but not yet trained in the ways of the world, he’d be ripped to shreds were he left alone. They have to make sure he won’t be thrown to the wolves, won’t spend days in hunger or long for comfort over the freezing nights, won’t run to the arms of a monster, that he won’t follow in their path.

He’s their brother, whom they may not have met before but will love as if they did, they’ll watch over him and strike any menace down, they’ll be the best older brother there ever was.

“I would kill with you” say the runaways, the smarter of their group not amused despite the compliment.

Realistically in a fight it would not be able to do much, having such injuries that limit its movement, not like it’d like to join in, death being that thing that’s better away than up close. They may annoy it by poking fun at its work, or its art, or its style, yet a better bud they couldn’t have, it understands the snide remarks, the accusations and infantilization, of others deeming you the crazy one, telling you your life is a lie.

It’s their friend, their sole source of support during all these years, and they’ll help complete its research as silly to them as it seems, just as they’ll come back at the end of the day and annoy it to no end.

“I will die with you” grumbles the warrior, the actor’s core still beating in spite of their broken chassis.

Such delicate machinery, a survivor of those ashen remains, it must be careful if it doesn’t want to lose its leg again. It’s that care he has such trust on, even through their first impressions, he knows it does what it must, they both do what they can, never exactly at peace in the world lest within the other’s arms.

They are his friend, the one who brought him back alive, who may not understand his way of feeling but will still be there to pat his back, he’ll do his best to keep it alive, and if he can’t then better to stick together, neither has anyone else as it stands.

“I will die for you” feel the twins at once, firmly entwined amongst their family.

It was a miracle they had stuck together, original three as compatible as identical magnets, the now five or six as united as a fly in a deadly glue trap. To have heard as life passed while they remained frozen had been a sweet agony, once the stasis traded with separation a new horror dawning, yet they managed to all hold together through the lies and manipulations and disappearances and pains.

They are their family just as much as they are to each other, they’ll keep them safe, they’ll keep them happy, to show they too can change and to truly join the whole family.

“I will kill for you” the demon tells the virus, holding her arm as they bounce towards the unknowing victims.

Calling themselves their Father and taking them in, they hadn’t expected to get much out of this, a pleasant surprise it was when they did. The only person who gets it he was, having been the core program they were based off, the insatiable hunger, an itchy need, what they had to do to live, not even the Morning Star could look so deeply.

She is their Father, not a creator or whatnot, the one who teaches them efficiency, cares about the means more than the results, they‘ll stand by him as long as they live, one does not just betray their kin.

“I will live with you” the vampire promises, both sleep deprived bots staring at the newest project, wondering how it could work.

With a face such as that not much good was expected, yet he pulled through time and time again, reliable, though never to himself it seems. He had helped through the horrors, helped through the numbness, they had learnt of his life and looked up for the stoicism, they make sure he won’t push his limits, they cannot have him throwing himself around all the time.

They may never say it but he is their brother, the one they wished they could’ve had since day one, and it’s such a dumb promise but they can’t help but make it, they’ll live alongside him, live for their talks, live like they owe him to, because they do, they owe him their lives, so they’ll live to make him proud.

[bhaalsdeepbat]

unhinged Durge & Orin thoughts

i'm just fascinated by Orin. she's the little sister seething with jealousy bc they're fighting over scraps of love from a Father (Bhaal) who will never give either of them what they deserve.

and like. Her entire life is lived in ways that are meant to serve him bc she was raised from birth in the church. She's an artist who focuses her artistic vision on her kills and the way she presents her offerings. It's looked down upon, even though Durge also plays with their corpses, but Durge is also daddy's special little bhaalspawn, and Orin knows it. Always compared to the golden child, never measuring up, until she finally bests her older sibling by savaging their skull.

Durge literally just waltzed one day and told them that Bhaal said it was their turn to lead the church, even though Orin had also been born and raised believing that was HER purpose. The rage when some little street rat comes in and starts shaking up the Church. AND EVERYONE LOVES DURGE. They all hate Orin, but everyone WORSHIPS Durge. Durge, who is imperfect, who wasn't raised living the doctrine the way Orin was, and introduces cannibalism (which Orin does not seem to approve)

so all that suffering being raised in the church doesn't even garner her favor with Bhaal or the other Bhaalists. she's not Durge. she'll never be Durge. she can take Durge out and make it so they have no choice to follow her, and the Bhaalists will out of loyalty to Bhaal, but they still dislike her. They miss their new age worship when she takes over.

Durge just constantly frustrated with their little sister's antics. Orin is too rash, she runs her mouth, and she doesn't appreciate death for what it is, she keeps trying to make pretty little arrangements when she should be focused on perfecting the art of dealing death in droves, numbers...like razing the grove or taking out last light inn. bhaal doesn't care if you play with the corpses if you have enough deaths under your belt to make it count, it seems.

Orin choosing to use the tadpole on Durge rather than just allowing them to die was absolutely out of spite. It traps Durge's essence so they cannot be reunited with their Beloved Father. So, Orin is resentful because Durge seems to just have Bhaal's love and favorism without going through any of the agony of being raised entirely in Bhaal's temple. Then you learn from balthazar that this is literally worse than death for durge, especially while they're being used as a living cadaver.

durge had 0 idea of the resentment, too. saravok says something along the lines of durge being blinded by pride & the love of everyone to the point of never even suspecting orin would have anything else but the same blind devotion.

and then durge and orin begin butting heads, as siblings do, but also added layer of bhaalspawn being fated to slay one another and like. i interpret it as their very essence screaming at them to slaughter their sibling bc the divine essence recognizes itself in that other being. just desperate to slay and release it.

also laughing bc orin was raised a traditional Bhaalist church girlie basically. she's christian girl autumn but make it murder