grieverled-moved - Tumblr blog

[grieverled-moved]

y’all can feel free to strangle me later for moving around so much but squall is being moved back to his old solo blog @gardenformed-moved 😑😑😑

[grieverled-moved]

How do you admit to someone you’ve never been in a relationship? Who wants to hear? And when they do, who wants to stay?

LONDON SPY 1.01

[grieverled-moved]

𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒. Never really had a real reason to celebrate them before. Growing up as he had, it'd been nothing more than another day on the calendar, another day of the year with little time or incentive to actually bother. Or maybe that's just what he told himself to make the sting of it easier to bear. He'd watched as others celebrated theirs, surrounded by family or friends, loved ones that made sure to make it a true celebration of life, treating it as a gifted day where they'd been granted the others presence. It was sweet admittedly.

A reminder that someone was cherished.

Though again . . . as with most things he'd come to leave well out of his hands, he’d accepted it wasn’t meant for someone like him. With little to his name & an even smaller social life outside of those he knew in passing within his workplace, he was content enough to continue on as always without another thought.

It was fine — same as it ever was. Just like always.

So when he opens his eyes this day, he goes about his normal morning routine with little to no expectations of anything different to break that cycle. He finds it a little strange that Tseng hadn't given him a mission or stack of tasks to go through. Usually he was kind enough to give him something to do to distract himself. Gaze thinning, his lips press together, listening to his machine as it idly brewed away at his morning drink. Fatigue still drapes itself well along his frame, in need of something to chase it away if he wanted to function well enough — with nothing on the schedule, nothing to do, he's admittedly lost on what to do for his birthday. He fidgets with his pendant, turning it between his fingers in pensive thought, wondering if he should just hole himself up in his room to avoid anything that'd sour his mood or suck it up & go out, pretend it was a normal day like any other.

Before he can try to think further on his plans, he goes stiff when he hears someone at his door. Part of him says to ignore it, pretend he wasn't home, but before he can pay it any mind, he hears a familiar voice on the other side of the door that unfortunately, lures him to do the opposite. Clicking the locks, they twist, before he cautiously, suspiciously pries the door open a crack, just enough to peek through with thinned eyes that land on bright aurora sights. He looks him over a moment, blinking in confusion when he spots the cake in Zack's hand, pale eyes lifting back again questioningly to that brightly beaming face. Without needing to be prompted further, Zack explains, tone warm, honeyed in something affectionate, openly fond — complete with the use of his nickname of all things. Normally he'd scoff it off, divert attention to something else or reciprocate with something physically affectionate to make up for the fact he never knew just how to express his own cares back out loud.

But the others presence from the way he plants a chaste kiss to the edge of his nose, to the way he delicately handles the home-made cake — something gives, enough for him to duck his head & feel his icy walls melt, light smile teasing along the edges of his lips as he tries & fails to process how to respond & thank the other for being so . . . thoughtful.

Kind . . . gradually he knows Zack presence in his life is beginning to burrow away under his tough skin, that gentle, reassuring warmth of his, making itself right at home like the growing roots of a blooming plant within the hollow of his chest. He cradles it, sheltering it, willingly allowing it to blossom & grow even if it bears the chance of dying & withering away. It's worth allowing some softness, some vulnerability even with the risk of pain when the other man has more then earned it, displaying his own tender heart for Squall to study & hold with such honest trust.

The laugh he lets out is more of a short, quiet bark, shaking his head softly. It's a wet sound, uncertain if he wanted to cry or stubbornly hold it in before he opens the door, stepping through to use an arm to half hug the sunny man in thanks. He gifts a kiss of his own to the space just below his eye, mumbling a hushed thanks before a more genuine smile is given. He's still not the best with words, but he gets the feeling the other understands.

❝ . . . You say it like that's a bad thing. ❞

When he moves to step back into his housing unit, he leaves the swordsman ample room to enter, trying hard not to focus on the irony of him seemingly letting him in in more then one way.

❝ . . . But, really. Thank you, Zack. ❞

How strange it was to be able to spend someone's birthday with them; Sure he'd been able to see Angeal on his, or spend his own birthday with Kunsel and Cissnei, but to be able to greet someone he cares for and actually spend it with them? That was something that left Zack almost overwhelmed with anxiety, especially given his relationship to the birthday boy in question.

They've yet to actually put a label on their relationship but that's how most things within ShinRa worked to begin with, as it stood, Squall had the raven haired man's devotion fully, his heart and loyalty ever longing for the brunette Turk and that's what really pushed Zack into stressing himself damn near sick over what to do, what to get, what to say, anything and everything and slowly he understood why his former mentor always seemed particularly irate around July each year.

Squall doesn't appreciate large and social though, that's a fact that he made sure to keep in mind throughout his planning up until the day he showed up to Squall's residence, small cake that he'd baked in hand with a giant grin sat atop his lips, seeing his lover's confused expression had been worth the worries and stresses of the prior weeks full of careful planning. He's just grateful that Tseng was nice enough to not force the brunette on some stupid mission, birthdays might not have meant anything to ShinRa but they meant a lot to Zack, especially when the day was to celebrate someone he cherished far more than was likely normal.

“ Happy birthday Starlight, ” He begins, voice soft and so full of warmth as he plants a gentle kiss to the tip of Squall's nose, waits to be invited in before continuing onwards. “ Here's to another year yeah? This time you're stuck with me though. ”

a little happy birthday from Zack to Squall | @grieverled !!!!

[grieverled-moved]

So— au rare pairs huh?

[grieverled-moved]

shhhh I forgor it’s his birthday today—- 💀

[grieverled-moved]

𝐒𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 ? — 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐫 . & 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 . . . 𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰 . ⓒ

➤  Independent   &  Mutually Exclusive multifandom multimuse featuring  𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒 from 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 . ➤  Plot Heavy  |  Personal Headcanon based interpretation . ➤  𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒 . ➤  Minors   &  Non-Mutuals Do Not Interact . ➤ Please ↺ or ♡ if you’d like to interact !

[grieverled-moved]

NOT SURE WHAT ANSWER HED EXPECTED THERE. A large majority of the time, whenever he’d needed to leave for business off Garden, Xu & the others in charge would often load the other gun-blader up with a slew of missions to keep him busy. Bored, yeah, but out of trouble where he wasn’t as large a risk of setting Balamb or any of its inhabitants aflame. Giving his drink another lazy swirl, he eyes it’s contents, an internal tug-o-war already set in motion as he battles between the urge to drift right then & there or fight through the urge to close his eyes & ride his hopefully incoming second wind.

❝ That sucks. Usually you’re full of stories. ❞ A pause accompanied by a hazily amused snort of laughter. ❝ But . . . Yeah. Normal people? When they’re bored? It’s easy to brush off. You though? Usually more then a handful. ❞

He didn’t blame them for shoving the other out to stay busy. Wasn’t much to stave off boredom for long, but he gets the apprehension with his budding powers, how uncontrollable they seem at the present with a lack of discernible control in when they decide to flare. He keeps that bit to himself, studying the blonde as he seats himself across from him.

❝ !! ❞

At the mention of the shop & new models, he does visibly perk up even despite the clear fatigue he bears. Though he didn’t have much time for it nowadays, he still prided himself on how well he’d cared for his blade. There came an unspoken kind of comfort for him in cleaning Revolver or his other blades, the familiarity offered in learning them inside & out, in knowing just how they ticked, what their strengths & draw backs were. It made upgrading them & customizing them all the more worthwhile.

Already, he can hear the anticipation bleeding its way into the others tone. Looking over, it’s clear as light catching through a tinted glass that the others gonna offer what he thinks he is.

❝ True . . . ❞

His smile garners a more contemplative edge to it, something drawn out, dramatic as he hides it behind the edge of his glass with another large sip of his coffee. A nap still sounds nice right about now . . . The coffee still hasn’t kicked in, & if anything he swears it’s just making him more tired. Head tilting more to the side — a little too far, he sways a bit as he fights himself, placing his cup down flat on the table to push it a safe enough distance from himself it wasn’t at risk of becoming a future decoration. He keeps one hand wrapped around it, his other one coming up to brace him up.

❝ Alright, you’ve got my attention. But ‘m only willing to play ‘hooky’ for a price. ❞

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐌, 𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃. Too tired to argue much, & at the very least, it's nice to not have to worry about something for a moment. His brain feels fuzzy, muddled & none of the thoughts he tries to weave together to make out anything coherent end in a jumbled mess he knows for sure he can't parse. Scrubbing his hands over his face, kneading his palms into the dip of his eyes, his ears follow the sounds of the other as he preps his coffee.

Each tiny clink, puff of steam & sound of bubbling liquid ease something in his chest, a pressure that's remained since he stepped foot back in Garden. Lowering his hands, they settle back into the easy cradling fold atop his chest, had lolling to the side as he peers at the blonde swordsman. Apparently just in time to catch his eye, something disapproving flashing as he jerks his chin in the direction of the table before answering him properly. At the scolding remark, he rolls his eyes, but gives in, turning on his heel before slumping down.

Chin propped along the innerside of his palm, fingers press against his cheek, tapping every so often when he feels himself beginning to drift off in a dangerous way. He wasn't a stranger to all-nighters. Or all-dayers for that matter. The only other person who seems to understand his whole reliance on coffee & the importance of needing to pull both off is Xu.

Letting his eyes close, maybe he begins to lean a bit more heavily into his hand, leaning crookedly in a wavering manner, before the sound of footsteps rouse him again, followed by the feeling of warmth, steam, & the scent of coffee he clings to a little too harshly. With a hiss, he gently places it down on the tabletop before waving a hand off, glancing over to the other with a huff.

❝ 'Bout as well as it could go. The usual - 'organized talks' escalating to shouting matches because someone pushed for something new & the old folks are scared of it. ❞ Trying again, he shakes his head with a scoff, sipping away at the drink in his hands before letting his genuine irritation peek. ❝ All that time spent out there, & we got nothing done. Half the people in charge there shouldn't even be in charge with all the shit they pulled during the war. ❞ It's like they learned nothing. But with an acquiescing sigh, he continues to nurse his drink with a small twitch of his lips. The drink was probably the best part of the last few days, paired with company he didn't know he'd needed till then. Something normal. Something he could decide & choose on. Something that actually mattered.

Placing it back on the table, the gun-blader leans in a bit, face bracing against the curved bump of his knuckles in some curiosity. Maybe some desperation to change the topic to something more interesting. Politics & business weren't exactly the best things for conversation, & he’s more then had his fair share of it.

❝ & what about you? How'd things go on your end here? Just as boring or anything new happen? ❞

[grieverled-moved]

From Waiting for This Story to End Before I Begin Another by Jan Heller Levi (via hush-syrup)

[grieverled-moved]

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒. If it hadn't been set in stone already through his actions. The question tumbles loose, swayed free at the comfortable silence like waves pushing a bottle further out to sea - ( ❝ Do you dance? ❞ )

He doesn't exactly know what answer he expects when he asks. But old memories stirred away in his mind, echoing through in a ghost of a tune, days spent between his own combat training learning how to carry himself in a variety of situations. While rare & not as common a skill to use, he recalls being taught to dance.

Never knew when there would be missions requiring that kind of subterfuge, the need to blend in & stay inconspicuous when approaching a potential target - it'd been repeatedly reminded through out the years of his training that they'd need to hold a variety of skills to adapt on the field to accomplish their assigned mission. But he did take some enjoyment from it . . . it was just the fact he wasn't too fond of people that stopped him. But having watched the other for as long as he had, growing as close - his interest is piqued.

Keeping his expression schooled into his usual bored nonchalance, sharp storm sights flicker up in acknowledgement when the other hums. His words come accompanied with the curve of a sharp toothed grin, luring the gun-blader's attention before he snaps his gaze back up with the inquiring arch of a brow. ❝ Oh? ❞

It registers as more of a challenge then an answer . . . though it's easily tamped back down as he watches the other with a cat-like tilt of his head, sights thinning in contemplation as he exhales. A slow drift of breath, a sigh of resignation that pours free well before he even answers with his words - his gloved hand clasps around the others, tugging himself up with the startings of both regret & anticipation curling in the pit of his gut. Zack Fair was full of surprises, he should've known this by now - all he can do is brace & wait.

❝ Show me. ❞

( ' I'm gonna regret this aren't I? ' )

[grieverled-moved]

@oathofpromises

DIEGO HARGREEVES & LILA PITTS THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY (2019–)

[grieverled-moved]

Everyone I have cared for has either died or left me. Everyone - fucking except for you! So don’t tell me I would be safer with somebody else, because the truth is I would just be more scared.

[grieverled-moved]

Reblog if you wouldn’t mind actually writing a full novel with your partners.

[grieverled-moved]

Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey.

[grieverled-moved]

dancing prompts:

part 2

aesthetic:

flowing gowns and fitted suits

sparkling jewels embroidered on a dress

long, beautiful chandeliers

decorated halls; differing depending on what type of dance it is

wooden floors

silk gloves, high heels

bowties and neckties

shimmering light

flushed cheeks

dancing barefoot

flowing hands and flexible bodies

spinning around giddily

sewing a dress yourself

a kiss on the hand

intimate gestures like: a hand on your back, making eye contact

hands on your shoulder, the feeling of a warm body pressed against yours

the trust you put into your partner when you allow them to dip you (especially if you have a fear of falling)

everyone in high spirits because there's going to be a dance!

the worms twisting your gut when you have to ask someone to be your dancing partner

limbs wrapped around each other; tangled and secure

your bodies are in sync with each other, flowing to the music

your faces are so close, your lips are almost touching

scenarios:

you and your friend are learning how to dance and are frequently paired up. the close proximity is really doing something to you ~

someone's giving me strange looks all night, can we pretend we're dancing and laughing to throw them off?

you're tying my necklace as i look into a mirror and woah, have you always looked that hot? you're behind me and your breath's warm on my neck and i can't—

we've been dancing all night we can't stop you're the perfect partner but we're strangers and my mother disapproves

you're really beautiful and i'm trying to gather my courage to ask you for a dance

you're my enemy but nobody except me knows and we make really good dance partners

you looked miserable so i asked you for a dance and we've been dancing ever since

you're so beautiful you infuriate me but our parents want us to dance

exchanging barbs while dancing and pretending you don't like it

you tripped over twice and stepped on my feet thrice but i love you and you're really cute so .

you dance so well but I can't for the life of me, so will you teach me? ok, so your hand's on my back and your face is so close oh and are we falling?

platonic dancing where you and your best friend invent some quirky moves but someone records you and woah now you're celebrities??

siblings dancing together — they've developed a coordination other people envy and they perform joyously with an energy few possess

you practice your dancing alone at night in a secluded place, except one day you find out you're not really alone when you hear someone singing beautifully

bonus: you start dancing to their tune and it turns into a game

i danced with you, a masked stranger, at a masquerade ball and we talked all night and now i'm hoping we meet again (secret identity au)

[grieverled-moved]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 - 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄. She peers at him with something knowing, almost knowing in a way he can't place, but overall, with how she carries herself . . . she's gentle, kind, respectful. It quells down any rising snap of defensiveness that threatens to rise in the newness of the situation.

When she bends in a bow of thanks, a gesture that makes the gun-blader step back a pace. Brows knit together, & with a sigh, he reaches up with a free hand to comb his askew bangs from his eyes. If nothing else, it broke the contact enough he could look away with a soft huff.

❝ . . . just try to keep an eye out in the future. ❞ Is all he says in response, shrugging his shoulder in a faint bounce, one hand coming to rest the edge of his hip. ❝ You can't be too . . . ❞

His words trail off, followed instead by the steady back pacing he does when the girl steps in after him, delicate looking brows furrowed, a blunt mention of his injury being uttered before she seemingly comes back down from her determined state just moments prior. All sheepish shyness, hand once outstretched his way tugged back to her chest despite the clear want to help. He hadn't even noticed until she'd pointed it out.

Glancing down, scarlet paints his once white shirt where it'd ripped, bleeding through the odd place in small blooms of red. But over all, nothing too bad or overly life threatening, but worrying enough it looked bad to the passing onlooker. A gloved hand lifts to the worst of them, distrust still bleeding from him in lazy waves, before he does eventually cave once the dulled aches of them begin to peek past the adrenaline.

‘Better to be safe then sorry’. Ironically the advice he was going to toss the odd girl's way - or something else along those lines. Scoffing softly, he ducks his head in some semblance of a nod, stepping in enough she could reach out to help.

❝ Yuna . . . Well that's one way to meet someone. I’m Squall. ❞ He answers with a quiet snort, meeting her mismatched sights as he offers his own name in exchange. It's not much, but it's accompanied by a hint of a smile that tilts along the edges of his lips. He stares for another moment, before shaking his head, almost moving to cross his arms over his chest in habit before he catches himself at the very last minute. ❝ You know, you can help if you want. I won't bolt. If you patch me back up, we'll be even, right? ❞

The male seemed like the aloof type. And yet, there was a sort of gentleness lingering behind his eyes. Truly, had he not come to her defense, Yuna could have been in a world of hurt. Or worse.

"Thank you." met with the bend of her waist, she rises quickly after, prepared to answer his following question, "Yes. I'm alright; thanks to you. I...must admit that I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. If you hadn't shown up then..." she lowers her head for a moment's time, only to catch a glimpse of crimson dripping down into the soil from an unknown region.

Yuna's face shifts into a determined look as she calmly closes the distance between her and the stranger who rescued her, "You're hurt," she was about to extend her hand to offer him aid, only to hesitate. "Um... May I?" she figured asking before doing was the right approach due to his detached demeanor. Yuna was essentially a random person this man happened to protect. It didn't mean he had to accept her help because he did a good deed.

"Before that, I am Yuna, pleased to meet you." a smile creeps onto her lips. Maybe introducing herself would remedy the tension and she could mend his wounds?

[grieverled-moved]

𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐘,  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌,  𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.     It's dangerous.  Far too dangerous when Seifer hasn't been able to control it as well as he needs to for this to work   -   but he helpfully offers back that they don't have much of a choice. ��They either string their worries together,  tie   &   toss em   &   continue on with the threadbare hope they can pull this off   -   or he fights with the man to restrain his abilities,  mute them out through the bangle.  But he more then knew his position on that option.  With flare ups happening more   &   more these days,  something had to change.

At the very least,  if anything does happen,  at least he's here to make sure it doesn't get too out of hand.

A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek,  teeth pressing together tight as his brows pinch together in a contemplative furrow.  He shakes his head softly,  hands balling themselves up into tight fists with a sigh.  The squeak of leather,  the sweat of his fingers within,  it gives him something to focus on,   &   though he'd like to take his jacket off,  it's the best protection he has depending on Seifer's own defensive attacks.  Eying where his blade remains,  where it'd landed during the last attempt,  Squall glances back over,  waiting until he gave the go ahead to pick it up.

A delicate situation,  as frustrating as it must've been to be treated like a live round readyt o explode at a moments notice,  they couldn't be too careful.  Wolf-greys study the other as he tosses the emptied drink off to the side,   &   at  the comment,  he snorts,  lips quirking up in a crooked ghost of a grin.

❝ Didn't expect you to. ❞  It's why he's out here over pushing against the decision.  But with his attempts to try prying past the other's layers to see if there was some other underlying reason he just couldn't seem to tap into it,  control things,  it's instead stomped over   &   trampled,  a barked answer being snapped his way like a command.  Blade retrieved,  Revolver is held his way to take.  With a swallow,  he mentally begins to brace,  nodding as he takes the gun-blade between his hands    &   moves to put space between.  Shoulders go loose,  slipping into a readied position with a focused stare of ice.

An inhale sucked in through his nose,  held a few beats,  the only signal before he darts forwards is the sudden strain of his jaw,  the preparation for the incoming clatter he knows will rattle through his frame.   Squall raises his blade,  fingers curling tighter,  tongue pressing to the backs of his teeth as his expression twitches   &   he does his best to try genuinely fighting the other man.  With the current layout of the chosen location,  it doesn't take much to back into a corner with a quickened flurry of pushing strikes that keep the other on the defensive.  He moves back,  an evading step that comes before a sharp inhale of breath   &   a widening of eyes.

The urge to stop flares,  but he ignores it,  knowing the only way to tug that change free was to push.

[grieverled-moved]

can you stay with them in any way that matters? are you capable? is this smile just a grimace, something poisonous held back behind your teeth? do you think you're being polite? that you're doing them a favour?