#*expressed that way. does he ven know how much i love him? how much i care? im. ot good with words or wmotions and i know im easily misunder

[eirinstiva]

“Death, where is thy jolly old sting?”

My dear friend Bertie Wooster in engaged to Honoria Glossop! Congrats? Well, poor Bertie is not so happy with this arrangement. Honoria is dedicated to mould him but Bertie doesn't enjoy culture in the same way. Probably he feels like he's at school again.

“Bertie,” she said, suddenly, as if she had just remembered it, “what is the name of that man of yours⁠—your valet?” “Eh? Oh, Jeeves.” “I think he’s a bad influence for you,” said Honoria. “When we are married, you must get rid of Jeeves.”

Jeeves is essential in Bertie's life! How dare she to separate them? ¡Ven pa' acá, Honoria! [swears in Chilean]

“Bertie,” she said, “dear Honoria does not know it, but a little difficulty has arisen about your marriage.” “By Jove! not really?” I said, hope starting to dawn. “Oh, it’s nothing at all, of course. It is only a little exasperating. The fact is, Sir Roderick is being rather troublesome.”

There's a light in Wooster future, I guess. If Sir Roderick doesn't like him there's a chance to break the engagement, but there will be new problems with Aunt Agatha. Hard choice, dear Bertie. It's a good idea to see what Sir Robert dislikes:

Don’t giggle nervously: try to keep that horrible glassy expression out of your eyes: don’t yawn or fidget; and remember that Sir Roderick is the president of the West London branch of the anti-gambling league, so please do not talk about horse-racing. He will lunch with you at your flat tomorrow at one-thirty. Please remember that he drinks no wine, strongly disapproves of smoking, and can only eat the simplest food, owing to an impaired digestion. Do not offer him coffee, for he considers it the root of half the nerve-trouble in the world.”

Basically, he dislikes Bertie's life style

“I should think a dog biscuit and a glass of water would about meet the case, what?” “Bertie!” “Oh, all right. Merely persiflage.”

Just as in the Holmes family, "art is in the blood" (neurodivergency, I guess) and in Wooster familty, Uncle Henry’s eccentricity is the trait that Aunt Agatha fears a lot, but I don't understand why is she so afraid of Henry's love for rabbits... unless he liked another type of bunnies...

Sir Roderick is very smart, but his vibes doesn't match Bertie and my old chap is masking a much as he can. The fact that he doesn't like cats and apparently there's a cat hidden in Wooster apartament makes this harder.

Will Jeeves and Wooster be separated? Honoria has Aunt Agatha on her side, Jeeves has the power of friendship and luck on his side. Good luck, Bertie!

[kawaii-sugarii]

Sugar Rush - Next Gen

Incoming: my Next Gen kiddos!

Note: This is going to be a long one, because there's a total of 9 kids to talk about, and only now I'm developing their personalities.

Anyway, I hope that it's all worth it, so...

Here we go!

↓

Starting off with the trio of Von Schweetz kids. Vanellope and Gloyd's chaos loving children.

• Gabrielle Von Schweetz is the eldest daughter of the Von Schweetz family. She's cheeky and mischiuevous, though at the same time sweet and caring towards her friends, especially her siblings, and quite a capable leader. Always up for tricks and pranks, her preference being to do this with style. She's also very sassy, and likes to say snarky comments on occasions.

• Ven Orangeboar Von Schweetz is the middle child, and only son of the Von Schweetz family. A cunning yet laid-back boy who absolutely can't say "no" to an offer of pulling a prank. He inherits his mother's glitch, which helps him anytime he's up for mishief, since as some say, his glitch gives him a speed boost and jump boost. He also has a habit of sticking his tongue out a lot.

• Valerie Von Schweetz is the youngest daughter of the Von Schweetz family. She's in a way the opposite of her siblings, being more quiet and reserved, often seen fidgeting with her long ponytail, but she does sometimes join in on her siblings' chaos. She also inherits her mother's glitch, but unlike Ven, hers is weaker, and only occurs when she expresses extreme emotions.

Next comes a duet of Malarkey kids. Children of the sporty duet, Minty and Swizzle.

• Kentroy Malarkey is the eldest son of the Malarkey family. He's a smart and stubborn kid, and at the same time cool-headed and daring. He likes performing acrobatics and reading a good book, and also enjoys sarcastic humor. He usually knows how to keep a cool head, but there are times when he can get a bit hot-headed. Interestingly, he was the result of unplanned pregnancy, though was fortunately loved from when he was born.

• Zinnia Malarkey is the youngest daughter of the Malarkey family. Often referred to as "Zinn", she's as energetic and bubbly as a little girl can get, in addition to being a sporty daredevil with a lot of adrenaline. Always upbeat and bouncy, she strikes to bring out the good in everyone, even if some of the people she meets are the worst of the worst. She's more trusting than her brother, which makes her rather naive despite her intelligence.

Now for the girl with a 'tude, making it clear that she's Taffyta and Rancis' child.

• Abby Fluggerbutter is the only daughter of the Fluggerbutter family. She's quite a friendly and tomboyish girl, and although she's trying to be different from her parents and doesn't want to become like them, she still retains their loud and cocky attitude. She likes to style her hair and try on new accessories, but in terms of outfits, no matter what the others tell her, she'll always pick comfy hoodies, especially if they're oversized.

Up next, the ever mysterious girl, as well as Adorabeezle's ever mysterious child.

• Eclaire Winterpop is, as far as people know, the only daughter of the Winterpop family. She's a quiet girl, much like her mother, but unlike her, she's less athletic and more lady-like, enoying spending a quiet time with nature, and sometimes play with animals, too. She is shrouded in mysteries, some of which she's aware of. She sometimes wonders about who her father is, though her mother doesn't talk much about him.

Almost there! Now comes the demi-boy, and Sticky and Nougetsia's adopted child.

• Alucard Fruitpunch is the only son of the Wipplesnit family. He's bubbly and relaxed, and incredibly easy-going. He's also an air-head with a creative and imaginative mind, liking to come up with new ideas whenever they can and want. Despite their easy-going nature, Alucard can get nervous rather easily, bumbling over his own words whenever he feels uneasy.

And last but not least, the first OC x Canon kid revealed. Torvald and Cinnaren's tomboy child.

• Toffifee Batterbutter is the only daughter of the Batterbutter family. On one hand, she's a sweet and energetic girl with a smile bright as the sun. On the other hand, she's a brash and boisterous girl with a voice loud as a hawk. She's rather impulsie, and is quick to take action in any situation, sometimes answering with her fists. Very adventurous and playful, always aims for the top, and more often than not refuses to quit.

Aaaaand that's all of them!

(Phew, that took a while.)

[venjamin-kingdomhearts]

I know it's only Heart Hotel friendships-adjacent but is it alright to ask for Ven and Aqua ❤️‍🩹Healing for your friendship ask meme?

❤️‍🩹Healing — when one of them is hurt or suffering, what little things does the other do to help them heal (physically, emotionally, etc)?

OH YES this is perfect. It's been a while since I've written about Ven and Aqua but I do love them a lot SO Ventus is definitely a very overt person, if he suspects that Aqua's upset she 100% knows it. Sometimes this leads to her pushing aside her feelings to pretend she's okay (She's supposed to be the strong one! She's supposed to be the Master!) but depending on the situation she'll let Ventus take care of her. His way of expressing love isn't very subtle, so comforting Aqua usually comes in the form of asking if she needs help with anything, giving her compliments, maybe gifts.

When it comes to injuries Ventus is always ready to grab potions, help patch Aqua up. Even though he's usually Terra's hype-man he would 100% go on about how cool Aqua was during that fight, how much butt she kicked, just to get her to smile while he's treating injuries. I think Aqua would also chide him on his technique with Curaga and make jokes about him needing to brush up on his magic, just to tease him as a way of showing "I'm okay enough to make jokes, don't worry too hard about me." Aqua's the one who's most likely to do smaller things without asking or making a big deal out of it. If she notices Ventus is feeling hurt emotions-wise, she'll make him his favorite snacks without asking and leave them in his room. I think in BBS-era Ventus would've been more embarrassed to be comforted, but post KH3 he's learned not to take Aqua's kindness for granted. I think Aqua would encourage Ventus to get more rest, remind him to take care of himself, a lot of smaller, softer things.

When it comes to injuries, Aqua is pretty handy at healing magic and Ventus 100% learned from her work. I imagine the whole Wayfinder Trio learned how to dress wounds from Eraqus, and I can imagine Aqua repeating Eraqus' teachings under her breath to help calm herself down while helping out Ventus. She'd be more focused on getting Ventus patched up than making comments, she's more practical that way. But she'd also make sure he has his favorite books with him if he's bedridden, she'd get him a nice drink, and eventually be back to teasing him. I can totally see Ventus having to take some sort of nasty-tasting Hi-Potion, and Aqua has to tease him about acting like a little kid refusing medicine before he relents and takes it.

I think in a more negative light, the two of them might try to protect the other by taking on more work. Ventus is desperate to prove himself and if Aqua was hurt I could see him taking on more than he can chew and making a mess of things? Like, totally overstepping boundaries, doing some of Aqua's work without asking her if it was okay, invading personal space when she clearly needs it. Meanwhile Aqua might not let Ventus get up and moving again after a big injury, bringing out some tough love and telling him that his recklessness has gotten him into trouble many times. she might neglect taking care of herself, too.

Regardless! I think that they both do their best to take care of the other. Ventus' solution to seeing Aqua hurt is acts of service, words of affirmation, trying to keep her smiling, while Aqua's offering silent help, doing nice things for Ventus without asking, spending time with him when he's bored. With some friendly teasing from both ends, a lot of pouting on Ventus' and Aqua's caring nature.

[cherrysnax]

hm. hmmmm.

i dont like where my thoughts keeps heading

[daylighteclipsed]

Sora always without fail chasing his friends to his demise

CoM:

Re:Coded:

DDD:

“Well… my heart was aching. That’s why I kept going.”

“Aren’t hearts great? Steer us wrong every time.”

In DDD, Sora chases after all the people in his heart. Mickey, Donald, Goofy. Namine, Xion, Roxas. Kairi, Riku (who briefly morph into Aqua and Terra before returning to normal). In every instance, his friends are moving away from him, and he’s struggling to catch up, to reach them.

Kairi and Riku are the last people he “finds,” and the dialogue delivery suggests he’s been looking for them the whole time/the most, as if there’s a silent “finally” in his breathless, “I found you!” In CoM, Kairi and Riku are the illusions/false truths (in the forms of Namine and Repliku) that Sora chases through Castle Oblivion — like DDD, the villains there are trying to trick him into renouncing his self and autonomy. And as we all know, Kairi and Riku are the people Sora consistently chases through all of the games.

Castle Oblivion does lead Sora nowhere, to nothing but fake memories and a fractured sense of self and reality. He suffers, and it changes him, and he does not like who he becomes. This is a repeated fear he expresses, turning into or realizing he is somebody else. He is warned he may not be the same after Castle Oblivion, and he rejects his new self in the end. “Make me like I was.” The existence of Roxas, the idea that Sora is not who he thinks he is and has memories he’s not aware of, deeply disturbs him and makes him increasingly hateful towards the Organization members that insist on calling him “Roxas” or “traitor.” Earlier in DDD, Xemnas also unnerves Sora by questioning if his memories and feelings — and thus, his character and identity — are in fact, his own and not the products of someone else.

The dreams in DDD lead him nowhere as well, just deeper into the Chasm of Dreams, the darkness. In both DDD and CoM, he is warned to stop, to recognize the difference between real and unreal, but clings to his friends and unreality regardless. Perhaps because it would hurt more to lose sight of them than to chase them forever just out of reach. “My heart was aching…”

There is something ironic about Data Sora being the only version of Sora to learn how to let go and manage his hurt/loss. Loss of others and/or loss of self — which Sora so closely ties to others. All of his power comes from others. His value. His purpose. Who he is expected to be. Sometimes loss is agony. Grieving a friend or mourning who we no longer are. But loss is part of life, and, as Re:Coded says, the pain of loss helps us understand others better. It can shape us into someone kinder if we accept it, and it can destroy us if we don’t.

It does not feel like a coincidence that Sora, the real Sora, continuously fails to let go/cut his losses and is nearly destroyed or falls to darkness because of it. I pegged this as a flaw all the way back in KH1, after he kills himself to free Kairi’s heart from his body, and it looks like I was right.

Sora has not learned to accept loss, whether it’s letting go of a friend or someone he used to be. He hasn’t changed, and the narrative has not demanded he change much. But now it’s striking next to Riku who has changed a lot, overcoming his flaws and insecurities that prevented him from growing back in KH1. Riku’s developed an immunity to darkness. He’s a Keyblade Master. He’s grown up. Sora has not.

Considering he’s afraid of becoming someone else, it would be cool if some parts of Sora are a product of Ventus and he struggles after losing Ven’s heart. Or if the negativity Sora buries bubbles to the surface more often… in which case it’s less about becoming someone else and more accepting he’s already different. Like growing older irl, his experiences have changed him, and sometimes it’s hard to love who we become. We know the darkness has gotten to him (hello anti-form), but nobody around him seems to notice.

I suspect Sora’s going to keep facing loss and the pain of loss until he learns to accept it. He’s managed to avoid any major consequences up to now, but with how close he comes to being Xehanort’s final vessel DDD is a really close call. It feels like a warning.

[dreamiesdotcom]

tw: even the writer doesn't understand what the characters are thinking in this story

[12:53a.m] It had to be fate that Jeno met you at all. He wasn't searching, no, and he believed no such thing as soulmates existed. Forever was not real.

He could see it with the couples of the internet. He could see it in the sparkle in his friend's eyes as their own relationships blossom, and how that spark dies down each and everyday. Could see it in the way his parents shared vows and lived by it and still ended up in divorce.

He could see it in the little things, in the way he swore he'd never get tired of poetry but the saccharine words soon grew sickly sweet on his tongue. Could see it in the way the music he swore to love forever brought a certain feeling of unsatisfying routine; he plays it because he always plays it at this time, 8:30 p.m, right before he starts looking out the empty town he grew up in, not because he wants to.

But when he first saw you, innocent and spring-like and laughing like a deity, blowing bubbles as you run around in circles, soles of your feet being tickled by grass, he thinks he might just not care. Everything in his life so far has proved him that forever was not real. However, these innocent fleeting first love mirage you cast onto him with each smile, it makes him say things: he says he doesn't care. He says it doesn't have to be real.

He says screw all facts and reasoning, he wants it to be. Even if it's not, he'd choose to be stupid and believe blindly.

"Stay," he remembers himself, much younger and uncertain about what he truly wants to do with life, mumbling. "Stay forever."

But he knew.

"Yeah? That's a real long time, Lee." You say, but despite that you had smiled sweetly, "I, I mean... I wouldn't mind though. I would spend it with you, gladly."

He knew. He knows what he's doing.

And now, years later, he knew exactly what he did, too. He knew exactly what he did but when he comes home to you, twirling in the living room and humming to yourself, he smiles and leans at the door frame and watched you fondly anyway.

As long as he comes back to you, right? As long as you were waiting for him at home. This was what loyalty truly meant, right, straying but knowing where to come back anyway?

And you knew exactly what he did. You knew and it showed in the empty look in your eyes as you sang along to your favorite song, in the way you wore your gorgeous smile and looked beautiful but didn't shine. You knew and it dripped like honey from your lips when you played you didn't and said your usual 'welcome home, my love, I was waiting for you. Was tonight fun?'

It was fun.

Alcohol ran in his veins and his head buzzed pleasantly. His friends, mainly Jaemin, were begging him to stop drinking. He laughed it off. They didn't stop stopping him, when he was reaching for another shot and when he was talking to another girl.

He was curious as to what the new drinks tasted, at what other girls sounded. Curiosity birthed greed. He wants more. More answers. He wants to find out what they'd sound like when he drinks the intoxicating liquid from their lips.

He gives in.

It wasn't.

"I wish I just stayed home with you, though, but the boys were persistent," he smirks. He walks towards you, hazed look in his eyes. "Shall I make a proposition in hopes of making it up to my princess?"

"I am listening."

"Then, may I dance to this song with the princess?"

You giggled as you took his hand, ignoring the bile rising from your throat at the thought of where those hands probably were, what they were busy with, because they sure as hell weren't keeping to themselves. You masked it pretty well. You were a convincing actor.

No, rather, a pretty liar.

When he holds your waist, it's in a way so delicate like he always does; you ignore the scent of liquor and rather sweet perfume, not the one he wore. You entwined your hands as you hold them above his nape, smiling dazingly. He swears he sees moonlight shine through your expression.

"Will this be enough, my lovely?"

"Hm."

"I see. You're a bit greedy tonight, aren't you?"

"Mhm. Love you."

"Of course you do. I love you too."

You sway and whisper sweet nothings to each other, not stopping even until the endless loop of your song begins to sound like screeching of tires. When you fall into the couch because your feet can no longer handle spinning in circles, he holds onto your waist tighter and rests on the crook of your neck.

"Stay, moonlight," he rasps. "Stay forever."

Jeno smiles at you one more starlit grin, before giving in to sleep like he does to most things easily. It was fucked up, how innocent he looked. You wanted to kiss his forehead and confess to him one more time before running your touch down his cheeks until they're framing his neck, and clamp down until he couldn't breathe. You want to strangle him softly, sweetly, so he doesn't fucking make mistakes anymore.

It would be helping him, wouldn't it? You're just keeping him from sinning more. Isn't this what love is? Doing everything so neither spiral into the path of evil?

You opt to softly run your fingers through his locks instead. His phone lights up, and you wonder if it's one of his girls, poor things he sees nothing more than dirty little... oh, that word. It disgusts you to the core.

Turning to your own phone, you cut off the soft tune of your love songs, in favor of the haunting instrumental you'd hope to hear when success comes and you're colored red everywhere except inside. Then, you notice Jaemin's messages, a soft smile on your face.

What a wonderful boy he is.

Too bad, you didn't fucking care.

He was the one who opened that door to your once pure boyfriend, after all.

###

(Jaemin ᕱ⑅ᕱ

08:12p.m: hey y/n! thanks for letting jen tag along

08:12p.m: i mean you never did stop him, but i just wanna tell you how happy i am

08:12p.m: thanks for trusting us! i'll look out for him!

08:15p.m: of course we'll be careful, hahaha

08:16p.m: you never ask for it, but I'll update you~ have fun, alright? whatever it is you'll be up to

12:04a.m: y/n

12:04a.m: [image]

12:04a.m: i don't know how to say this, or if there was any right way to, so i'll do it while i still have a little courage. i felt it would be right to tell you... you decide what you do from here on.

12:09a.m: i'm sorry)

[cartoonsaint]

Try Not to Use the “F-Word,” Okay?

[Ao3]

was reading about @doodledrawsthings​ ‘coffee shop au’ and thought it was interesting that from the jump Luka uses “peck” as a swear. told myself not to overthink it... so naturally here’s nearly three thousand words about the idea that Luka used to swear a LOT. not sure how in keeping it is w his character, but it certainly is in keeping w MY experiences of unthinkingly swearing around a toddler ahahah.... fuck 8)

Summary: three snapshots of luka that are definitely only about swearing (coffee shop au) Characters: Luka, Vanessa, baby Hattie, Luka’s parents. Rating: T (features swearing, implied unhealthy relationship, post-birth scene, minor bleeding) Length: 2878 words

One evening during dinner, Luka loses his grip on his fork and drops it under the table with a clatter. “Fuck,” he says mildly.

Dad gasps, which is a poor choice since he was mid-sip of water. He sputters and coughs, face turning alarmingly red, while Mom throws her head back and laughs. It’s even louder and longer than usual; even by the time Luka crawls back up from under the table, errant fork clutched in one hand and brow wrinkled in confusion over his weird parents, his mom is still laughing. His dad, though, has managed to get his breath back.

“Luka T. Princeton!” he says hoarsely, looking both absolutely scandalized and absolutely soaked from the water that escaped his mouth and cup. “We do not say that word at the dinner table!”

“What word?” Luka asks, before a metaphorical lightbulb goes off. “Oh, ‘fuck’?”

“Don’t—!” his dad says, then goes “hrng” and looks to his wife for help. 

Luka’s mom, now face-down at the dinner table in stark contrast to her usually flawless manners, just smacks the table with a fist and laughs harder. The water in Luka’s cup ripples with it, which in itself is pretty funny, but his dad still looks so uncharacteristically thunderstruck that Luka is unsure whether to join in. Plus he pulled out the full name, so… 

Luka bites his lower lip, suddenly worried. Did he do something bad…?

“Where did you even hear that word?” Dad is massaging the bridge of his nose now in the way he only does when dealing with a tough client or a call that he doesn’t want Luka to overhear, and Luka finds he has to bite his lip even harder because it wants to wobble and he’s a big kid, he’s not going to cry.

“M-Mom said it the other day, when she cut her finger,” he admits, fiddling with his fork. Dad turns to her with such a look of betrayal, even as Mom tries to stifle her continuing giggles. “Um… is it bad?”

“Yes,” Dad says, just as Mom catches her breath and says, “Well, sort of.”

Luka’s parents glance at each other in surprised confusion, but Luka barely notices. He said a bad word… Does that mean he’s bad? Despite his best efforts, his vision starts to go blurry with tears as he stares down at the fork in his hands. He doesn’t want to be bad.

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal,” his mom says.

“I do,” replies his dad, sounding baffled. “I just assumed we were on the same page with this.”

Luka sniffs, trying desperately to hold it together, but he said a bad word — but he didn’t know — but does it matter if he didn’t know? He’s still bad, right? Hot tears start to trail down his cheeks and he sniffs again, harder and louder.

“Oh, Lu,” his dad says softly and crosses around the table to kneel by Luka’s seat. Luka wipes at his eyes fruitlessly as his mom reaches across and takes his smaller hand in hers. “I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t mean to get upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” his mom tells him, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’s alright, Luka. We’re not angry — it is a, ah, a ‘bad word,’ but you didn’t know. It’s alright, sweetheart.”

Once Luka starts crying, though, it always takes him an embarrassingly long time to stop. He can’t help it. His frustration about unwillingly acting like such a dumb little kid makes his tears come faster and harder; he has to scrub at his face for a while, his dad handing him tissues, and so he doesn’t pick up on the silent conversation happening over his head between his parents.

They are a matched set in so many ways. To Luka they seem to move in perfect tandem, one picking up the tasks of the other with seamless grace. It seems so natural, so unpracticed and easy, and indeed some of it is — but as Luka cries, they communicate in a series of small expressions each has long-studied in the other: We will talk about this when Luka goes to bed. And, Well I thought it was funny. And, Alright maybe it was but I still don’t want him swearing. And, We’ll discuss it. We’ll figure it out together. I love you.

Luka never realizes. He just assumes that perfect couples are never out of sync with each other — and if they are out of sync, then they must not be perfect.

***

“Fuck, Ven, she’s perfect,” Luka breathes.

He couldn't get close enough sitting in one of the chairs, so he had been leaning against his wife's hospital bed when Vanessa passed him their child — their child, their baby, theirs — and his knees went weak. Now he’s kneeling on the tile floor, barely aware of his surroundings because in his arms he holds a truly, beautifully perfect little baby girl.

She has… a nose. He couldn’t say whether it’s more like his or Vanessa’s because this perfect bundle of joy is a scrunched up little pink newborn so mostly she looks like a lot of wrinkles that a sleepy face got on, but fuck, he loves that little nose and everything attached to it. Honestly through the tears he can barely see her right now but she’s perfect, perfect, perfect… even if she is, objectively speaking, not actually that appealing to look at. “Shit, Ven. Ven. Look at her goddamn little face, fuck.”

Vanessa makes a sound and reaches for him, touching his hand. “You don’t like her face?”

“I fucking love her face,” he says hoarsely. “I love her so goddamn much, Ven, I don’t even know how to say it. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Good,” Vanessa says tiredly. Luka doesn’t want to put their daughter down for a second so he does his best to wipe his eyes on the shoulder of his shirt sleeve. He gets to his feet only to sink right onto the bed beside his wife. His perfect, wonderful wife who has given them the tiny creature he never wants to look away from. “You wanted to name her Harriet, didn’t you?”

It’s like there’s a thread pulling his gaze directly to their daughter but he resists it for long enough to look up at the radiant woman he loves. She’s watching him, eyes glittering. “Do you mean…?”

She gives him one of her luminous smiles, even exhausted as she clearly is. “If it’s what you want, my love.”

Luka’s heart leaps as he looks down at their daughter — at Harriet. “Harriet,” he whispers in wonder. “Little Harry.”

Vanessa’s grip on his arm briefly tightens. “No,” she says.

Luka can’t help the wet laugh that comes out of him, though he tries to keep it down for the sake of his exhausted wife. “No,” he agrees. “How about… Hattie? Little Hattie?”

Hattie sleeps on, a teeny tiny person wrapped up safe in Luka’s trembling arms. He’s probably going to get dehydrated from all this crying and his face already hurts from how hard he’s smiling but, fuck, he doesn’t care about that at all when their perfect daughter is right here. “Hm? Hattie? How’s that sound, princess?” And he presses a gentle, wet kiss to Harriet’s brow.

Luka doesn’t notice Vanessa’s stung shock. He doesn’t notice the shadow of fear, anger, and confusion that darkens her face as she looks between her husband and the daughter she’s given him. It will take him a long time to realize his assumptions about their mutual goals as a unit are different.

For now, he loves Vanessa with all his heart — and loves their little Hattie just as much, if not more.

***

“Fuck,” Luka hisses, jerking his hand out of the hot, soapy water to check his fingertip. Blood wells up from its soft pad, mixing and diluting in the dirty dishwater. “Fuck,” he sighs again, and turns the squeaky nozzle of his shitty sink to run clean water over it. What kind of a fucking fool leaves a sharp knife in the sink like that, anyway.

Obviously, he does. This god awful apartment is just his, after all — he’d run here as soon as he could manage to pull together both the separate funds and distance necessary to prevent Vanessa locating it. This place is safe: Vanessa has never been here, and as of today she never will. So it’s safe, that is, from her — not from Luka’s own inability to keep track of where the goddamn sharp objects are.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself as the water rushing over his cut starts to run clean. “Shithead.”

It’s been a weird day — a weird week — shit, a weird few years, if Luka thinks about it. When Vanessa came into his life, she seemed to him so bright that nothing else was worth looking at. It took until their daughter — his daughter, now — for Luka to start looking into the darkness she brought as well. Then the divorce proceedings, custody battles, the restraining order — for so long it had seemed that the legal system would fail Luka and Harriet, that Vanessa’s long shadow would follow them wherever they went.

Until earlier this week, that is, when Vanessa used magic in the courtroom.

Things had happened quickly from there. The paperwork barring Vanessa in his and Hattie’s life was just signed and made official today; his copies are still set neatly on the junky, second-hand kitchen table until he figures out exactly where to put them. After so long, it’s finally over. He and Hattie are free.

The old pipes complain as he turns the water off. The cut isn’t too bad, but he probably ought to bandage it anyway. He wipes away the spilled water with a ratty towel, turning to —

“Ffffpffpffpfpfpflllffff,” says Hattie from right by Luka’s feet, which is also outside of her playpen.

“Fuck!” Luka yelps, leaping about a foot in the air. Hattie stops blowing air through her lips to smile up at him, totally angelic. Luka presses a hand to his chest, staring at his little girl. “Kiddo! You scared me! How did you—?”

He looks across the small, open floorplan into the den, where he’s set up several different brands and varieties of baby gates to keep Hattie out of the kitchen when he’s occupied with cooking or cleaning. Her many toys are left behind, the gates apparently untouched, but somehow she’s escaped them — again — to hug Luka’s leg and smile up at him.

He smiles back, of course — he couldn’t deny her anything. And even if it is a problem that his little girl can’t be contained anywhere, he feels a swell of pride at her continued and baffling ingenuity — as well as a slight prickling in his eyes because even with all her toys she always just seems to want to be close to him. “No one’s gonna keep you trapped anywhere, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, squatting down to ruffle her light brown waves.

“Fffpllfpllfff,” Hattie replies importantly, graciously accepting the affection.

“Ah, I see. Your jumping abilities are unmatched, are they?” Luka says in return. His daughter started moving early, her curiosity about the world apparently unable to be sated with just looking even when she was just a few months old. She has always wanted to touch, to crawl, to walk — just the other day Luka could swear he caught her trying to climb the couch. His little princess is unstoppable, and his pride in her every step has gotten him teary-eyed more than once (more than once this week, even).

“Fffflpllplflffff,” Hattie tells him, eyes bright. She smiles hugely in between blowing air through her lips. What she lacks in the ability to form words (she’s a little late, and Luka’s not worried, exactly, but he is watching that with hawk-like eyes) she makes up for in expression. She turns her big blue eyes to the hand Luka isn’t using to brush back her wavy locks, curious. “Fffllllllllflflplf?”

“Oh, your dad cut himself,” Luka explains, showing her the slim red line of blood beading up on the pad of his finger. “Pretty stupid, if you ask — oh, sweetie, don’t—!” She’s grabbed his finger in a little fist before he can stop her, smearing blood all over it. He quickly scoops her into his lap, frowning down at her messy hand. “Fuck. Alright, we’ll just—”

“Fffffffuck,” Hattie says clearly.

Luka blinks once. Twice. He looks down at his daughter, who is beaming up at him with clear pride.

“...what,” Luka says.

“Flffflpplf.”

“A-alright, okay, that’s — sorry, princess, your dad thought for a second there you said—”

“Pllllfffflllplflflfff. Fffuck!” Hattie says again. Then she claps her little hands together in delight, further spreading the blood between them.

“Ha,” says Luka, voice unusually high. “Hahaha I? You??? …Alright! Alright! This, ah, this is fine, kiddo, we’ll just—”

“Fuck! Ffplplffuck fuck fuck?”

Luka takes a deep breath. Then he takes another one.

When Harriet was first born, he’d made an effort to cut back on the swearing. He had the ability to turn it off, after all, in the courthouse and with clients, so presumably it should have been easy to transfer that back home, too. But changing the way he’s spoken for years in his own space turned out to be quite difficult; with the stress of the past few months, that effort had been one of the many things to fall by the wayside in favor of more immediate concerns.

So Luka has been swearing a lot lately. And his sweet Hattie has been quietly soaking it all up, patiently biding her time until she could attempt to communicate with her dad in his own language.

“Ffffuck?” Hattie asks, eyes concerned. She presses one dirty hand to Luka’s face, as though attempting to stem the flow of tears. “Fffpllppff?”

“Oh, princess, I’m sorry,” he tells her, rubbing his wet face on his shoulder to clear his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have — I—” He sniffs, then exhales hard. “Alright. Daddy’s been saying some bad words lately, but he’s gonna stop now, okay?”

“Fuck!”

A part of Luka really, really wants to laugh, actually, because damn is Hattie cute with her big, sparkling eyes, her chubby cheeks uplifted with a smile, the absolute adoration on her face as she looks up at him for approval. The contrast between how sweet she looks in her bird-patterned onesie and the foul language coming out of her mouth is almost —

“Fuck?”

“Nope!” he says brightly. “We’re gonna try something different! Okay, kiddo?” Hattie tilts her head adorably and Luka’s chest squeezes — fuck he loves her. “Hmmm…”

She watches him silently as he thinks. In the dozens of parenting books he’s read there was never anything explicitly about what to do if a toddler started cursing (because no one else has this problem because only he is this bad a dad, holy shit), but he can recall a number of chapters about encouraging them in pronunciation…

He’ll need something that sounds like “fuck,” but definitely isn’t. He laces his fingers together, tilting his head at Hattie. She pats his hands, looking solemnly back. He sticks his tongue out at her; delighted, she does the same. What word to use?

He notices that her orange onesie has penguins on it. 

“Alright, kiddo, this is going to be a little silly,” he says, and goes, “fllpppplffffpeck.”

It might be easier to just let this go, to let Hattie say and do whatever she wants, and part of Luka is tempted. But he knows now how important it is to talk in a family, to put in the work to understand one another. This situation might be a minor instance of it, but he wants to make sure he and Hattie never have a problem talking to each other. He’s willing to put in the work, as much as it takes.

It takes an hour or so to convince her that “peck” is superior to “fuck.” The process is complicated by the continued desire to laugh every time she swears, but eventually they manage, and Hattie goes toddling off merrily chanting, “peck peck peck peck.”

Luka painfully hauls himself up (shit, his tailbone hurts) to finally finish doing the dishes in water that has long gone cold. This is a good start, he thinks, but he’ll need to watch his own language as well. Maybe he can encourage Hattie’s positive association with the word with a bird toy or something? He considers this as he reaches into the water to unplug the drain —

And jerks his hand back as the same finger grazes probably the same goddamn knife. “Fff—!”

“Peck!”

He glances over his shoulder. Hattie is painstakingly tugging at the baby gates, trying to get back into the playpen he knows she knows he prefers her to be in. Her eyes are solemn, watching him for what he’ll do.

“...peck,” he agrees weakly. She smiles brilliantly and goes back to her toddler work.

God, he fu— he pecking loves her.

[thewidowsghost]

The Sky’s Tsunami - Chapter 5

3rd Person POV

(Y/n) storms out of the plane to stare a Coulson as LOLA lands, (Y/n)'s shoulder freshly bandaged from her gunshot wound.

"You called my sister! Why the hell did you call my sister?!" (Y/n) yells at the man and Skye steps back.

"I called Clint too," Coulson says.

"What the hell! That's even worse!" (Y/n) storms back onto the plane, stopping as she runs into a curly-haired redhead and a spiky-haired blonde.

Ward, Skye, May, Coulson, Simmons, and Fitz watch as the taller redhead screams at (Y/n) in Russian.

(Y/n) shoots a desperate glance at Clint and he finally comes to her rescue.

"Natasha," everyone's head turns to the tall redhead at the blonde's word. "Calm down, it's not like she's not been shot before."

"I'm staying until her shoulder's healed," Natasha says.

(Y/n) smiles, letting out a little laugh, "Of course you are." Then she turns to Clint. "But you're not staying, right Hawkeye?"

Everyone but Coulson's jaws drop.

"Shut it, (Y/n). I'm leaving," Clint says, giving (Y/n) a hug.

"Bye Clint," (Y/n) says, using her uninjured arm to nudge her friend back towards the stairs to get into the Quinjet. "Wait, who's taking care of my kitten?" she asks.

"Clint," Natasha answers simply.

(Y/n) nods. "Now, let me take you to my office," (Y/n) glares at her sister, grabbing her upper arm.

"(Y/n)'s not an Avenger though, is she?" Jemma asks, watching as (Y/n) drags her sister upstairs.

"No, I think we'd know," Fitz reasons.

(Y/n) walks back down the spiral staircase to help Skye carry her things onto the Bus.

(Y/n) takes a duffel bag and Skye a box of some of her things.

"I'd carry more -" (Y/n) is cut off.

"I'd murder you," Natasha says, taking the duffel from (Y/n).

"You know I love you, but I really hate you sometimes," (Y/n) complains and Skye watches the two bicker as they walk up the spiral staircase. "And by the way, my shoulder's healed, you can leave now," (Y/n) smiles, taking off the sling.

Natasha narrows her eyes, staring at (Y/n)'s shoulder.

"Fine," Natasha shakes her head, before smiling. "I'm still staying," she says and (Y/n) groans.

"You're mean," (Y/n) pouts.

"After this whole thing, I'm wondering where my bunk is," Skye says.

"Right, follow me," (Y/n) says, pointing to a bunk near her office. "And Nat, your's is here," she points to the farthest bunk away.

(Y/n) leaves the two and walks into the debriefing room.

"We've been called in to investigate an 0-8-4," Ward says as she walks in. "We all know what that means."

"Yeah, it means," (Y/n) says. "It means, we don't know what that means."

"Officially, it's an airborne mobile command station," Fitz says, leaning on the wall by Skye's bunk. "But we call it the Bus. We find it best to use shorthand when in the field. But everything has to be just so, you know, because of the danger."

"Yeah, I've been up here before," Skye answers, sitting down on her bed, "but I didn't see much because of the bag Agent Ward had put over my head."

"Yes, so sorry about that," Simmons says. "Water?" she asks, grabbing a bottle from a nearby table.

"Wheels up in two, lock it or lose it," May's voice echoes over the intercom.

"What does that mean?" Skye wonders aloud.

"No backing out now," Simmons says.

"Hey," Skye says as Ward knocks on the door of her bunk. "I know we didn't really -"

"Might want to read that," Ward says, shoving a pamphlet into the brunette's hands. "This isn't like other planes."

"You can say that again," Skye mutters, opening the pamphlet and looking at it.

"Say what again?" Coulson asks as he and (Y/n) step forward.

"Sweet ride," Skye says with a dazzling smile that (Y/n) definitely didn't notice.

"I earned a little goodwill from Director Fury when I got hit right before the Battle of New York," Coulson says.

"You took a bullet?" Skye asks, an interested expression on her face.

"Ish," Coulson says.

"An Asgardian stabbed him through the heart right in front of me," (Y/n) says with a frown, "with a Chitauri scepter."

"Traumatized my little sister for months," Natasha says walking up and placing a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"You also were very upset," (Y/n) says.

"Aww!" Coulson says, looking at the Black Widow. "You were upset?" he asks.

Natasha sighs and nods.

The four go to sit down at a table and Coulson slides a coaster towards Skye for her water bottle. "Here. Use a coaster."

"I don't even know where we're going," Skye says as the four slides behind the table, (Y/n) sitting in between Skye and Natasha.

"Peru," Coulson replies.

"That's where the 0-8-4 was reported," (Y/n) adds.

"And an 0-8-4 is . . . ?" Skye asks.

"An object of unknown origin," Coulson answers. "Kind of like you."

"Team goes in, determines if it's useful or if it poses a threat," Natasha explains, smiling at the young brunette.

"The last two turned out to be pretty interesting," Coulson states.

"And what were they?" Skye asks, taking a sip of her water.

"A hammer and," Coulson nods to (Y/n), who shrinks lower in her seat.

Natasha joins May in the cockpit as the Bus lands down in a field in Peru.

The group gets into some SHIELD vans as they drive to the sight of the 0-8-4.

"Come on," (Y/n) smiles at Skye.

(Y/n) and Skye follow Fitz and Simmons walk towards the trees.

"I would love to see a capuchin in the wild," Fitz says. "Maybe even a yellow-tailed woolly monkey. You know, um, Peru has thirty-two species of monkey."

"Yeah, and close to two hundred species of snakes," Simmons pipes up. "The shushupe has a fascinating ven - venom," Simmons stuttered as Fitz's case hits one of the trucks. "It's neurotoxic, proteolytic, and hemolytic." Simmons chuckles, and Fitz does too, but more nervously.

"That's fascinating," Fitz says.

"Yeah," Jemma agrees and (Y/n) smiles at Fitz's nervousness. "Oh. No, I'd be much more concerned with earthquakes, mala -" an insect buzzes and lands on Fitz and Jemma smacks it.

"Hey!" Fitz complains.

"Ha, there's no vaccine for dengue fever," Jemma says as the two enter the wood, (Y/n) and Skye walking behind them.

(Y/n) chuckles as she holds back a branch so Skye could walk in front of her.

"Ooh, look at this," Jemma says and (Y/n) nods in appreciation.

Skye stays put as she catches sight of Coulson and Natasha as (Y/n) jogs over to walk with Fitz and Simmons.

"We should warn the people who live around here if the 0-8-4 is dangerous," Skye says, looking between Natasha and Coulson. "They're already dealing with anti-mining rebels and the shining path guerillas. I could post something."

"Remember the panic when that anti-matter meteor splashed down just off the coast of Miami, nearly devoured the city?" Coulson asks, looking up at the temple.

"No," Skye says, exchanging a glance with Natasha.

"Precisely," Coulson turns to the hacker. "Because we kept it quiet and contained."

"So, what am I doing?" Skye asks.

"Well, if it gets out, I might need you to create some kind of diversion," Coulson says, "put the public on the wrong scent."

"So everything that I'm against," Skye says, an eyebrow raised.

"Welcome to SHIELD, kid," Natasha says, patting Skye's shoulder and walking over to stand at May's side.

(Y/n) grins at FitzSimmons as they take a selfie with the temple in the background.

"Good morning, Professor," Coulson greets, stepping up to greet the Professor.

"This is Agent Coulson and I'm Agent Rushman," (Y/n) gestures to Coulson at her side. "We're with SHIELD."

"I understand you've made an interesting discovery," Coulson addresses the Professor.

The Professor sighs, "I-I'm not sure how to explain it. This temple dates back at least five hundred years. It's filled with Pre-Incan artifacts. One of them is impossible."

(Y/n) exchanges a glance with Simmons, "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," the Professor says and (Y/n) nods. "And it looks like it might be dangerous."

"That's what we're here for," Coulson says following the Professor inside.

FitzSimmons watch in amusement as Natasha walks up, clapping a hand on her sister's shoulder - the one that hadn't been shot. "Aww! Look at my baby sister taking charge!"

(Y/n) beams at sister, "Shut it. I'm a Level Eight."

A frown spreads across Natasha's face. "But how's that fair?" she whines.

"I must be better than you," (Y/n) smirks, nudging her sister affectionately  before leaving her sister standing dumbfounded as (Y/n) walks into the temple.

Fitz and Simmons exchange a look, before retreating into the temple after the two Level Eight Agents.

"Exactly as we found it," the Professor says, and (Y/n) steps forward to inspect the machine in the wall.

"Who else knows about this?" Coulson questions.

"Just the Ministry," the Professor replies, and (Y/n) steps back as it begins to glow.

Word Count: 1477 words

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 7 (Night Sky)

Summary: They don’t know it’s called love. Terra and Aqua dare a night out in a storm. || Word Count: 4,511

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek AAAAAAA it’s over!! It’s been a wild ride. This particular fic I feel is my weakest of the collection - I literally ran out of time to make this one special in my eyes. It’s just a soft and tender fic. I’m sorry I couldn’t give a stronger conclusion, but I hope you take something you like out this one regardless!

~~~~~~~~~~*

Wayfinding

The sky over Destiny Islands is beautiful. Like the mountains in the Land of Departure, we’re isolated here, an audience to pinpricks of light blinking down at us with secrets from far away. 

Kairi’s been begging us to visit for a couple of nights to stargaze with her and her friends. She says we’ll be blown away. Tonight, storm clouds blot the sky in clumps, leaving us breaks in between to guess constellations. I do believe you could see stars from Destiny Islands you can’t see anywhere else, even though we all share the same sky. It’s special.

Ven points to a nebula, millions of miles away. “Hold on, is that—” 

“The star system of Montressor, yep.” Terra takes a swish of water.

“It’s so much closer here.”

“What’s Montressor?” Sora crushes melted marshmallow onto chocolate, his fingers coated. 

We’re sharing a fire, camping out on the beach and listening to the waves crashing. The beach overwhelms the senses in a way that grounds you. I can’t see the ocean through the darkness, but I can smell it. I can feel it by the humidity that drapes over my skin. There’s no mistaking where I am. The beach in the Realm of Darkness smelled like nothing. 

And yet, if I walked into the water, I’d walk forever. The horizon vanishes at night.

The cloudy weather lately has made it difficult for us to see everything, so Terra has asked if we could stay longer. This is our third night.

“It’s a cluster of its own stars, like a galaxy.” Terra denies chocolate with his s’more. “The people there travel between different planets with their skyships.”

Kairi snorts. “The adults told us that a god sneezed millions of years ago and that’s his celestial booger smear.”

Sora gapes. “That sounds cool, I’ve never been.”

“You’re missing out,” Riku says, smirking as he chews.

“Wait, when did you go?”

Kairi plucks a marshmallow from the basket. “We can schedule a trip together. It will be fun.”

Terra cocks an eyebrow. “If you enjoy getting mugged by sky pirates.”

Sora leans forward, eyes wide at Terra’s nose. “Sky pirates? There’s such a thing? Oh, I’m in.”

They’re lovely kids, self-trained and their technique shows it. I take a sip of water out of a straw from a coconut that Riku had broken in half by smashing it against a boulder. 

Terra eyes me from across the fire, holding my gaze as he drinks. We chose not to sit next to each other—no one else needs to know—but I admit that from this angle, I get to enjoy the way he looks at me. It was only last night that he held my hand and brushed his lips against mine, tucked behind a palm tree where no one saw us. I came back to the hut with fire on my cheeks. I still feel it in my stomach.

I can’t help my smile. I want to look at him longer but I don’t, so I cross my legs. 

Paopu fruits hang on the trees nearby. Ven has mentioned (in front of everyone else) that Terra and I should share one. I told him to shut up, and he hasn’t brought it up again since. 

“If we’re lucky,” Sora says, “we could see a meteor shower.”

I choke on my drink but keep my lips sealed.

Ven opens his mouth to reply but Terra hands him a warning glare.

Every star in the sky is a world. When worlds fall, the sphere that holds them together breaks into pieces, like the glass that shatters when the lantern is dropped. That is a meteor shower, but I wouldn’t want to break anyone’s heart if they believe otherwise.

“Don’t you wish upon them?” I ask, forcing myself to swallow. The thought of wishing upon the harm of others, even unintentionally, churns me. “Is that the tradition?”

“You mean you don’t?” Kairi asks. 

I shrug, desperate for an answer. “We… don’t wish upon much. There’s little use for it when you’re training for the Keyblade.”

Terra turns away to hide a smirk.

“That’s so depressing,” Sora says and I frown.

The wind is warm and moist. It’s so peaceful, of course the only stories you’d ever hear about the stars are the good ones.

Ven jumps up, pointing at the sky. “Look, look!”

Two shooting stars fly straight across. May they be blessed.

“Okay.” Sora slaps his hands together. “Wishing time. I wish…” He closes his eyes, and for a second, a solemn smile darkens his face. “I’ve been away for so long. Any minute Donald is going to ring me up and take me somewhere. I just want to stay home for a while, just a few days. You know, take a break, be with you guys, my best friends. I promised my mom I’d help with her gardening and stay one night for dinner.”

Riku nods to himself. 

“I’d like the same,” Kairi says, laying on her stomach on her blanket, gazing at the fire. 

“You’re not supposed to be wishing on them,” Ven blurts out, covering his mouth too late.

Sora’s eyebrows furrow. This is not a look I like to see on him. “Why?”

If Ven could kick himself without anyone seeing, he would.

Terra holds onto Sora’s shoulder. “A shooting star is someone traveling between worlds. Their heart is reaching out to someone to comfort or protect them. You don’t want to wish for something selfish, you want to wish the best for them.” 

The expression Sora gives can only be described as horror. “Oh, well, um, safe travels buddy. I hope you find your friend.”

“Is it too late to take the wish back?” Riku asks. I think he’s asking on purpose considering how much more fraught Sora becomes and how much Riku is enjoying it.

Terra notices. He nods his head to the side. I love the way he does it. He’s beautiful. “Probably.”

“But I really do want them to be safe,” Sora whines, defeated. 

The wind picks up, clouds floating across the sky at a speed where they swallow the stars. It smells damp and it feels hotter.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Riku says, dumping the pail of water next to him onto the fire. He kicks sand over it for good measure. Sora and Kairi don’t hesitate to stack baskets and fold blankets. 

“What’s going on?” Ven asks, moving slowly when he folds his chair, as if unsure.

“Monsoon season.” Riku steps on the last embers. “We didn’t expect a storm to come out this soon but you never know.”

“Maybe it wasn’t supposed to come tonight.” Kairi eyes Sora suspiciously.

“No way—” Sora starts.

“Nice job, Sora.” Riku says. “You’ve doomed us all.”

“I didn’t wish for a monsoon!”

“You wished to be locked up here with us. Congratulations.”

I interrupt. “What do you need me to do? Where do we go for shelter?”

Kairi points to their treehouse, which connects through the cavern and which, from my understanding, stood there through their entire childhood. “My dad—the one you’ve met before, Papa—fortified it with extra wood on the walls and the roof. It’s always been safe.”

By the time we have everything packed and are going up the ramps to the treehouse, it’s pouring. At least it’s not the iciness of mountain rain.

The door bangs when Kairi swings it open, the wind throwing it back and forth as if it’s juggling it between two hands. Ven waves his arm in a circular motion—his magic redirects the wind for as long as he can hold it, letting everyone inside before he lets go and the door slams behind us. 

Inside, we dry ourselves with rags, our shoes and socks warming up under the lanterns. We have fresh blankets and sacks of food, in case the storm lasts all night. 

Except in terms of blankets, we’re one short.

Ven hands Terra the last blanket and (pointedly) says something to him. 

The last blanket is the largest, so I’d have to share it with Terra. I adore Ven to pieces (and I won’t protest sharing any space with Terra), but when Ven gets difficult, I sometimes have to suppress myself. Judging by the way Terra wraps it around our shoulders and nudges close to me, he doesn’t care what the others think anymore. 

Kairi quickly looks away from us, rolling her lips inward like she’s witnessed a scandal.

Rain beats onto the roof, a million patters like the fingers of thousands of people asking to be let in. Thunder rumbles in quickly, soothing then unsettling. Terra and I sit in front of a window, the water so thick that it blurs the screen. Under the blanket, he rolls a finger over my wrist, stroking my palm. I smile at him. 

“We should have brought real fruit,” Ven says, chewing on dried mango. If by real fruit he means paopu, he’s smart for not specifying it. 

“You need finer taste,” Kairi says, chewing on the same.

“You need culture,” Sora says, swallowing something I don’t recognize.

The idea of a spontaneous camp-in might have been exciting the first several minutes, but hours later, it becomes agony. 

All this time, I can’t talk to Terra about anything too personal, though we’ve snuck a few passing whispers here and there. 

He asks me an indistinct question that anyone can misinterpret out of context: When did you know? 

My answer is just as vague. I was fourteen. 

There’s not much we can do to explore touch. I tend to listen more to the way he takes finger by finger. Terra will intermittently say one sentence with minimal effort, but just enough so that the others know we’re still with them. I worry that if I laugh a certain way, it would expose us. 

But no one asks, too busy chatting about building bigger boats for the one dream they’ve never been able to accomplish. 

At some point, Terra challenges Riku to a rematch.

“So what you’re telling me,” Riku says, a mock-smirk that fits perfectly on his face, “is that you’re very impressed and you want to be foolish enough to lose to me a second time so that everyone else knows how impressive I am.”

“We all know, Riku,” Sora says.

“But Terra wants to remind you.”

Terra laughs as if he’s not interlacing his fingers with mine. He squeezes my hand. 

It’s when everyone’s eyes are closed, drifting away to sleep, that Terra wraps his arm around my waist and I rest on his shoulder. One lantern is still on. The storm has quieted for now, but we’ve been told to expect another onslaught. 

Terra cranes his head back, looking out the window. He’s done this twice per hour, but the sky has been black, the clouds smearing everything.

“What are you looking for?” I whisper. 

“I have this very,” Terra starts, pausing, “vague memory of looking up to the stars, looking for home but I could never find it.”

So not his memory, but Xehanort’s. Blurs and images that make no sense, as if from a dream. Castle Oblivion never shined, so of course Xehanort couldn’t find it for the last twelve years. Terra is lucky that’s as much as he remembers. I don’t know how he could possibly deal if he woke up with a history of every crime Xehanort has committed in his body.

“And I feel like,” Terra continues, his eyes lost, his voice hushed. “I’ve—or he—tried over and over again.”

“Ah.” I sigh. “You were looking for it these past few nights.”

“The Master told me that home is the brightest star in the multiverse. You could see it through the clouds. It would always guide you back if you were lost.” 

“I never heard that story.”

Terra looks at me and holds me closer. “That was before you came.”

“Whether it’s true or not, it’s out there.”

He frowns, leaning his head back against the windowsill again. “The idea that home was gone at some point… that’s the one thing that haunts me still, even though I know it’s just a trip away and I could always go back. But knowing that doesn’t suffice.”

I rub his stomach. “We can find it together.”

He goes quiet, the hand on my waist tensing up. The wheels in his mind turn. “Do you want to find it tonight?”

I look up at him. 

“The storm has stopped,” he says.

“For now.”

“Then we come back before it starts again.” He pulls me closer, nearly settling me on top of his leg. I feel his smirk in my hair.

I glance out the window. “But the clouds are too thick.”

“Well, if the story is true—”

“If.”

“Then we’d take some time for ourselves.” He nudges my nose, and I wish he’d kiss me. “We’re Keyblade wielders. A monsoon isn’t impossible to manipulate.”

I stifle a laugh. He has a quick answer for everything, and to any given person, it’d be infuriating. I once found it so when I was younger. 

“I am obligated to remind you that it’s dangerous,” I say, wishing I could get away with tasting his lips. I come close to.

“I feel like I’m about to scream,” he says, brushing my hair. “I need to do something loud. Yell. Throw myself into the ocean. Touch you—I don’t know. It’s too suffocating in here. I’ve suffocated for twelve years. I’ve had enough.”

I don’t know why my heart jumps at the idea when it’s so reckless. Terra is not a bad influence, he’s just as responsible as I am, yet I find myself yearning for the thrill. 

I haven’t tasted something like this in years, when thrill was something to be avoided in the Darkness.  

“Okay. But we come back in no less than twenty minutes.”

We blow out our lantern and Terra takes precious, long seconds to turn the doorknob. 

Ven stirs, his bright eyes blinking open in the dark. “You guys are leaving?” he whispers. 

“We’re coming back,” Terra says.

“Is this going to happen a lot?” 

My heart sinks. It’s usually the three of us, never disconnected except when we’re bickering. I look to Terra for what to say when he replies with, “Do you want to come with us?”

Ven looks at me. “Nah. I’m tired.”

I bend down and pet his head. “You’ll come with us next time.”

“I know.” Ven wiggles in his blanket and gets comfortable. “Just don’t drown.”

Terra gently takes my wrist. As much as I’m compelled to stay with Ven, Terra’s smile is a reminder that there’s little to worry about with him. We leave the shoes and socks behind.

Outside, the wind howls strong, my sashes beaten in fury. The sand is warm when we step off the ramp, loose swirls of dust devils skidding across the beach. It’s dark without the moonlight, the ocean waves crashing onto the shore so hard that all I see are white bubbles. My heart races, but this feeling is nothing like the constant race of fear in the Dark Realm. No, this is familiar yet foreign. The slap of salty air in my face makes me gush with something jittery. 

Terra cups his hands close to the ground and jerks them forward near the base of the giant tree where the treehouse stands. The sand buckles—he’s moving earth and boulder against the trunk of the tree, compensating for years of erosion, creating a natural scaffolding to fortify it further.

The river nearby spills out of its bank, small streams skittling towards the ocean. I bring my hands together and wave them back inland, redirecting the water away from the tree so there is less risk of flooding. 

I hear Terra calling me. The wind ruins his hair—he looks more charming this way. When he walks, his pants flatten and blow open like balloons. He gathers bunches of my hair in his thick, large fingers, holds it off of my face, and kisses me. He’s firm and pulsing, strong but gentle, the touch of his lips igniting a flame that rides up to my heart. By the way he breathes through me, he’s been wanting to do this for a long time. 

A gust of wind bashes against our bodies. Water splashes on our knees and I nearly topple down.

We laugh into each other’s shoulders, my legs caked in wet sand. He’s holding me up by my arms, taking me towards the nearest palm tree.

“This is the most insane thing I’ve ever done,” I say, my voice raised to compete against the roar of the wind.

“I needed this,” he says, nodding. 

My heart sighs in agreement. 

Terra trembles from adrenaline, his smile glued on his face. He gestures in a way to call something down from above. A palm tree bends over, giving its head to us. “I want you to meet my new best friend, Leafy.” 

I snort. “What is this for?”

Terra giggles before grabbing a paopu fruit. “Thank you, my friend,” he says to Leafy, bowing.

“You’re talking to a tree.”

Pointing that out melts him into hysteria. “I don’t know how to describe it. I am so happy right now.” He gestures like he’s about to rip his skin off, something inside about to explode. “And I don’t know what to do with that feeling.” He turns to me, holding out the paopu fruit. “I want to share this with you.”

My cheeks hurt. “We don’t know how it works.”

“Will you accept it anyway?” 

No second thoughts. 

It has the consistency of an orange, the taste of a grape. The legend of the fruit claims that it binds the destinies of those who share it together, intertwining their hearts and fates so they’re a part of each other’s lives forever. It could be a symbolic gesture—I certainly thought so when I made our Wayfinders, embedding my magic into them to make sure they work that way. 

I don’t know what I think of the future—I stopped planning for it the day I fell to Darkness—but I would be okay so long as Terra stays somewhere in my life.

Terra leans forward and bites the other side of the fruit, right out of my mouth. It catches me off guard, shuddering me into a chuckle, and I lean to meet him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He tastes of warmed juice. My heart pounds at the slide of his fingers on my forearms as he pushes my sleeves away. I lose the paopu fruit somewhere when he pulls me in.

I realize now what it is: I’ve been numbed. The Realm of Darkness hushes it all inside, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts. When you can’t take much more, you wish for it to be over. Then, you are soothed, a sick, cold honey that drips over your skin. The numbness makes you keep walking so you keep living, until you can’t take the numbness anymore and you go back to despairing. Only to be soothed yet again. The only real emotion that lasts for more than a moment is the sudden whiplash when Heartless attack and you have to survive. The wrong kind of thrill.

Terra has been cut off from all senses for twelve years.

I’ve been quieted. 

So I need him. I need him to brush his fingers on my skin, I need to taste his tongue, I need to run in the rain, laugh at stupid jokes, get scared on purpose, for reasons that don’t truly threaten me. Terra reminds me of the morning when we raced in the ravine as children. He reminds me that there’s more to the way my heart beats than keeping my hands to myself. 

Terra sighs into my neck. “I wish I was strong enough to be a shooting star for you,” he says into my ear. “I’m sorry we waited twelve years to do this.”

Does he not remember that he came to me in the Darkness? He told me not to give up.

He told me that I never stopped lighting his way back. I must have flown in the sky too, without knowing, for other children to see. Maybe I’ve done so many times. I hold him tightly.

An unnaturally strong gust targets at us, loose leaves slapping us and nicking my face. Terra looks up and bursts into laughter. “Stars, he’s watching us.”

Ven sits at the window, waving his arms in circles, as if to slap our wrists with rulers for such behavior. 

My instinct is to remove myself from all scrutiny, but I bump into Terra’s chest. I laugh. I don’t know what else to do except to take his hand and run to the other side of the beach. I think about how Ven must have been worried, and opened that window to see what we were up to, only to witness what he did, and— 

—I cover my mouth and snort. “I can’t believe we were caught.”

“We’re being sloppy.”

I can’t stop laughing. It hurts, but in a good way, better than the victory after a Heartless attack, better than even seeing my friends again after so long, when I couldn’t stop crying.  

Water washes over my feet faster than I can step out of it, my toes sinking like I can be erased in a heartbeat. We all could, at the precipice of Darkness. I could laugh right now, I could mourn tomorrow. The thought chokes me.

“Aqua, are you okay?”

Storm clouds have suffocated everything, dark paint dabbed with a sponge layer after layer so that everything under is hidden. I lean back, but I don’t step away. It’s dark but not Dark, I tell myself. We’re alone, but I’m not. We’re nowhere close to home, but with him, I am. Small reminders for large steps forward. 

“It looks like it goes on forever.”

Terra squeezes my hand, and it says so much. He understands. “We’re facing west. Home would be this direction.”

I’ve faced the darkest enemy and survived. I’ve been running—it’s my instinct to—but I don’t have to run anymore. 

Yet I don’t know what else I could do with all this energy. I face the black ocean now. I want to do something crazy.

“We could try to find it,” I say.

Terra jerks like he’s about to torpedo himself into the sky. “We’ll fly.”

I swallow. “The ocean looks bottomless.”

“It’s not.”

“I know it isn’t.” I look again. The star isn’t there. “But that doesn’t make sense to me. Dark is dark, kind is kind, and the things that hurt me hide.”

“There’s nothing out there that can hurt you, only whales. And I know for a fact that you’re stronger than any shark I know.”

I pause, a mix of childish giddiness and sudden tears wrestling with each other and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. “We don’t fight sharks.”

“We don’t.”

“You don’t know any sharks.”

“You’re right.”

My body gives up and I laugh and cry at the same time. “That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

Terra wraps his hand on my waist, leaning against my forehead. “I’ve got you. I’m not going to let you fall. Ever again.” 

“I know.” I place my hand on the center of his chest. Sometimes lessons are learned too late. Sometimes the consequences are more than what we’ve prepared for. “Let’s fly.”

He summons his Keyblade and commands it to transform into his glider, helping me on with the guidance of his hand. Neither of us want to break contact. His glider isn’t designed to carry two people, the curve of its engine forcing me forward so I lean onto him. His back muscles are well-formed, sturdy under my weight, his waist so thick that I have to grip his shirt to hold on. 

When Ven sees us take off, he makes frantic arm movements, grabbing fistfuls of air. It calms the fury of the wind around us, giving Terra a smoother path ahead with mild turbulence. We leave the beach behind, and ride into a world of nothing. 

I grip harder into his stomach and contain a meep. Terra slows to a stop. We haven’t gone far.

“I’m okay,” I say onto his neck. It’s quieter out here, without the waves and the trees.

Terra palms a hand over mine, gliding it up to his chest like he wants to feel his heartbeat through both of our hands. It’s hammers, like he’s running away, or towards something.

Or nowhere, really. We’re running just to run, just to remember what it feels like. I kiss the back of his neck, where it meets his shoulder.

“Look,” he says softly. His grip tightens on the handlebar, and he shudders under me. He’s about to cry.

There is one star through the clouds, brushed over in fog. Terra reaches up as if to grab it, measuring our home in the pinch of his fingers.

“To think our beds are small enough to fit,” I say, smiling into him.

Terra takes my hand from his chest and kisses it. 

A gust of wind knocks his glider, and he revs it up to stabilize us, holding a solid kick onto the pedals. Ven is either too far away or too tired to keep helping us.

Rain prickles onto us, and starts to build. I tremble. For some reason, I don’t want to go back into the treehouse and sleep it off. I feel cut off, trapped in a bottle where I can’t move. 

I look behind me. There are now four heads on that window, four worried faces gawking at the scandal. “The others are awake.”

“Let them have a show.” He turns over and holds me close, taking my lips with his. Again, again, again. 

I shiver. He tastes like springwater. I don’t know why I don’t find our predicament threatening. We’re hovering over darkness—but I’ve won against the Darkness. We’ve hovering in a dangerous storm, and yet it seems miniscule. I’m grateful.

“I can make the water dance,” I say.

“I know. That’s why I’m not scared.” He smiles. It’s like he’s asking permission.

I nod. “We wouldn’t be falling.”

“We’d be flying.” 

He dismisses his Keyblade. He falls first, relaxed, his arms open like he doesn’t mind landing into the turret of waters, like he’s about to fall on a feather bed. 

I call for my Keyblade and let it shine. The rain around us swirls, bursting into bright pellets. Terra catches me with one arm, hooking it around my waist and keeping me close. We twirl like we’re caught in a tornado. We kiss. We laugh, our legs wrapping over each other. The light spreads, tiny pinpricks of asteroids and firecrackers that shower Destiny Islands.

I can’t be crazy. I can’t fall. I’m safe and sound with the earth beneath my feet.

[takemyopenheart]

Think of Me (Waiting series - part 2 of 3)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey and f!MC (Luz Beltrán) | Category: angst | Rating: T | Warnings: depression | Word Count: 2.1k | Ao3 link | Part 1 | Part 3

summary: There are thousands of miles between Ethan and Luz—which begs the question: does absence really make the heart grow fonder?

He feels his chest constrict at the fleeting thought of her, and he shuts his eyes to let the darkness encompass him. But he knows no amount of darkness can overshadow the light that seeps in when she crosses his mind. The past seven weeks have kept him preoccupied, which is exactly what he wanted. Fighting an epidemic was front and center in his mind, but that didn’t mean he was completely void of certain memories.

His body aches from standing long hours and attending to every last patient, and he remembers one instance in which she rubbed his shoulders one night after a long shift. She sat him down between her legs and used her magic touch to massage the ache away; it was unlike anything he’d experienced. He’d argue that any professional masseuse couldn’t hold a candle to Luz. How he would give anything to feel her intoxicatingly soothing caresses...

No. Snap out of it.

If anyone was there to physically slap the thoughts away, he would certainly allow it. Raking his hand through his hair, he bolts for the bathroom to splash cold water over his face. A chill runs through him as the coolness hits his face, and he slouches over, holding both sides of the sink as he takes in deep breaths. His shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and he looks up into the mirror.

The shadows under his eyes are darker than ever, his frown lines are deeper, his stubble has grown. It’s a reflection he’s grown accustomed to in the past month. He rarely wants to sleep, there’s no time for that when people need him. But it’s no wonder his colleagues forced him to take the day off. He finally realized they were right in that he needed to take a recess if he wanted to be in tip-top shape for the ongoing battle they were up against. Doctors need breaks too, he was just often too stubborn to recognize that.

He wonders if she knows where he is—if Naveen’s shared the news by now. If she’s thinking of him like he is thinking of her. Whether she hates him now for not saying goodbye.

This is the exact reason why he protested his colleagues’ advice; he’s become his own worst enemy. Any time he’s alone with his thoughts, there’s only one name, one face, and one voice that invades his mind.

No amount of distraction, time, or distance can erase the memories of her, and it’s a realization that scares him to death. He’s fallen—he’s fallen deep, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get out. He had to be honest with himself; the main reason he left had to do with her.

The loud groan that escapes him is the only sound in the room, and beyond, it seems. It’s been a quiet night for the most part. The droplets of water continue falling down his face, his now-dampened shirt, and onto the floor. He catches his reflection again; it’s a depressing sight. How pathetic has he become? His resolve comes back at once.

Of course he’ll get out of it. He won’t let anything—especially anyone—affect his psyche. Any intimate feelings are just neurochemical responses to heightened stress and frequent exposure to each other. It’s what he’s always told himself. It makes perfect sense.

Everything he’s been through with Luz, and how she got involved with Naveen’s case is further evidence that supports his theory. It’s no surprise they grew close. She was there during his worst...and never gave up on him. It’s not something he’s used to...she saw him for who he was...she got to know parts of him he never dared show anyone...and she accepted him...

He suddenly, and forcefully, grabs the towel beside him to dry himself and the small puddle that has formed by his feet. His knees ache as he bends down, but he ignores the pain. After shutting the bathroom light off, he sits on the edge of the bed again. The night is silent and still, it’s an atmosphere so foreign to him now. It’s been anything but silent from the moment he arrived in the Amazon and got ready to work.

The pen from the patient file he’d been working on lays next to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Another thought soon rushes its way into his head again, and without thinking twice, he grabs it and opens the drawer for the notebook inside.

He opens the notebook to an empty page. He slips his glasses on and fiddles with the pen, almost building up the courage for what he’s about to write. She’s waiting to hear from you...give her an explanation.

He shakes the uncertainty away and begins writing.

‘Dear Luz,

I know what you’re thinking. Why now? Why this way? What a coward. Even if you don’t think so, it’s the only word that adequately sums up how I’ve been feeling since I left. Nothing I say will ever be enough to eradicate the hurt I know I’ve caused you. And I will never forgive myself for that. I couldn’t face you. I’m used to running, but you know me well enough by now that you’ve probably already figured that out.

Without you, I don’t know where Naveen would be. Or where I would be. You were, no, you are nothing short of incredible. Naveen’s revitalized health is proof of the amazing doctor that you are. And that brings me to my next point.

I don’t regret what we had. I care about you, please don’t believe otherwise. Which is why we both know this can’t continue. We can’t let anything hinder your full potential. Your career is too important. You matter too much. I won’t be the burden that gets in the way of that. We need to restart. Perhaps I’m going about this the wrong way, but I just couldn’t say goodbye.

You deserve all the happiness in the world. I’m sorry that can’t be with me. I hope you understand. I never thought I’d meet someone like you, but I don’t deserve you. Someone who won’t run will be worthy of you. Thank you for all you’ve done, I won’t ever forget it. Continue being the amazing woman that you are. Thank you for the time we had. I’ll cherish it.’

His hand halts, and he rubs his stinging eyes. The words on the paper appear blurry, his eyes refusing to allow them to come into focus. He adjusts his glasses on again, and the first word his gaze lands on is ‘coward’. He lets out a humorless laugh. ‘Damn right I am’, he thinks to himself.

The word embodies him further as he suddenly tears the page out of the notebook and rips it in half, before haphazardly tossing the crumpled paper across the room.

‘And that’s all I’ll ever be.’

•

Nearly 5,000 miles away, Luz sits in the once-familiar living room. She turns to the smiling face beside her, taking in the smile she’s missed so much. It’s been a long time since she’s seen him. Too long, and she feels so much contentment being near him. Her heart is full; there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

This is what she needed. To move past everything she’s been through this past month. And to do that, there was no better place than California. The place she used to call home. And to surround herself with the people whom she’s missed beyond belief since moving to Boston.

He puts his arm around her just before the camera flashes. Their smiles are wide and sincere. It’s a perfect moment to capture the happy Beltrán reunion.

"Okay, ahora it’s our turn!" Elena Beltrán chirps before rushing over to sit in between her two kids. "Ven, mi amor. Siéntate con nosotros. (Come here, my love, and sit with us) We need a picture. All four of us," she calls out to her husband, Jorge.

He places the phone on the fireplace mantel and comes to sit on the couch for another impromptu picture. He sits next to his youngest, who’s come home for the weekend from Boston just to see them. He and his wife couldn’t contain their joy that she’d be visiting just before their son, Sebastián, was to move to Oregon. It meant they’d all be together—a rare occurrence since Luz moved to the East Coast.

The camera flashes again. Luz’s cheeks feel like they’re about ready to burst from the permanent smile that’s been planted on her face since the moment she rushed into her family’s arms.

They’re just glad to see her content. From what they understood, she had been going through some things in her personal life that she needed to get away from for a while. She was open with them regarding her involvement with her colleague and boss Ethan Ramsey. They were aware that they’d grown close while working on a case together.

For years, he was someone she admired. So much so, that his research was the reason she applied to medical school. Ethan had made an important impact on her life. She never divulged just how close they’d grown, but if he was the reason she needed to get away from Boston, they knew it had probably become a close relationship. They never judged her for it. She was a smart woman. But sometimes you can’t help what your heart feels.

"Now, you two kids prepare for a feast. Mami and I will be in the kitchen, you two just make yourselves comfortable," Jorge says as he and Elena make their way to the kitchen.

Luz makes to stand. "Dad, no way. I’m helping—"

"Mija, sit down. We got this. You just got home from a long flight. I won’t take no for an answer," he says sternly, but with a warm expression on his face.

She slumps down on the couch, watching her dad gesturing for her and Sebastián to stay put. She can’t help but smile at his insistence to take care of them. It’s always been this way when she and her brother are home.

Sebastián turns to her, grinning from ear to ear. "It’s good to see you, sis. I didn’t think we’d see you till December."

"I didn’t either. But, really, I’m just here to annoy you," she jokes, though the smile doesn’t fully reach her eyes. Bash knows his little sister is trying to distract herself from whatever went down between her and that Ramsey guy. He can’t help but feel some resentment toward him for breaking her heart.

"Want me to kick his ass?"

"No, Bash. I’m better, I promise. I just needed a little break." She sighs, though she quickly covers it and stands on her feet. "Come on, let’s sneak up on mami and papi!"

Sebastián watches her tiptoe her way toward the kitchen and lift a finger to her lips to keep him quiet. He huffs out a laugh and decides to follow her. This quickly takes them back to the time they would sneak around every Christmas night to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus.

Jorge and Elena are too preoccupied getting the champurrado just right to notice their two kids crouched down behind the island.

"I see you," Jorge calls out with a soft laugh and a shake of his head.

"Dammit," Luz mumbles.

"Not as stealthy as once before, sis." Sebastián chortles, and they spring up from behind their hiding place.

"Anyway, I thought I told you kids to stay away," Jorge reminds them.

"Well, I’m helping anyway. Bash can laze about, but I’m helping, whether you like it or not." Luz remains adamant and takes the spoon from her mom to begin stirring the champurrado.

"Mom, dad, why don’t Luz and I take over. You two go sit down this time—"

"Yeah, go make-out or something. We got this." Her lips curve into a beaming smile

Sebastián grimaces in disgust, and Elena and Jorge laugh to themselves before stepping aside to allow them space. He begins shooing them away. "Go, go. We won’t poison you, we promise. Or at least I won’t. Can’t say the same about Luz."

"Hey!" she retorts with a frown before playfully giving him a shove.

"We trust you kids," Elena says as they make their retreat. And with a tender smile, she stares back at the comforting scene of her two kids together under the same roof, bickering like old times.

"And don’t you forget it! Come on, Bash, help me with the lemon bars while I continue stirring this," Luz instructs, and they get to work.

Being in the kitchen she grew up in fills her heart with the joy she’s missed these past few weeks. She’ll open up to her family eventually, all she wants to do right now is focus on the here and now.

It’s true what they always say: there’s no place like home.

•

Thanks for reading! Ily💗

•

@openheartfanfics

[thesolotomyhan]

Narcos México: Dating Them Would Include: (1/7)

Alright,,, so I gave in and I just said fuck it. I was feeling bold when I decided to to upload this because I have so much doubt about this😅. This is my first time ever writing. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! I started off my with tontín and if all goes well, I’ll start writing the rest! :)

BTW: I’m sorry I couldn’t add a keep reading link, I’m using the mobile app as of right now because I’m in the process of getting a new laptop!

Warnings: NSFW! 

Amado:

Let’s start with El Señor De Los Cielos,

Amado is always one to flex, ever since your first date, it was his priority to end the date with you wanting more of him and leaving the impression that no one will treat you as good as he will

And although he did succeed in his goals, he was the one counting down the minutes until your next date, you had him in the nubes, girl

I shit you not, he went to buy you an engagement ring after your first date because he just knows that you’re the one he’s gonna marry and have kids with- I’m sobbing

So it obviously doesn’t take long for you guys to be official

He loves taking you out for dinner

You cannot convince me otherwise that he would not go all out for y’all’s personal dates, like roses everywhere, with mood lighting and a pinche serenata,,, like cmon, you make him SOFT

He would not do this for anyone other than YOU

If you wanted to go on a date or just go somewhere, he’s already dragging you along to one of his planes

Acosta probably roasts Amado so much but he does not care, not when you have him wrapped tightly around your finger

When he’s away on Juarez business, he’s calling you every night, just to hear your voice

Ugggh, you let him rant about the stupid shit everyone did that day because you just know your Amado is tired and needs someone to listen

When he comes back from business, he always brings you something just to see you smile

He gives you the softest kisses! Forehead kisses are a must

Ugggh,, I also see him stargazing with you, like you’re in between his legs with his arms wrapped around you and there’s times where he has Chalino Sanchez going on in the background

When Miguel throws any type of party or Amado just feels like going to the club, he’s taking you with him and always having an arm around you at all times

He HAS to be leading you around the party and introducing you to everyone, godddd, he addresses you to everyone like

“Mira, les presento a mi mujer, la reina de Juárez”

Like, damnnn

I can imagine , like you getting up to get a drink while he talks with the others and he’s pulling you back asking where you’re going with like worried eyes

“Voy agarrar una bebida”

“No, mi reina, yo te lo agarro, siéntate”

Everyone of the guys teasing the shit out of him but he’s just all like, “ustedes no saben que es el verdadero amor, hijos de la chingada”

But they’re not gonna lie, they all respect you and enjoy your presence

Even though he doesn’t like you knowing or being involved in depth about his business, he doesn’t mind you sitting with him during any kind of meeting talk inside of the clubs

Your just curled up into his chest with your drink, minding your own business

That,, or you’ll wander off but not before Amado orders a couple of his men to keep an eye on you

I’m swooning, can you imagine bringing him food to the construction site because you just know he hasn’t eaten all day

The fucking smile he has when he sees you because he literally forgets all the pendejadas and stress he has

LORd,, you know when Acosta was talking about retiring and living a normal life with Mimi,, can you imagine like he’s trying to convince Amado to do the same with you,,

I can’t,, and Amado just looking at where your talking with Mimi or something and just the fucking heart eyes he has because it does sound like a good idea

But, we all know, you can’t just retire from this business :((((((

Look, this man would triple your security after he learns what happened to Güeritos family because of the deal he made with Pacho and what if Miguel were to find out sooner

He’s gonna take his precautions to protect his queen alright, pero discretamente, he doesn’t want to alarm everyone especially Felix

Ooooh myyyy, why do I see him building you a home secretly, like he says he’s going to do handle some shit in Juarez on his day off but in reality he’s building a home for you two🥺🥺

The day he surprises it with you, he’s all like

“Es nuestra casa, mi reina, te gusta?”

Your just so speechless because you cannot believe this man would go all out for you.

“Mira, allá podemos construir un parquecito o cancha de fútbol para los chamacos o algo, no se, y acá te hice un jardín, ven”

GOD, he’s like a happy puppy showing you all the things he built and is still planning, and you just start crying because your so happy that he wants to build a family with you,, ok I’ll stop, my heart hurts, I’m so soft for Amado

Can you imagine the day you finally get preganant tho,,, just the fucking smile and adoration he has when he sees you doing literally anything

His heart is about to burst when he sees the curve of your belly grow because he did that, your carrying his child

Just the orgullo he has for you both and don’t get me started on how he overprotective he gets because he has a kid on the way-

Overall, your relationship is so cute and strong and just full of pure fucking love

NSFW:

Alright, here we go you nastys

This man LOVES blowjobs especially when he’s had a rough day, so naturally you welcome him home with a surprise

You’re wearing one of his favorite lingeries because he’s always buying you them

And, you know, once he walks in through the door, you’re already waiting for him

“Y Ahora, chula?”

“Te quiero ayudar a relajar, mi amor”

as you drag him to sit down by his belt

God,, I can just picture him on the couch with his head thrown back and one of his hands tangled into your hair as he desperately thrusts into your mouth

“Puta Madre”

As he looks down at you just full blown mesmerized

When he gets frustrated over the dumb things he has to put up with, like the time Miguel accepted to transport 70 tons of coke 👀,,,, you best believe he’s gonna take it out on you in the bedroom

You know like giving you rough and needy kisses as he picks you up and heads towards your bedroom

You’re working on unbuttoning his shirt as he’s basically tearing off whatever your wearing

I can see him wanting to caress your body and take his time but god damn his lust is getting the better of him and your only encouraging him more when you grind your hips on his OOOF

One of his favorite positions is having your legs spread as far as they can and wrapping one of his hands around your throat,,, he loves the sight of it

He does not go slow and soft ok, Amado is going in rough and pounding you into next week

When he’s feeling especially rough and dominant, he’s taking you from behind and pulling your own hair

Always scolding you if you try to keep quiet,,, he’ll do those slow but really rough thrusts just so you can whimper something out until he has you screaming

He once made the mistake of inviting Acosta to sleep over one day because of business and it was the first and last time Amado will ever do that

He had you screaming out his name as he fucked you into the bed that night,,

Amado had forgot he had guests over

So the next day when he’s having a drink with Acosta out in the patio in the morning, it’s the first thing Pablo brings up

“ cabrón, iba a llamar a los paramédicos anoche, pensé que estabas matando a tu mujer” he says it so irritated too

Amado is just like,, confused at first and looking weirdly at him because like tf is he talking about??

“ Será un milagro si no la dejas embarazada, tontín”

That’s when it comes together and Amado is trying to pathetically explain

“No cabrón, yo no quiero saber como se la metes” while he’s like laughing at Amados expression

You’re always pulling on his hair whenever he’s going down on you or pounding into you and he loves it because then he knows he’s doing a good job

He also loves it when your scratching down his back and leaving evidence of your night spent together

He’s always down to leave marks on you but in discrete areas, he’s not one to flaunt about your private lives

God, when this man takes you on vacations to places around the world, you best believe that he’s fucking you, either on the plane, at the place y’all are staying or even at the hidden beaches he’ll take you

He wants to make your vacations memorable and tbh, you two are like horny teenagers

THE CHAIN, y’all know the virgin chain he has on,, girl, he’s dicking you down and your holding onto that for dear life as you pull him down for a messy kiss,, yeah, I’m going to hell😅

He definitely has a thing for you when you wear his black shirts, whether it be the morning after or you just pulled it out of the closet and felt like wearing it

He thinks you look so beautiful wearing his clothes,,,,, he’s also had you wear only his shirt when you two have sex at times because, wow what a sight,,,, you, his reina wearing his things- ugh

He also makes sure to leave you satisfied before he has to go fly somewhere,

He has to have a fresh memory of his cock sliding in and out of you as your writhing below/above him

A refresh of what your moans and facial expressions are so he has them freshly engrained into his memory

Okkkk,,, Your just so damn perfect to this king

[venjamin-kingdomhearts]

For the ship bingo, Venkai and Namiven

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VenKai (Ventus/Kairi) MAN VenKai is sorta a weird spot for me, because on one hand it is Adorable. I totally get why people love it and I reblog fanart/read fics of them quite a bit. However, I also like looking at them as just being friends. The Hearts of Pure Light duo! And man there is so much untapped potential here. First, Kairi's a Princess of Heart, while Ven's Light is just all that's left of him. Kairi's Heart is fully Light, complete, while Ventus is fully Light, but broken. I love thinking about the differences they might experience because of this. Love the idea of Kairi asking Ventus if his Heart feels weak when hers does. Ventus asking Kairi if her Light magic can be as dangerous as his. Then comes their connection to Sora... WOW. Ventus was a part of Sora, he's got so much of Sora in his actions that it's impossible for Kairi not to be reminded of him. Meanwhile Kairi was such an important person to Sora, and Ventus almost remembers the days they spent on the beach, or playing in the secret place, or reuniting during kh2. They both get to experience a piece of Sora when they're together, and it helps fill the gap that opened up when he went missing. once again i circle the 'friend-with-benefits vibes' not because of it's usual connotation but because that's the best way to describe how I ship them right now? Like, no real goal to have a committed romance, they would just kiss or do borderline romantic things with each other. I don't think I can ship them the 'conventional' way but I can get behind the two of them as like. the sorta couple that are just friends and get married for tex benefits of somethin. Fake dating AU but instead of falling in love at the end they're just like "Hell yeah! Best Friends!"

NamiVen (Namine/Ventus) YES. I LOVE THESE TWO. I can't say this ship is like. everything to me but it is SO underrated, like, seriously. There's so much potential for these two i can not possibly express everything but lets start of: simply put, this ship is just the epitome of sugar-sweet fluff. Namine is shy and sweet and I feel like that's Ventus' weakness when it comes to crushes. He would fall head over heels for her in an instant, and every time they talk afterwards he'd just be a blushing mess. My personal headcanon is that Ventus really does have a habit of blue-screening and going 'pretty girl!! pretty girl!!" whenever he sees someone like Nami, beautiful and soft and kind. Then of course, Ventus would try to be knightly towards her, I can imagine him doing silly things like running past her so he can hold open the door for her, would try to impress her by winning her prizes at the fair in Disney Town (he would certainly fail a few times first lol), and just accidentally blurting out that she's pretty. the most stereotypical "dorks in love" tropes you can get you know? On the other hand. There's genuinely so much that can be explored between them. First off, Castle Oblivion is Namine's birthplace, but it's also Ventus' sanctuary. I love the idea of Namine being somewhat aware that Ventus is inside the Castle somewhere, that she can hear his breathing or feel his heartbeat from behind the walls of the Castle. In a sorta, 'magical awareness' way. Like part of Ventus is calling out, and Namine is the only one who can hear him. Then of course, they both share a connection to Sora, and I feel as though post KH3, Namine would see a lot of Sora in Ventus. In his actions, in the way he smiles... it might remind Namine of her feelings towards Sora, and both the shame and gratitude she feels towards him. Maybe... maybe Ventus is a second chance. Maybe if she can befriend him, she'll be able to face Sora when he returns, despite what happened during CoM. Basically with any Nami ship I love the idea of it being a way to help her to heal, because she's been hurt so much, and she resents herself for it, yknow? And I feel Ventus is all about second chances, and he would be a really positive force for her. Someone who's also connected to Sora, and feels guilt for not being able to help him more. Someone who's connected to Castle Oblivion, yet doesn't know about everything that went down there. Someone Nami could open up to, but she doesn't have to 'earn' his trust or kindness, because Ventus is just always ready to make a new friend. and THEN there's also the whole opportunity to have a whole mess with Ventus' memories, maybe with Nami helping him remember the bad stuff, or alternatively, Ventus not wanting to remember his past and talking to Nami about learning to accept that himself. cause i'm sure nami has had enough experiences with memory manipulation to know that 'hey... some people aren't ready to remember what they've forgotten. that's okay'.

[razorblade180]

Venqua Week:Music

“When you-gah! No, that’s not right. When- ugh! Come on Ventus, you can do this!” The boy said, frustratingly tuning a guitar. He had been at this for months now. It all started when Namine moved into the Land of Departure with him, Terra, and Aqua. The boy had stumbled upon her drawings and by extension, the arts itself. He was completely hooked. Outside of fighting, Ventus didn’t have much time to explore possible talents. He was determined to find a hobby he was good at! It took all of ten minutes of Namine teaching him about color theory for him to realize that maybe literal art wasn’t his calling.

That’s when Namine recommended music. Seemed like a good idea. He didn’t want to brag, but Ventus always thought he was a bit musically inclined. Between dancing and the ice cream beat machine, he thought learning an actual instrument would come easy. Wrong! It was critically difficult! Three months into learning guitar and his confidence was was fading like the golden sunset that washed over him as he sat at the edge of the trio’s stargazing spot. Ventus played a few more strings and sighed. It didn’t sound off. Honestly it never was. The problem was his nerves. Ventus was trying to be a perfectionist with the only song he’s been able to learn so far. All for a special someone, Aqua.

He had always had certain feelings for his friend, but expressing them was beyond impossible. Any time he tried to show her a cooler, more mature side of himself it never worked out. He’d either screw up really hard, or Aqua would do her pretty little giggle while patting his head like he was some sort of puppy. He was not a puppy darn it! Ventus wanted to at least be a cooler, older anime. Something like a fox or a leopard. Just once, he wanted to leave Aqua speechless. He thought a singing to her would be his best bet. His face face grew redder at the thought of her listening to the song in awe, her deep blue eyes captivated by his feelings.

“Geez, I’m so hopeless.” He said, covering his face. Ventus turned his head towards his master’s keyblade that rested peacefully just several feet away. He wondered if Master Eraqus had any hidden talents? No way keyblade wielding was his only gift. If Aqua’s fighting style was any indication, the old man was probably a bunch of fun on the dance floor. The thought of him doing even half the moves Aqua did was enough to make Ventus laugh lightly. Once again he strummed his guitar. “Oh master, you think I stand a chance?”

“Stand a chance at what?” A voice asked from behind. Ven’s face went bright red, then pale in a less than a second when he realized it was Aqua. She smiled her beautiful smile like she always did and held a crown of flowers in her hand.

“A-Aqua!?” He stammered, “W-What brings you up here....!?” He wanted to hit himself right now. The answer to that was quite literally in front of him.

“Changing out Master Eraqus’s flowers” she answered anyways. Aqua walked over to the memorial and did just that. The old ones weren’t dead yet, but their color was obviously starting to fade. Still, they looked rather pretty. So pretty in fact, Aqua took it upon herself to sat right next to ventus and hang it around neck. “Wow, I’m a little surprised it passed your hair so easily. I thought it would sit on top.” She teased, ruffling the wild dew.

“Hey! It’s not that spiky! Also my head would have to massive for it to sit on top!” He pouted. Why is always a head rub!? This time he was minding his own business and still wound up like this. “Do you have a thing with my hair or something? You’re always doing stuff like this.”

“Of course. You always pout and turn red. It’s cute.” She answered, watching him get redder. Aqua couldn’t help herself. Teasing Ven like this was just irresistible. “So, what is it that you were trying to stand a chance in? Maybe I can help?”

“What? Oh! Umm it was nothing! Just talking aloud is all.” Lying was not a strength Ventus had.

“Really?” Aqua said sarcastically. She reached over to the guitar in his arms and ran her fingers across the strings, making a subtle but pleasant sound from it. “Nothing to do with the acoustic currently in your hands?” She looked at the blue eyes that were inches away and avoiding contact. Aqua tilted her head, a bit confused by Ven’s shyness. “Ven, I’m not a mind reader. Tell me what’s up?”

“If you read minds then you know mine only has you in it.” He thought to himself. “I’m just having a little trouble with a song I wanna sing. I learned all the notes and everything, but I get anxious anytime it comes to playing the whole thing.”

“How come?”

“I’m...self conscious is all.” It wasn’t a lie but it was certainly vague. “Any time I think about singing it the way I intend to, I get worried if it sounds bad or if I look like an idiot.” Ven could feel his heart beating so loudly that he was afraid Aqua might here it. Here being this close was nothing new, yet it too much to deal with.m right now moved back a little by pretending to readjust how he was sitting.

Aqua could the boys hand fidget a little. He wasn’t kidding at all about feeling anxious. She had never seen him so flustered when it came to things like this. Aqua had caught him a few times over the past few months really putting an effort into learning when nobody was around. She had even secretly caught him sneaking off early in the morning to find a place to practice. Learning this song must’ve been really important. For Aqua, that only left one response to this.

“Can I hear it?”

Ven was going to have a heart attack. “What!?”

“I wanna hear it.” She repeated, “We’re often our own worst critics. If you only play with no one around then you might always think it needs improvement, so let me hear it. I’ll give my honest opinion!” She said, excited to listen.

“That’s the one thing that scares me!!!” Ventus could not believe this was happening. How was he supposed to explain to her that she couldn’t listen because he was doing it all for her!? She even gave a valid reason for helping! “Oh, no I uh- you don’t have to do all that! Hehe, I just-” he stopped when he saw Aqua move to sit on her knees. His crush sat patiently with her hands resting her hands on her lap, a heart stealing smile still on her face. Here she was. Here they were. Two people bathed in the golden light of a sunset. Warm air and breath stealing views anywhere you looked. A gentle breeze made Aqua run a finger across her face. All attention was on him. Well, no time like the present right? Ven stood no chance of resisting with a face like that.

He sat facing her, legs crossed. He new his face was still red and the sound of his beating heart hadn’t gotten any calmer. However, a comfort came from that with a mix of excitement. An honest truth about his feelings. He really had fallen for her and wanting nothing more to express his feelings with all of his heart.

“Aqua...can I ask a favor?” He somehow managed to say. “Can you...close you eyes while I sing to you?”

The request was surprising but understandable. This was more about sound then sight anyways. “Okay.” She closed her eyes in earnest. “Ready...” For some reason Aqua felt herself get a little embarrassed as well. She hoped it didn’t show on her face.

Ventus took the deepest breath he could. Mustering his resolve and composing himself, Ventus began to strum.

🎶When you walk away, you don't hear me say

"Please, oh baby, don't go."

Simple and clean

Is the way that you're making me feel tonight

It's hard to let it go....🎶

Yeah, Aqua could totally feel herself starting to blush. Ven was only a few lyrics in, but she couldn’t think of a time she heard a more stunning voice.

🎶You're giving me, too many things, lately

You're all I need, oh~

You smiled at me and said...

"Don't get me wrong, I love you

But does that mean I have to meet your father?"

When we are older, you'll understand what I meant when I said

"No, I don't think life is quite that simple"

When you walk away, you don't hear me say

"Please, oh baby, don't go."

Simple and clean

Is the way that you're making me feel tonight

It's hard to let it go🎶

Ventus felt his nerves melt away as he kept playing. His mind was too focused on the notes to worry. Too focused on the girl in front of him. He was starting to find his stride.

The daily things, Like this and that and what is what

That keep us all... busy are confusing me~

That's when you came to me and said

"Wish I could prove I love you but does that mean I have to walk on water?"

When we are older, you'll understand it's enough when I say so

And maybe some things are that simple.

When-🎶

His serenade was unexpectedly cut short. Aqua had reached for his hand and stopped him from playing. Ven’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, nothing but dread filled his thoughts. Did she hate it? Why else would he stop him midway. He would’ve asked, but Ventus couldn’t find the words. Not out of fear, but because of the look on Aqua’s face. Her calm demeanor was entirely gone. A the warmest smile Ven has ever laid eyes on was on her face with rose red cheeks. “A-Aqua...?” He finally spoke.

“S...sorry.” She spoke, “it’s just...well....” finding the words was a little difficult. Aqua couldn’t help but laugh at her own skittishness. “You confessing to me like this might be a little more than my heart can handle.” There, she said it. She watched a Ven’s eyes start getting bigger and bigger while his face tried rivaling hers in terms of red.

“Y...You knew I-”

“Of course.” Aqua giggled, “I watch you just as much as you watch me you know? Because...I like you...too. A lot.”

Ventus must’ve been dreaming. Chirithy has to have put him in a special dream. It’s the only way this made sense. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Like he was one to talk.

Aqua rubbed the back of her neck, “I’m not very good with this kind of stuff. Even though I had a feeling you liked me, I just couldn’t find the nerve. Then I started thinking about how I could be wrong and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I kept finding reasons to keep quiet. But next thing I know is I started thinking more and more about these feelings sense we got back home and I-” Aqua jumped at the touch of Ven’s hand grab hers. She’s glad he did it, or else she might’ve rambled for hours.

A pressure weighed on their chest. One that was slowly pulling them together. The two of them couldn’t speak, only lean closer. They wanted the same thing. They knew it buy all the blushing moments and not so secret glances. Aqua moved the guitar away from Ven to get even closer. Ven invited the approach by tugging her hand closer to him. Her face had to be only inches away. Way to far for his liking. Aqua finally spoke.

“I think we should both close our eyes this time.” She said, flustered by her own suggestion. She was glad she managed to say it though. The moment his eyes closed, Aqua understood why he asked before. Filled with ease and courage, Aqua pressed her lips against the ones that had just serenaded her moments ago. Neither kept track how long they remained like this and neither cared. The only thing that mattered was it had finally happened; and it was only going to keep happening for many days to come.

[many thanks to @venquaweek because fun fact, I’ve had this music idea for three years and never wrote it 😂]

[crispyapplepies]

I wanna talk about why the first thing Terranort did at the graveyard was kill Ven

So it occurred to me while watching ReMind again that the very first thing Terranort does at the graveyard is kill Ven, at lightning speed in one fell swoop no less, and Terra’s heart didn’t show up to stop it, nor did Lingering Will. And it super sucks cuz Ven didn’t even get a chance to think before hitting the ground dead with the last thing he saw being Terra’s face, formerly nothing but tender and loving towards him, coming at him gleefully for murder. Considering Ven is otherwise the catalyst for Terra finding his way back to his body, (as seen in their boss battle in which Ven’s tears are emphasized by the camera, followed by Terra’s heart returning to rescue them, as well as in 0.2 in which the threat of Nort discovering Ven’s location draws the real Terra back to stop him), I thought this was odd.

If Ven is the catalyst for Terra’s return, why didn’t Terra come back in 3 when Ven was attacked? He seemed rather in distress, in this slow motion shot.

But then it occurred to me: the first thing Terranort did was Kill Ven. Swiftly. Before anyone got a chance to think. And Ven looks distressed in that slow-motion shot but- it’s a slow motion shot. He likely didn’t even have time to feel pain. He was still trying to process that Terra is gone, and now he’s their enemy. That’s the source of his confused distressed expression, and then he hits the ground “dead”.

Terranort knows Ven is Terra's light, (Aqua’s too, this is stated in the novel though Terra comparing Ven to the stars also speaks to this), so in order for this war to succeed, extinguishing that light is going to be the first thing he needs to take care of, or else Terra will sense Ven is in danger and his heart will return to stop Xehanort from using his body to hurt his friends. So before Ven even gets a chance to think, react, call for Terra to come out, cry, or do aNYTHING emotive that will awaken Terra’s heart or soul to come back and wreck a Nort, Terranort needs to break that connection between Ven’s heart and Terra’s by taking him out. So he did, and with Ven unconscious, Terranort is free to murder everyone else. Then Sora comes back in Re:Mind to fix things, thanks to Riku, The Light, and his gay sacrifice.

Thanks to Sora’s return, Ven’s heart was saved. The connection is thus still there. Although Donald Fauntleroy Duck, the most powerful mage in the Square Enix canon, casually casts Zettaflare and extinguishes Terranort in the first timeline. However in the new timeline, Namine, for... some reason (why Namine?), tells Sora that Terra’s heart is too steeped in darkness for his darkling slave puppy heart to return to this scene; as it would be, Ven isn’t distressed yet, meaning Terra’s heart can’t find its way back. So she tells Sora she’s summoned Lingering Will to the scene, describing it as Terra’s most powerful lingering thoughts: His sadness, anger, lament.

This part of Terra has no problem finding its way to this scene. That’s interesting to me cuz I’d been thinking of Lingering Will as Terra’s soul possessing his armor. In KH a being is made up of a body, a heart, and a soul, so whether there’s a nuanced distinction between a soul and thoughts or if the implication is that your soul IS your Will/Thoughts, either way this part of Terra made it here, with ease, if not because Namine sent it, then because Aqua and Ven are in danger. He tells us as much.

(Terranort calls him a wretched spirit so I’m still gonna assume its his soul.)

Following this, Lingering Will and Terranort part into battle alone, with Aqua stopping Ven from interfering, which is wise because they have heartless to take care of. This obviously means a delay in Terra’s heart finding its way back to his body again. Things get kinda weird after this, and I’m not gonna pretend to understand what exactly happened in the context of ReMind but I take the sleeping realm theory as canon so whatever Sora is doing in their next scene I assume that explains it lol. More importantly, Ven soon basically confirms my theory: Ven is the Light that Terra needs in order to come home. He stops letting Aqua stop him from reaching out to Terra and insists he will keep calling his name because they have to light his way home.

This is not to discredit Aqua’s light guiding Terra as well, however. I have no doubt Terra has been trying to follow her home all this time too, and she deserves all the credit for how hard she has fought to bring him back.

However. In 10 years of being dragged around on a leash, and now spending all day here being forced to torture the guardians of light, including his friends, Terra doesn’t come back until Ven cries, uttering his would-be dying words that he kept his promise.

Not only does he give Ven credit for finding him, but the tears start pouring when he tells him this, meaning this is a deep and loving expression of gratitude, with no performance behind it. Terra was so ashamed that he trusted Xehanort over his own family, potentially losing Ven to the X-Blade in the process in his lack of foresight, but Ven promised him he’d be there when Terra needed him, and he kept it, 10 years later, even after everything Terra has done and everything he’s been used for. Tl;dr Terra loves Ven very much, and their hearts’ connection is their greatest weapon against the forces of evil.

[kessielrg]

Comeback Kid: Part 3

Summary: More third person additions to the chaos rp that @chibi-mushroom​​ and @animacreates​​ are doing.This time, Sabrina has spontaneously decided to break up with Ventus after what could amount to a nervous breakdown. In the aftermath, she is forced to take all her vacation time and become reacquainted with one of her favorite hobbies. But is it enough to get over Ven, or will the memory of him be too much to ignore?

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,492 words

Part: 1 | 2 | 3

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

In dance, the phrase 'one more time' was its biggest lie. It was always 'one more time' before you ran through the routine seven more times. It was very common for a class to sometimes run five to ten minutes over just because the teacher wanted to make sure everyone had the right steps down. The only good thing about having private lessons meant that you could almost end the session whenever you wanted. Roxanne wasn't that bad either- no surprise, Max was pretty good at finding genuine girls.

Not much smaller than Sabrina, Roxanne was a lovely redhead with a habit of twisting her hair when she was nervous or excited. When dancing, she kept her hair up in a high ponytail with a little strand hanging down on the right side of her face. Sabrina didn't want to admit it, but Roxanne was pretty good as an instructor. Just a few days under her tutelage and Sabrina was once more accustomed to her dancing shoes. It also helped that Sabrina was there four times a week. She would have been here six times a week if her family wasn't closely monitoring her. It was like being a preteen all over again.

“The recital isn't that far away, but if you want to, I'm sure we can squeeze you in.” Roxanne offered after the first week. At this point, Sabrina had gotten a refresher on the basics, so she and Roxanne were working on a short routine for her to further develop her old skills. “You can use this routine we're going through and everything.”

“I've got all the time in the world, Roxanne.” Sabrina prudently informed her. She couldn't look at her teacher because she was currently stretching a leg on the barre. “I can be here every day of the week if I wanted. As long as I'm home before 10. I'm on a curfew.”

“Any particular reason?” Roxanne asked, not meaning any harm. “I noticed that someone usually drops you off. Max mentioned that you were trying to recuperate from a bad breakup. Is that still the case?”

Sabrina's body tensed. “Yeah.” she grumbled. She switched legs before telling Roxanne, “Apparently, coming home and screaming like you've got witnessed a murder means you've had a mental breakdown and need to take a month to recover. If that.”

“Oh, wow.” Roxanne marveled. “I didn't know. I'm sorry. Let's talk about something else, then!”

“Let's.” came the agreeing hiss.

“I know!” the bubbly instructor said. “The local radio station is going to be interviewing some staff here at the studio for a little sketch they're doing. Something about hometown heroes or hotspots? Either way, I'm one of the staff that volunteered to be interviewed, so I may have to leave our session for a bit to talk to one of the hosts.”

“When is this happening?” Sabrina questioned, putting her leg down so she could give Roxanne a hard glare.

“Next Monday, I believe.” Roxanne grinned. But then she noticed Sabrina's dark expression and seemed taken aback. “You don't mind, do you?”

“No, I guess not.” Sabrina replied, her voice rather dark, before she got down to the floor to straddle the wall. Maybe the pain from the stretch warmup would distract enough to not be bitter.

. . .

“Lengthen your body a bit more. Good. Now lower your leg slowly… Perfect!”

This routine was becoming second nature at this point. Roxanne would sometimes stand near Sabrina to help her balance a bit when they had to review certain positions, such as at this moment. Not that Sabrina particularly enjoyed the -literal- hand holding. Still, someone would have tutted at her for not accepting other's help- let alone from her own teacher. She could stomach this for now.

The girls were interrupted when Roxanne's phone started to go off. She carefully let go of Sabrina before going on over to see who it was. She gave the phone a rather funny look as she answered it.

“Hello?” she asked. Sabrina only half listened to the conversation as she got some water from her water bottle. “Is he here? That's great! I'll be out in a moment.”

Roxanne happily twisted her hanging strand of hair. “He's here!” she happily announced to Sabrina.

“I'll be back in a jiffy. Feel free to go through the routine again, or whatever else you'd like.”

Sabrina gave the instructor a rather disinterested hum in response. It didn't phase Roxanne in the slightest. She happily smiled before heading on out the door. Sabrina looked back to where Roxanne had left, then her gaze fell to the one-way mirror next to the door. It was placed there so parents could watch their children dance. Sabrina had a good feeling that other people used it to peep in on whoever was in that studio at the time. She knew that at least one single parent on Mondays looked in on her while she practiced. He wasn't particularly cute and his kid was a brat, always asking to go to the bathroom so they didn't have to be in a class they didn't even enjoy.

She had a feeling someone was watching her now, and the thought made her grimace.

Besides throwing a towel up at the window, there wasn't much Sabrina could do about it. So instead she went to the stereo and flipped through her music playlist. She didn't know how long Roxanne would take, but she wouldn't spend her time just sitting around for her. Sabrina clicked her tongue as she went through every song she had, not liking a single one at the moment. She finally paused when a song with a relatively good beat started to play. Her expression hard, Sabrina carefully stepped away from the stereo to the center of the room.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she started to move her body to the music. It was like she was experimenting. The routine she and Roxanne were working on led emphasis more to her legs and upper body control than much else. But this time, Sabrina just went with whatever felt good. Quick foot movements, seductive little hip tilts, her arms used to bring her chest up a bit higher as she continued to watch herself. Sometimes she'd close her eyes- phantom images of a certain someone crossing her mind as she moved her body just the way she wanted. She never once got the chance to 'service' him like a professional. The idea just never came up before. Now it was the only thing she could think of.

She was a bit disappointed when the song ended. At the same time, she didn't realize how much of a workout she had given herself. Her chest lightly heaved as she caught her breath. She wasn't quite aware that the door to the studio room opened up until she saw someone with fiery red hair enter with Roxanne. Sabrina immediately spun around to give them both a dark glare. Roxanne didn't seem to notice Sabrina's annoyance, the newcomer (who had to be a good six feet at least) just grinned at her in a smarmy way.

“Sabrina!” Roxanne happily said, “Come meet Lea. He's that radio host I mentioned earlier.”

Sabrina remained rooted in her spot. It didn't stop Lea from casually walking over to her, extending his hand in hopes of an earnest handshake.

“Pleasure to meet'cha!” Lea grinned. It didn't change Sabrina's outlook on him in the slightest. “Your name is Sabrina, yeah? You wouldn't happen to be the same Sabrina that used to work at the police station with Sora, are you? The one that was fraternizing with another cop. Ventus, I think?”

Sabrina's face immediately paled. Without meaning to, she grumbled under her breath, “Shit.”

“So you are her!” Lea gleefully marveled. “Sora's got a lotta respect for you. Makes Kairi jealous sometimes, you know?”

Sabrina just gave him a stiff nod- unsure if she was going to kill Kairi first when she next saw her, or Sora. Maybe both. Both sounded incredibly tempting at the moment. Then she could steal their kid as a peace offering to Ventus. It would be the perfect revenge.

“How do you know Kairi and Sora?” she asked instead through clenched teeth. She did accept his handshake, although her grip was a bit too hard. Oh well, she had to assert dominance over this moron somehow.

“I'm Kairi's brother if you'd believe it.” Lea snorted. He pulled his hand away with a little shake, but didn't say anything about it. “We don't get to meet up as often as we'd like, but when we do…! Phew, her man really knows how to tell a story.”

“Sora does have a chronic 'won't shut up' problem.” Sabrina agreed with a sneer. She folded her arms in front of her chest in defiance.

“Now, I wouldn't put it like that,” Lea laughed, placing a hand behind his neck. “But he is animated. Hopefully having kids won't knock that out of him too much.”

“Here's hoping.”

From there, a dead silence fell between the two of them. Sabrina casting daggers at Lea from her eyes, while Lea likewise felt a bit out of place. There were few people who made him feel small. Kairi when she was peeved was one of them. This girl, Sabrina, was starting to become another.

“Well, I, uh, should let you girls get back to your lesson.” Lea stammered, hoping to get out of the room as fast as possible now. “It was a pleasure to meet you guys. Roxanne. Sabrina.”

Roxanne gave a happy wave as Lea left, Sabrina just continued to give him a hard glare. Once it was sure that he had left the building, Roxanne immediately turned to Sabrina to take her by the hands.

“You were a cop?!” the bubbly redhead asked. Sabrina’s whole body tensed as she tried to get out of her instructor’s grip.

“Roxanne, now isn’t the time…”

But Roxanne was too in wonder to do much else.

“Well it’s no wonder you got such refined upper body strength!” she went on. “You can’t really tell because you don’t show off a six pack or anything, but do you ever look at yourself in the mirror? How your abs just contract and expand in this beautiful way?”

“How does that even-?”

At this point, Sabrina might as well give up making Roxanne change the subject. She was going to have to excuse herself to leave early today if this kept up. Why did talking about the past feel so much more draining now? It’s not like it was anything she was -too- ashamed of. Were the memories draining because she worked to the point of exhaustion? Was it because of the people she spent time with? No, that couldn’t be right- would it?

Either way, Sabrina was sure of something;

If she saw Lea again, it would be far too soon.

. . .

Sabrina looked at Roxanne like the dance instructor just told her Ventus had recently punted a puppy.

“Don’t worry,” she tried to tell the unamused dancer, “You’ll still be able to do your single routine at the recital. But I think it would be good if you tried a pas de deux as well.”

“With who, Roxanne? Because I don't know anyone else in this studio, and I sure as hell am not just going to start shaking hands with the first guy that walks in.”

Roxanne very quickly twirled her strand of hair in excitement. “Oh, but I think you already know who this is. He’s been a super quick learner for our first session. You and him can come up with a routine for the recital in a snap.”

Sabrina just continued to stare. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Just trust me.” Roxanne told her, even putting a hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be here on Thursday. I’m going to get you two started as soon as possible.”

Sabrina emitted a low growl of displeasure. Even when she had freedom, she was still trapped. But she was patient… to a degree. She decided to humor Roxanne and waited dutifully for her new dance partner. The odd feeling that the certain someone was blonde kept nagging at her. When the door to the studio room opened, she had to physically keep herself from strangling the six foot, fire red haired mutant that actually did come through the door. He even acted all surprised and thrilled to be with her- that fool.

“Hey Sabrina!” he cheerfully greeted. “Roxanne was telling me that you're looking for a dance partner.”

“I am not.” came the prudent reply. She even folded her arms in displeasure as he walked further forward.

“Ah, too bad.” he teased. He boastfully pointed to himself before adding, “Because you got one right here!”

“Behind the beanpole in front of me, or are they somewhere else in the building? It would be rude to not tell them they aren't wanted to their face.”

“Ha, ha.” Lea retorted in a dry tone. “Look, Roxanne’s kinda already gave me the spiel that you’re not that trusting toward others. I ain’t gonna knock that outta ya because it’s your business. But you’re a good dancer. You put a lot of heart into what you do. Now, I may not be the best, but I want to work with you.”

Sabrina held herself tighter. “Why?” she sharply questioned. “What do you have to gain from it?”

“Do I have to have anything to gain from it?” Lea wondered right back, his hand sheepishly reaching behind his neck. “Maybe I’d just like to dance with a talented partner? Do I hafta go through a whole interview process?”

She wasn’t going to lie, it sounded incredibly tempting. But this wasn’t the police station. This wasn’t even her trying to find some good trait in a super lousy county treasurer with delusions of grandeur. She didn't know Lea well enough to know what he'd do at all. Not knowing if she couldn't trust someone was like being vulnerable; she couldn't allow it, and she wanted it even less. However, she likely wouldn't even be in this spot if she didn't open up more. She flinched, not for the first time today thinking of someone else. If she could have just stopped being an abusive monster and just talked to him like he wanted…

“Fine.” she finally grumbled. Her fingers digging into her arms as she looked back up at Lea. “But only until this next recital. After that, I don't want anything to do with you.”

“Alright, geez.” Lea retorted, unsure if he should be grateful or even more wary. “Dancing with one guy isn't going to change your whole outlook on life, kid.”

Sabrina recoiled a bit. Lea didn't know it, but that was exactly what she wanted to do.

[border-spam]

(Featuring @godkingsanointed ‘s amazing OC JK)

  Mid COV

   “There’s a H… there." 

Seifa tapped a black nail into the paper Jak-Knife was staring at so intently their mask’s front grill brushed against the page. They let out a rumbling groan, slowly shaking their head side to side as she reassuringly patted their hand, leaning pressed against the length of their back so she could peer down at the scrawled letter splayed on the table in front of them.

"A H? Why??” they whined, cupping the sides of their head in calloused hands with a dejected sigh. Words were stupid.

It had been a long day for both of them.

Sei had only just made it to her ship after a night of red tape and managing delays in her office below. Tyreen’s Saints had incredible skill in somehow making sure their daily business ended up impacting Troy’s in some way. Missing shipments, deadlines shifted far shorter than possible with no warning, the usual shit. She’d sat for hours after her shift, gritting her teeth while pouring through their condescending e-coms, pausing every now and then to distract herself from the frustration by catching flashes of today’s arena stream.

The Blight Devil had ripped through raiders on the flickering office screen as her papers shuffled. Heretics who’d led an assault on a protected settlement and refused to repent now faced the Holy Father’s executioner, a fitting end to parasites sucking lifeblood from the isolated villages the COV kept in food and medical supplies.

She’d found them after the fight as she left her office that night, leaning silently against the elevator gate in the lower workshop that lead to her ship docked above the Mechanicum. Head bowed and tilted to the side, ankles crossed and arms folded across their chest. They were spotless as usual, arena blood expertly removed from their skin, but the weight of the fight was visible on their frame - tired and quiet.

They’d perked out of their doze as she approached, and lifted a bag filled with something hot and spicy from the Slums as a greeting. JK was always like this. They had as much an open invitation to her home as the others, but while she’d retire some nights and find Ven and Eli already smiling cheekily from her kitchen table and expecting dinner to appear now that she’d gotten home, or Troy curled up asleep in the same tiny wall cot that she’d told him was his years ago, JK never entered without her.

Always waited by the elevator with offering in hand, a gift of food or beer like an olive branch. Habit, she figured. Something from a life of survival in Pandora’s roaming clans she’d maybe never understand, but she could appreciate even though she reassured them it wasn’t needed every single time.

She could tell they were struggling to keep going now still, heavy muscle shifting under her ribs as they groaned at the letter covered in smudged ink between their elbows on the kitchen table, muttering about the rogue “H” through their mask’s respirator.

Words made no damn sense, even less when they were marked down in writing.

 Bandit cant had always served JK well, icons, symbols, communication scratched into rocks and dirt and corpses with the tips of jagged blades. Writing was pointless, they’d been told that for as long as they could remember. Adults in their clan had mocked newcomers to Pandora, said their big words and fancy letters were just to hide behind. A mask without a mask, so they could pretend they were better, stronger than the salt and blood of the earth that crawled across the planet’s dusty wastes in scavenging mobs.

You didn’t need to write or read when your family could respond like a singular pack unit to bird whistles or rhythmic pounding on dry rock. Learning would be a waste of time and resources better used to serve the marauding horde.

This H was a waste. The flimsy, golden pen clutched in their calloused fist was a waste, a symbol of wealth, education, of weakness on Pandora. If it hadn’t been a gift, they’d…

“Because without the H it says tanks. Like, war-machines, you know?” Seifa laughed, pushing against them to her feet and shooting a deadeye finger gun at their chest with a silent pow as she back stepped to her side of the table.

“But gotta say, that looks like a love letter, JK” she grinned, lowering herself into her seat with an ungraceful thump.

“..She a fan of tanks?”

They huffed quietly, refusing to meet the shit-eating grin they knew she was aiming at them as she shuffled the papers in front of her and leaned back into her chair with a creak of wood.

“She likes tanks, yeah. She.. likes all weapons. All machines. Makes ‘em, fixes 'em..” they murmured as Seifa clicked her tongue in response, wolf whistling.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

“She’s… my kind of woman.” Jk replied through a crackling laugh, scratching the pen against the paper with practiced concentration. “She should have nice things like.. letters. She should have poems, songs.. chants… and thank you.” they looked up, catching Sei’s inquisitive gaze “Thank you for helping me.” She followed their hand, gesturing towards the paper with a blunt finger.

Sei laughed, smoothing loose hair back over her shoulder. “Don’t thank me, pal. I think if anything, I’m using you as a distraction..” she sighed, expression turning somber as she dropped the stack of papers to the table in front of her, grimacing. 

“This jank is terrible.”

“Words?” they offered, lenses catching the light as their eyes followed her when she stood. 

“Nah JK, numbers” she scoffed, rolling sore shoulders as she stepped towards the kitchen counter to their side. “WAY worse. Listen, want to try something gross?” the chair struggling to support their bulk squeaked behind her as JK turned to face the cupboard she was rooting through. “I got this new coffee..-somewhere.. where is..- Ahh!”

“I like coffee, sure!” they chuckled with a nod, thumping their fist onto the little table the pair had been sharing in her ship’s kitchen

“This coffee though - ” she corrected smugly “This coffee has been shit out of some horrible little monkey thing on Eden-2” she smirked, stifling a giggle in response to the barking guffaw that erupted behind her.

“WHAT” they yelled through the muffle of the mask’s filters, deep voice cracking in amusement.

Sei turned, waving the foil bag towards them playfully as she leaned back against the counter.

“I’m not joking, gift from an ore dealer me and Ven had to sweet talk into very generous trade agreements on Astrensis a month ago. I don’t know if he was trying to impress me or what, but this is basically worth its weight in platinum and it’s-”

“ - It’s shit juice!” JK gasped between rolling belly laughs.

“It’s fuckin’ shit juice pal, you’re not wrong!” she chuckled, smile wrinkling across her nose as she flipped the coffee maker’s switch, grinning softly as the clunky hiss of the machine filled the little kitchen quarters.

Jk sighed happily behind her, twisting to stare at their paper again. “Rich people are so wrong. They don’t belong, not here, waste everything. Just walking sacks of ego thinking their paper money will stop this place taking its due from 'em”. They grunted thoughtfully, then continued in a quieter tone.

“I thought you were a rich person when we first met, another off-worlder.”

Seifa turned, wide-eyed in surprise at the comment.

JK was someone she’d known for years now, but even with so many hours of quiet time together in this ship, a quiet hiding hole away from the Holy City’s heaving bustle and fame both their titles reluctantly carried, even after all this time, they rarely spoke of their own feelings in this manner. JK’s thoughts were something they held deep in their chest, opinion’s they’d share, advice they’d willingly give, but their thoughts? She wanted to hear more, it was an unusual glimpse into an incredibly interesting mind.

“You thought I was rich?” she balked, pointing towards her chest. “How? You seen the way I live?”

Their head tilted, turning slowly to glance around the cabin. Clean, homely. Plants and textiles covering cracked wall panels… repaired and well-maintained kitchenware, the coffee machine behind her newer than nearly anything else surrounding it. They shifted, looking down at the polished and well loved table, the stains and scratches buffed but still visible in the finish. Years of love and use.

They made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh, tilting their head slowly to the side. “Not about what you own, Seifa. It was how you carry yourself. You’re the only person in the room till you don’t want to be, then you were never there at all. Eyes miss you.” they rumble.

“Don’t belong here. Don’t belong out there either, in the city. Covered in gold, thought you were like the others. You aren’t though.” JK hums, shifting their eyes to the scrapped together coffee machine behind her.

“..You’re like him.”

She’d laugh if that wasn’t such an insult, rolling her eyes and huffing a chuckle into her fist.

“Thanks. What a compliment.” she groaned, flashing a quick grin before lifting a finger to scratch at her jaw thoughtfully. "… I’m not rich though I fleece the twins for all they are worth, sure, but that’s just good business.“ the homemade machine behind her whistled quietly as she paused, breathing deep the acrid aroma of roasted coffee wafting through the room.

"My clan might not be called that, but it’s still what they are. We’ve a creed of support. One of us does well for themselves? Strikes it rich? Lucks a factor as much as skill. There’s 10 bad deals for every good one.. some get a real bad streak, JK.” they nodded, understand her meaning if not her experiences.

“There were times before the twins where I needed help from family, care packages and donations to keep my ship running and fuel tanks full, now I repay that debt with what I earn here, spread the wealth to others who struggle now like I did then.” Seifa shrugged, uncomfortable in sounding anything close to generous regardless of the truth. “ It’s our creed, like I said. Family first.”

Jk grunted, nodding to themself as they stared at the table in front of them, the scrunched letter in shaky lines.

“Family first..” they echoed, not quite to themself, and not quite to her either.

Family.

They let their eyes rest on the pen gripped in their hand, tilting it slowly. The solid gold barrel reflecting light the same way the gilded fangs in his crooked grin had as he pressed the box into their open palm. Troy had been so happy when he handed them the case, blushing and shifting his weight from foot to foot as he waited for them to open it. They’d not known what to do with the contents, looking back and forth between the solid gold pen and him awkwardly. Waiting for him to explain how they should react, anxiously hoping he’d guide them as always.

He’d laughed, plucking it from the case and pointing at the name etched into the bodywork.

“It’s for you, see, it’s your name like we p-practiced. J.a.k-.k.n.i.f.e, see it?” his hand had been trembling with excitement, cheeks flushed and smile squinting his eyes as he loomed over them, pressed close enough to hear his ragged breaths.

“Now when you write you’ll know I got your b-back, yeah? I’ve got your back, understand? 'Cus you’ll know that I know you can do it, and I’ll keep teaching you.”

They hadn’t known what to say, the words that felt right were choking in their throat. They knew Troy often compared himself cruelly to them, would emasculate himself by placing aspects of who they were on a pedestal then berate himself for not reaching. It was hard to communicate their awareness of it with him. He was so easily hurt by his weaknesses being recognised, it was easier to pretend they didn’t notice and insist on complimenting him when they spotted him sinking under his own detrimental thoughts. Lift him up when they saw him flag.

But this, writing? Reading? Troy was excellent at this. It was something he could help them with, and as soon as he’d realised they could do neither, he’d jumped on the opportunity to teach them. They understood it was a repayment of his own volition, even if they couldn’t understand why God King Calypso would feel like he’d owed them in any way. They were his guard. They shielded him. They didn’t need to be thanked, you don’t need to thank a brother…

Seifa waited for as silence fell between them, giving JK the chance to continue, but they said nothing, nodding almost imperceptibly as they continued to stare at the pen.

They got lost sometimes in the depths under that mask, but the people close to them understood, and it was easy enough to bring JK back into the current. Wait a moment, give them a chance to snap back, then pull them back into the conversation.

She cleared her throat to break the quiet.

“So, is this lady rich then? If she likes poems and songs… and weapons?”

It snapped them out of their daze immediately, turning snake quick to glare through the mismatched lenses at her instead.

“She… she has money yes, she works hard. Very hard. I don’t know if she even would like a poem. It’s just something.. I see sometimes on the echonet, those movies Troy watches.”

“You give poems to great women, don’t you…?” their voice caught on a question towards the end, something they weren’t wording but clearly needed an answer for.

Sei stepped towards them, reaching out to lay a hand on their shoulder as she carefully arranged the words that felt most right for them.

“Maybe..” she started tentatively, leaning down a little to meet their eyes through the mask’s glass. “..if that’s what she wants, sure. But it sounds like this woman doesn’t need fancy things, JK. Sounds like she’s plenty good at seeing the truth of what things are, huh?”

They nodded emphatically, the quiet choking sounds from under their mask emphasising their eagerness to agree.

“Thought so” Sei grinned cheekily. “Why not write how you see her then, huh? No poems, just the truth of how things are.” They rumbled as she patted their shoulder, turning back to the small kitchen to prepare their drinks.

She smiled triumphantly to herself as the welcoming sound of the pouring coffee mixed with the scratching of their pen behind her, before it was interrupted by a stern grunt.

“Seifa, how do you spell refuge?”