#He helped save someone at a cost and he didn't even know fully

[probablyanalienindisguise]

[mshroom1e]

ೃ⁀➷ Trust Fall

type: headcanons

how the twst characters would react to the reader suddenly trying a trust fall on them

1.4k words

Characters: NRC Students

╰┈➤ Riddle

He'd be so caught off guard, he just freezes.

Prolly shreiks too.

You fall on the floor right away.

You get an "off with your head!"

He's just embarrassed and ends up feeling bad for letting you fall.

From then on, he refuses to walk behind you so you don't pull the same stunt again.

╰┈➤ Ace

He let's you fall.

But on purpose.

You fall flat on your back and he just laughs at you.

He helps you up though.

He's still laughing.

╰┈➤ Deuce

Panicks but manages to catch you somehow.

He thought you fell backwards by accident.

Stop you almost gave him a heart attack.

He asks if you're okay afterwards, and you tell him it was just a trust fall, and he's like "oh".

╰┈➤ Trey

He knows what you're up to.

Figures it's one of your usual antics and catches you with a fond chuckle.

Warns you not to try the same thing with Riddle though.

He can't help but to tell you to be careful so you don't get hurt if the person fails to catch you.

He's happy that you trust him enough to try a trust fall, though.

╰┈➤ Cater

He's actually quite quick to catch you.

Like Trey, he knows it's a trust fall.

He laughs and asks you to redo it but this time let him pull out his phone and record you do it.

Posts it under #friendshipgoals

(pls idk how to write this young man)

╰┈➤ Leona

He's like "dafuq" and sidesteps you.

Watches you fall.

It's not out of malicious intent. He just cannot be bothered to use any energy to catch you.

Looks at you on the ground, laughs to himself and walks away.

Calls you an airhead.

Congratulations, you played yourself.

╰┈➤ Ruggie

He's got swift reflexes, so he's another quick one to carry you.

Pay up, since he just saved your life.

You explain it was a trust fall but the cost still stands.

You pull out some madol from your pocket and hand it over to him while grumbling the entire time.

There goes your money for the next month that you managed to scrape together with blood, sweat, and tears. (no thanks to the silly bird man)

He smiles and does his little silly laugh when he gets the money off you, so maybe it was worth it.

╰┈➤ Jack

Goes to catch you but ends up fully lifting you off the ground instead.

He's ended up holding you up like Rafiki and Simba

Like Deuce, he thought you fell over and is hoping you're okay.

He's so nice 💔

You tell him it's a trust fall and he furrows his eyebrows.

Kinda feels embarrassed that he fully lifted you up now.

Awkwardly and silently puts you back on the ground with a straight face.

╰┈➤ Azul

He screams and jumps back

Jk

Or am I?

Jokes aside, he's got really good arm strength, so even if he's late to catch you, he still manages to hold you up.

He's so shook his glasses almost fall off and his face is going red from confusion.

Pretty quick to recover and uses it as a business opportunity.

He saved you from falling, so now give him your dorm building.

Theres no friends in the world of business

Sigma grindset haver /j

Mainly uses the businessman front as a cover.

He's still shook but trying to play it off.

Yk how he tries to appear smarter in front of teachers? Well, he's doing the exact same thing but tryna appear calm in front of you.

╰┈➤ Jade

He catches you pretty solid

You hear an ominous "fufufu..." from behind you.

Is disspointed you didn't pass out since now he can't use you as mushroom fertiliser /j

He flashes his usual butler style smile and stands you back on your feet.

Sorry but Jade always seems to be plotting something so I suggest you escape now.

He's already figured it was a trust fall, so no need to explain.

╰┈➤ Floyd

lmao

His reaction depends on his mood ig

If he's default Floyd, he fully picks you up and the next thing you know, you're trapped in a warm but gut crushing squeeze.

Picks you up simba style pt. 2 but it's intentional.

Pls tell me someone else also thinks his hugs would be comfortable.

He laughs with you coz ur so silly.

Puts you on the ground after a bit and ruffles your hair if you're shorter than him (he does that daily and you can't convince me otherwise)

You end up laughing too.

Watch out though, since he might pull the same stunt on you when you least expect it.

Start doing some arm workouts coz he's gonna be a hefty number to lift.

╰┈➤ Kalim

His carpet catches you.

You happen to be in his dorm and its nearby.

His younger siblings do stuff like trust falls all the time so he isn't surprised.

He's also happy you trust him enough to try one with him.

He smiles so brightly it hurts to look at.

After all, it hurts to look at the sun when it's shining.

╰┈➤ Jamil

Is so sick of your bs

Contemplates letting you fall, but he isn't feeling that mean today, so he guesses he can catch you.

Ends up catching you, but it's definitely not willingly.

Don't try it with him again coz next time, you're falling.

╰┈➤ Vil

bombastic side eye

criminal offensive side eye

He gives you the most judgemental, critical look that you even forget why you approached him in the first place.

Bro didn't even give you a chance to test out the fall on him.

Like that one auntie that silently judges you for existing.

He is not wrinkling his perfectly ironed clothes.

You do the walk of shame as you retreat.

Defeat.

╰┈➤ Rook

Man's already caught your before you start to fall.

He chuckles with his usual smile.

"Tres bien, Trickster!"

You tried to catch him off guard (an impossible task), but you're the one who got shocked instead.

╰┈➤ Epel

A quick, confused noise slips out as he catches you.

You almost hit the ground but he tried his best.

Tell him it's a trust fall and you left him so lost he needs the map.

Since there aren't many kids in the place he's from, he'd never heard of a trust fall until now.

He's glad you trust him, though, and has a small smile on his face for the rest of the day.

╰┈➤ Idia

He isn't even there.

You fall with nothing but thin air behind you.

sorry

╰┈➤ Ortho

He catches you right away and it's startling how strong he is.

You knew he'd be pretty strong, but you're still surprised a little.

He also thought you fell by accident but he's happy when you tell him it wad a trust fall.

Watch out though, since there's a close to 40% chance you'll fall on the floor if you tried it on somsone else.

He's just hoping you don't get hurt.

He's such a sweet little gummy worm <3

╰┈➤ Malleus

He instantly catches you with magic.

Genuinely thought you lost your balance.

Well done, now he's walking behind you for the next week to make sure you don't fall and hurt yourself.

You tell him it's a trust fall and he's so lost he needs the map 2.0

But he's intrigued

You're quite strange, Child of Man.

You explain its only done with people you trust (usually) and he's smiling for the rest of the day.

There's no storm clouds for the next week.

You've singlehandedly made his day.

╰┈➤ Lilia

Watches you with a knowing smile.

He knows what you're doing.

Still catches you anyway while chuckling.

Says something about how funny kids are these days and leaves to go do Lilia stuff. (idk I haven't read book 7 yet lmao)

╰┈➤ Silver

You're the one catching him.

He fell asleep mid conversation and now you're left to drag him over to a nearby bench so he can rest comfortably.

bro is majestic

Watching him sleep so peacefully makes you sleepy too and you end up falling asleep as well.

Your trust fall plan ended in a joint napping session.

Idk about you but that sounds like a win to me.

╰┈➤ Sebek

He catches you.

Thinks it would be a disgrace to his training if he didn't.

You tell him it's a trust fall and he gets all smug.

"Ha! You think I can be caught of guard by the ambush of a mere human??" He says but on the inside he's happy you trust him.

Won't say it out loud though so you're left with him talking your ear off about how humans are too reckless.

That's his way of telling you to be more careful next time.

He just didn't want you to get hurt either.

After all, he does care (I hope)

◁--《

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair, Omega, and the Hidden Horrors of Tantiss

Crosshair and Omega going home might've saved them from experiencing more of Tantiss' horrors, but "Infiltration" and "Extraction" remind us that these two still have so much unspoken trauma. They've told us only the surface level of what happened to them and I think we'll finally start getting answers in the coming weeks. I also have a new theory regarding Crosshair's hand.

Major spoilers below

A lot of people commented on how Omega feels like she's hiding something. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes and she feels distant. Our sweet sunshine child is no longer in the bright sun. She kept putting up a brave face because Crosshair needed it. He needed someone to help him push through the darkness. But underneath, Omega is suffering. We see her routine and the monotony of it in "Confined." Months and months of that leave marks that we can't see. She isn't being physically hurt, but the separation from her brothers, the routine, Crosshair's broken spirit, and Hemlock breathing down her neck have all gotten to her. She is tired and is doing the best she can with the hope she has. Her hope, Crosshair, and Batcher were the only things keeping her from falling into despair. But that can only last for so long and thankfully, she made it. But that doesn't mean it didn't impact her.

During "Infiltration," the way Omega spoke to Rex dug deep. There's something she's not telling us. She looked sad, scared, and broken. The look on her face when she mentions herself as part of Hemlock's experiments hurts. I bet they did more to her than we realized. I bet there's much more going on with her in general. She also carries a lot of survivor's guilt due to her escaping when so many didn't. Worse, she left them behind. That doesn't sit right with Omega because she knows what the Empire is doing to the Clones. They're not just there getting blood drawn, something far sinister is happening.

I think in the next few weeks, we will start hearing Omega open up more to her brothers. Michelle Ang said in an interview I think that Omega worries her presence will endanger her brothers. She needs to talk to them. I know personally what happens if you keep stuff in. You don't want to let that stuff fester and I think if we want to see our girl truly happy again, she needs to confide in her family. Crosshair, Hunter, Echo, and Wrecker won't let anything happen to her. They love her so much.

We're also finally starting to get answers as to what happened to Crosshair. But like Omega, he's not fully open either. Crosshair explains to Rex and the others that Hemlock tried to turn him into a clone assassin, a process which involves erasing their identities and going through intense conditioning. Hemlock himself states that Crosshair resisted this "reeducation." But that's all we get about it. Like Omega, Crosshair isn't telling us the full story. We don't know what reconditioning implies or how Hemlock erases identities of the clones. They even come with a tracker that can't be found with normal technology.

I definitely think that Crosshair will also begin to open up more in the next few episodes. He's tied to the Clone X story now so I know we will be getting answers soon. I also think Crosshair's bad hand is tied to the Clone X program. What if his hand started shaking as way to get him out? If he can't function, then Hemlock wouldn't have use for him. Crosshair also knows that they wipe identities. What if Crosshair did have his identity wiped and his hand is shaking as a result of that? He fought Hemlock's programming. But at what cost? His mental scars are there, but there's more than he's letting on. Crosshair is not ok; he may have come to terms with Mayday and his brothers, but his trauma from Tantiss is still there.

In "The Return," he says "I was a prisoner, not much else to tell." Except that's not the case; he was avoiding talking about his trauma with the program. Seeing the clone assassin frightened him and whatever is to come in the next few weeks will be emotional for sure.

Edit: to add to this, Crosshair says that being defective is part of his nature. Now, he could just be making a remark, but what if there’s more? What if Crosshair’s mutations helped him resist the reconditioning?

[wilcze-kudly]

do you find it odd azula basically did everything zuko did ( he burnt down a village, she seized ba sing se, they both tried to kill aang multiple times) and wasn’t afforded a redemption( like mai and ty lee who helped in everything she did and this are also culpable ) despite being redeemable ( caring for ty lee as shown by her apology in the beach episode) and was also younger than everyone else and very mentally and abused but somehow kuvira the facist is redeemable and so is ursa who neglected azula?

I do think about that anon I think about it a lot.

I want to say that the reason Zuko got a redemption arc is because we were following him from the beginning of the series and he had time to grow. I have also heard that there was a plan for Azula to get a redemption arc but it never came to fruition.

However when looking purely at the canon material we see that Azula had virtually no support network other than two other teenage girls who were scared of her and also struggling with their own shit, she spent at least 3 years with her only family member being her abusive dad who molded her into a weapon. Like did we really expect her to turn out as anything else?

On the other hand we have Zuko, whom we see do horrible thing, but he has a supportive (and also enabling tbh) uncle, who helps him through these dark times. Zuko has a support system, he gets chances that Azula never got. His banishment was awful, but I think it also saved him in the long run because he was able to free himself from Ozai's direct influence.

Azula never got the chances Zuko did, ironically due to her talents, and because she succeeded where he did not. Being a "good daughter" was a death sentece for her morality.

And I don't want to say that Azula is purely a victim, and that she's a good person. She's not. She has her kind behaviours but she has done awful things. But so has Zuko. Azula was just better at it lol.

When it comes to Ursa, I have mixed feelings about her. I try to stave away my biases against Ursa, but she reminds me very much of my own mother (if you wanna know what type of woman my mom is just mix Ursa and Lin Beifong, and add in Catholicism.). So Ursa kinda makes my skin crawl.

I think Ursa is a very good deduction of a victim, but it comes at the cost of her being a good mother. I think her situation made it difficult for her to parent both her children, hence the gross favouritism towards Zuko. It sometimes feels like Azula was a sort of 'sacrificial lamb' that Ursa allowed Ozai to influence, which let her focus all her attention on Zuko.

And once again, it's hard to blame Ursa fully for her behaviours, due to the strenuous, horrifif position she was in. I want to believe that she did her best, even if she made the occasional mistake.

I think her behaviour in the Search, while shitty, is also at least semi realistic due to her abuse and the awful frame of mind she was in at the time.

This does not really decrease the effect her behaviours have had on Azula, and we should take them into account, even if we don't fully blame Ursa for them. Ursa isn't a bad person, she's someone forced into an awful situation, where it would be impossible for her to take an objectively perfect action. That doesn't mean that she didn't massively drop the ball on Azula.

As for Kuvira, it's honestly really funny to compare Azula and Kuvira. Azula is 14 and has no support system and a controlling abusive father. She is a pawn to Ozai. A talented, brilliant pawn, but a pawn nonetheless.

Kuvira is an adult woman, at least early to mid twenties by my estimate. She had a support system which she handily rejected, probably due to her past traumas. She created her Empire and led it. She had all the cards in this situation.

So why is Kuvira more deserving of redemption?

I think honestly the reason Kuvira got a redemption arc and Azula didn't has more to do with the people around them, especially their mothers, or mother figure in the case of Kuvira.

Azula has no support system, and her mother always treated her like the problem. Ursa's treatment would favour Zuko, the "model" child, over Azula, the "problem" child.

While Kuvira had a support system. It wasn't perfect, but the Beifongs, particularly Suyin clearly cared for her. Also, Suyin was extremely lax in her treatment of Kuvira. Suyin's parenting actually favoured Kuvira, the "problem" child, over, for example Opal, the "model" child.

I think Suyin and Ursa can be posited as opposites, in a way. Ursa seemed to have grown up in a very loving household, but was forced to raise her children in an abusive environment. On the other hand, Suyin grew up in a neglectful, if not abusive household, but managed to create a loving, safe environment for her children.

Ursa sees Ozai, a man whk hurt her, in Azula, and Ikem, a man she loves, in Zuko, to the point where she even lied about Zuko being Ikem's son, which put Zuko in actual danger.

Suyin probably sees herself in Kuvira, they have plenty of parallels between each other. Of course she'd be kinder to Kuvira. Kindness and forgiveness probably saved Suyin's life.

And in the end, Ursa cannot give Azula the love she's craved for so long. While Suyin openly embraces Kuvira, for better or worse.

When we see what characters receieved redemption arcs over Azula, the pattern quickly emerges:

Zuko had Iroh and Ursa, Kuvira had Suyin and the Beifongs.

Azula only had an abusive dad and friends who were scared of her and who probably couldn't help her even if they wanted to.

It's a shitty way to treat characters we know deserve better, but it's also sadly realistic. Shitty people with support networks, with people willing to bat for them are more likely to "get better". And shitty people who are on their own, or surrounded by other shitty people... they have to stew in their misery and shittiness.

I hope Azula gets her redemption arc. But I don't think she ever will, because the only person who seemed genuinely kind to her in the comics was Aang, but I think she's much too fargone at this point to even care or see it as genuine. It would take a really long, intricate comic novel or series to even start on Azula's journey, and I don't know if the creators of Avatar are willing to put the time, effort and money into that.

Damn that was depressing.... oh well, back to ye ol'e Azula is the Shaman from tlok theory because that at least gives me hope lol.

[up-sideand-down]

your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

I love the hidden sort of coming of age stories in the storyline. Three characters are essentially children through a large chunk of the game and you get to see them grow up and inspire the adults around them. That felt super powerful to me as a kid.

The most obvious is Yuffie. Yuffie is a teenager. She feels shame at what she sees is her father's weak surrender to Wutai. She wanted to keep fighting and naively believed if she got powerful enough materia, she could do it and free her country. She hates ShinRa and criticizes Barret even as he expresses his shame in ever trusting ShinRa. All of these are things teens do. They think they're adults, they know everything, they lack the ability to empathize and see things from someone else's point of view. Yuffie just sees Barret's decision to get a mako reactor as a dumb decision, not a decision that, at the time, seemed like it would help people. She just wants to act!

But she grows, and it hurts. She robs her friends and allies. She betrays them because she must free Wutai. No matter the cost. They would see it in the end.

But she fails. Miserably. She gets rescued by people who are very much her enemy. She has to beg for forgiveness from her friends who should hate her. And somehow...they do forgive her. They let her back in. They even support her as she confronts her father, both physically and philosophically. And they come to an understanding. Her father gave up, yes, but he was trying to save lives. And it worked. But maybe now, if she does it right this time, they can work towards restoring their honor again. It gets buried under the annoyance of losing all your materia, but I really like this growth with Yuffie. Sure she sill tries to get all that Materia, but she grows. She doesn't just fight, she saves lives. She even saves Rufus ShinRa's life. She could have let him die, she probably really wanted to. But maybe...she was grown up enough to admit beating ShinRa was a moot point. It was time to start building. She started there. That's a tough feat as a teen, seeing when to admit you are wrong, and which fight actually matters.

A little less obvious is Nanaki. He hides his age so very well. He speaks eloquently (and in a deep voice in the remakes). He has knowledge of the planet the other's do not and he shares it. He very much acts like sage old man. But that mask slips. He makes snarky, biting remarks. He plays around in Costa Del Sol. The immaturity slips out.

Finally the mask fully falls away in Comso Canyon. Because he's safe. He no longer has to hide as Red XIII. He can be Nanaki again because Cosmo will always love, protect, and accept Nanaki. We can see the "old sage" facade was really him imitating Bugenhagen, his grandfather figure. He has a similar tale of shame to Yuffie. He repeats the tale about Seto and declares he's not a father at all. Bugenhagen has to lead him all the way to the truth for Nanaki to admit...he didn't know the truth at all. Then Nanaki sees Bugenhagen admit...he can't really tell if the planet will die. Bugenhagen doesn't know everything. And that makes it easy for Nanaki to agree to leave his safe haven again. He doesn't know the future, and he doesn't have to. He has to just trust in the people he has chosen to surround himself with. Most of all he has to trust himself. That's part of growing up. You have to trust yourself, that you can choose to do right and go with it.

The last is Cloud. Cloud is 21, but deep inside...he's still 16. I doubt 5 years in a secret lab did anything to mature his mind. Cloud spends almost the entire game pretending to be an adult. A lot of adulthood for Cloud is ignoring things that make him uncomfortable. Another good chunk is violence. He reacts violently to a lot of people, choosing fight over any kind of conversation. Maybe due to Sephiroth's influence, or maybe..because the conversation will hurt a lot more. Him finally facing his past is a very painful venture, but he does it and we finally see the real Cloud. We can finally put together what parts of the game were actually him and what was him playing pretend (or being puppeted).

By the end of the game Cloud is still wildly immature, but he is finally getting to grow. He has a lot of unhealthy habits and coping mechanisms to undo, but he finally faces the reason why: that chance to grow was forcibly taken from him due to no fault of his own. That is a very good reason, but it is still up to Cloud to finish growing up. He struggles and stumbles a lot. But he also faces flaws and forgives them. It's another very powerful lesson kids learn. You can't be perfect. You are going to make awful mistakes. You have to own up to it. You have to grow.

I don't know if this gets actually ignored, but these arcs in particular are what kept me in FF7. The kids.

[thelunarfairy]

what r ur opinions on teru minamoto as a character :33 I love the way you “analyze” and/or talk about characters so I’m curious what you think about him unless you’ve already done one on him  ( ^ᴗ^ ) him and akane’s (boy) interactions are so interesting to me tbh

I love reading that you all love my words, it's like a warm hug >,<

Thanks S2

Teru is a painting painted in watercolors and with a little magic paint. At first glance, we find a beautiful painting, full of smiles and joy, surrounded by a beauty unique to him.

But when the hidden paint is revealed, the art mixed with watercolor, we see dark colors, and the painting transforms into something frightening.

Teru is stained art, a stain we cannot fully see. The way he treats other people, the way he despises supernaturals, how he hates them and wants them to disappear.

We can list the reasons, well, a full-time job is not exactly something that anyone in the universe will want, is it?

A boy who didn't know what it was like to be a child.

That he had no choices, that he was not allowed. He was the oldest, he would have to take care of his younger brother and sister, and at the same time he would have to protect people he doesn't even know.

He offered the time of his life for other people, he lost his mother and took his father's place. He takes care of everything, but who takes care of him?

Every now and then I catch myself thinking about the hatred rooted in Teru's chest. How his tiring work provided him with this, how he put himself in front of his brother so that he wouldn't go through the same thing as him. Even though Kou wanted to be an exorcist.

So, maybe the hatred was also born because the supernaturals took everything from him, including his mother, can I consider that a hypothesis?

He lost his mother, his father is away because of work, he gained the responsibility of a father and a hero early on. Kou is inspired by him, Teru, in theory, is a hero who saves people from supernaturals, but at what cost?

Teru hides a secret, a melancholy that reflects in those eyes. Almost so obvious that we could hear him calling for help. He is also caught up in responsibilities.

The first time he was free, he had fun, he became a child again, he allowed himself. Even though he knew it would only be for a short time.

He is a teenager with adult responsibilities and a child's soul. Not literally, but the desire to be free, to do what he never can.

Of course, Teru has his flaws, but I like to be impartial, to be fair. He is ruthless towards supernaturals, and he will want to kill them no matter what.

This reflects on his relationship with Akane, how the simple fact that he works on the side of the supernatural irritates Teru to the point that he is always punishing Akane, that he doesn't show that he cares about him as much.

Teru and Akane have a partnership-based, do-for-me, I'll-do-for-you type of relationship. Nothing beyond that. If Teru cared about him, he would have faced Tsukasa.

If it were Kou instead of Akane, he would risk his life, like he did when number six appeared.

Teru's hatred and contempt for supernaturals is something that borders on the deeply personal, it's not just a job, something happened.

No one feels hatred for something for no reason. Therefore, sometimes I think that he lost someone very important or had a great trauma because of the supernaturals. Besides, of course, it was because of them that the father is absent, that he himself dedicates his life to destroying them.

There was no choice here. His blood determined his own destiny, which he hates.

But he knows, yes, he knows that even seemingly good supernaturals can do something bad. We don't know if one day in the past, Teru got involved with some supernatural and had to exorcise him for doing something bad.

It must have been painful, the same pain that Kou would feel if it was necessary to exorcise Mitsuba because he lost control. So, in order not to suffer again, he wouldn't want to get involved with the supernaturals, just get rid of them, it's easier.

Teru's hatred is what intrigues me, I see him and I want more and more to find out why he was born and where he will take him.

Teru is a canvas full of secrets, little by little the painting is completed, and we increasingly see his truer side.

[taldigi]

I think the reason Joker/Akechi is so popular (other than sadboy angst) is because of how he changed from vanilla to royal. Having Joker mess with his hair, giving him a boathouse scene, the double entendre of giving someone your glove being a declaration of a duel but also sometimes considered a romantic gesture, among other things made people feel as if they were leaning into a romantic interpretation of their relationship rather than the more nebulous original version. Then there's third semester, with Maruki commenting on their "unique relationship," giving the player the option to sacrifice reality to keep Akechi alive, and the whole Sleeping Beauty and Prince Charming thing with the fairytale motif... it just seemed like Atlus noticed that a decent amount of people were shipping Akechi with the protagonist and decided to run with it. It certainly doesn't help that the English voice actor for Akechi that Royal's more romantic lean is "not thinly veiled." I still agree that fandom focuses on it far too much, though. Especially considering how much the game emphasizes that it can't actually happen.

ohh, thank you. I highly appreciate the reply!

I want to preface by saying that my reply comes from my experience in interpreting the game and how that's influenced my own opinion. It isn't meant to diminish the argument, despite any harsh wording, but to examine it through my own eyes.

I also don't.. hate the ship (I had been in the ML fandom too long to know that), but am largely overwhelmed by it's over-saturation and domination over the fan space and what I interpret as being... hugely out of character.

The kind of character I see Ren as being- outside his anime protagonist curse- is a highly empathetic (he takes books and media to heart, is able to empathize with the worst of humanity, and is able to touch the hearts of even the most prickly of people) and selfless person. Someone who would do anything to save anyone at any cost short of killing someone else! it's the reason why he's in Tokyo in the first place, and he doesn't stop afterwards. He steps in-between many many possible conflicts and puts himself in immediate and possibly fatal situations in order to keep his friends safe.

The whole premise of his story, and his ultimate choices, is freedom- after all- even if that freedom leads to pain... But and what is more confining, and final, and indisputable than death? Ren, a guy who chose to let each and every palace owner live and make them admit, understand, and face the consequences of their cruelty... would suddenly let Aketchi into his heart and trust him so fully and wholly? How many families has he left torn apart? And not all the victims were high ranking diplomats. The train conductor may have lived, but he died brain-dead.

Like- duh, right. Ren wanted to befriend Aketchi. He sees himself in him- friendless, misunderstood, and a little pathetic. Ren's scenes with Aketchi come before he finds out what he's done, and after that Aketchi changes. As romantic as those scenes might come off to some (I personally took it as pity) That Aketchi was a fake. He fucked with Ren's head and succeeded for the most part- and if Mona and Futaba didn't step in, he might have gotten away with it. Ren might not have been there to see it, the second he pulled that trigger it was over-- and he still had the mind to gloat about it.

All of the phantom thieves, after it's all said and done. Still express empathy for him. None of them will forgive him. None of them should forgive him... and the Joker I've come to know would never ever grant Aketchi any leeway without- bare minimum, Haru or Futaba's forgiveness.

All that being said, the interpretations of the story given seem highly generous. Ren shows the same affection, offer of understanding, and willingness to assist in any issues to Aketchi as he shows to any of his confidants.

Royal offered more than vanilla, sure- and Aketchi coming back in semester 3 might have been a result of Ren's desire to befriend him or save him (notice how the Aketchi in the stay ending is the softer "fake" version) but it might have also stemmed from the fact that it's in Ren's nature to save others, and the result of the shifted realities Isn't solely reflected in his desire to have Aketchi be responsible for his crimes- but in the fact that he gets to see his coffee family whole and happy- or Haru having her father back and in a good relationship, or seeing Ann or Shiho not having to live with the traumas of sexual assault or suicide attempts, and to see Ryuji and Yusuke living their dreams without pain and with family.

Yeah, they do have a "unique" relationship. They have similar circumstances, they've been pushed to play the same interdimensional game, they're the same person- same coin. But they're never ever going to see face to face. They both chose freedom, but Aketchi chose power and revenge and Ren chose kindness and friendship.

...and you know what? I appreciate that tragedy! I appreciate it a lot. I love what they did with Ren & Aketchi's dynamic and how they expanded it in Royal. It's equal parts deeply fascinating and tragic and says so much about both characters. But just like returning Aketchi to life and free would render that experience void of meaning... rendering it romantic.. seems.. diminishing. It doesn't work as well if it's romantic.

Bah, i'm getting rambly. Thanks for hearing me out.

[halikyon]

From Dust to Dawn: Chapter 1

Summary: This is where the main divergence in Ryune's story begins. The Endsinger has fallen, but the danger is far from past. Ryune must now handle this last threat to the Star, but at what cost to herself?

Word Count: 3796

Note: Its a little shorter of a chapter than intended, but that's mostly due to most already understanding what's going on here at this point, its just more Ryune flavored now.

Next

Story below the cut:

Ryune breathed a long sigh, collecting herself in the face of such a monumental event. The Endsinger was no more, the star was no longer unraveling, and Meteon had set off into the infinite void. In truth, it wasn’t terribly clear to her what to do next. Hopefully someone would figure out where she was and come get her at some point, but there was ground to stand on and air to breathe, and, after all that had just transpired, she would take what she could get. She could feel the ambient aether dragging along her fingertips in the air as she moved, the area completely suffused with it after Meteon’s parting. She swore she could even glimpse it like wisps of steam around her. But here, among the seemingly infinite plane she found herself upon, there was still a problem, though. A conspicuously missing one. Unfortunately, it wasn’t missing for long.

The shadow of Shinryu swept across the ground, transforming back into a force of destruction masquerading as a man only a few malms away. Ryune hated him utterly, even knowing it was what he wanted. Too many had fallen by his hand or by his actions, and too many remained threatened by his very existence. He had done plenty to help unleash the Final Days upon them once again without even a hint of remorse. She knew his assistance in fighting the Endsinger had only been to get it out of the way. Now, here he stood with some horrid half-smile as he stared at her. Her gut twisted into knots knowing full well that he knew her beyond even as a lover would, having taken her body for a time in his mad scheme to draw her ire. She didn't know if she would ever get over that.

A moment of tense silence passed before he spoke. “Hmph. You mean to return. To the world where you are hailed as a hero.” He stated, approaching calmly as could be. Ryune turned fully to face him, staring back into his eyes, glaring hatred. “Hear me, then. Not as a hero, but as simply…you.”

The familiarity he spoke to her with only served to quicken her pulse. He styled her as his friend, but Ryune would sooner bow to Lolorito before considering Zenos anything but a cataclysm that must be stopped.

“As I learned in Ala Mhigo, you are a formidable foe.” Zenos paused, stopping in his tracks merely a dozen or so fulms away. “Stronger than any I have faced. Against you, I need bring my all to bear.” His eyes seemed as dead as he had been back atop the city back then. “I need burn through the candle of my life.”

“And for what?” Ryune asked, the words filled with malice.

“This is the sole pleasure I know, and it is the sole pleasure I have to share.” He answered, as if it somehow justified all he had done. “And so I come before you. To issue challenge and offer singular bliss. If you wish to walk away, I will not stop you.”

“What ‘bliss’ you have is nothing I intend to allow to continue.” Ryune snapped back, long having lost her patience with his words. She grasped the handles of her weapons, a pair of ornate adamantine caesti that curved to fit her hand, in preparation for what she knew must come.

“Yet you value life. You do not burn your save for reasons you deem worthy. Reasons such as those which brought you here. The salvation of a world and its people. The motives of a hero true.” His voice seemed to dance between admiration and condescension as he spoke. He put a foot forward as if in challenge. “But there is more to you than that! You know this to be true.”

“I am more. More than violence and wanton destruction, unlike you.” Ryune readied herself, expecting him to attack at any moment.

“As surely as you know the thrill of pushing your body and soul to their limits. Of confronting ever mightier foes, dancing ever closer to the precipice, wondering if this will be the one to finally, finally…fill the void.” He stretched forth his arm towards her as if reaching for her soul. “Such pleasures, you seek for their own sake, and no other reason. Is this not so…adventurer?”

Ryune took a moment, feeling a sting of truth behind the words, looking within the roiling mass of hate she felt. There she found the core of who she was beneath, still bright and resilient. Her will and driving force. “The challenge of a strong foe may have its own allure, but the void in my heart was filled long ago. I am not a weapon, nor am I alone. I fight not simply for the thrill, but for those I wish to protect, and I will not stand by and let you toss them aside so callously. I may not deny the accusation, but I have become more than my fists.”

“You would chain yourself to such weaklings!”

“They are my strength!”

“Then perhaps this isn’t our penultimate confrontation. Perhaps I should return and strip all from you. Those Scions and allies alike. Even the ones you love most. Even that cat, what was her name? M’n-”

Before she could think, Ryune was suddenly on the other side of him, currents of aether streaming past in her wake, her caestus on her right hand having struck a glancing blow across his chest as he twisted his torso right, just in time to avoid a direct hit. Even that blow, strong as she was, had sent a thunderous boom coursing through the air like a shockwave. She spun and came at him again, the stomp of her foot echoing across the nothingness around them, twisting around, uncoiling like a spring to bring her left fist to his face.

He caught her strike with his bare hand, another boom resounding through the air, and with a manic smile, he called out, “More than your fists, you say!” Ryune jumped back as a slash from his scythe cleaved the space she had just been in. “What foolishness! Come then, Weapon of Light! Show me who you truly are!”

Ryune charged again, her eyes locking with his, the unnatural glow of Resonance flooding forth as he locked his with hers in kind, and in that moment they saw each other as they were within. They fought on through the visions, fist and scythe clashing even while they found themselves elsewhere as if in two worlds at once. Ryune could see him, a husk of meaningless existence, uncaring and uncared for, using others around him for sport as if their lives meant nothing. The only sparks of life seemed to exist when he took that spark from another, time and time again until even that meant nothing at all.

Ryune was jarred back from the vision as she was forced to block an incoming strike, taking it on her weapons as much as she could, but not enough, as blood soon trickled down her arm, the impact of the blow sending her backward.

“What a farce of an existence!” Zenos called to her, mockingly. “These pitious fools you hold dear are meaningless in the face of this ecstasy!”

“You are nothing but a tragedy, Zenos! One I will not stand to have visited upon anyone ever again!” She glanced down at her left arm where the scythe had slipped through, seeing that it was only a flesh wound. “You chose to live that life, and I am choosing to end it.” Ryune added, her voice falling as she prepared herself for the next bout.

It was Zenos who came forward this time, his scythe aiming for her neck, a wild grin upon his face. She ducked below, landing an uppercut to his gut as he sailed overhead, grinting with the effort. It didn’t even slow him down as he landed and lunged again, slicing up at her this time. She twisted away, the flash of metal seeming all-too-close, strands of her hair flitting away, caught in its path. Ryune countered, aiming a quick jab that connected with his jaw, the crack of the impact enough to make anyone flinch. He didn’t relent, though, spinning with the momentum of her blow and bringing his scythe in line with her ribs.

The hot sting of the wound was felt before she landed from her desperate retreat, but there was no time to check it, as she was already back on the offensive, sending blow after blow from all angles as he was forced to back off, his attack overextending him. Most were deflected away or intercepted by hand or scythe, but some broke through to soft tissue beneath. Seeing an opening, Ryune put her all into a high kick that connected with his head and sent him spinning away, forcing him back and buying her time to take stock. Ryune quickly put her hand to her midsection, feeling that the wet warmth was spreading rapidly. Looking to Zenos she could see her last hit had been more effective than she had hoped, as his skull seemed misshapen and jaw dislocated, and yet he looked to have no intention to yield. In fact, he seemed to pop his jaw right back into place as if we're no trouble at all. He probably didn't even care about the dent in his head.

As Ryune did what she could to recover and patch herself up, drawing the surrounding aether to bolster herself, he channeled a different aether, drawing the Voidsent that had been taken into his mangled pact to himself, becoming enshrouded by it. His wounds seemed to alter and become part of that void, the damaged part of his skull now covered in darkness.

He stood tall and made ready. “Yes!” His voice was strong but ragged, “Give me everything you have!” He seemed completely unbothered by his injuries as he lept towards her in a high arc, scythe raised high overhead.

Ryune was out of time, the deep cut on her torso still bleeding, but she was unable to do anything more about it as she dove to the side, rolling to her feet, a trail of red droplets following her. She rushed to him with another flurry of blows to counter his advance, but this time he could stand his ground. The continued effort made her breath feel like fire, and agony made itself known as it radiated from her wound, but she couldn’t relent. He was faster now, stronger, the shroud bolstering any weaknesses he might have had before, and yet he couldn’t stop all of her strikes from getting through. She couldn’t stop him, either, as she found herself half-blinded by her own blood in her eyes after a graze to her brow. Fights didn't typically last this long, one side or the other relenting as they realized they were outmatched, but that wasn't an option here.

There was no longer any lull to collect themselves, every moment filled with clashing fists and flashing blade, both of them drawing in the aether around them to sustain their efforts. After a time, Ryune found herself almost in a state of meditation, her body dedicated to defeating Zenos, leaving her mind with time to think instead of simply react. It was here that she could feel the effect it was having on her to fight like this. The flame of her life was burning brightly, but she knew there was a limit, and it was likely fast approaching. If she didn’t do something now, she might not be able to do anything at all.

She steeled herself for what was to come. In a flash she moved, using a technique that put enormous strain upon her body, striking at Zenos from all angles much faster than any could hope to react to, in and out of his range like a phantom in the night as he slashed at the nothing where she had once been. He wasn’t falling, though. Every bit of damage she inflicted seemed to fill with dark aether before she could exploit it. Six, seven, eight strikes now, reaching the limit of what she had ever done before, her body crying out as she drew in more aether to sustain the assault. Again and again and again, losing count in the flurry, she drove on until she no longer could her body making the decision for her. Backing off to a few yalms away from him, she dropped to a knee, unable to keep going and breathing heavily, her heart feeling like it would burst from her chest, the wound there feeling like it might let it.

Across from her Zenos seemed to finally have taken enough of a pounding to notice as he, too, had gone to a knee. Yet he wasn’t done, in fact, he was smiling more than ever. He used his scythe like a staff to stand back up as Ryune forced herself to her feet, keeping her stance wide so as to not lose her balance. She knew the end was near one way or another.

“Is this not what it means to be alive?” He croaked through his now shattered jaw between quick breaths, Ryune’s fists having found a rib or two to break in the melee.

Ryune didn’t have the energy or will to answer him. Instead she focused on drawing even more of the ambient aether around them to herself to keep from falling, the hunger of the void she felt inside that was once her own reserves barely seeming to slacken for her efforts. To continue this was going to kill her, she knew, but she would rather die than let Zenos roam free again, and if that was what it took, then so be it. She didn’t know if her loved ones would forgive her, but she knew she couldn’t forgive herself for doing anything less. The last time she had felt this awful had been before Emet Selch on the First, suffused with Light, but it was different here. Instead of an overwhelming abundance, now it seemed there wasn’t enough aether to be found anywhere. No longer did it drag upon her fingers or flow through the air like so many phantoms.

As she looked to him, and him to her, they once again locked eyes and were transported to another time. Ryune saw him in Ala Mhigo, striking down his own officers for their perceived incompetence, manipulating Fordola, whom she had come to care for as she had the Scions before. They stood as they were as the visions faded, neither having moved.

“Even the lapdog, I see.” He spoke, his breathing still shallow and fast, “Not worth the air she breathes.”

Ryune knew it was only to provoke her, but she didn’t care. She approached him, running much more slowly than before as her legs refused to dash like she had done before, and sidestepped as Zenos slashed at her once more, her fist landing at his left shoulder with a squelching pop that signaled its dislocation, the vibration through her arm exacerbating her own pain. He hardly noticed, though, forcing the arm to move anyway as he slashed at her again from below. This time she couldn’t get away fast enough, the blade screaming up her right side from her thigh and exiting at her ribcage, the pain causing her to cry out even as she herself brought a fist to bear from her left, impacting his ribcage with a sickening crunch, further destroying what was left of it. The resulting assault unfortunately served to worsen her condition, her skin tearing with her movement as Zenos, too, had begun to be brought low. The last blow she could manage brought her knee into his arm, cracking the bone in two and sending his scythe across the ground as he had pulled back for another strike.

Ryune fell backward, dizzy and unable to compensate for her momentum from the lack of blood and aether in her body. She tried drawing more aether into herself as Zenos went to his knees a few fulms away. There wasn’t enough, there simply wasn’t. No matter how much she drew in it seemed only to flow back out almost as fast. There had never been a time she had needed to draw so much in, and it seemed her body had long hit it's limit. She wasn’t done, though, not yet, not while Zenos could still move. Not while he still drew breath. She got back to a knee and did what she could for herself while she had the chance.

With one arm broken and the other so dislocated that it looked to be barely hanging on, Zenos couldn’t wield his weapon anymore. He stood once more, unsteady, looking down upon her as she desperately tried to seal her side with the aether she could manage to channel. His approach was slow, but it took time to get herself to her feet to meet him. Before she was steady, he reeled back and delivered a mighty blow from the fist of his dislocated arm, sending her reeling, but she managed to keep her feet under her. She returned the favor, landing a blow squarely on his cheek that sent him flailing back.

Steadily she made her way forward as he regained his own footing. They came together once more, so very slowly compared to before. They traded one blow, then another, and another before they both slipped down in exhaustion, their bodies beyond spent. He had fallen onto his back while Ryune had gone to her hands and knees. She slowly crawled her way over and straddled him, punching him again and again, willing him to fall permanently silent, an eerie parallel to what had once led to her flight from Little Ala Mhigo all those years before. It was then that a sharp pain entered her left side, intersecting the first injury she had received. He had fallen within arms reach of his scythe, and had used what strength he had to drive it into her while she had been preoccupied. The tip was well within her, and she could feel him trying to drive it deeper, but it was apparent that this was all he had left. She didn't even have the energy to spare to scream from the pain.

Again and again she struck with her own rapidly fading strength, her attempts to draw aether no longer seeming to give her more than the barest sip. Zenos wasn't much more than a bloody pulp, now, and yet, as she fell off to the side, finally exhausted to the fullest, the scythe falling away from her, she heard his laughter, weak and raspy.

“Finally…finally…” He said, turning his head to look at her laying beside him.

Looking back to him as she lay there, she was struck only with fear, as his eyes looked more alive than she had ever seen them. Alive and burning and… and dying. Finally dying. His dark aether drawn from his pact had been spent, and now his wounds lay bare. There wasn’t much left of him anymore, and yet it seemed at any moment he would jump back up and begin his assault anew. She watched as that light faded from his eyes, a torn smile spread across his face under the blood and broken bone.

She tore sight away, the image of his last moments now seemingly burned into her mind, and stared up at the sky. She had long since gone beyond pain, most everything aflame that she could feel. It didn’t matter anymore, though. Zenos was dead, and everyone was safe. Now, she might finally rest. As her heartbeat seemed to grow weaker and her vision blurred more and more, her mind played images of those she would be leaving behind. The Scions, the people of Ala Mhigo, the M and the U, the orphans in Dravania among so many more, and the one face that repeated more than any other. Her eyes welled as she saw M’naago again and again.

She saw her as she was at Rhalgr’s reach, brave and righteous. Again at Ala Mhigo as they celebrated their victory, then again as it all seemed to be coming apart. Lastly it had been before they had left to come here, where she had promised M’naago that she would return, and that they would figure it all out together. What had once been friendship and become so much more between them. It seemed she would have to break that promise after all. She wished more than anything to tell her, with utmost desperation, that she loved her. It lit something in her to stay alive, to not give in, but there was little she could do.

Darkness encroached upon her vision and thoughts as she succumbed, and as she closed her eyes, she thought the barest glint of light could be seen through the void. In the emptiness, her only hope was that they would all forgive her in the end.

I'm so sorry, M'naago…

For a moment, it felt as if she were falling, but then the voices started.

“Ryune? Ryune!” A familiar young voice came through to her, reassuring in its familiarity. Was her mind playing tricks as she returned to the Aetherial Sea?

“You can't do this…no…” Another, very similar but higher in pitch spoke next.

“Hells! Quickly, we've not much time!” Demanding, in charge. Her deeper voice didn't betray her fear or worry.

More voices and movement seemed to flow around her, but she could hardly make out any of it. Then, they came back again.

“Damn you, Ryune. Damn it all!” A deep male voice called out in frustration. Ryune swore she could hear the voices of a few Loporits as well.

Surprising herself in that she even had the ability to, her eyes opened as much as she could manage, barely letting in blurry slits of light to see where she was. She was on the deck of the ship, surrounded by familiar people from what she could feel. One red blur was crying, another white one stared in disbelief. The rest seemed to be tending to her, massive flows of aether barely doing a thing to help. Then, as suddenly as her moment of wakefulness had come, it was all dark again.

She swam in that darkness for what seemed like both an eternity and an instant all at once. No thoughts or feelings, no want or need. Then, like the light of a sunrise, existence came rolling back to her.

[gottawritesomething]

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet

Chapter 8 of Pride cometh before the fall (Gale FIC) (8/?)

Gale finds out the cost of the orb, and they have a talk about feelings, finally.

TW: Suicidal ideation, Mystra mentioned,

_______________________________________

"For a moment, he looked sheepish. “To be honest, for a long time, I didn't know why, myself. But I have come to understand that it is possible that at a point in our past, I may have harbored similar feelings… For you.” He added quickly."

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11

_____________________________________________

∼

“You were here.” Gale said again, more firmly. Isabel very slowly turned her head to look at him. Then to Tara and then back to him. She seemed to be considering her words very carefully.

“I was. Yes.”

Isabel turned to face him fully this time. She did not look reticent or caught. She raised her chin haughtily and to look him straight in the eye.

“Why?” It wasn’t an accusatory question, necessarily. But Gale needed to know.

“The truth this time.”

“I was here because you came to me.”

Gale shook his head slightly.

“Could you please clarify what you're implying? I'm struggling to grasp how I could have come to you."

“Perhaps…maybe, you were nearby. So when I reached out… it…”

Again, Isabel’s tone was even and factual.

“Somehow, you broke through my teleportation circle circuit and deposited yourself in my room.” She seemed so sure, but it couldn’t be that.

“I was not nearby,” Isabel said firmly, her eyes blazed though there was no trace of anger within them.

Gale leaned heavily against his desk. He ran his hand through his hair, his fingers snagging on the knots. So he’d already betrayed Mystra before he was even conscious. He recalled his prayers on the cold floor of that temple, all to Mystra, pleading for her to notice him one more time. To prove her love for him, to save him. He tried to recall how Isabel could have even entered his thoughts, especially in moments he thought were his last.

They were both watching him. Isabel glanced away, likely to give him a moment to consider what to say.

Could this have been the originator of Mystra’s silence? Had he not made his dedication clear enough to Mystra? He’d done everything she’d ever asked of him; he’d never argued; he had sought her company above all else. But in a moment of vulnerability, he’d reached in desperation for someone else, not believing the Mystra would save him. Perhaps if he’d not called for the Weave to transport himself, maybe if he’d stayed a moment longer, the divine intervention he’d craved would have appeared to him. Isabel must have known this would end him. But addressing the impacts of the choices made was what he faced now. He could feel his restraint slipping away from him.

“I think you should leave. You’ve done enough.” He elected not to meet Isabel’s eyes—certain of the hurt he’d see there.

“What I’ve done, is helped save your life,” Isabel said quietly.

“As I’ve told you before, Mystra was my life. And my life slipped through my very fingers the moment I reached for you. Seeking a cure becomes increasingly pointless; regardless of my next actions, she is still lost to me; she will still not be here when I wake. Or when I reach out in prayer.” The glow from his chest had bled through his robes, casting the room in a purple light. “There was a reason I ceased speaking to you; you’ve disrespected my goddess at every possible interval, and to see me turn from her, towards you, must have hurt her so deeply…” He pressed the orb, seeking some relief from the radiating pain. “Even now, your presence and interference could spell doom for the entire city.” he gestured toward the growing light on his chest, still carefully avoiding her eyes.

“That is enough, Gale,” Tara said sharply. “I will not allow you to debase yourself any further.”

Gale could not recall a time that Tara had interceeded on someone’s behalf and certainly not against him.

“No one was coming to save you, Gale. All your prayers fell on deaf ears. I sent for Mystra’s clerics, and they refused to save you. You would have died without my intervention.” Each word seemed to pain Isabel as much as it pained him. Her eyes carried a profound sense of loss he’d never seen in her before. His knees weakened, barely holding his sinking weight. “You can only push forward; there is only restoration of yourself, if you want it."

He breathed in and out, employing the focus he’d cultivated from years of spell casting. The orb’s lights dimmed.

“And if I have no interest in recovery?”

He turned away from her, determined to reclaim his dignity in this moment. He directed his next comment to Tara and spoke intentionally, concerned the last of his composure would slip away from him without a moment’s notice.

Isabel could not contain herself; she stepped forward towards him. Reaching for him. Tears had gathered in the corner of her eyes.

“Don’t say that.”

“You kept this from me. Intentionally. And because I cannot claim those memories for myself, I’d like the entire story. I suspect this is not the only half-truth you’ve told me.” Tara had remained nonplussed; regarding him was a slow, unblinking gaze. Isabel did not benefit from any such featurelessness. She’d closed her eyes as if in prayer and pressed her hand to her mouth. As though, attempting to prevent an errant word from spilling out.

“Why…” was all he could choke out; it burned his throat up and lashed his tongue on the way out. He released her robe. He leaned his back against the desk drawers, pressing his palms onto his face in a worthless attempt to stop the flow. He heard the rustle of her robes as she kneeled in front of him.

As he waited for an answer from Tara, Isabel extended a hand, conjuring a flame in her palm. He’d seen her do it countless times; she’d often done it absentmindedly, allowing the flame to thread through her fingers. Initially, the movement was familiar; small currents of Weave rose from her skin, entangling and combining into a flame. Then, the flame began to sputter. Isabel closed her eyes to ensure focus, but still, the flame shuddered and spit, shrinking smaller and smaller until all that was left was her open hand. As understanding dawned, Gale felt an all-consuming cold overtake him. The desk was not enough to keep him upright.

The floor came up to meet him. His knees and hands pressed flat on the ground, tears falling freely to splatter on the floor. His hair hung long over his face, reaching toward the pooled tears by his hands. The orb pounded against his chest, enraged by the inflow of emotion. It ripped chunks from his insides, leaving him breathless with pain. He tore at his chest, pulling at the front of his robes, like exposing it would slow the orb's rage. He heard Isabel move to stand near him. He grabbed at her suddenly, hands gripping the front of her robes hard enough to turn his knuckle white. They stayed like that for a heartbeat; he remained unmoving, like with any movement she’d run.

“How could you do that to yourself? I never sought nor desired such a sacrifice from you. I would never have asked you to bear such burdens on my behalf.” He uncovered his face to look at her beseechingly.

Isabel’s eyes had softened, and his heart softened in turn. Gale wondered if she could indeed see into his chest and had reached out to cradle his heart.

“I am fully aware, and I would never expect you to ask because you never would. So it had to be a gift freely given.”

“I will never be able to repay this. You must understand that.” He covered the orb with his hand subconsciously.

“There is no expectation for you to, from me at least. I only ask for one thing."

“Anything. Anything on this plane or the next, anything within my ability and possibly outside it.” He said with a great measure of desperation.

“I need you to keep going, Gale. I know how hopeless you've been and how bleak things look, but I need you to keep fighting, please. I cannot bear to see you suffer so. I won't pretend this orb didn’t cost you dearly, but your abilities were a worthy sacrifice if it meant keeping your life. This is surmountable by you more than anyone.”

He could only nod meekly as he remained uncertain where his motivations now lay. There was so much new knowledge to contend with, and he hoped not to lie to her outright.

“What will you do?” He couldn’t convey it at this moment, but he desperately needed to hear that she'd be alright. She seemed surprised by the question and gave a small huffed laugh.

“Oh…yes. Well, I always said being a wizard was a hobby, but it seems like it may become a mainstay these days.” She replicated the flame spell, this time with all verbal and somatic components. Her hands moved more fluidly and less polished than was typical, a remnant of sorcery casting. But the flame produced was strong and held firm. It sparkled in her palm; she gazed into it, seeing something only meant for her, and cradled it to her chest. The flames jumped and twisted, reflecting the light off her curls so they looked aflame. Access to the Weave clearly held a similar comfort for her as he’d felt, but as he watched her, he knew he’d inadvertently taken this from her that the very essence of her being had been sapped by his selfishness.

He rose from the ground, startling her, and causing the spell to drop.

“You must excuse me; this has all been…a lot to process. I must retire to clear my mind. The tranquility of sleep is a cherished respite, particularly after a heaviness settles upon one’s shoulders.”

He caught the hurt on her face before she could obscure it with a polite smile.

“Please, understand, this is not a dismissal but rather a surrender to the exhaustion that weighs upon me. I require some clarity before we speak again. Your presence is welcomed; I presume you’d taken up residency in one of the rooms during your extended stay. You are welcome to stay tonight if you wish…” He had almost added a pleading ‘please’ but did not wish to make her feel obligated.

She’d retreated into herself, an understandable reaction, but he could no longer read her face.

“Certainly. Thank you very much.” She nodded gently.

“Well, with that settled, I must bid you a temporary farewell and a good night. Rest assured, our paths will cross again with the dawn's light." She stood to leave; Gale turned away, hearing the gentle click of the door. He leaned heavily on the desk once again, his eyes landing on a small green book on the shelf nearby. He desperately needed time and space to think.

∼

Isabel wanted to kick herself; she could not have dreamed up a worse way to give him the news of her powerlessness. She'd presented it like she'd made an enormous decision to sacrifice a portion of her powers to save him when, in reality, it had been an act of desperation that'd somehow worked. It wasn’t as though she was going to let him die, of course. He must have understood that. That was common sense. Though she doubted that Gale would consider the practicality of it, and it would certainly not assuage his guilt. Though only she knew that in those early mornings when he’d gotten worse, she would have given more than her powers to save him.

To add to the ever-growing list of things she’d mangled in this exchange, she realized that her familiarity had unsettled him yet again. It occurred to her that while she’d felt closer to him —as could be expected when you reach into the very hells and yank someone back from the brink— but as far as he’d remembered, they’d last spoken years ago, rather frostily. Then he’d requested her presence, presumably for casual dinner, only for him to discover she’d poured part of herself into him. She realized she hadn’t even considered that he’d grown away from the man she knew. Conceivably, his allegiance with Mystra could have changed him into someone who would not delight in her presence. Though she was confident that Gale, regardless of who he was now, would never say so. She suddenly felt very lost and small. Selfishly afraid that she’d poured her heart into someone who was a stranger.

She rubbed her eyes, smoothing out her robes in frustration. He’d, of course, been correct. She had picked one of the tower's rooms to stay in while treating him, a snug room that might have been a guest room if it wasn’t being used as a magic artifact storage. She’d amused herself imagining Gale frantically digging through the mess to find something he’d casually tossed onto one of the piles. It appeared that Tara had cleaned up the room slightly; she wondered if other evidence of her presence had been removed on his waking… Most of all, she wondered if Tara had removed that small garden she started on the roof or if she’d let it run wild. She weighed her options; it wasn’t as though Gale had banished her to this room or even implied she was not permitted to move freely. She figured that if she gave a wide berth to his personal chambers and study, she’d be within her rights. It wasn’t as though she’d sleep. The anxiety and frustration produced from today had ensured that.

From her time here, she’d discovered that the tower was rife with hidden passages and small arcane secrets tucked away. She was certain that some had been created organically from repeated exposure to the magic that seeped into the walls of the tower. A silver plate on display that, if you looked into it long enough, showed the scene of a forest somewhere far away. An old tapestry that seemed to shift location and coloring every few days. A displaceable brick in the entry that allowed you to reach into the kitchen. After so many weeks of unending worry and the need to decompress, she’d made a game of discovering more of these quirks. It was one such detour that she’d uncovered a route to the roof. She’d assumed the perpetually dusty stool in the hallway of the observatory just had a talent for never being cleanable, but after her curiosity had led to her sitting on it, she found herself transported outside. A small balcony sat in the center of the roof. It appeared to be intentionally hidden from outside perspectives. A private space to watch others but go unexamined yourself. She’d taken advantage of the outside location and hope that maybe illusion magic would work on bugs, to grow the components of the potions she’d be flying through. As the weeks went on, she’d expanded to decorational plants. It had felt rewarding to still be able to create life while struggling to reclaim another.

The cold air of the night felt like she’d surfaced from under the water. Once again, she was ill-prepared for the weather. Shivering, she made her way over to the vases she’d been using as makeshift planters. Tara had left them in place, but they’d certainly seen better days. Isabel had created a barrier of sorts for the snow before she’d gone from a broken shield ring, but they’d withered with neglect and the cold. She wondered what could be done to revive them, short of magic, which she was lacking these days, when she heard the crunch of snow from a landing. She whirled around to face Gale; he seemed as surprised to see her as she was him. They stayed still, staring at each other like they’d been caught.

“Oh, excuse me, I just-” Isabel began.

“I suppose it was naive of me to assume you’d not been investigating the tower in your time here.” Gale ran a hand down his scruffy beard. Isabel was uncertain if that’d been a compliment or simply a fact. “What are you growing, if I may ask?” He had brushed past her excuse to leave, so it seemed he had accepted her presence.

“Currently, very little, given the state of it. But originally, a small Olisuba tree, red Amanitas, and a handful of flowers.” She gestured towards the weakened stems.

“Health and Vitality potion components…” He said slowly, regarding her with weary eyes. “I don’t think I managed to say at the time, but thank you for your efforts in saving me.” He smiled a small, tired smile. “Would you like my assistance with the plants? What little I can provide.”

She nodded, hoping it appeared encouraging rather than making her abject nervousness clear to him immediately. He walked forward to examine the plants. He stood quite close to her and, noticing her shiver, slid his outer robes from his shoulders and draped them over her. Where normally she’d have protested, she drew them around her tighter—trying not to breathe in the smell of him too much, lest it make her dizzy. “I know of a frost spell that could put them into hibernation until spring, giving them the best chance at survival.” he offered.

“I think they need more immediate help.” She wished in that moment that she'd learned to hold her tongue in the time since they’d spoken. “I think they need encouragement and support to keep them from the cold. I’ve found that to be beneficial.” His eyes still lay on the flowers.

“Yes, well, your ability to thrive amidst adversity has always been remarkable, but that is not a habit that all possess. Sometimes, the time comes when merely accepting the outcomes of the decisions we've made suffices.” Isabel barely had a leash on the feelings consuming her, she was anxious, she was angry, and she was terrified of what he was suggesting. She realized his gaze was on her once again, regarding her with resigned but curious eyes. She suspected she’d done a poor job of concealing her present feelings. He reached out a hand to her face, an unexpected act of warmth contrasted by the cold of his fingers as he held her chin to look at him.“Do you understand? You’ve done more than enough, more than perhaps any in my life would. You needn’t fight this.” He ran his thumb gently over her lips. Isabel was sure he must have been able to hear her heartbeat or feel its heat burn through to him every place they touched. She felt an undeniable eagerness, but something tugged at her mind. Carefully she considered where the sense of unease originated, realizing… that the orb remained unlit.

She almost gasped as she withdrew from his grasp. She was so blinded by her own fury that she’d missed the genuine sorrow pass through his face.

“Do not seek to pacify me while you suggest giving up. I cannot believe you’d use the depth of my feelings for you so callously.” Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes. She withheld them as best she could.

He seemed genuinely stunned.

“I didn’t-, or rather I-, You hadn’t-” A hundred sentences seemed to begin and end as the seconds ticked by. Isabel attempted to quash the desire to reassure him, to soothe, and to capitulate. He ran a hand over his beard and seemed to reclaim himself. “I’d like to offer my sincere appreciation of your honesty. I had not been aware of the depth of your feelings until now. But I-”

Isabel held up her hand. She knew what he’d say next and didn’t think she could withstand hearing it aloud. “I only mentioned it so you’d understand that you cannot expect me to simply accept your resignation.” She wasn’t certain she could meet his eyes but felt the air shift as he moved closer to her again. He leaned towards her, and she froze, unsure of what was happening. His breath was hot on her collarbone; his hand slid past her waist. Finding purchase on one of the pockets inside the robe. Isabel let her shoulders relax as he withdrew a small green book and stepped back. ‘Strange and Wonderful oddities of the Faewilds’ the title read.

Gale carefully opened the book to its midpoint. There nestled in between the pages was a delicately pressed tiny pink flower. In the dark of the night, it seemed to glow. Isabel looked between the flower and Gale, while he looked at her expectantly. She gingerly reached out to touch the flower. The moment her fingers brushed the surface, she felt the familiar crackle of Wild Magic. She looked to Gale, puzzled.

“Where did you get this?”

“Should I?”

He breathed a laugh.

“You don't recognize it?” Isabel was getting frustrated.

“It is yours. From the night, you were tending bar, at the benefit? From the structure we created?” Isabel thought back, that’d be so many years ago now. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled their first meeting. Gale’s masterful replication of the building, and her wild flowers twining around the articulated columns. She turned her face away as she felt a heat rise in her cheeks. She tried to reclaim the calm, controlled parts of herself she felt sliding out of grasp.

“You really shouldn’t have touched those; it could have taken a finger.” It was childish to pretend that they were back on equal footing, but being snarky helped her feel more like herself for a moment.

“Isabel.” He spoke with a seriousness she’d never heard from him. “No jests, no obfuscation, please. I am trying to have a conversation with you.” Isabel sobered, affixing him with a hesitant gaze.

“Why show this to me? Why did you keep it?”

For a moment, he looked sheepish. “To be honest, for a long time, I didn't know why, myself. But I have come to understand that it is possible that at a point in our past, I may have harbored similar feelings… For you.” He added quickly.

Isabel was incredibly proud of herself for keeping her footing. She believed the rushing waters of emotion would physically bowl her over. Frustration, excitement, devastation, grief, elation… if it could be felt, she was in the throes of it. She attempted to wrangle her feelings under control but suddenly his presence felt overwhelming. Every time prior when her heart had clawed to the surface, she’d had the space and time to untangle it, alone. His nearness and the depth of his eyes as he attempted to read her face gave the world around her a viscous consistency. Her want and frustration translated into slow moving swirl of air around her like she was suffocating on him. Like every breath she drew was laced with him, drawing more and more of him into her, until she was surrounded and consumed. She tried to swim back to the surface of herself.

“Though I had assumed that your small flirtations had been in jest given your coquettish nature with most. To confess, I rather thought you simply liked to see me flustered…” Isabel heard all of this through a blurred world and cotton-filled ears. Piecing together meaning only after each sentence had ended. “Of course, then there was the…” He paused, seeming to understand perhaps she did not want to hear his reasoning for pursuing a goddess in place of her. “Are you alright? You look quite shaken.” He was reaching for her, to steady her or embrace her, she didn’t know. But she knew that if he took her into his arms, she’d never let go. She held up a hand to stop him. He looked surprised.

Her mouth felt like she’d swallowed handfuls of sawdust. She just needed to get it all out, to be cleared of the weight her feelings had imposed on her for so long. Make him carry the weight of them, or at least dispose of them as he saw fit. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so fragile, so breakable like an ambitious gust might shatter her where she stood.

“I…understand the uncertainty of the circumstances, and the complication of the orb makes this an inopportune time for any great declarations. But I only ask for one thing.” She forced herself to meet his eyes; they gleamed as she’d often remembered they did.

“Just permit me to adore you. Even if only from afar. I could thrive just off the feeling of loving you, the privilege. You could never return my feelings, and I would still feel lucky to have loved you.” She felt the tears welling, the pretense of control fully dissolved now. She sunk to her knees, his robe flowing out from her. The tears in the winter cold stung her face as she wept for a kinder timeline than this one. One where she’d been braver or he’d asked her or Mystra had allowed him to simply be. She didn't think she'd ever have the strength to rise from her knees again, doomed to wait forever here in the snow.

But she did not need to rise on her own; she felt Gale’s arms encompass her with gentle assurance. With a fluid motion, he lifted her from the ground, her form cradled against his chest. She closed her eyes, attempting to embed the memory of this closeness lest it be the last time she saw him. She felt the warmth of the indoor air brush past them as he carried her carefully to his study. He placed her on one of the couches and sat beside her. Setting her down gently as though a jostle would fracture her again. Just as before, he reached out a hand carefully to brush a displaced curl from her face. There was a softness in his eyes as he began.

“Though I’ve no right to ask it, I do have a request for you.” Isabel nodded, waiting.

“Would you be inclined to give me time? Though my heart may not yet beat in rhythm with yours, I sense the reignition of the buried flame soon to come. I ask that you grant me the grace as you’ve done so before to tread this path at my own pace, to untangle the knots of apprehension that bind me.” He looked sorrowful for a moment. “As I still wrestle with my grief, I cannot give you everything you so richly deserve. I couldn’t bear to give you my heart with even the ghost of a reservation within it. It pains me deeply, but I could never do that to you. So again I ask you for time. Time to stabilize this accursed orb, time to mend my heart so that it make be given freely. But know this: when the stars align and connect us once more, I will meet you with open arms, ready to embark on a journey of love."

“Wait for me.”

“Of course.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, (Next Chapter)>Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11

[saintsstranger]

Ghost Waltz | R.L. (Wednesday Series) - Chapter Four

Summary: Because a ghost truly never leaves. Not when you don’t know what your true unfinished business is.

Ghost!Rowan Laslow x Female!Witch!Reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: Major character death

Chapters: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four

This is not in fact a tale to be told for the faint of heart… This is the story of the truth.

Those who will be privy to the past would feel the pain of the truth like a blunt knife.

This story of the truth happened at your own home, 330 years ago…

At your home, while Rowan sat alone, unknowing about what had transpired for the last five minutes with Goody. He had been pondering, too deep in thought about the most memorable place he had been. He was too preoccupied, but he told you the truth, didn't he? It is indeed the one place that had become important to him in the span of his existence. The old answers came to him in a blank, there was no other place he could list in his mind that is much more beautiful and welcoming than your home.

In your home, he felt like he belonged somewhere. He didn’t need to hide in the shadows nor prove himself to you. You just welcome him with open arms. Something he has been searching for his whole life, a place to call home. Your home was a sanctuary, a safe place, and Rowan feared the time that he’d be fully healed. Would you push him away? Would you disregard him and forget him? Did he leave an impact on you as you did on him?

If it weren’t for him almost dying and you helping him with the use of your witchcraft, then he would’ve gone to the afterlife.

Yes, Rowan knew the truth from the very beginning that you were a witch.

Before Rowan even woke up, he was dreaming. Dreaming of walking in an endless dark void, all he remembers is that there is a long line of people in front of him, he didn’t question why he is there or where they all were. All he knows wherever he is going is somewhere and it has been decided that they must pass on. But he felt a warm hand on his abdomen, and someone whispered.

“I beg you to keep this a secret between you and me.” And Rowan turned around, looking for the voice. Behind him, the line was gone, and he was back in the stranger's bed where he was all but bleeding in their silk sheets. He was deeply in pain, dazed to see the angel that helped him.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

But when he woke up, all he felt was the excruciating pain and then in a split second, it was all gone. He looked at his angrilwounds, the wounds that almost cost him his own life. He sat up to see the large wound in his abdomen, what he was expecting to see were stitches. In its place were scars, scars that almost looked like it had been healed a long time not mere days ago. At first, he thought he was asleep for quite a while.

But when Rowan took a stand, ready to walk out of the door he fell face first. Then he heard a knock, he tried to stand as quickly as possible to save himself from the embarrassment.

A muffled voice asked: “May I come in?”

There you stood with a hand holding a tray of food. You looked concerned, scanning him from head to toe. Rowan was worried he was intruding on a stranger’s home; he is supposed to be in town. His handler must be worried about him.

“Where am I?”

“You are in my home.”

“Why?”

“A group of children brought you here, two days ago. Dost thou not remember being mauled by wolves?”

Two days ago. Not a month or a week has passed, and he was bedridden for only two days.

When Rowan looked down at the large claw marks that adorned his skin, wounds that were closed a minute ago if only he did not take a large fall, then he was certain it would not open. He sat back in shock. Rowan wasn’t a fool; he knew what it was. But he could not believe it.

A witch was right in front of him. A witch had helped him.

Now he felt sick to his bones, he wasn’t taught about witches that heal, nor the ones who are kind. All that he knows is that they were a spawn of the Devil, in league with greater evil ready to pounce on the innocent. Rowan’s group, known as the new settlers of the Town Jericho had been haunting them, jumping from town-to-town. All his life, he had been taught that they are evil and hideous creatures that feed on the soul of humans, but you healed him.

All Rowan knew was to identify and hunt your kind. That was what he was best at. Killing, following orders of Mr. Crackstone, to gain their approval that he is one of them. All Rowan knew was out of textbook knowledge (a textbook he couldn’t even read) now that he is face-to-face with a real witch, he didn’t know what to do.

At first, he wanted to run. To sell you out towards the town, but when he saw the fear. The same fear he has, the same fear of death. Rowan felt conflicted. 

You had nursed him to safety, and yet you didn’t ask for anything else. You told him, you did it out of your own goodwill. You did it out of the goodness of your heart because that is just who you are. You showed that you didn’t need something in return, you showed him how life is not always rewarded when you need to do any of his biddings, all his life he’d been taught that if he followed what Mr. Crackstone said then he’d be rewarded either a full plate of food or new clothes. Sometimes people are just kind, and kindness is something he hasn’t been exposed to.

Now that he knows the truth, he wasn’t mad that you kept it a secret. If ignorance truly is bliss, then paint him to be a blind man. He’d rather be ignorant and live in this fantasy than go back to his old ways, if that meant he got to stay with you, then so be it. 

His thoughts were suddenly cut off when you came barging in the door with tears streaming down your face. You looked frantically in the room, behind you was the young girl that was always staying at your home and always looked at Rowan with eyes like a raven, Goody.

“What’s the matter with thee?” Rowan asked, worried as he tried to stop you, but you pushed him away to go into your own room. You were busy grabbing a large chest, and when you opened its insides, grabbed three books, and placed them in Goody’s hand.

“Take these Goody and go. I do not want you to be put in danger because of me.”

“No!” 

“Goody, I beg thee. Please…. they cannot take all of us.”

“No… I must find a way… I can help you. We can hide— You promised me.”

“Goody, we cannot hide forever.”

Goody with a tear-stricken face could only nod, hugging you in a tight embrace and leaving your home in haste. Rowan does not understand what is going on, but he can feel the significance of your embrace and how it feels like a goodbye. He was confused, what had transpired while you were gone?

Rowan called out your name, “What is happening? Tell me please.”

When you stopped to turn around, Rowan could see the sadness in your eyes and how your shoulders were shaking. You were stuttering the next words. Rowan waited; he could see the heavy breaths you were taking. 

“Leave Rowan. I want you to leave MY house.” You declared, gulping down a large lump in your throat as you pointed towards your door. 

“I doth understand… Tell me what it is that causes thou fear, and I’ll help you, it’s the least I could do.” He stepped towards you, ready to hold your arms in comfort but you placed your hands in front of you to stop him. “I need to understand… please.”

“Rowan, you are in danger.” You admitted, closing your eyes tightly. “Go while I'm telling you kindly.” You said not looking at him but at your hands. Turning around to go back to your room, when he snagged your wrist to prevent you from going elsewhere.

This is what Rowan had feared, the day had come, and he wasn’t prepared for it. “Thou told me that I can stay as long as I wish, then why hast thou pushing me away? Tell me the truth.” Rowan held your hand, rubbing soft circles on your wrist while you cried. “And please look at me while you do so, and then if you’ll ask again, I shall leave. I shall walk out of thy door as thou please.”

With a deep inhale, you stared right into his eyes. Your once bright gaze look solemn with the tears that adorned your face. “Rowan, my sister is dead.”

“And in any second, they shall be here, and I will be next. I will be hunted and those around me will never be safe! Leave while you still can, Rowan. That is all I am asking you, leave and travel far places.” You inhaled and looked at him with pleading eyes, in one devastating motion, you held his face in your palm softly. “Places that you’d call home, places that are far more magnificent than four walls and a bed. Because we knew the truth, this will pass. Whatever you had here, it will. I will remain nothing, but a memory and you will be someone out there, you can do greater things. And only I am hindering you.”

“You are not hindering me. And I will not leave you because... from the beginning, I had already made my choice. My choice is here with you.” He held your wrist softly, preventing you from pushing him away. Leaning towards the warmth that you gave.

“No Rowan, you do not understand… please go.”

“I do. I do understand.”

“Rowan, why can’t you just leave? Go! Leave me. I already—”

“I know you're a witch!” 

You stopped, horror-stricken on your face, hands dropping to your sides looking at his eyes in panic. “What?”

“I knew it from the beginning, that’s why I chose to stay.” He admitted. “It doesn’t take me a long time to wonder why my wounds healed in a span of two days. I'm no fool. And it was my choice to stay.”

“I… I wanted to stay here with you.” 

You closed your eyes tightly; the tears fell to your cheeks as you sighed heavily. He leaned his forehead to yours. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? You should be mad at me; I hid it from you.”

“I’d rather live in the bliss of ignorance than you push me away. I thought we had more time.”

You looked at him with the softest of gaze, Rowan’s wiped the tears that had fallen from your eyes. Kissing your eyelids gently. At that moment you forgot to breathe, you forgot all your worries. It was you and him in the comfort of your home. Young people acted like lovers, at that moment everything seemed enough.

One must not forget… this tale isn’t filled with fairy tales and happy endings. This story was the truth, and the truth is often scary, it manifests as your worst nightmares. 

And your story had the harsh slap of reality, and that reality is this happened 330 years ago. A time when witches are hunted, the darkest time in your past life. 

Without warning the door of your home was kicked from its hinges. 

“Look at what we have here.” A chilling voice grinned. “This is where you had been hiding Rowan. And here I thought a son of The New World was dead.” 

Joseph Crackstone grinned, his ever-looming figure almost made him monstrous in your tiny abode. Rowan had placed you behind him, his eyes staring daggers at the older man in the room.

“I am glad, thou already hast caught the witch for us, son. Saves us the trouble of hunting them down, you know what to do, tie her.” Taking a step forward, you flinched but Rowan remained in his position protecting you from Crackstone. At that moment Rowan knew, he didn’t need to think twice and see that his old ways were wrong. He didn’t need to see another innocent life taken right in front of him. He was sick and tired of trying to prove himself to Mr. Crackstone and trying to put himself somewhere he doesn’t belong… but you, you opened your heart to him and gave him a semblance of what a home truly could be.

“If thou hast to take her, you will get through me first.” Rowan growled angrily, trying to push behind him and give you as much space as he could away from Crackstone.

“Son, you have been witched.”

ghost-waltz-taglist: @arcana-greenleaf , @verytiredkate , @flores-and-sunshine

a/n: im a liar there is angst.

also im officially back in uni going back to full-on face-to-face classes which are tiring btw. so here have an update!

[tiny-breadcrumbs]

Mulberry Song, A Short Story With Many Feelings

Reading Mulberry Song is like sitting in a car with no seatbelt on when the driver pull a sudden brake. Like yeahhh An Zi Wu is a piece of garbage for using her like that! Booo why don't you die in the war?! Then bam...the feeling got complicated and you cry when he actually die. Whatever shit happening between these two, it is so bittersweet and drenched in guilt.

In this life, Sang Ge being able to gain this moment of hesitation from An Zi Wu in exchange... Is enough.

You see, painful. Just painful. I think she love him. Maybe not a fully full blown passion, but something gentler, she is proud of him and there is fondness in there. Pity, he realize his own too late.

I saw some review here and there that say Sang Ge should hate this husband of her. That the story glorifies a woman's sacrifice and loyalty towards a man who did her dirty. In my point of view, this is just a story about war, sacrifice and guilt. It is very humane in some way. Human heart never works in a black or white, it has more shade than just that. To said it glorify would belittle the sacrifice she makes based on her choice, even as a character.

For all the trainwreck that happened, An Zi Wu can be seen as a righterous man. The rebellion he raised was against a tyranical reign, and for the people he fight, not for his own shady ambition. The scene at the top of the fortress is the final nail in the coffin. You can see she is not that bitter, she understand what the cost of that war, she understand perfectly her life is the last thing that stood in his way. Sang Ge at most is quite detached, but her act of sacrifice, I don't think she have resentment in her heart. And the marquis, he may plan the act long ago, but perhaps it never occur to him that he will grow fond of this wife he set up as a sacrificial lamb. It is truly too late to show his fear for her at that fortress. The classic of you never know what you have until it's gone.

From then on, we watch him drowning in guilt. Maybe he saw her eyes at that time, maybe he saw the smile and the way she always willing to die for him to help him achieve his dream. This new emperor naming his reigning era in the combination of his tittle and her name. Give her a lavish burial excedeed one for an empress. Never take another wife nor concubine. He chase her shadow everywhere because it is too late when the last time he chase her as a person. What a foolish man.

"Sang Ge being your wife in this lifetime, towards me, be it real affection, be it insincere feelings, I am still your wife. Should there be a day, you leave. I will definitely wait for you."

His eyelids hangs low, sinking into silence for a long time. "Wait for me then"

Bet he didn't know this simple promise last longer than just one war. Last longer than just one life.

Serve him right actually. An Zi Wu should learn his lesson about cherishing someone at your side before they gone in the hardest way possible. Must be painful. Quite poetic when she is the one who promised to stay at his side even in death, in the end, he is also the one who can't let her go. She is the only person he want at his side. They both have sad fate. Both deserve a meme of life is suck.

"But where is the path to retreat? The war already started, striving forth, still contains a glimmer of hope, and should I give up, not even a glimmer of hope will be left." His voice if very tightly stretched, carrying hoarseness like sorrow, like pain. "Sang Ge, yet you were too stubborn to even give me the chance to save you."

Perhaps it was for a better that Sang Ge lingering around, following him everywhere, and witnessing his misery. To see what he actually think of her and how her death bring him so much guilt it consume him thoroughly. She finally can see how he murmurs her name in his sickbed. How he begged her to take him away.

When he realise she always waiting, all that left only for him to return to her. And precisely that he will gladly do. I believe he end his life that night.

Finally returning to her side.

[kerra-and-company]

4, 7, and 12 for whoever you'd like!

You get Kerra for this 'cause one of these is a commander question, and also just why not :D Tyty!!

4. Assuming they're a commander, how close were they really to Destiny's Edge? To Trahearne?

Caithe is Kerra's sister who she loves very much and would readily give her life for--and always has been, even through the rough patch they had in HoT. Eir is someone Kerra looked up to and shared a lot of things in common with, and her death hurt quite a lot. Logan and Kerra originally had the same sort of friendship you might have with a close friend's older sibling who you kinda-sorta know, but they're closer these days thanks to working together as much as they have; she trusts him. Zojja and Kerra were never super close, but they did understand each other, and Kerra still keeps tabs on her recovery (or lack of it). (I also could probably write essays on each of these individual relationships, especially Kerra and Caithe's, but I'll save that for future posts, perhaps.)

Rytlock and Kerra have by far the most fraught relationship. During the personal story and immediately afterwards, she's roughly as close to him as she is to Logan and Zojja--distant, but still friends. She's a little irritated with him on Braham's behalf during LWS1 but also understands why he didn't immediately believe that Braham was Eir's son. She's further frustrated with Rytlock leaping after Sohothin into the Mists in LWS2, though, again, she admits there is a component of practicality to it, if the sword could indeed be used to get rid of the rest of the Ascalonian ghosts. (She also is pretty certain that's not the main reason he chased after it, though.) HoT and PoF throw a whole lot of any previous goodwill out the window, though. No one can tell her that she and her family belongs to Mordremoth and expect her to take that lying down, and she truly will never forgive him for letting Balthazar out, both for the overall destruction and death and for the personal cost she and Aurene paid. Even though they're on (shakily) better terms these days, she does not fully trust him and never will again.

As for Trahearne, he's her brother as much as Caithe is her sister. She gladly stood by his side when the Pact was formed, and they made a very good team. He had far more knowledge and experience with Orr than she did, and she was a natural leader and devoted to seeing the fight with Zhaitan through to the end. She is terrified for him when she learns what happened to the fleet in Maguuma, and she pulls off a very risky move at the end of HoT that easily could have killed her trying to save him. She's incredibly lucky that it both didn't kill her and worked. She still stays in touch with him, though he stepped down from the Marshal position after HoT.

7. Do they have any skills or abilities that their class wouldn't normally have/just go about their class differently in some kind of way?

Kerra's empathy abilities are the main thing that differentiates her--overall, regardless of class. She has the capacity to read anyone's emotions; they don't have to be sylvari. That combined with her soulbeast magic basically means she can fully communicate with and understand her pets (and any animal that trusts her enough).

12. Have they "completed" the map? What does that look like in your canon?

First of all, Kerra's my one character who has literally completed the map in-game, so yes! xD But as far as canonically/story-wise, also mostly yes! She's traveled around so much, both for the in-game story events and before and in-between. She ran a decent amount of missions for the Order of Whispers in 1325, for example, and she'd basically wandered across the entirety of Caledon and the Brisban Wildlands helping out whoever she could before she even joined the Order. She hasn't been everywhere, but she's been around, for sure.

[ziracona]

It's honestly kind of hypocritical, the way Anders is condemned for destroying one Chantry when his actions didn't cause nearly as much death and destruction as Solas will. And yet so much of the fandom has this knee jerk reaction to Anders.

It’s not even that. It’s that one character is an oppressed minority under systemic violence he’s been protesting peacefully most of his life, who /only/ chooses violence when there aren’t other options left that are better, and takes full, immediate and complete responsibility for his acts to an extreme even, and the other is a race Supremacist trying to commit genocide against every other race on the entire planet not even to save his people, but to restore them to the height of their societal opulent glory, even at the senseless cost of billions. And notably, the fact that DA has chosen to portray the former as uncalled for and unforgivable, and the latter as deeply sympathetic and understandable just too extreme.

It’s not the same kind of act but in greater or lesser amounts at all. Elthina was an awful person, but that doesn’t even matter. It would still have been a both necessary and just act even if she wasn’t. By the time Anders blows up the chantry, Meredith has already sent for the right of annulment, and Justinia is about to take an exacted March, whichever happens first is the question, but either way, the death toll will be horrific and colossal, and no one is doing a thing to stop it. At best, every mage in the city dies. He then makes a very hard thought out, hard felt choice to provoke violence while there are still enough Mages left to have a fighting chance, and to force everyone else into action before it is too late, both to save Kirkwall, and to provoke further conflict in the hopes of things finally actually changing for Mages (a plan which is successful), because they’ve lived under horrific oppression for centuries now with no hope. That’s enough to justify it on its own. He pulled the switch on a trolley problem. And he acted in favor of a minority that would have been wiped out, if at the cost of some innocent lives. But on top of that, he approaches this entirely responsibly too, maybe to a fault. He follows this plan fully expecting and ready to be immediately killed for the act regardless of if that’s the right thing to do, and is very aware that he killed some innocents personally, and others will die as a butterfly affect of his choices, and even suggests killing him is probably just, as payment for the lives he took, himself. He acted for the greater good, but he in no way trivializes the lives he takes or his guilt for them. If anything, he takes it more responsibly than he needs. Painfully so. Immediately after destroying the chantry, he forfeits his life and disarms himself voluntarily and sits alone on a box to wait passively to be judged no matter what it means for him, and he will not fight back or even flee if you choose to kill him. He simply accepts his fate. He approaches everything leading up to that fully expecting he’s essentially committing suicide, and will be hated and killed for it. He says goodbye to the people he loves beforehand, tries to give away his things and make sure they know he loves them, and is shocked if Hawke chooses to forgive and let him live, let alone condones the action. He also explicitly lies to Hawke about what he’s doing and does not ask for help because he wants the blame all to lie with him, and not to be on their head or conscience, and to be the only one who has to die to pay for it if someone does. And all of that for an act that is easily ethically justifiable on its own, without accepting penance for it.

That’s not the same class of action as Solas choosing to enact racist supremacy Genocide to restore his race to their former opulent glory. It’s not even an act to save lives, just an act of bigotry and immense pride. The dehumanization of every other culture and race on the planet to justify such an act to yourself not even to protect lives, but to protect maximum quality of life, is a straight up mind bogglingly vile Supremacist move, and they DIDN’T even let him have like, the moral complicatedness of early Magneto, or like, even the bad guy from Jujutsu Kaisen or something where it’s species supremacy but at least with the ‘we’re being reviled and killed by the majority’ minority complexity with SOME actual merit added. They retconned elven history to make it so he’s not even trying to give the Dalish back stolen lands for their explicitly based on indigenous peoples culture to be restored, or something, but made him alone from Ancient Opulent European Slaver Elf Society instead bc god forbid they say a minority enacting harm is justifiable. They really said skinheads are more sympathetic than minority action in DAI and thought that was ok and I am still reeling from it like I was hit by a bus.

[lowkeyclueless5137]

Were there any moments that just got super awkward during the house warden in the Ben 10 au. Like it could have been awkward for one minor reason or one that’s very big.

Hello anon! Welcome! Or welcome back! :D

Definitely!

A general case moment would be post the reveal, where everyone is awkward upon finding the identity of their supposed hero. Some clearly badmouthed them and they were aware all this time. :v

Now for particularities!

Riddle

For most of the time, he's very awkward at the dorm leaders meeting, when they talk about the recent interventions of the alien hero.

Another awkward instance for him is in his own dorm. While in private, Ace permits himself to tease him about being a 'rulebreaker', what he doesn't realise it's that his harmless intended tease actually make Riddle feel bad about himself, because he's reprimanding his dorm members when he, himself is breaking some of those too. So it makes for a lot of awkward instances, especially with Trey when he notices that the greenhead openly omits from reminding him about certain rules.

For a bit of romance route, when Riddle first started dating Floyd, it was awkward as hell for the redhead. He genuinely thought the latter was less likely to accept the fact that Riddle cannot be available every time in his free time or that he needs to suddenly cancel plans due to sum idiot bad guy deciding to try and wreck the school again. Floyd was more than excited to see the 'epic fights' and absolutely didn't mind it, but that detail seems to fly over Riddle's head until the latter has to spell it out for him.

Kalim

Kalim has a lot of awkward moments! Especially since, as the alien hero, he found himself hosting less parties and trying to get his act up and digilently study. He tried to get someone else rather than Jamil to tutor him, hoping that a change of teaching might help him, but he found out that he can't keep up with both a tutoring and saving the world. Riddle, his intended tutor, wasn't really happy about Kalim deciding to ditch the study session, but he didn't pry, much to Kalim's relief. Still, he's a bit awkward around Riddle and all of his previous tutors, despite trying to brush it off. :'3

Another awkward instance is post book 4. It's very awkward in between him and Jamil and again, Kalim tries to settle himself as someone independent and capable, but it only serves to making things more messy.

Kalim also gets second-hand embarrassment from sum more dumb bad-guys. He makes sure to give them a swift defeat as a form of mercy. :'3

Epel

He finds all of the dormhead meeting details from Vil, so there's that small awkward moments.

Another moment of awkwardness for him is at the magishift club. Since it's predominantly sporty guys, most try to talk and discuss if they could take the alien hero in a fight. It makes it awkward for Epel because he knows that if they knew the truth, they wouldn't be so balsy. Add to that, Leona being the club captain and not entertaining this banter, makes it more awkward for Epel.

Besides that, Epel has very little shame. He only feels embarrassed when Vil puts him in some fancy suit or fixes his posture/uniform. Other than that, it's all free game.

Idia

Enter the king of awkwardness!

He's awkward in almost every situation, no questions asked.

The most awkward he feels is when he hears talks in between students about the alien hero or even people he's conversing with (forced) mention it off-hand. He has to physically restrain himself from giving a witty response because that will blow up his cover.

Post book 6, the awkwardness is cranked up to max with the STIX group. Since they know his identities as both the heir of STIX and the alien hero, Idia would've loved if he got to avoid them at all costs. He actively puts effort in avoiding them. :'3

For romance, Idia has 3 stages of awkward: crush awkward, before he actually starts dating, secret identity awkward, once he's into the relationship and can't fully commit to it due to his hero status and finally, post book 6 and 7, where Idia tries to avoid it at all costs, only to barrel it back to him because he's unlucky like that and doesn't want to lose a relationship he actually puts a lot of effort in.

[olubodebabajidepeace]

Found this very instructive especially as we grow older.

*"WILL YOUR NAME OPEN DOORS FOR YOUR CHILDREN WHEN YOU ARE GONE?"*

_______________________

I boarded a bus last week to go get a few things from the market, and an interesting conversation broke out on the bus. I overheard a passenger telling another passenger a story of how a dead father recently recommended his son for a job and helped him get the job.

I wondered how a dead man could help his living son to secure a job. It just didn't make sense.

I'm not someone who believes such stories easily, but from the way he sounded, I could tell he meant every word he was saying. The other passenger read my mind (or so I thought at that moment) and asked him to explain further.

The passenger smiled and began telling the full story of how it happened. I had my ears fully open at that point. According to his story, the dead man's son had been jobless for over 6 years after graduation from the university. He had submitted applications in several organizations but was never lucky. The young man fed from hand to mouth and lived in a one-room apartment without even a mattress.

That fateful Monday morning, he showed up where he had been shortlisted for an interview. On arriving there, he met other job seekers who had even better qualifications than him.

He wasn't even sure he would get the job. He met people who had gotten their master's degrees from universities in the UK and the United States. All he had was a second-class lower degree from a local University. He stood no chance.

He went in for the interview. A look at his file and his face, the interviewer was quick to ask him questions to know more about him. He was asked who his father was and the young man told his interviewer all about his late father. "That'll be all for your interview session. We'll get back to you," the interviewer told him.

The young man left feeling so sad and disappointed because he was never asked the relevant questions he thought would land him the job. He thought maybe his qualification had disqualified him. Three days later, he got a mail on his phone.

He opened it and saw that he had been given the job. He couldn't explain it, he wasn't so sure what emotion to express. His six years job hunting journey had come to an end, and he had no idea how that happened. Not only did he get the job, but he also got an official car and an apartment.

He resumed work two weeks later and his employer who had interviewed him called him to his office. "Do you know why you got this job?" he asked the young man. "No sir, I don't know why I got the job," he replied.

His boss smiled and replied "your father recommended you for this job. He made it possible." The young man was confused and went ahead to remind his employer that his father had died 8 years ago while he was still an undergraduate in the university.

With another smile, his boss went on to narrate how years back, the young man's father had saved his life by paying for his hospital bills when he took ill with acute typhoid which almost cost him his life. He went further to tell him how his father had to borrow to support him with half the money he needed for his school fees that session.

"The moment you told me who your father was, you got the job. You didn't get it by your certificates, but by your late father's good deeds." Those were his employer's words to him. "You got this job because your father's good name recommended you. Congratulations and welcome on board." The young man at this moment had tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Before leaving his employer's office, he was asked a question. "Thirty years from now, will the mention of your name open doors for your children?"

I was speechless on the bus. I asked the driver to stop the vehicle because I had reached my destination. As I paid him and made way to alight from the bus, the man who had done the storytelling said to me, "brother” live your life well so that your name go unlock opportunities for your children tomorrow." I had no reply.

I'm home right now, typing this. I've asked myself over and over again, "if I leave this world tomorrow, will my name open doors for my children or shut doors against them?" Again, I'm asking myself "will the mention of my name give my children opportunities or deny them opportunities?"

I still do not have an answer.

Maybe you could ask yourself the same question and see if you have an answer.

What kind of life are you currently living? What deeds are you serving out there? Will the mention of your name be the reason your children get to cry tears of joy tomorrow or the reason they get to regret having you as their father ?

*Food for thought for everyone!! There is still time to amend our ways!!* Deep Thoughts.

[marienomad]

Whumptober 2023 Day Six

The Commodore's Regret

The Commodore’s Burden

By Marie Nomad

Commodore José I. Mendez glared at Lt. Jr. Rosario. "What were you thinking, having Ensign Rozenko do inventory? He's not fully trained in dealing with dangerous items. I gave the assignment to you."

Lt. Jr. Rosario said, "But sir, he said that it was okay. Besides, what's the big deal?"

"You can't pass your own duties on to someone else, even if he says it's okay. You never know what could happen," José sighed as he looked at the bottle of whiskey in the display case. It was a twenty-year-old bottle of whiskey kept in a sealed display case. "I'm not lecturing you because it's wrong; I'm telling you this because you'll regret it. Do you know Captain Christopher Pike?"`

"Of course, sir. He sacrificed his life to save the cadets from the training vessel USS Republic. I heard he was sent to some distant planet to heal, or he was put in stasis. No one knows."

Commodore Mendez sighed. Starfleet Command had decided to protect Captain Pike and Talos IV; it was all kept secret. Some interesting rumors popped up, including one that Captain Pike was sent to the future for better treatment. "I can't say what happened to him, but the fact is he was badly hurt, and it was my fault. It should have been me on that ship."

Commodore José Mendez groaned as he looked at the latest assignment: another ship inspection of a J-Class Training vessel. They were all the same. He would go there, walk around, say 'good job,' point out flaws that wouldn't be fixed because they were just training vessels, and keep going. He was tired, and he had some vacation time coming up. He wanted to spend time with his family. He pondered the thought that he could just ask someone else to help.

He called up Fleet Captain Christopher Pike. He and Chris were friends, and Chris had offered to help when possible. Chris appeared on screen. "José! How's the wife and kids?" he greeted.

"Same as usual. The wife is pregnant with our fourth kid," José bragged, holding up four fingers.

"Wow."

"I know. I need to ask you a favor. Can you take my place for an inspection? It's for the USS Republic. It's just a J-Class—easy. Just go in, say 'good job,' and leave. If you do, there's a bottle of whiskey for you."

Chris stiffened as he took a deep breath. José had never seen Chris look so nervous. He looked more like José had just asked him to go to Quo'noS alone. "Yeah, sounds easy. Don't worry about the whiskey."

"I insist. It's the least I can do."

"Then just keep it for me," Chris smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. José felt a little uncomfortable but shoved the feelings aside. Chris probably just didn't like the idea of doing an inspection either. "By the way, if anything happens, don't feel guilty."

"Oh... okay. Thanks," José ended the call. Why did he suddenly feel guilty?

Commodore Mendez sighed as he put his hand on the display case. "And then I heard about the accident. It's funny; he acted like he knew what was going to happen. That's the funny thing about being in Starfleet—it just... causes things. He never blamed me. I asked him many times if he blamed me, and he always said no. Starfleet lost a good captain, and I damned a man to hell." Mendez remembered the recordings from Talos IV. Chris was trapped on a planet full of telepaths. He chose to go there, but he shouldn't be there. He was promised an illusion of health but at the cost of reality. "So, I never reject a request again. You see, the duties you've been given are yours to fulfill. You can ask for help, but you must take responsibility. That's what it means to be a leader."

"Yes, sir. I will do my duty, sir," Lt. Jr. Rosario said as he saluted and walked off.

Commodore Mendez stared at the whiskey. He wished he could change the past. The smallest decision had changed the lives of two men. Pike had been more than a fellow officer; he had been a friend. And Mendez had failed him.

He looked up to see he was still in the office. He had spent too much time regretting the past. All he had was the present and the future. He would guide the men and women under his command to be the best leaders they could be. Chris had forgiven him; he wished he could forgive himself.

"Duty calls, right Chris?" he whispered to the whiskey bottle. He walked out of the office, resolute in his desire to be the man Chris would have wanted him to be.

The End