#she also swings between lawful good and neutral good because

[oxymorayuri]

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝟷𝟷

𝐹𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡! »

𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟

𝐿𝑎𝑤 ✘ ♀ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Katsumi Ishizuka

Story: The princess of Tanata

(Long Fic)

➽ Click on this link to see all chapters.

Spoiler: none

Warnings: none

slowburn with plot

Wordcount: 2413

Text in italics emphasizes the reader’s thoughts

Bold and italic text emphasizes Law's thoughts *~*

Tagging: @slytherinambitious - @sassyyassi - @norasincubi - @cottoncandyloverrrr - @one-piece-frvr7

A/N: Hello my sweeties ♡ Thalia is an important character in this story… Even if she's not the main character, I have big plans for her... And to be honest, I've already fallen in love with her character! Stay tuned. I already talked about her appearance in the last chapter, but I wanted to give you a picture of her, or something that matches her aesthetic. I present you; our Thalia!

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: left | right

Before you know it, a week has passed.

It's been quite an exciting week and you're amazed at how well everyone has settled in. Some friendships have formed, not only between you and them but also between the pirates and some of the citizens of Tanata.

With a smile, you think back to these days. You are glad that everyone gets along so well.

Law and Chopper told you a lot about modern medicine and you were amazed at how professional they were in their element. Every evening you met for a cup of tea in the royal family library and talked about medicine. Even though it was always a lot of informative stuff, you still go relaxed to bed and sometimes with butterflies in your stomach.. because every time Law leaned over to you, to show you something in a book, you felt the heat building up inside...

With your eyes closed, you enjoyed the memories. You sit on a bench by a large training ground and calmly swing your legs.

You finished your duties a little early and you are apparently the first to arrive at the meeting point.

Ambrosios found a really good friend among the pirates, so it seems. He met Zoro in a pub yesterday and the two of them hit it off right away, or so you think…

Because this morning Ambrosios showed up at Hera's palace full of determination and challenged Zoro to fight. If you know Ambrosios then you know that's a good sign, because he only wants to fight those he respects or puts on the same level as himself.

You are really looking forward to the fight, which is about to begin, and a few others want to watch it too.

You can hear Thalia and Nami shouting in the distance.

You get up from the bench and wave cheerfully to the women.

"And y/n, who do you think is going to win today?" With an arm around you, she pulls you close to her. She's a little shorter and you have to bend a little, but you return the hug by wrapping an arm around her too.

You think about it for a moment.

"Uhmmm, so I've known Ambrosios my whole life… He's almost as strong as Zelos and I know that through experience." Even though you were a princess, Ambrosios never treated you gently when you fought together. You were a worthy opponent to him, more like a rival.

"But when I run into Zoro, it's either that he's training or drinking. They're quite similar in that aspect, so I'm really curious… It's 50-50." You can't quite make up your mind and remain neutral.

"I'm sure Zoro will be the winner!" Nami says proudly, with her hand on her chest. Together you burst out into a laughter.

Together you take a seat on a picnic blanket that Thalia had brought with her and Nami surprised you with a basket full of tasty treats from Sanji.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the sweets. Sanji even included a little note: "Bon appetit, ladies." he wrote in a fancy handwriting. That gentleman.

Your eyes go over to Thalia, who is delighted with the dessert. Sanji had actually prepared her favorite dessert…

The two of them have started a 'little romance' over the days...

"Tell me, Thalia.. you and Sanji? How close are you guys?" You lean over to her. Your mischievous grin crosses your face. The blonde is startled, blushing in a deep red and is about to tumble backwards, but Nami reacts quickly and catches her.

"Well, it's the same as before…" She runs her fingers through her fine blonde hair a little insecurely.

The backstory to this: This 'little romance' the two of them are having, is truly a love drama...

They write poetic letters to each other, sometimes several times a day! And when the two of them met by chance in the city or when she is with you, they would talk as if they were in their own world. From the outside, they seem like soulmates.

Totally cheesy, but it suits your best friend.

Over time, more of the pirates and friends came to the fighting ground. Bepo came running up and happily called your name. Behind him you can see Law, Shachi, Penguin and Ikkaku following.

You girls give the new arrivals a friendly wave. They joined you on the meadow. Ikkaku took a seat on the blanket and took something out of her bag.

"I've brought us something really delicious!" she happily presents the bottle of wine. Yaaaaay!

You women cheer and pour yourselves some of the wine. You talk cheerfully like teenagers while you wait for the fighters.

Ambrosios was the first to enter the square. He proudly presented himself to you ladies in his golden armor.

"Greetings, beautiful ones. Greetings, my princess." he greeted you separately and kissed your hand. You roll your eyes at him. That Casanova.

"Where is the swordsman?" He asks energetically, spreading his arms. His muscles flex at the slightest movement.

"He's probably lost again." Nami makes a remark as she calmly drinks from her glass.

Your gaze wanders across the sky. The sun flashes through the trees, creating a beautiful play of light and shadow.

"Ahh, there he is!" Ambrosio's battle ready voice brings you out of your thoughts.

Zoro and Robin come walking up. Zoro and Ambrosios greet each other with a firm handshake, their looks are serious but eager to fight. They grin at each other.

"Hey Robin! There you are! Good thing you brought Zoro, we've been waiting for ageeeees." complains a slightly drunk Thalia. She has barely finished a glass and is already tipsy but she's a lightweight when it comes to alcohol anyway. Robin laughs a little at her as she settles down and closes the gap between you and Thalia.

"Yeah, I met him on my way here. He seemed a little disoriented." - "HAH! I told you so!" sneered Nami.

While the men warmed up briefly, people chatted amongst themselves. Some placed bets on their favorite and talked about why they were betting on the person in question.

You listen intently as Penguin and Shachi argue about the possible winner and Law sits between them... The back and forth between the two and the way the captain tries to get out of their argument, brings a giggle from you.

From the side, you hear the clink of swords being unsheathed. All eyes are now on the men, as they stand opposite each other in a fighting stance. All conversations came to an end and everyone waited eagerly for the one making the first move.

You never really noticed until now, but Zoro seems to be fighting with three swords. One in each hand and the third between his teeth. Ambrosios draws his sword and holds it firmly in both hands. The huge blade reflecting in the light.

He has taken the family heirloom out of the cabinet for this fight. Remarkable. It is a sword that has been passed down in their family for generations.

Ambrosios was the first to make a move. He dashed straight at the green haired man with insane speed, his blade pointed directly at him.

Zoro continued to stand in place, his posture firm. Just before Ambrosios could swing his sword, Zoro leapt into the air and spun around to make his first move.

"Oni Giri!" Zoro tried to charge a strike from the air but Ambrosios was able to deflect it with ease. The broad blade of his sword makes it easy to dodge attacks.

With quick movements, their swords clashed constantly. It was hard to keep up, even for you. It almost seemed as if their energy was limitless and you can see the passion burning in their eyes.

They both give their all.

You can see that they both find it downright thrilling to fight with each other. Those madmen. You think.

The fight has been going on for a while now and it looks like that both are on the same level.

"Oiii ZORO! COME ON! GO, GIVE HIM ALL YOU GOT!" Luffy shouts as he jumps excitedly into the air.

The crowd cheered for their favorite every time he landed a good hit or blocked a heavy blow. The fight is even and in your eyes you're just waiting for someone to make a mistake.

You know that Ambrosios is a man of perfection, but you realize that Zoro is also an attentive opponent.

Even when the two seemed visibly out of breath, it didn't change their fighting spirit. Their pride is too great for them to back down.

After countless blows, however, the unpredictable happened.

Ambrosios fended off a strong attack and began to falter. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. Completely out of breath, Zoro stood over him. His grin almost wider than his face. With one of his swords pointed at Ambrosios, it's clear who the winner is.

"I'd say the match is over." Satisfied, he puts his swords away and gives him his arm so that Ambrosios can pull himself up. As they both stood in front of each other, the Tanata warrior placed a hand on Zoro's shoulder.

"You are an excellent swordsman, my friend." Zoro holds him firmly by the arm, returning his words.

"I can only repeat that." The two come walking arm in arm towards the cheering group. This was never about who was the strongest. It was about the passion to fight.

The two have forged a noticeable bond through the fight and both toast to their fighting with a mug of beer.

"Now that I've warmed up, I want to fight your strongest man!" Zoro announces, as if the hour of fighting just now, was a piece of cake.

Ambrosio's laughter was very hearty at first, but towards the end his laughter had a sinister edge to it...

"Zoro you are insatiable." Ambrosios lies down on the grass, his gaze directed upwards.

"If you want to fight the strongest, I'll have to disappoint you. Zelos is currently on a mission and therefore not in the city."

Zelos is still in the process of building a line of defense, in the forests of Tanata. The strange ship still seems to be circling the island and from what the king says, it is now certain that they are not trying to get out of the storm…

Zoro groans unhappily. He looks like he still has so much energy he wants to get rid of.

"But there's one more person." Your eyes go over to Ambrosio's without moving your body.

Don't you dare, Ambrosios.

He looks at you without anyone noticing. His grin widens as you shake your head slightly.

"Is it the king?" Nami asks. Ambrosios bursts out laughing loud and heartily. The young woman looks over at you, confused. You shrug your shoulders a little warily and smile gently at her. You hope that Zoro will lose interest, but unfortunately you don't know him well.

"Come on Ambrosios, spit it out, who is it?" He shakes his battle partner and looks at him expectantly. Ambrosios sits up.

"No, it's not the king. The king is strong but he's the fourth strongest in my opinion." He answers Nami's question.

The people around you are very curious and no one makes a sound.

"Zelos is the strongest man, but there is one woman who is stronger than all the others." Zelos eyes are on you and quickly you realize that everyone is looking at you.

Zoro's broad grin disappears.

"And who is this woman?" Zoro didn't seem to get the message.

Luffy joins the confusion and applies some pressure.

"That's right! Tell us, who is it!" Excited, Luffy gets very close to Ambrosios. Without any problems, he pushes the boy away from him with his hand in his face.

Annoyed, Nami groans and pulls Zoro towards her by the ears.

"THAT'S OBVIOUS, YOU IDIOT!" She scolds him. You can literally see the gears moving in Zoro's head… but there is no sign of realization. Frustrated, she lets go of him, she just can't take any more.

"It's y/n!!!" She yells at him.

In a flash, Luffy and Zoro's eyes are now on you too. Luffy looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes while Zoro's combative grin returns.

"Uhhhh hehe, well now it's out." you admit in defeat "Surprise!" you add a little uncertainly.

You feel quite uncomfortable that all the attention is on you. Of course you're excellent with a sword, but you're pretty overpowered thanks to your devil fruit.

You know how hard the others train and even think it's unfair that they call you the strongest… Of course you have trained a lot and even if your fighting technique is excellent, you think that someone else could certainly be stronger with the devil fruit.

Zoro ignores the uncertainty in your voice and stands up, only to kneel in front of you.

"Princess, please do me the honor of fighting you!" he lowers his head.

"I can't Zoro. I don't fight for pleasure." you reply softly as you cross your arms in front of you. Hastily, he looks into your eyes with a serious look.

"This is not about pleasure. It's about honor and respect. I respect you my princess, so please do me the honor and let me fight you!" His hand tightens on the hilt of his sword. His eyes flash at you with a steely determination and to your disadvantage, the people cheer in unison 'Go princess!, go princess!'.

You admit your defeat and sigh. Your eyes meet his again. You can't shake the feeling that if you don't fight him, he will annoy you until you part ways.

…Until you part ways…

"You know what, Zoro?" Who knows, maybe one day you'll regret it.

Maybe one day you'll regret not showing the pirates Tanata's strength. The ambition, courage and technique.

"LET'S FIGHT!"

You jump up and some of the people cheer and follow suit.

See you next time, kiss kiss ♡

➽ Next chapter

[kit-williams]

Eve Aurelian

Another girl with a homebrewed deity

Eve Aurelian Class: Warlock-Artificer Personal deity: Soteth the sundered Alignment: True neutral/she leans more lawful but can swing between good and evil

Soteth the sundered is the "offspring" of the deity her father is a cleric for whom at this time is simply called the Voice of Aegis (yes I know that is a buckler with the head of a gorgon on it I didn't really give him much of a name since its a neutral deity)

Soteth is split into two beings one Good and other Evil so literally an angel and a devil motif. When they agree on something they fuse into a faceless being (think of the Spot from Spiderverse or King Minos from Ultrakill) with a hands motif but also slightly eldritch

When Eve was 16 is when she and her twin (Adam) were able to make pacts with some of the offspring. Picking Eve was one of the few things they agreed upon.

Her pact is the pact of the lover(s)

She was told by them that she would be the mother of deities of course only if they could agree and Eve figured that if several people before her couldn't get the halves to agree then she would just benefit from having the two give her powers to try and just pick one of them and ignore the other (Hence why Eve's alignment can swing it depends on which half she is channeling more)

But when they do agree they are incredibly powerful to reality warping degree because they are a fledgling deity and Logar may or may not had tried to recreate the perfect meld of human and divine due to his eldest child being Argel Tal

The two halves do unselfishly love her but each half is selfish in the amount of time and devotion they want to give her so Eve is unfortunately having to deal with a deity who is split in two, willingly, so they're trying to get into her pants twice as much

Eve is a warlock as per tradition in her family to help her father's deity gain more of a foothold but she became an Artificer to slightly distance herself from how Logar can get with religion (that hardly changed)

She is less like how Martel is who is more of an artisan and she goes full on inventor/alchemist trying to put the power of the gods into the hands of mortals so it means she can get in trouble but that's what Soteth is there for to bail her out of trouble.

She duel wields repeater hand crossbows that she made (if guns were a thing in this setting she would be duel wielding flintlocks/revolvers)

Her skin is that lovely tanned color everyone gives Logar with short black-brown hair. And she has bright golden eyes.

When she is using Soteth's powers, runic tattoos appear all over her body and she will either have a halo or horns if she is heavily channeling one of the halves.

But when she channels both halves the motif becomes hands holding her body, covering her face, her chest, her waist, holding her neck in show of possession, just a lot of hands holding her in a lovers embrace and of course large lovely wings. (I see true neutral deities being just the casual eldritch vs like celestial Biblically accurate angels eldritch and the corrupted version of Biblically accurate angels eldritch for the devils)

Her attire is mostly practical with wearing thick trousers tucked into her boots with a buttoned up shirt tucked into her pants with a jacket over top. She traded out the far more simple attire of her father's love of tunics for something far more well Zazzlian

She's not super close with her twin as he went down a more clerical path while her elder brother Argel Tal is a paladin of sorts

She didn't inherit a lot of the Primarch aura

She's heard more about the plane her father comes from via Argel Tal's ramblings to which she doesn't put much stock into but his wife also says some out there things that Logar just seems to accept.

[pararennial-archived]

COMMON MISCONCEPTIONS

Hm... I mean... there are so many misconceptions that border on the intersectionality of Roxy being a woman of colour, asexual, and other aspects of her personality and character. To start, women often get typecasted as the caretaker, the love interest, the sexual conquest, or get assigned gross and shitty complexes because people don't like to think that there are more dimensions to women other than being good/bad, pure/corrupted, messy/pristine, etc.

Again, these complexes are what makes me resent writing a female character, not gonna lie! People see that Roxy, fundamentally, is a good person. She has upstanding morals, integrity, and she fights the good fight. And people have it in their heads that she is an "uwu sunshine pure vanilla bean baby" ( and I will say her being ace doesn't help because people tend to assign that pure, virginal presumption to asexuality, which is incredibly ignorant! ) but really, she is kind and sweet but it doesn't mean she doesn't have a spine. The girl can have a bit of a mean streak at times!

On the other hand, when Roxy exhibits her more competent and ruthless side, people are all like "OH YES STEP ON ME KILLER QUEEN, YES YOU COLD AND BLOODBATHED GODDESS." That also bothers me because it also doesn't capture the full dimension of Roxy being a fully realized character who is multifaceted and cannot be pigeonholed. She won't always be strong, decisive, or cold, and she won't always be soft, warm, or affable. To presume how she would act or behave is simply... a grave mistake.

AN IMPORTANT HEADCANON

In terms of the meta, Roxy is not your typical hero. Yes she fights the good fight but does so in very complicated ways that allow her to surf within that grey area. Nothing is ever black and white in her world. And thus, she is more of a culture hero ⏤ somebody who can change / recreate the world. As a categorized Good character, she often wildly swings between Lawful, Neutral, and Chaotic depending on whatever methods or approaches suit the situation. She abides by and breaks rules, she creates and destroys, she cleans and makes messes, etc. All in all, it's to ensure that balance is maintained and restored, and she doesn't even know how vital her role is.

A USELESS HEADCANON

One of the things that will bear no meaning or significance in plots, threads, etc. is that she likes putting gummy bears with her ice cream. I dunno why, it just makes him harder to chew but Roxy likes that??? Weirdo...

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS

I mean in terms of triggers, there might be written literal or metaphorical gore as I am noticing that viscera tends to make its way into my writing. Struggles with mental health is also present in a way in which trauma is dealt personally and how intergenerational trauma is a huge proponent in Roxy's story. Of course in spite of all the supernatural BS she has to deal with, she is still very much a person dealing with things the best she can. Some of these fantastical aspects sometimes could bleed very well into relatability in which some take comfort in or it can be too much. I don't go too heavy with triggers in my writing, but that being said, I could still very well write some trigger-heavy things without knowing because everybody has their own lived experiences and everybody's traumas manifest in different ways.

SOMETHING YOU ENJOY ABOUT (WRITING) THEM

I think it's the growth of Roxy's character, I've rped her since 2013 seeing her actually grow from a teenager to an adult. It's a journey along with that, so was writing and finding my own voice and style as an author.

Furthermore, I actually like writing a character who has multifaceted and very flexible because it keeps her dynamic. At this rate, she's become more than what I had her set out to be and it's a blast to see where she goes!

SOMETHING YOU WANT OTHERS TO KNOW BEFORE WRITING WITH THEM

fuck around and find out

tagged: @velvetineblue tagging: whoever wants to go off on what they love about writing their muse

[silversiren1101]

number 2 for that commander ask :Dc

2. What is your KCs alignment? Did it change?

I'll go into this a little more here since I only briefly answered it in the other one!

Minovae is lawful good very much in the same way Seelah is, in that she really straddles that line of neutral good pretty hard. Minovae is more forgiving and merciful than most Hellknights, but she knows what happens if you come down too hard on people - they just swing the other way in the worst way possible.

Her interpretation of the Chain (the ideology of the Hellknights - the Measure is the actual book of laws) is very personal to her. Strictly put, Minovae sees society as an actual chain, and it has all the strengths, flaws, and properties of one.

The strength of the chain is its flexibility. This flexibility is the spaces between the links - the personal freedoms of people. People need room to breathe and be free, little moments of personal chaos that give you meaning to life and individuality. If those links are too tight, meaning that pocket of freedom is too small, the links will chafe and eventually wear each other through and break -> society falls apart through unrest and rebellion. If the links are too wide though, then the chain is too limp and can't support itself, and also prone to breakage. There's nothing holding it firm and strong together. It's not really a unified society.

These links are the agreements that bind people together to form the chain of society: this can be written law, unspoken law, social behaviors and such... They need to be fluid enough to flex and flow. Too tight is just a rod that is prone to snapping, or the links wear each other down and break in the middle. Too loose and the chain becomes too weak and loses strength in unity, more like a rope.

It's also much easier to forge and add a new link in a chain if needed, or replace a link if it breaks, than to repair or extend a solid rod.

It's really a long, roundabout way of saying Mino believes in a healthy amount of personal chaos. The kind that doesn't impact others in a negative way, but gives people what they need to truly live rather than exist. The chaos of a child running through puddles in the rain and getting mud all over the floors... of a young teen picking flowers from a noble's garden without strictly asking so they can make a bouquet for their beloved... even that of stealing a loaf of bread to feed a hungry family at home.

In terms of Law, she is all about nuance, the spirit of law and a lawful, orderly society. Crimes are about the causes rather than symptoms. She was extremely effectively and quite liked as a Scourge Investigator because of this.

[nattosushi]

Baldur's Gate 2 Original character: Elara (Zelaran) Nervachez

I first created the character when I was only 18, so I had the idea of how she was a good alignment assassin. However, as I started to work more in regard to her character throughout the years, one of the things that immediately came to mind is that not only is her alignment not good, it would even be a stretch to say that she is neutral. For the majority of her life, she is definitely of an evil alignment. Without realising, Elara is the first character that I ended up creating that has a very questionable morale, as well as being very hedonistic. I actually have written fan fictions where I tried to insert her into the Neverwinter Nights setting, but in my recent setting, she is only appearing and involving in the storylines of Baldur's Gate 2.

Once again, I have changed a lot of the original setting/plot/events.

Basic background (Baldur's Gate 2 setting)

Name: Elara (Zelaran) Corthala neé Nervachez

Race: Human

Age: 26

Profession: rogue

Profession before adventuring: assassin and then trainer in the Shadow Thieves' Guild in Athkatla, head waitress in the newly reformed Copper Coronet

Religious affiliation: Mask

Alignment: lawful evil/chaotic neutral

For the majority of her life, Elara is really lawful evil. But after she left the thieves' guild permanently, she starts to live with more focus on her own enjoyment and desire, as opposed to following the rules, as she is no longer restrained in the way she was before. She is probably swinging between the two alignments fairly often, depending on her situation.

Biography

Elara was born as the daughter of a prostitute and a nobleman, who was desperate for an heir. Even though her mother was not successful in passing off Elara as a boy, Elara was named 'Zelaran' by her father, the name he had intended to give to a son. However, she was pretty much always called Elara. Upon her mother's actions, her father would cut off all ties with them. Elara's mother never sought to contact him, nor did she tell Elara anything about him.

Due to their poverty, her mother would sell to Lehtinan, the owner of the Copper Coronet then and she spent the next few years doing various jobs in the tavern. Upon turning twelve, however, Lehtinan decided to make her into a prostitute. Elara ended up killing her client and would have been killed if not for a chance meeting with Aran Linvail, who was already a very influential member of the shadow thieves guild. In addition to being his personal slave, she was trained to be a thief that specialise in assassination.

At 15, Elara would begin to carry out missions for the guild, only to have a nervous breakdown a year later. She attempted to drown herself at the docks, but was saved by Valygar. Partly to thank him, and partly because she still sought to commit suicide, she would go in the planer sphere with him, where they briefly confronted Lavok, only to be quickly beaten.

By the time they recovered, the sphere was gone. Elara would return to Aran Linvail, who actually knew Valygar from childhood. The other would let her go after a severe punishment, and even though she was grateful, she was also bitter at how she was merely a tool to him.

Valygar would marry her as a way to help her. As he has no intention of having any heir, their marriage was a platonic one. The two of them lived in Umar Hill for two years and would be quite happy together. However, due to them ending up caring for one another romantically, they would sleep with one another, resulting in Valygar leaving her by joining the army and leaving Athkatla.

Feeling abandoned, Elara return to be an assassin for the Shadow Thieves once more. Unlike before, she no longer felt guilty, resulting in her being quite good at her job. Throughout the next five years, as she rose in rank, she would live in a rather hedonistic way by having various lovers. Since she was an assassin who often approached her targets by disguising herself to infiltrate, she would eventually need to retire due to having had too much exposure. She would begin to train younger members of the guild, even choosing them from slavers.

After two and a half year in her new role, she would retire. Around that time, Hendak managed to kill Lehtinan and take over the inn. Elara would offer to work for him and serve as a liaison between him and the shadow thieves. While the inn does not have any deals with slavery and even attack any new slavers now and then, they do have to pay certain tribute to the shadow thieves and even turn a blind eye to other issues.

For the next half a year, Elara would work for Hendak, even developing a deep friendship with him. However, she would end up meeting and then travelling with Gorion's ward. Through this, she will be reunited with Valygar. As he has finally managed to kill Lavok, the two of them will try to work out whether it is possible for them to be together.

Once again, I am borrowing Raella's Adrian mod. To be honest, I pretty much consider him a canon character in Baldur's Gate. The two of them first met from his days of trading, when she was still a shadow thief, and would frequently drink together. They would decide to never sleep with one another due to not wanting to risk their friendship in anyway, and she would often comment that this was probably why he was able to become her closest friend.

After Adrian escaped from Irenicus' dungeon, he would come and find her for help. Elara would provide aid to the group now and then, before finally joining them due to Valygar. My initial idea was that since Dahlia already spent some time with Adrian, he would bring her along to talk to Elara. Since Dahlia would be more indifferent to Elara's moral alignment, the two of them would spend time together and bond.

Elara is a fun character to write because she is someone that can be catty, yet is very confident in herself. In addition, she does have a certain level of skills that allows her to get away with some of her behaviour. As she is also quite hedonistic, I can write about her being impulsive. She is not a character that is repentant, as she feels the actions she has committed in the past is d e to unfortunate circumstances. At the very most, she would admit that she could have made a slightly different choice. There is fun in writing such a unrestrained and unapologetic character.

As mentioned in the above, I feel that her alignment is a bit of a see-saw. After she retires, her alignment does shift to being a bit nicer, in that she is not as selfish, but is more self centred. Once she is back with Valygar, she does become a much nicer person. But on the other hand, she is no longer as bound by law as she was, so she would be more spontaneous. That is why she would be a bit more chaotic. Therefore, I feel that she is sliding a bit up in the alignment scale and becoming chaotic neutral.

Additional notes

There are a few issues to address in regard to her setting:

Firstly, Elara was a child bride. She was married at 16 to a man that was quite a bit older then her (I imagine probably ten years). Now that I am older, I feel that this need to be addressed instead of just brushed aside as plot necessity. She married at 16 and lived with her older husband, but their relationship throughout the next two years was a platonic one, and they slept in separate rooms. Valygar never outright stated about being celibate, but he did say he would make sure he does not have any children. In addition, he married her to save her. She just helped him in doing something extremely dangerous, and he also saw her after a punishment that could almost be torture. He married her to help her, because she just helped him, and he did not see it as having any additional effect. When they did sleep together, she was 18 and it was something that she clearly wanted, while he was the one hesitating.

Elara's view on slavery can be rather hypocritical. At one hand, she bore great hatred towards any slavers, especially those that deal with children. However, she does contribute by taking part in purchasing them when she was training shadow thieves. However, she would argue that the children involved were already in that situation and her involvement actually allowed them to have a much better alternative.

Finally, the issue of Hendak working with the shadow thieves. Rather than working together, I think it is more of a reluctant agreement to stay out of one another's affair. I feel that such an agreement would be necessary, because regardless of the shadow thieves' involvement in slavery, it is definitely possible for some of the slavers to have an overlapping interest. In order for Hendak to continue operating the inn and even interfere in certain slavers, it would be necessary to have some protection from the shadow thieves and make a show of not bothering them in any other way.

The illustration

I really wanted to portray her as an assassin, but 'slightly revealing dress/amour' was deemed as offensive by the AI image generator, I decided to go for an illustration of her retired life, where she works for Hendak in the tavern. Since she does still love Valygar greatly despite all that happened, I can see her gazing at her wedding ring and contemplating about his possible return, before she turn to greet the player character. I then realised that the AI generator shows her wedding ring on the right hand. But I guess there is no indication that people in Faerun would all wear their wedding ring on the left hand, and even if that is the case, it is arguable that due to their separation, she might wear the ring on the other hand. The image is in AI watercolour style.

My other idea was her standing in their home at docks, which has a secret room that contains various magical books and tomes, but that wasn't successful.

For some reason, I always imagine her in purple. I think it is because when I tried to create a character portrait for her all these years ago, I coloured her dress purple. Somehow, that just stuck. Once again, she is a brunette (now that I think about it, I seem to have quite a lot of character that are brunettes). Her hair is just past her shoulder, so that she could prevent it from being in the way of her work, yet still have it long enough if she need to be in disguise.

[yinseal-arc]

CHARACTER SHEET : SAKURA HARUNO

Name :   sakura haruno Nickname :   saku  /  sakura  /  doctor  Age :  24  (  verse dependent  ) Species :   human

Morality :   lawful good  /  neutral good  Religion :   spiritual,  non-practicing  /  non-denominational  (  shinto in postwar verse  ) Sins :   Greed / Gluttony / Sloth / Lust / Pride / Envy / Wrath Virtues :   Chastity / Charity / Diligence / Humility / Kindness / Patience / Justice Languages :   english  /  japanese  (  amestrian / xingese in main verse,  polyglot in postwar verse  )

Build :   Scrawny / Bony / Slender / Fit / Athletic / Curvy / Herculean / Pudgy / Average Height :   5′4 Scars / Birthmarks :   4 inch scar spanning across left ribs  (  all verses  )  /  various small battle scars across legs and arms  (  postwar  ) Abilities / Powers :   enhanced and destructive  super-strength  /  enhanced and rapid healing  /  long-range healing  /  advanced combat prowess  /  advanced weaponry mastery  /  exemplary chakra control  (  postwar verse  )    /   significant medical knowledge  /  master surgeon  /  alkahestry proficiency  /  master medical alchemist   (  main verse  )    

Favorite Food ?   dumplings  /  almonds  /  rice & beef  /  strawberries Favorite Pizza Topping ?   pepperoni  /  bell peppers Favorite Color ?   pink  (  #E8B0AF )  /  green  (  #9AC2BB  )   /  crimson  (  # E82F51  ) Favorite Music Genre ?   pop Favorite Movie Genre ?   romcoms  /  documentary Favorite Curse Word ?   damn  /  dammit 

Top or Bottom ?   top Sings in the Shower ?   sometimes ! Likes Puns ?   if it’s good!

                           —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —   —

TAGGED BY   :   @foreaft​ ! TAGGING   :  everyone else  !

[fisherrprince]

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

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

aHAH, MY EXCUSE!!

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

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

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

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

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

So! Let’s go.

.

Standard (offensive)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

Standard (defensive)

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

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

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

you gotta dodge master Eraqus so mcuh

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

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

.

Sora, Xion, and Kairi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roxas

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

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

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

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

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

.

Ventus

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

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

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

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

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

.

Axel

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

[fairyoftbz]

a rewritten faith | l. juyeon

🪕 pairing: bartender! reader x cow-boy! juyeon 🪕 word count: 4k 🪕 genre: western! au, 1920s!au kinda?, angst to fluff 🪕 tw: mentions of violence, guns, fights, close death experience, deceased father, false accusations, swear words, the reader has some trauma 🪕 synopsis: you are the owner of the local saloon and something usual will happen, but it will take an unexpected turn. 🪕 a/n: i had this idea while watching a western film with my dad and i hope it's not gonna be too bad... 🪕 requested: no

╰☆☆☆☆╮

Your head turned to look at the entrance as the swing doors of the saloon burst open, two sergeants dragging another man inside, his face and body littered in bruises and cuts. He winced in pain as they shoved him against the counter not far from you, both giving him a hard slap at the back of the skull. With an attentive eye, you kept on polishing your whiskey glass with your used piece of cloth, watching everybody’s attention drawn towards the three men.

“You bloody bastard! Did you really think that you would get away with that? Raising your voice at Sir Landfield and seducing his daughter to use her for your own needs? Who did you think you were, the sheriff?” the entire pub erupted into a coarse laugh, some men hitting their pistol against the wooden tables to express their mockery. You, along with the waitresses, were the only ones to remain silent, your eyes darkening as you kept on drying your glasses. “I never touched Sir Landfield’s dau-” “Enough, bastard!” one of them yelled and punched him in the face, blood now oozing from the young man’s nose as his head swung to the side at the violence of the blow. He stumbled on the right, his wounded hand quickly grabbing the counter to prevent him from falling.

The church bells rang as it announced another hour of the day, the wind shifting some dirt and sand off the ground. Quickly glancing outside, you noticed a convoy drawn by horses walking down the main street, their whinnying getting louder as the man guiding them whipped their back and sides sharply.

“Gentlemen. What did your good-for-nothing do to our town? And what brings y’all in my father’s saloon?” you asked, the attention shifting from the culprit to you. You arched a brow as you slid the whisky glass you’ve just finished cleaning and another one across the counter, walking over the liquors to fill it for the men with their habitual orders.

“Ah,” one of them grunted. “This bastard thought he was the best in town and started arguing with Lord Landfield over some laws. He threatened him and even tried to get into his daughter’s panties!” one of them shouted as you poured alcohol into their glasses, noticing an arrogant smile plastered on his face. You didn’t like where this was going.

The culprit raised his eyes at you from his stool and observed you working, your orbs boring into his for a quick second before looking away to grab another bottle of liquor.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he had some good reasons to speak his mind to the mayor. Does he have a name?” you smirked as you placed a glass of herbal liquor in front of the soon-to-be-dead gentleman. He thanked you by a brief nod, and his face contorted into a grimace as he rose his glass to his lips, downing the drink in one go.

“He deserves to be hung by the balls, he’s from the Lees! Lee Juyeon! No one touches the mayor’s daughter like that except her husband!” the man on the left banged his fist onto the wooden counter, making everyone applaud and raise their glass at the idea.

Of course, you disagreed with their horrendous methods, but who were you to counter. Since you didn’t want to be the next in line, hung and burnt alive, you preferred to keep your mouth shut and observe.

“I never touched her!” exclaimed the-said Lee Juyeon but was quick to get shut up. “You don’t get to speak up, you piece of shit! If I said that you touched her, you did, end of the story!” Another man threw his fist right into the apparent lawbreaker’s nose, who immediately wiped his blood-spattered face on the side of his dirty shirt and spat on the floor.

You could tell that Juyeon was surprised by everyone’s agreement, trying his best to hide the fear in his eyes by clutching his jaw. One of the stablemen left the pub for a quick second before coming back, holding a long, white rope with a dirty smile on his face. Faces lit up in delight when he skilfully threw it in the air and swirled it around one of the massive wooden joists before tying a slipknot on the other end. The young man’s hand clutched around his glass, and he stared at you, noticing a hint of despair behind his two dark brown orbits.

You’ve seen many men and women in his state, but for once, you spotted something different. Sincerity, pain, and hopelessness could be observed in this man’s behaviour. He looked like he couldn’t hurt a fly, but you also knew that men were good at lying and being pitied when it was needed. However this time, for some reasons, you felt your heart pinch at the visible fear daunting the cowboy.

The men of law sat down at a table near the swinging doors and lit up their cigars thanks to the waitress’ matches, only to slap her butt as a thank-you. She giggled like a teen girl, which made you even more sickened by the situation than you already were, many people emptying the saloon in fear of witnessing death.

“Oi bastard, are you thinking of a way to shag the bartender before your sentence? She’s pretty cute, right?” one of the officers yelled as the delinquent’s eyes lingered on your working figure. You sent them a death glare, and they elbowed each other with a dirty grin, the idea of shooting them between the eyes titillated your mind for a quick second. “Try not to get us thrown out, she can be pretty rough, just like her father,” you heard them snicker, and you turned around to sigh and roll your eyes, trying not to get arrested either by ‘disrespecting’ them, even if it looked really tempting.

Abruptly, the oldest officer pushed a chair with his foot towards the young man, puffing some smoke out of his mouth, the action leaving a greyish trail lingering above their bald, dirty-minded heads. The stableman grabbed the man from the counter and forced him to get on the chair before shoving his head inside the slipknot and tightened it.

Exhaling sharply as it already happened too many times since your father passed away and bequeathed the saloon to you, you closed your eyes and looked away, mentally cursing the sheriff for choosing your tavern for doing such horrible acts of what they called ‘justice’.

“So, Lee, any last words before we shoot you in the head?” one of the officers insolently said as he expertly swirled his pistol in his hand, his other holding the cigar close to his mouth. From where you were, you could see the culprit gritting his teeth, trying to remain neutral.

“No, I don’t. Because I have done anything wrong, except expressing my honest opinion to the sheriff. And, as much as you want me to, I never laid a finger on his daughter,” the man spat confidently, only to have the two officers and some other men around the saloon unpleasantly shaking their heads.

“I can’t believe it. Even at the edge of death, he’s still willing to lie,” locking the cylinder before lowering the hammer of his revolver, the officer pointed his weapon towards the young man, who stayed as still as possible.

Everyone stared at the scene with intensity, some drinking their liquors or taking puffs of cigars like they were watching and enjoying some entertainment. The culprit was staring intensely at the officers, making them understand that he wasn’t scared of the gun nor facing death. You, on the other hand, were exhausted of those illegal actions and atrocious scenes that already happened when your father was still from this world. Luckily, he always made sure to give you to the tailor next door when such things happened, but it wasn’t really helpful since you became responsible for the aftermath at a very age.

They weren’t the ones that got rid of the dead bodies they shot inside your establishment, they weren’t the ones crazily rubbing the dirt and dried blood off the wooden counter or ventilating the building to get rid of the gory, metallic smell lingering around, nor were they the ones getting scared and sick of working in such sordid conditions. Some graphic execution scenes were still lingering in your mind even years later and shocking you to the point of getting sick and wobbly for a few days, getting flashbacks of the gun firing off. No matter how many people you saw dying in the saloon or while walking around town after witnessing some settling of scores, you would never get used to this sleazy, corrupted method of getting rid of people.

And this case was the last straw. You could not handle another bloody situation, where people would be cheering and happily exiting the saloon as if nothing happened, leaving you mortified and scarred for the nth time behind.

As the sergeant was about to pull the trigger, you were swift to get out your dad’s revolver from the small compartment under the counter and shoot the wooden beam in two precise bullets. The waitresses shrieked and the rest of the souls populating the saloon flinched, hands going to protect their head and ears. You shot the wood three other times to make some dust and pieces fall to confuse everyone, hiding some bullets in your corset before going around the counter and grab the man by the sleeve. Among all the panicked people trying to rush out of the saloon, you dragged the man out through the back door, letting one of the waitresses take the control of the saloon.

“Come on, we don’t have a lot of time!” you said out of breath, the muddy ground staining the pans of your dress with a dark brown colour. The man looked still shocked to have narrowly dodged death, catching his breath as your hands were fumbling with the knot keeping your horse close to the wall. Seizing the reins with a soft yet skilled hold, you were quick to slide your foot in the stirrup and swing your leg over the beast, extending your hand for the man to take it.

He messily placed his foot on the wooden fence and jumped behind you, his hand still in yours as the fence collapsed under his weight. You felt his jerky breaths fanning your neck as you commanded the horse to race off.

“Ya! Ya!” you angrily yelled, repeatedly squeezing your legs around the horse for it to go faster as you heard some gravelly voices lingering around the saloon. Your horse neighed and picked up the pace, its hooves hammering the dried ground of the main street as you bolted out of the town. “Lower your head, we need to go faster!” you yelled and the man obeyed, your heart pulsating in your temples as you heard some screams and people opening fire towards you, bullets going through a few wooden wains from the neighbouring houses.

“Sorry about the fence,” the man whispered and you shook your head, eyes still focused on the dusty road. “That’s the least of my worries right now. Hold onto me instead so we can lose them faster,” you spat and whipped the reins on the horse’s neck, the man’s large hands landing onto your waist. “What’s your name, by the way?” he yelled so his voice wouldn’t be covered by the horse’s noises, and you slightly turned your head to the side. “Y/N,” You simply answered, trying to ignore his hands on you as he was accused of inappropriately touching the mayor’s daughter and pushed your feet down the stirrups as you went up a hill.

The town was quick to disappear behind you as you hurried into the taiga, following the winding trail as fast as possible. The lawbreaker was still holding onto your waist, his hold strengthening as you didn’t seem to be ready to slow down anytime soon. The concentrated look on your face didn’t subside at all, sometimes looking back to make sure that you weren’t being followed.

Your heart skipped a beat as your horse jumped over the railway line, his hooves toughly landing on the floor as the way started going downhill again, the man behind you hitting his chin against your shoulder due to the force of the impact. He mumbled a quick apology, but you didn’t even hear it, the wind blowing in your ears preventing any sound to reach you.

You finally ordered the horse to slow down as you reached another dense forest, the air feeling chiller as the sun was struggling to get through the infinite branches of sharpened pine needles. You and Juyeon kept your head low, the latter pushing his hat further onto his head to protect his already severely injured face from the spiky needles. He let out a small hum of surprise when you reached a small cottage with a wide range of greenery surrounding it, not expecting someone to live here. The air was so pure and fresh that it almost hurt your lungs, with no sign of tobacco smoke or dust from the road to poison your inner organs.

Getting off the horse, you drew the gun out of your corset and removed the bullets, tossing the revolver on a lonely stump. The man recoiled at the sight of the weapon, but instantly relaxed as you went behind the cottage. He grunted in pain as he got off the horse, giving it a gentle tap and rub its muzzle. It snorted quickly and turned around, walking further into the greenery to relax from the intensive workout you went through.

When you came back, the cottage key in hand, your gaze fell on the man leaning against a trunk, dried blood and cuts still covering his face. His bottom lip was split open, and his cheekbones were bruised, eyes bloodied by the dust and the several hits he received from the men of law. You sighed as you stared at him, hand sliding in the key and unlock the door.

“Come in,” you said as you pushed the door open, walking across the room to draw the curtains out.

Juyeon slowly limped inside, eyes travelling around the small living room, falling straight on a chair after placing your dad’s revolver on the table, the wood creaking under the collision. He groaned in pain and closed his eyes tightly, his jaw twitching as he suffered in silence.

You gave him some privacy and walked to the kitchen, getting some wood planks and a bunch of herbs and weeds from one of the cabinets. Just like your dad had taught you, you lit up a fire in the chimney and hung a small cauldron to the chain. You stood back up, the room getting filled with a heavy silence, not really sure of how to act with a possible criminal in your secret home. He sighed and groaned in pain many times as you prepared a brew and some lukewarm water to freshen up.

His worried eyes met yours as you heavily placed a wooden basin with steaming water on the table next to him, your hands sinking a piece of cloth in the warm water and twisting it.

“Take off your shirt, I need to clean and check your wounds,” you monotonously said, and the man’s hands hovered above his top, hesitantly undoing the first few buttons while looking outside.

He gulped as he exposed his torso to you, your eyes widening in shock for a quick second at the state of it. He got beaten up severely, red, and purple areas already littering his entire thorax. The bruises looked excruciating and probably caused some inner injuries, hence his unnatural movements.

You quickly pulled his shirt away from his body and ditched it on the table, eyes now wandering around his arms. He was pretty muscular – you couldn't neglect the steel-craved abs embellishing his torso – but the cuts and wounds were critical enough to damage the view.

Starting by cleaning his wounds and body with the piece of cloth, Juyeon tried his best to remain still, but it got intolerable at some point. He started hissing and cursing – not at you, he was grateful that you were willing to put yourself in danger to save and take care of him – but more in pain, his eyes flooding with anger as he recalled the sergeants’ faces and their accusations.

“You know,” the man started through gritted teeth before groaning as the piece of cloth grazed against a sensitive laceration on his collarbone, “I didn’t touch the sheriff’s daughter. I'd never touch a woman like that despite what they want everyone to believe,” you quickly looked at him in the eyes and chuckled, your hand delicately grasping his wrist to lift his arm to clean the residues of the cut on the side of the torso.

“I think it’s impossible for you to do so,” your voice trailed as you focused on your task, the man questioningly looking at you. “How so?” “She’s on the other side of the world, probably a thousand miles away from us. Serena is a successful woman, she’s sacred to her father. You probably saw her mother strutting around town like she’s the next queen, which is something quite ridiculous but funny at the same time. Serena is the pride of the family because she got married to an Australian businessman and is now living like a good middle-class person, you know?” his eyes widened as you explained everything to him, his tongue clicking in frustration.

“Lies? I became the scapegoat of those assholes for lies?” you defeatedly sighed and shrugged as the man was furrowing his brows, getting upset. “Welcome to our town, I guess. It is how we, no they, make the peace reign there. We all know that nobody shouldn’t mess with the mayor, but I guess that you are not from here, so you miserably fell into his trap,” you offered him a compassionate smile and carried on with cleaning him, wiping your damp hands on your dress as you got back to the fireplace.

You came back with the cauldron, hands enveloped in the wet piece of cloth as you gently plunged it in the water, Juyeon flinching at the steam surfacing from the warm-cold impact. Your eyes focused on the plant-based mixture you had prepared to heal and sanitise his injuries, following your grandma’s textbook to the letter.

Juyeon groaned again at the warm solution being applied on his body, feeling his skin itch and burn as you kept rubbing the product in. He looked up as you focused on your task, now rubbing his arm while holding his limb with a certain grace. On your face, he could discern some sadness and exhaustion hidden in your features, his mind wandering to what possibly happened to you to be in this situation.

“And you?” he started with a more hesitant voice as if he was scared to frighten a deer, “what made you the bartender of this saloon?” your hand quickly stopped working but resumed almost instantly, but Juyeon noticed.

“Owner,” you corrected, and his eyes widened, an impressed look painted on his face, “I am the only survivor in my family, they all died from sickness or old age. I became the owner of the saloon as soon as my father passed away. He was in this horrible business, letting the authorities do their dirty work inside the bar, away from prying, curious eyes. Of course, since I am a woman and is only good at taking care of children and clean, they keep coming here no matter how many times I refused. I, fortunately, didn’t have to witness every single execution when I was young, but it still sends me into anxiety fits when it happens. I’ve seen a lot of people going through what you’ve just escaped from and it’s almost impossible to get rid of the flashbacks,” you briefly explained, feeling the tears well up in your throat at the mention of your deceased father and harrowing trauma, but you swallowed thickly and repressed your emotions, keeping a neutral face.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, and you shook your head, wetting your hands in the basin to quickly get rid of any remaining substance. “It’s fine,” you emotionlessly said, hurrying back in the kitchen to get some time alone.

Juyeon didn’t mean to hurt you by stirring some hurtful memories, but of course, curiosity killed the cat. Thanks to you, he had escaped his humiliating death sentence, and all he did was unintentionally pressing the wrong buttons. Agonisingly, he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he got up, the room slightly spinning as he limped towards the kitchen to come to you. Your shoulders were heaving up and down as you attempted to muffle your cries and silence your emotions, not wanting to break down in a room with a man other than your father. It was one rule that you forced yourself to follow, not wanting to appear weak to anyone's eyes.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt you like that,” his cavernous voice resonated against the walls of the empty kitchen, making you wince and quickly wipe your face with trembling hands before turning around. “How could you know?” you said with puffy eyes, the sight squeezing Juyeon’s heart as you tried to give him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. He slowly walked to you and took a gentle hold of your trembling wrists, his chocolate orbs boring into your own. The gaze that you had found quite intimidating a few minutes ago when he was angry against his attackers currently held something completely different. It wasn’t pity as you were used to when you brought up your past, but something more like compassion and tenderness.

“Y/N. I know I'm a complete stranger and a criminal in your eyes, but I wanna help you the way you did for me,” he started, and you stared at the ground, trying to get off his grip. “I don’t need help,” you mumbled, but he didn’t let you go, the grasp around your forearms tightening but still felt consoling.

“Yes, yes you do. Withdrawing yourself into silence won't solve anything, it will only give prominence to your sadness and scars and prevent you from moving on. You don't have anyone to talk to about it anymore, you keep everything to yourself and stay stuck in this state of distress. You helped me avoid death and run away, so let me assist you in breaking away from your past. At least allow me to try,” he whispered those words to you as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

Tears blurred your vision, something that didn't ordinarily happen when the discussion topic was your father. You always managed to hold back your tears, but for reasons that were still unknown to you, with Juyeon, it was like your brain allowed him to see your raw, true side for some reason, despite knowing him for less than an hour. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t from your town and wouldn’t be telling your secrets to anyone else to cause you harm or humiliation.

“One trauma at a time. You need to get some rest first,” you countered his argument by guiding him out of the kitchen, and Juyeon let out a chuckle, frustrated that you cared more about his well-being than yours. “Very well then, but promise me you'll let me help,” he asked as you walked him into the rocking seat where your grandfather used to take his nap when he was still in your life.

"We'll see," you whispered, helping him to sit down before giving him a small smile. He let go of one of your wrists and lifted your hand to his face, placing a kiss on the back of your hand while never breaking eye contact, the action of chivalry making your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you for everything you have done for me," He mumbled before kissing your hand again, his damaged lips curving into a smile as you let your hand linger in his, against his mouth.

[themyscir]

INTIMACY & RELATIONSHIP PREFERENCES

STOLEN DO IT IF U WANT

THOUGHTS ON MARRIAGE?  

in the most traditional sense of the word where marriage is a union between two people in the eyes of the law? eh. she likes the idea of being with another person for the rest of their lives but the traditional prospect of marriage doesn’t really appeal to her. committment is hard for her as well, not because she doesnt Like to commit but her lifestyle and values are super hard to match up with in the long term. you have to be okay with your wife leaving you for months, years at a time because she’s wonde.r woman and ended up in this wild adventure to save the world. you can’t be a really jealous person because she’s the biggest female superhero in the world and all eyes are on her. its iffy but if you can fill those virtually impossible requirements then it works! ( @urushiol​ LOL )

YOUR MUSE GET JEALOUS/POSSESSIVE?  

jealous? not usually tbh, she’s pretty secure in herself and in her relationships. she can get possessive since her idea of romance (stemming from the culture of themyscira) means there someone whos more dominant and someone whos more submissive and shes not the submissive one LOL. she tends to show a lot of possessive gestures like grabbing n holding her partner in public, manhandling them a little, picking them up when she feels like it. those arent all inherently possessive but it shows anybody whos around that this person is her’s. 

DOES YOUR MUSE LIKE POSSESSIVE PARTNERS?  

not really. she thinks a little bit of jealousy/possessiveness is cute but if its to the point where you’d describe that person as possessive? definitely not. has had bad experiences with that in the past.

spicier content down below

DOM/SUB ROLES IN ALL ASPECTS OF RELATIONSHIPS?  (i.e. dom’s responsibility both sexually and in life is to take care of the sub and look after them. sometimes utilizing sexual and nonsexual rewards/punishments to incentivize them to carry out self care or other responsibilities) 

dominant dominant dominant im sorry she does not have a submissive bone in her body 

WHAT DOES AFTERCARE LOOK LIKE TO THEM?  

GOD HER FAVORITE PART she loves aftercare it differs between person to person based on what she thinks she needs but it usually consists of a lot of affection. kissing, cuddling, stroking their hair, petting, etc. running a bath for them or pampering them somehow...... yeah. big soft dom

WHAT ARE WAYS THEY PREFER TO BUILD EMOTIONAL INTIMACY?  

talking genuinely with her partner with them having like... good honest dialogue? delicious. listening to her partner ramble about what they love or what they did that day or even ranting about negative stuff is another big way she builds emotional intimacy. she likes listening to whatever they have to say. also engaging in their interests if she can!! at least giving them things related to it!! 

for multiple choice sections: bold for always, italics for sometimes,  bold & italics for especially likes,  strikethrough for never,  no emphasis for neutral or n/a   remember:  “top” means the one penetrating,  “bottom” means the one being penetrated.  positions will be specified as such.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  bi with a fem lean.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:  bi with a fem lean.

SEXUAL ROLES:  dominant. submissive. versatile.

POSITIONS AS A TOP:    being ridden.  missionary.  lotus. doggy. flatiron. legs on shoulders. standing up. bent over something. standing while partner sits on surface. spooning. side by side.

POSITIONS AS A BOTTOM:  riding.  missionary.  lotus.  doggy.  flatiron. legs on shoulders. standing up. bent over something. sitting on surface. spooning. side by side.

SEXUAL RELATIONSHIPS:  monogamous.  polyamorous. open. swinging. hook-ups. platonic.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS:   monogamous.  polyamorous. open. casual.  committed.

RELATIONSHIP ROLES:  dominant. submissive. equal. nurturing. being nurtured. monetary provider. monetarily dependent. shared monetary burden. independent monetary responsibility. manages household. shares household management. prefers independent living spaces.  likes having household managed by partner.

[sodone-withlife]

icarus fell, and blood stained the ground

i'm back!! (but not really—the new school year literally starts in an hour and it will be back to my pathological dependence on academic validation. at least i can say i've technically published another fic before summer break ends)

anyway, here's the fic in response to part 1 of sumayyah's post. i published a companion poem for this some time ago. as per usual, i gave up on proofreading so hopefully any mistakes don't detract from the story. also, i hope the formatting and jumping back and forth between italics makes sense—let me know if it doesn't, though it might be easier to read on ao3 (it should go up on there by 4pm PST because school)

warnings: murder, major character death (may potentially be classified as suicide-by-proxy, depending on your interpretation), guns, canon typical violence, slight gore at the end, mentioned substances

word count: 1.9k words

The damned man thought of everything, Jessica thought as she scowled at the damned folder that sat innocuously on the large mahogany desk.

The desk that would soon be cleared, all traces of the previous owner gone.

She lifted a shaky hand and brushed it through her hair, shuddering at its greasy and unkempt state that hinted at the state she had been in recently. Weary to the bone, she forced herself to sit back up and grab her phone, dialing the number that was written on the sticky note placed on the inside cover of the folder. It didn’t surprise her to hear an unfamiliar female voice answer the phone with a “Ms. Brooks?”

He had thought of everything, after all.

Really, the only thing she was surprised at was the sheer extent of his connections—but thinking back to her phone calls with Haley back when he was still practicing law, the talks about extravagant offers from top corporations and firms, she really wasn’t surprised. Thus, it made sense that her call to the top law firm in the state would be answered within two dial tones and by someone who already knew who she was.

And within minutes of talking with the woman who introduced herself as Ms. Stevens, Jessica became even more aware of just how prepared her brother-in-law had been before he walked to his dea—

Not an in-law anymore—her brother. He had long since earned that designation, that spot in her broken family, no matter how much self-flagellation he put himself through in regards to her sister’s murder and no matter how much abuse her father hurled at him in the years before the man who once viewed him as a son succumbed to dementia.

Hours later, despite having already reached her limit twenty minutes into the call, she finally hung up the phone with only funeral arrangements as an immediate concern. Slowly, she stood up from the chair and mechanically made her way into the tiny bathroom that had once been a familiar sight, when her nephew was still a child—

She forced her mind away from that minefield; she wasn’t willing to spend another sleepless night thinking about what had gone down in the past month, what had happened a week ago in that apartment, what her nephew was doing and thinking in the cell that only seemed to become colder and crueler the more she thought about it.

How many prisons had he visited? How many interrogation rooms, holding cells, general population cells, max security cells, death row cells? Did he ever get used to it? Could he allow himself to get used to it, to forget that these people are also human no matter the crimes they’ve committed?

A careful hand fell onto Jessica’s shoulder, and she shuddered under the warmth that seeped into her body, a warmth that had been lacking from her life for a long time now. She turned to see Morgan staring back at her, concerned.

“You didn’t pick up your phone,” he explained neutrally, flicking his eyes towards her phone—and sure enough, there were ten missed calls, each from a member of the team. She looked back up but avoided his concerned gaze only to latch onto her reflection in the mirror and internally winced at her haggard appearance.

“Did you—“ she coughed, clearing her throat, “have you figured out what happened?” Morgan’s unspoken question about her well-being went unanswered, and she continued to avoid looking at him.

She watched the man shake his head through the mirror, unsurprised and once again cursing her brother for his incessant habit of playing his cards close to his chest, especially when it came to personal issues.

How else is—was—he one of the best at poker in the bureau, often even beating Reid?

“He hasn’t talked, either,” Morgan informed her quietly, saving her the pain of asking the question herself. “Forensics is still struggling to put together a cohesive picture. To be honest, I doubt we’ll ever find out what actually happened in that apartment.” He shook his head, frustrated at the man he considered his brother.

If either of them bothered to ask, they would have found that both were truthfully unsurprised at this outcome, given what they only recently learned about the factors and circumstances that led to it. The few established facts about this case in addition to speculation based on systematically organized notes left in an even more meticulously organized folder painted a clear enough picture of the events preceding the fall.

But it wasn’t really an accidental, flailing fall.

In all truthfulness, he didn’t fight it.

Icarus let himself fall to his death in an attempt to compensate for his hubris, to suffer the consequences of his mistakes, and it was both a cowardly attempt to escape the hellish burns caused by the boiling, melting wax and a selfless attempt to teach posterity to avoid ending up like him.

Jessica remembered the warmth of Morgan’s embrace when he ignored all protocol and took it upon himself to inform her of what had transpired in the past two months, regardless of the still-ongoing investigation. It didn’t do much to soothe the cold that had threatened to swallow her whole as she listened to the details in silent horror.

He had sat her down in her apartment, the one she had taken care of her ailing father in before he finally died and the one she couldn’t bear to move out of for all of the memories that had been formed inside—with her father on his good days, with her brother, with her nephew

“A week ago, we were invited by MPD to consult on a series of killings that happened over the course of a month. We had an eye on the situation since the second murder, and there were two more victims in the span of a week before we were finally called in,” he began quietly.

He had suspicions as to what was happening by the time the team was invited in on the case at the personal request of the MPD chief. It certainly wasn’t the first time he had come across this profile before, but there were simply too many puzzle pieces with matching edges for the connections to be brushed off as a coincidence.

“Based on the rate at which bodies were popping up, we anticipated another one within two days of us being called in, but the killer had gone suspiciously silent. We went through crime scenes, forensic reports, and things weren’t adding up.”

"It’s a local case and we’ve coordinated with MPD multiple times, they know the drill. I’d like to take a personal look as well, the brass has been all up in my business about this case given its proximity to the Hill."

That’s what he said to the team regarding him suddenly taking the initiative to go to the crime scenes despite his responsibilities—it had been a while since he last went out to crime scenes, often taking care of the office politics and coordinating the investigation back at whatever precinct or office the team had taken over.

“There were odd inconsistencies, missing pieces of evidence… There was evidence to show that the killer was an amateur, but ultimately the profile we ended up building was nowhere near as detailed as we hoped it could be—but it ultimately went a long way in helping us figure out what was really happening.”

Old case files going missing from his home office, growing interest in his job, sudden mood swings happening long after the worst of puberty, increased isolation, dropping grades…

Absentee fathers of Georgetown students being stabbed and shot to death as if the killer was unsure about what to do, an innocuous Jack-in-the-Box takeout bag sitting near the last three bodies…

Numerous signs, and yet it was the outwardly irrelevant piece of trash, perhaps a sign of the killer’s gluttony—a sick joke that only he could have recognized—that led him to put all of the horrifying pieces together. It’s been over a decade, and yet the memories of that damned day remained as clear as ever, dogging his every footstep. Nightmares in which the worst happens still often visit him in his sleep, sometimes even combined with the effects of Peter Lewis’s drug concoction, effects lingering even after all these years.

“Somehow, we completely missed the fact that he fit the victimology. Maybe it was because of his efforts to distract us… If we had put it together earlier we might have been able to figure it out much earlier, and maybe everything could have turned out differently.”

Only after intensive counseling and careful editing of his case reports was he allowed to continue in the bureau after Lewis and his targeted attacks, and yet he knew he was still being watched. It was with that thought in mind that he made a decision on how to handle the situation. Either way, his life would be irrevocably changed, and there would be casualties alongside him.

All he had to do was figure out how to minimize them.

“He never came in that morning; Reid was the first to notice the lights off in the office. We were headed towards his apartment complex as soon as we saw a cleared-out office with a retirement letter being the only thing left on the desk. All of the pictures, trinkets, law books, messy stacks of paperwork—gone.”

A retirement letter for formality's sake, one copy emailed directly to the director and one printed on his desk, to simplify some things for the bureau and to ensure that Jessica and his son get his pension should the worst happen. All of his decisions, meticulously recorded and justified, except for this last one to protect the team from the consequences of his choice. All of his notes, all of the claimed evidence, carefully stored in the file box he left next to the retirement letter back in the office. Favors accumulated since law school called in, contacts throughout the local justice system ready to step in and deal with the fallout.

All of this, an attempt to compensate for the mistakes he’s made over the years and his hubris, to protect the remnants of his family and the team.

Morgan couldn’t finish telling Jessica what had happened, voice somehow caught in his throat and refusing to cooperate. He simply shook his head, and she folded in on herself, the weight of the last week too much for her to hold up. Slowly, he pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back but not doing much more to soothe her.

This is a wound that wouldn’t ever heal.

The story ends like this:

Icarus burned, and Aaron Hotchner said nothing as the hand that held the gun against his temple shook with uncertainty. Everything he wanted to say was written—one might call him a coward, but writing had always been so much easier for him—and he knew that he would be the final casualty, that the killings would stop after tonight.

Icarus fell, and Aaron Hotchner was flung sideways, the unyielding bullet from his gun fired by his own son shredding the brain that thought had of everything but the emotional and psychological effects his final decision would have on his family and friends.

Daedalus grieved over his son’s crumpled form, and Jack Hotchner would be found with his father’s dead body in his shaking arms as he stared blankly at sights unseen to the team, who had come hours too late.

Blood stained the ground, seeping into the cracks and crevices of grasping fingers, and nothing would ever be the same.

[shabre-legacy]

Hiwi! Lots of questions for your babies uwu

Ok so! Baby Zohla!

SFW. How she fight? Does she try to be more of a tank just because she doesnt want to be the sith jedi that fights a lot?How tall is she? Does she wear something else beside jedi robes? What's her alignment? Is she the type of girl to stay inside while raining? Does she like feminine stuff? Is she more of tomboy? Is she against he empire? Like destroy it once an for all? Is she easily embarrased?is she shy? How she feel about Nadia? How she feel about Satele?

Nsfw

How big her breasts are? Did she had some lesbian experience on her youth? With sith?with jedi? She bottom? She submissive? She likes toys? Does she like Kira? Does she enjoy lingerie? What places would she go commando if the occasion raises up? Does she watch porn? Does she have any special kink worth mentioning? Is her GF bi or gay? How big is her ass? Tiny?flat?big? Dump truck? Is she thick? Is she sensitive?

Zohla knows she's not as big as some of her opponents so she can't rely on pure brute force. She isn't so much worried about her fighting linking her to the Sith, it's her appearance and her conduct outside of combat as she doesn't tend to end up fighting in groups. She relies heavily on defensive forms and waiting for the right moment. However, if she's fighting with others then she does end up taking more of a tank role. Not so much to prove herself not a Sith, but more because she doesn't want to be accused of letting someone die. A fellow padawan tried that once. The masters shut that down, but it stuck with her.

She is 5'8"

She tried so hard to be the perfect Jedi once she asked to be a Jedi that she almost refused to wear anything else for years. However eventually she got more comfortable and confident in her position. She still mostly wears her robes, but she wears a few different styles of robes in different colors and she sometimes wears just the gffa equivalent of a sports bra and yoga pants around the ship if they are traveling or otherwise in a position where she doesn't have to worry about unexpected calls or Doc's string of visitors, or she'll remove the leather harness on the top of her favorite blue robes for comfort.

I'd say her alignment swings between lawful and neutral good. She usually follows the Jedi Code however she will occasionally override that if she feels that what the code says she should do doesn't result in the greatest good. She's got just a bit of a pride problem, but can also accept that she's not right, most of the time.

She hates rain. She hates being wet. She thinks it's a species thing (it mostly is, but also Sith aren't nice teachers, even to babies)

She's fairly feminine in her appearance, taking a lot of care with her hair and makeup and making sure her jewelry at least starts the day shining. Behavior wise, she doesn't fit what we think of as feminine behavior. She's a bit more of a tomboy behavior wise, more rough and tumble then her sister, a bit more aggressive. Just a dramatic adrenaline junkie who loves being in the center of the action.

She wants the Sith Empire destroyed along with the Sith Order, however she doesn't agree with the republic treating the Sith Order and the Sith Species as identical. However after KOTET, she reaches a state where she is convinced that continuing conflict is going to destroy what's left of the Jedi Order and supports making permanent peace with the empire, provided that they stop the slavery and destruction stuff.

In most things she's not easily embarrassed, however things that sting her pride, losing a fight, being proved wrong on something she was sure she had correct, that type of thing embarrasses her. She's not particularly shy. She's not the party type, but she doesn't mind people or conversations. Plus there's the communal aspect of the Jedi.

She thinks Satele is great. Also that it is probably a good thing that Master Orgus trained her instead of the Grandmaster, because there are certain thoughts that a padawan should not have about their master and she would have a hard time not having those all the time if she was training with Satele. Nadia is ok, she doesn't know her that well considering she's her sisters padawan. But the girl learns quick and seems sweet. It's good that Izalia has someone else with a lightsaber watching her back.

Now for the NSFW ones

How big are her breasts? idk, like average. She usually keeps them bound anyways, so it doesn't matter much most of the time.

Did she had some lesbian experience on her youth? She's not the type for hookups, but she has had several girlfriends. Including one smuggler who she was very much in love with. That was her first real broken heart. The other women were all mutual breakups.

With Sith? No experiences with Sith, she might have slept with Lana if she wasn't already married when they met. But as she was, she appreciated, but never did anything.

with Jedi? Most of her past girlfriends were other Jedi. It was the easiest way to meet other interested people. What with all living on the same planet.

She bottom? She submissive? Honestly I don't know, it's not exactly and area that I spent much time thinking on. I tend to spend more time on backstory then on their sex lives

She likes toys? Sometimes, but not usually. She prefers the touch of her lover over anything else.

Does she like Kira? As a friend, as her former padawan and fellow jedi, an adopted sister, sure. Anything else would make her feel scummy.

Does she enjoy lingerie? She does, especially when Jyshya wears it. She thinks that she looks awkward in lingerie. Jyshya very much disagrees. When she wears it herself, she prefers silk or leather to the more common lace or satin.

What places would she go commando if the occasion raises up? Her own quarters/ship when it's empty. Or Jyshya's fighter when the hanger is empty. A private beach if she gets the chance.

Does she watch porn? No

Does she have any special kink worth mentioning? Ok, so for the most part, not really. She spends so much time either avoiding death or trying to talk others out of war that she prefers just straight up simple connection with her lover. She does love praise and reassurance though. And she might have a thing for eating out Jyshya in her fighter. It's not something that happens often, but it does happen often enough that Jyshya's squad knows that if the hanger is empty, Zohla is there and neither have been seen in a minute, they should not go looking for her in her fighter or the gunships.

Is her GF bi or gay? Jyshya is eventually her wife and she is gay.

How big is her ass? Tiny?flat?big? Dump truck? Is she thick? Is she sensitive? I don't know.

[cheshiresense]

Could you do KoyoIchi (Swinging Pendulum), please? C: I have fallen in love with this ship ever since you posted those short one-shots (or whatever they are called) a while ago.

Hmm you didn’t include an AU and I’ve already done a KoyoIchi SP AU in the last batch, there’s not much else I can write for that I think. So how about KoyoIchi post-canon AU instead, where Ichigo’s human body gives out after the Quincy War, so he ends up splitting his time between SS and the Human world afterwards.

Edit: omg wtf did i do i went off i’m sorry this ended up semi-background pre-relationship KoyoIchi + like a dozen unrelated headcanons thrown in it’s a mess fml

1. It’s not usually done, he’s technically dead now (but not a Shinigami, not a Quincy, not a Hollow, and not even a Human anymore), but he has a lot of support from a lot of people - Kisuke has no qualms crafting him a gigai that would allow him to draw his blade even without stepping out of it, and Kyouraku basically gives him free run of Soul Society after they hammer out what Ichigo is supposed to do there considering he’s now stronger than the entire Gotei combined but also he’s technically only eighteen years old.

(It would be scarier, Kyouraku thinks, if Ichigo’s moral fibre hadn’t already proven itself superior.)

In the end, they settle it like this - Ichigo attends the Academy part-time for all the lessons Kisuke and Yoruichi and Shinji never bothered hammering into him because it was never important to the war, attends university in the human world, and the rest of his time is his do with as he pleases, whether that’s taking missions directly from Kyouraku, visiting with his friends in various squads and being roped into doing paperwork, or digging up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork (”Please don’t dig up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork for at least a month, Ichigo-kun. One month, you hear? We still haven’t finished cleanup from the last one.”).

Because it’s Ichigo, it works. it’s not like he wasn’t already coming and going from Soul Society when he was still human. The Shinigami have let him get away with far too much already to put restrictions on him now, especially considering he’s saved all their asses twice over now, and that’s not even counting all the trouble in-between. If there are some who complain, well, there are even more who are capable of making sure nothing ever comes of it.

So okay, no rebel faction, no secret invasion, but Ichigo’s not Ichigo without something to work towards, and he’s always wondered why the Shinigami side of his family was slumming it out in Rukongai when they’re supposed to be nobility like Byakuya and Yoruichi. The answer is simple enough - Aizen had mind-whammied everyone after Isshin ran off and fabricated a coup that resulted in assassinations courtesy of the Second Division before the remaining Shibas were ousted from Seireitei overnight.

(It was only too easy for Aizen to make them believe it.Nobody ever questioned whether or not the Shibas could. They had the power. They just never had the ambition, which nobody could understand.)

No way is Ichigo going to take that lying down. So he goes and yells at Kyouraku, who says it’s complicated and would take time, but Ichigo reminds him of the Visored and Kisuke and Yoruichi and Tessai, all let back in in the wake of the Winter War. If they could be pardoned, and rightfully so, why can’t the Shibas too?

“I’m not saying they can’t forever, Ichigo-kun,” Kyouraku says placatingly. “But Central 46 will want… assurances-”

“You mean they’re scared to let my family back in cuz they might still be a little bit pissed from having three-quarters of their members murdered in their beds,” Ichigo summarizes flatly.

Kyouraku sighs and gives up all pretenses of a neutral party. “If you have a better idea…” He waves a hand at the general situation, eyes dark and intent on Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo snorts and straightens up. “Yeah. It’s called ‘being too strong to fuck with’. The old bastards are in session right now, aren’t they? I’ll be right back.”

One day, Kyouraku muses as he watches Ichigo go, this will probably not work, and it’ll come back to bite them all in the ass. Then again, Central 46 has run Soul Society their way or no one’s way for far too long; Yama-jii had always given them too much power. They’d learned nothing from Aizen, so maybe Ichigo is exactly what they deserve, straightforward and running on emotion, but fair, always, and decent in a way that Kyouraku thinks most of their government has forgotten how to be, if they ever knew to begin with.

One day, even Ichigo’s threats won’t make Central 46 back down. But a god doesn’t bow just because someone demands it, no matter how important they think their bloodline or rank or status is. And Ichigo is probably the closest thing they have to a god these days. A god, with plenty of friends to back him up if he needs it.

So Kyouraku leaves him to it - better Ichigo than him, less headaches in the long run - and he isn’t at all surprised when Ichigo sweeps back into his office five hours later, expression grim but triumphant, reiatsu still writhing like a living shadow around him as he informs Kyouraku that his clan will be needing their old estate back.

Kyouraku pushes over the paperwork he’d completed an hour ago, authorizing the full restoration and compensation of the Shiba Clan. Ichigo smiles at him almost fondly, features only slightly tinted with a banked sort of inhuman rage that he carries around almost constantly these days - it’s three steps left of his cousin’s memory, with Hollow glinting in his eyes and the shade of his ancestor draped across his shoulders. He’s gone again in the next moment, off to tell his family the excellent news, and Kyouraku thinks it was probably a good thing Yama-jii died when he did. However reasonable Ichigo still is, he is no longer that boy with the too-forgiving heart who took the insults they served him with all the doormatted self-sacrifice of a storybook hero.

(He came back from the Soul King Palace equal parts pensive and victorious, with old eyes and reiatsu levels they could no longer sense and a terrifying sort of detachment when he looked at them all. But his friends had fallen on him without care, only relief, and the icy distance in Ichigo’s mien had melted. Kyouraku had understood though, in that moment, that Soul Society would stand only so long as Ichigo allows it.

He likes Ichigo, he genuinely does. Jyuushirou had too. That hadn’t stopped his old friend from attempting to leash him, which had almost backfired in the end and literally only hadn’t out of the goodness of Ichigo’s heart, and it doesn’t stop Kyouraku now from catering to Ichigo’s whims. Only time would tell if this approach will work better or worse than Jyuushirou’s law-abiding one, and in the meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt that Ichigo doesn’t actually want anything Kyouraku doesn’t want to fix anyway. Soul Society has been his home for over nine centuries now. He does not want to see it burn. If that means dragging it kicking and screaming into a new era with a boy their world created to fight their wars for them looking over his shoulder, then Kyouraku will do it gladly.)

It takes almost three months for the Shibas to gather again and move back in. They’d scattered, after their exile, all across Rukongai, but Kuukaku is their head, and Ichigo has single-handedly wrested back their birthright for them, and when both of them call, the rest of the clan answers, trickling in in twos and threes and fours, suspicious and wary and not inclined to trust anyone but their own, but they come, and the first thing they do is raise wards around their home strong enough to withstand a siege from the Royal Guard.

“That’s everyone?” Ichigo asks, looking from the civilians to the once-Shinigami to the children. All in all, they barely make thirty total, and over half of them are from their retainer families.

Kuukaku shrugs tiredly at his side. She’s never looked older than she does now. “You know Isshin’s staying in the Human world for your sisters, but other than that, pretty much. Everyone else is dead.” She pauses. “Well, except one, but I doubt he’ll come. Kaien’s wife’s brother,” She adds for Ichigo’s benefit. “Koyonagi Senzou. He was the Kidou Corps Commander before Tessai, demoted to Academy teacher after some mission the higher-ups covered up. He was the only one the Gotei kept on after we were kicked out. Never found out whether he actually wanted to stay or if Central 46 insisted he stay. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. He’s wasted at the Academy, too useful to kill but too dangerous to let out of sight. As far as I know though, he’s still there.”

Ichigo frowns as he digests all this. “And he won’t come by to see you guys?”

Kuukaku shakes her head. “I doubt it. He was never really one of us.”

“Why not?”

Kuukaku shrugs again. “He never wanted to be. I didn’t know him very well, Ichigo, but he loved exactly one person, and she was more or less killed under Kaien’s watch. It wasn’t Nii-san’s fault of course, but she was sent out on a mission given to her by the Thirteenth Division lieutenant, and she never came back. He attended her funeral. That was the last time any of us saw him, although our Shinigami members reported glimpses of him in and around the Academy over the years.”

Ichigo hums. Kuukaku gives him an arch look and then snorts. “Shall I prepare a room for him anyway when I start renovations?”

Ichigo grins at her. “That’d be perfect, Kuukaku, thanks.”

2. Of course Senzou has heard of Kurosaki Ichigo. You’d have to be living under a rock in a cave in a different dimension to not have heard of Soul Society’s God-Slaying Saviour.

And of course he’s a Shiba. That lot always was more trouble than they were worth, too powerful for their own good, and too reckless or too confident or too stupid - Senzou has never really figured out which - to hide it from the world or at least play it down to keep the world from turning on them because of it. No subtlety at all. And look where it got them in the end.

In the aftermath of the Quincy War, he hears of the Shibas’ return to the city, and he can feel the power in the wards they almost immediately erect around their home. For protection, no doubt, because old dogs can learn new tricks after all, but to Senzou, it just looks like a very pretty cage. Why they - or the Visored for that matter - came back to serve the very people who betrayed them in some of the worst ways possible is beyond him.

Not that it makes much of a difference to Senzou. He’d ignored them for decades before their exile; no doubt, he’ll happily ignore them for decades more. They’re related only through an unfortunate marriage, and considering both parties are long dead now, what little obligation he had to them likewise expired years ago.

But, he thinks, as he watches an increasingly familiar head of orange hair slide into his classroom, someone forgot to give that memo to the Shibas’ newest pride and joy. Even Senzou - with expectations that literally no student has ever met - can admit that Kurosaki Ichigo attending Kidou lessons is a complete waste of time. Senzou spends his days teaching idiots the incantations for each of the ninety-nine standard spells, trying not to scratch his own eyes out when he has to grade their papers, and making sure they don’t blow themselves up when they practice producing them. Even the most advanced of the sixth-years can only manage spells in the fifties range, with a fifty-fifty chance of average-at-best success.

Ichigo memorized all the incantations in the first two weeks he was here. His first essay on the use of forbidden Kidou - instead of a regurgitation of laws citing the illegality of them that everyone else turned in - became a dissertation on their pros and cons, arguing that every case in which they’re used should be thoroughly investigated not only by Central 46 but also by a panel of Shinigami, and why the laws against them should be amended to allow for unexpected circumstances. The brat even had the gall to throw in quotes of interviews he’d conducted, and if it had been anyone else claiming to have received firsthand and eye-witness accounts of forbidden Kidou usage from names like Tsukabishi Tessai and Hirako Shinji, Senzou would’ve set them on fire for being such a bad liar. He couldn’t even fail the boy for incomplete research because the books he referenced might not be found in the Academy library but they all had Urahara Kisuke stamped on them.

And his practicals? A high level of reiatsu usually means the caster would have a harder time performing Kidou, especially when they’re first starting out, too much power shoved into the lower-level ones, too little control to hold together the higher-level ones.

Not Kurosaki Ichigo. That boy spent the first week putting holes into everything except his targets, went away for a weekend, and then came back with singed eyebrows and bags under his eyes but a resolute set to his jaw and picture-perfect Kidou at his fingertips. He didn’t even need the incantations anymore. And to make him even more of an anomaly, he could perform spells right up into the nineties. In fact, the higher the difficulty and reiatsu output, the better he was with them.

There is nothing the standard Kidou curriculum from any year can teach him. His learning curve is insane, and his essays read like he’s gearing up to go toe to toe with Central 46, never mind an Academy class.

He doesn’t need to be here. Senzou knows it. The other students know it. And Ichigo most certainly knows it too. And with the special allowances granted by the Soutaichou himself, he doesn’t even need permission to skip. The boy’s been given unprecedented free reign to come and go as he pleases, and yet he comes back, week after week after week. He doesn’t even have the decency to sleep through Senzou’s lectures. He’s a flickering candle in the corner of Senzou’s eye, all flame-bright hair and brown-gold-brown eyes and shadows that won’t stop moving, and that unwavering attention he pins on Senzou every time makes it damn clear exactly what he’s waiting for.

Shibas. No subtlety whatsoever.

The bell rings. Bags are packed. There’s a scramble for the door.

“Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou calls in bored tones without looking away from sadistically adding an extra assignment to the board. If no one notices, that’s their problem. “Stay behind.”

There are some interested whispers and prying eyes, but one glance from Senzou sends them scurrying away. And then Ichigo is there, sauntering up with his perpetual scowl - not at all like Kaien this one. The two are as charismatic as each other, from what Senzou’s observed. But Kaien had people wrapped around his finger because he had a knack for putting them at ease and making them feel special and making himself both approachable and worth looking up to. Ichigo on the other hand scared a lot of people when he first showed up at the Academy with an armful of books and a gruff disposition that didn’t lend itself to making allies, let alone friends. He wasn’t arrogant, just introverted, but it made him the kind of genius that people resented.

And then Senzou caught him in the hallway one day, looming over a mousy-looking fifth-year student huddled on the ground, and at first, he’d thought Kurosaki was bullying her. Everyone’s golden boy, picking on a shrinking violet of a girl. But then Ichigo had stooped down and gathered up all the books spilled across the floor before offering them back to the girl. The girl had still cowered, but she’d accepted them, and when Ichigo reached out and hauled her to her feet, she’d flinched but hadn’t moved away once she was on her feet again and Ichigo had let her go.

Then Ichigo had told her, quite clearly, “Next time someone can’t keep their hands to themselves, break their fucking wrists. Or kick them in the balls. Or tell them to fuck off. Start a scene so they have to stop. Do something. Don’t just fucking stand there.”

And then he’d stormed off, and the girl - Fujiwara, from the Kyouraku family - had stared after him, all baby-duckling wide eyes. And the next time Senzou had happened across her, it was just in time to see her chuck one of her textbooks at the head of one of her bullies. Said bully had staggered back, and then purpled with anger, already moving forward with fists clenched. Half a second later, he was on the ground and wailing from a broken nose, and Ichigo was standing over him, murder glowing gold in his eyes and black reiatsu streaking his hair and pooling at his feet.

Nobody had touched Fujiwara after that, especially since the girl had taken to following Ichigo around. Ichigo had still scowled like no one’s business, he’d also been seen kicking Fujiwara’s ass in one of the training rooms, they studied together in the library, and they ate together in the courtyard when Ichigo happened to stay for that.

And gradually, other students joined in, tentatively, some nervous, some with hero worship in their eyes, all hopeful. Ichigo never turned any of them away, but one day, he started a debate in the library about laws that would take species outside of Shinigami into consideration that ended with raised voices and enthusiastic opinions that got the whole giggling bunch thrown out, and another day, he suggested a free-for-all game of tag where only Kidou could be used to catch each other which ended with everyone sweaty and gasping and wanting another round, and in calmer in-betweens, he answered when the others finally asked him about what Hueco Mundo was like, what the Material world was like, what Arrancar were like, what Humans were like, and he never lost his temper with them even when he had to explain something more than once.

He was still blunt and borderline rude and not at all like Kaien, like a Shiba, not outgoing or friendly or instantly personable. But the charisma was the same, people couldn’t help but be drawn to him, and it took weeks for Senzou to realize he was just as susceptible to it as Ichigo’s growing circle of friends within the Academy. So susceptible he was literally stalking him everywhere just to see what other chaos he was sowing.

That’s probably why he wants the boy gone so badly. He’d sworn he’d never forgive the Shiba Clan for taking his sister away from him, the only leeway they got was that he wouldn’t actively go after them either because Miyako wouldn’t want him to, and it wasn’t as if it was difficult to keep such a vow. He’d never liked the Shibas anyway. When they’d been slaughtered and cast out, and no assassins had shown up at his door in the aftermath, all he’d thought was good riddance.

But Kurosaki Ichigo…

Under any other circumstances, Senzou would be thrilled. Here is a student who challenged the world around him and brought a storm to the Academy.

But this isn’t any other circumstances, and as Ichigo stops in front of his desk, a beast glinting behind his eyes and a dead king’s inheritance pulsing in the shadow splashed at his feet, Senzou meets his gaze and slices a mocking smile in his direction.

“Kurosaki-chan,” He starts, smirk widening when Ichigo’s eyebrows twitch. “The Academy’s star part-time pupil. What exactly are you still doing in my class?”

Ichigo shrugs. “I signed up for it, your lectures aren’t boring, and I’m trying to figure you out.”

Senzou feels his smile grow fixed. “And how is that going for you?”

Ichigo scruffs a hand through his hair, pauses briefly to frown tug at the shoulder-length strands like he wants a haircut, and then shrugs again. “You’re the one following me around all the time, what do you think?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Let me make one thing very clear, Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou finally says. For once, he doesn’t feel like weaving his usual mind games. “I don’t know what your clan has told you, but I have no desire to play happy families with them. I know you Shibas tend to be all about bringing family together, but I am not one of you.” His lip curls. “Do not push this issue any further than you have. Am I understood?”

Ichigo cocks his head, something animal in the way he watches Senzou now. “Kuukaku agreed to reserve a room for you at the compound if you ever want it, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not here for that.”

Senzou’s eyes narrow. “Then what are you here for?” He gives the boy a sardonic look and cuts him off preemptively. “Besides class.”

Ichigo grins, quicksilver bright, and something in Senzou recoils with surprise.

“I don’t really have a plan,” The boy tells him. “But I’m getting my family settled back in, and making sure nobody can fuck with them ever again.” He aims another considering look at Senzou. “If you don’t wanna be all buddy-buddy with them, that’s fine. It’s not any of my business if you wanna hammer your shit out with them or not. But you were connected to them even if you didn’t like it, and that doesn’t change just because that connection’s gone. So I guess what I wanted to figure out was whether or not someone’s fucking with you too.”

Senzou opens his mouth, then closes it when nothing comes out. How embarrassing. He settles for a derisive smile that feels a touch too brittle on his face. “I don’t need your protection, God-Slayer.”

Ichigo immediately makes a face. “Don’t call me that. And I didn’t say you did. But when I start something, I like to see it through, so I thought I’d check just to be sure.”

Senzou scoffs with disbelief. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

Ichigo rolls his eyes like he thinks Senzou’s being dumb on purpose, which is a new experience for Senzou. Usually he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Well you didn’t want me to, did you?” Ichigo says, looking exasperated now. “You were curious about me, and all the stalking was recon or whatever.” He levels a thoughtful look on Senzou before snorting with something like amusement. “You are the type. But yeah, anyway, now you know. If you need help, the offer’s open indefinitely. But I’ll stop coming to class if you don’t want me here.”

He trails off, arching an eyebrow in question. When Senzou doesn’t reply, the boy shrugs once more, adjusts the strap of his bag, and turns to leave.

Senzou… Well, he’s pretty much been on the back foot this entire conversation, hasn’t he? There’s something about Ichigo that just… throws him off. It’s frustrating. Unnerving.

And yet… Ichigo didn’t push. Kaien would’ve pushed. The rest of his family would’ve pushed. It’s what Shibas do when they want something - push and push until they get what they want, a single-minded persistence hidden under their signature cheerful geniality that makes the rest of the world believe them to be the nicest clan in all of Soul Society.

Miyako had said no, the first time Kaien had asked to court her. But he’d asked again and again, until she’d said yes, and she’d been happy to, Senzou had made certain of that, she’d been perfectly willing, had found a good man in Kaien and been glad she’d finally given him a chance.

But she’d said no first, and Kaien had pushed, and it just… rubbed Senzou the wrong way. Because once upon a time, Shinigami had plucked them out from Rukongai, dusted them off and provided the training and shuffled them into the military, all expenses paid, but no had never been an option, and that had become all the more true after Miyako became such a public, vulnerable figure, not only Third Seat of the Thirteenth but also wife of a clan head.

When Central 46 had come knocking, interested in Senzou’s prodigal skills with Kidou, they hadn’t even needed to drop Miyako’s name for Senzou to know that saying no then wasn’t an option either. He’d been pushed into their service, and it had taken Miyako’s death for Central 46 to finally leave him alone, solely because he had no one else for them to hold over his head.

It’s not the Shibas’ fault, not really. It’s been long enough that Senzou can admit that, if only to himself. Miyako’s choices were her own, and even if she hadn’t married him, Central 46 probably would’ve found another way to get to him through her. But Senzou has always been petty and vindictive at heart, and he’ll blame the Shibas for the rest of his life, because at the end of the day, they’re just like all the other nobles in this place. What they want, they’ll push until they get, because privilege is in their blood.

So Senzou flounders when Ichigo doesn’t push his advantage. The boy is already halfway to the door, and somehow, Senzou is certain, if he doesn’t say anything now, Ichigo won’t come back. It’s so wildly different from what he’d expected, so unexpectedly not-like-a-Shiba, that he has to fumble for something to say for an unforgivably long moment. Him, fumble. This whole conversation has been one unexpected surprise after another, and later, Senzou will blame the shock for his next decision.

“Wait.”

Ichigo stops and turns back. He doesn’t look surprised, but neither does he look triumphant or even just smug.

Senzou suppresses a grimace. “The school has nothing left to teach you about Kidou.”

Ichigo nods in unabashed agreement.

Senzou snorts softly. “But I do. And I guarantee it won’t bore you.”

Ichigo blinks, and a crooked smile slowly curls at his lips. It doesn’t erase his frown, but it softens his brow and makes his features look less harsh. “You sure you wanna teach me?”

Senzou scoffs and pulls out his chair. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He gives himself a mental shake and drags a grin back onto his face, sharp enough to cut. “Sit your ass down so we can figure out a schedule, Ichi-chan.”

Ichigo instantly loses the smile and glowers like a thundercloud. Senzou all but basks in the familiarity of it, inwardly relieved at being back on steadier ground.

“Don’t call me that, asshole!”

He probably shouldn’t have offered, should’ve just let him go and good riddance. But Senzou hasn’t been taken so off-guard so quickly in a long time, and it had been frustrating and unnerving but underneath both…

There is a storm waiting on the wings of Seireitei, and Kurosaki Ichigo is the one holding its reins.

And Senzou. Senzou is just curious enough to want to see what that storm will bring.

3. “Did your hair grow three inches over the weekend?” Senzou asks the moment Ichigo walks into one of their weekly lessons.

Ichigo dumps his bag in a chair and scowls at him. His hair has been swept up into a bun, which is certainly a feat considering the last time Senzou saw him three days ago, it had only brushed his shoulders.

“This body is seriously shit at regulating itself,” Ichigo grumbles. “I didn’t have time to go to the barber’s, and Kuukaku threatened to shave me bald if I tried to chop it off with my Zanpakutou again.”

Senzou squints at him. “You realize that’s not normal.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a knife on me, and it was getting in the way, okay? Don’t judge.”

This time, it’s Senzou’s turn to roll his eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, Ichi-chan. Shinigami bodies don’t suddenly grow several inches of hair overnight.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ichigo mutters before shaking his head, and Senzou watches as black reiatsu crackles lazily across his shoulders. “I’m just kinda weird. Excess reiatsu plus funky biology apparently means random hair growth and dye jobs.” He shrugs. “Kisuke’s still figuring it out.”

Senzou hums noncommittally. “Urahara Kisuke. Your… mentor?”

Ichigo pulls out the books Senzou had given him last week, along with a notebook and the latest essay Senzou had assigned him. All are tagged with multiple sticky notes.

“Kind of?” Ichigo sounds like he isn’t all too sure himself and even less concerned about it. “He’s… Kisuke.”

Senzou eyes him curiously. “You don’t care that he basically engineered half your life then?”

Ichigo stills. Then he glances up with Hollow-gold eyes, and Senzou smiles and meets them without flinching.

“Why would you say that?” Ichigo asks in even tones, but the office suddenly seems darker.

Senzou shrugs carelessly. “Urahara has a bit of a reputation for… working outside the box. It’s not just me who thinks it, Ichi-chan. There aren’t many who knew him who wouldn’t take one look at you and guess that he had something to do with your existence.” He pauses. “Although admittedly, I suppose the worst of these rumours come from the ones who want him back most. Central 46 doesn’t benefit half as much without his skills in assassination and technological development. It must’ve been a blow to their egos when Urahara refused their invitation to come back after the Winter War. They might be hoping enough unease over any other projects he’s bound to be working on would be enough to make him come back under their protection-”

“That’s not called protection,” Ichigo growls, and Senzou stops, words withering on his tongue.

There is something about the black abyss of Ichigo’s unblinking stare that makes some base instinct in even Senzou want to back away, run, throw himself at this eldritch entity’s feet and beg for mercy. He squashes the urge and smiles like monsters don’t exist.

Ichigo blinks. The darkness in his eyes recede, and the room clears again, bright with the sunshine pouring in through the open window. A shadow passes over his face, and when he opens his mouth to speak, Senzou catches a glimpse of fangs.

“Well that sucks,” The boy remarks succinctly like the silhouette on the far wall behind him doesn’t outline a grinning mouth with too many teeth. “It’s none of their business anyway. Kisuke prefers his shop. He’s his own boss there, and he likes it that way. Central 46 will just have to deal with Kurotsuchi.”

He flips open his notebook and shoves his essay over. “Now come on, we only have an hour today, and you said you’d go over this bit with me.”

Senzou nods and drops the subject. But three weeks later, he laughs when whispers tell of five Central 46 members retiring from their seats, replaced by one Shiba elder, one Shihouin, one Kuchiki, and two seated officers from the Gotei, one of which has served long enough that she doesn’t mind semi-retiring, and the other who prefers more time at a desk job over constant fieldwork. Both have roots that trace back to the slums of Rukongai. Twelve days after that, the Soutaichou announces a new official position filled by Urahara Kisuke - Human World Liaison - and a team of his choice, effective immediately.

“You don’t waste any time,” is Senzou’s greeting the next time he sees Ichigo after that debacle.

Ichigo, seated on the edge of the Academy roof and surveying the rest of Seireitei (like a ruler looking over his kingdom), waves a dismissive hand that trails solid shadows through the air. “People who’ve never been Shinigami shouldn’t be allowed to judge them. Kyouraku-san agreed.”

“I’m sure he did,” Senzou agrees, fighting near-hysterical glee down to a chuckle as he drops down to sit beside Ichigo.

He wonders if this is what it looks like, for a man to crown himself without even trying while most of the world cheers him on.

He glances to the side, arching an eyebrow when he finds Ichigo watching him. “Yes, Ichi-chan?”

There’s a disappointing lack of irritable twitching this time, but the thoughtful look Ichigo has levelled on him instead is more interesting.

“I have finals starting next week,” Ichigo says abruptly. “So I won’t be coming by the Academy until I’m done.”

Well, less interesting than he’d expected. “I’ll pick up your assignments for you,” Senzou offers, feeling generous. It’s not every day Central 46 takes a beating. He doesn’t care about Aizen, but if there was one thing he did right, it was butchering the judiciary authority on the way out. One group of them anyway.

Ichigo snorts. Rude. “Thanks, but I was thinking, you could join me down there for once instead of me coming up to meet you here. I want to concentrate on my university exams, but I have to eat and stretch my legs sometime. If you want, I could show you around campus. Kisuke can lend you a gigai so you won’t even have to request one from the Twelfth and wait for the acquisition forms to be approved.”

The first thing Senzou wants to say is I can’t. Because he can’t. Central 46 can’t make him do shit anymore, but short of slaughtering his way to the Senkaimon or disappearing into the Rukongai and living out the rest of his life as a fugitive, he can’t leave Seireitei. He doesn’t hate it here so much that he’d prefer either of those options, but the truth of the matter is, this is as much his home as it is his prison.

(A very pretty cage indeed.)

So he can’t, but Ichigo isn’t stupid, he should’ve already figured it out, or guessed, if not from the start after whatever his family told him about Senzou, then in the five months since. Stuck at the Academy because he’s too much of a wild card to go on missions.

Ichigo isn’t stupid, but neither is he cruel, not to those he has no quarrel with - that much Senzou can accept as truth. That he’s bringing this up anyway…

So, “How?” He asks instead, raising his eyebrows when Ichigo actually barks out a laugh. And then his eyes widen when Ichigo twists fingers through the air, and a Garganta springs into existence beside them.

“This can take us there,” Ichigo grins. “And no one will ever even know if you don’t want them to.”

Senzou stares from him to the murky void and back again. “…Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why would you offer?

They’ve known each other for five months, six if you count the one Senzou spent studying him. Most of that time has been spent in private tutoring sessions, and it’s benefitted Senzou as much as it has Ichigo. He technically shouldn’t be teaching Ichigo even half the Kidou Corps secrets he’s already imparted, but Ichigo makes it worth his while - quick on the uptake, a challenge in the sparring ring, and a breath of fresh air from the tedious drudgery of teaching his other students. Occasionally, they even go out for meals, tucked away in a quiet corner of a restaurant or a food stand. And sometimes, Ichigo brings souvenirs back with him from his trips to the Human world - fiction, toys, tech, trinkets the living modern age has that Soul Society does not - and he gifts them not only to his friends amongst the students but also to Senzou these days.

It’s a friendlier relationship than Senzou thought he’d ever have with anyone outside his sister, doubly so for a Shiba. Then again, Ichigo’s barely that, thank the Soul King, even if he was raised by one of the worst examples of that clan.

“Why not?” Ichigo counters, like it isn’t downright unnatural for anyone to do anything for Senzou, mostly because he’d rather stab himself in the face than fall into anybody’s debt. People avoid him when they can because he is cruel, and that’s the way Senzou likes it. He has high standards and little tolerance for things that bore him. Nothing bores him as easily as people do.

Until Ichigo.

“You don’t wanna be stuck here all the time,” Ichigo continues. “And I have an easy way out. So yeah, why not?”

Senzou turns his gaze to the horizion, past the sprawling streets and buildings of Seireitei to the sun setting beyond the wall.

He looks at the Garganta again. When Ichigo doesn’t move to stop him, he reaches over and lets his fingers drift past the mouth of the portal. The void is cool to the touch but not freezing the way he’d half-imagined.

He retrieves his hand. “A campus tour then?” He muses lightly, and Ichigo’s features brighten in response.

Senzou almost sighs. He thinks he might understand now. Ichigo is a little more like a Shiba after all. It’s just that he’s also a little more manipulative than one would expect of him. Senzou had all but told him not to interfere, to play hero for someone else, so Ichigo had backed off. But he’d figured out what Senzou wanted anyway, and his solution was to offer another way out instead.

Persistent, without disrespecting boundaries, and cunning enough to find another answer. In that regard, he’s nothing like his Shinigami relatives, who are always so loud about their intentions.

Charismatic, but… discreetly, almost insidiously so.

Senzou blinks. And then glances sharply at Ichigo again. His eyes look bronze in the light of the sunset, with the heat of his Hollow just beneath it. He has his head propped up against one loose fist, elbow balanced on one knee.

He smiles, almost guileless if not for the possessive resolve in the curve of that expression, and Senzou thinks, unbidden, ah. That’s how he won their devotion.

He gave his friends and family and allies everything they wanted, everything they needed, threw his heart and soul and body into every fight in their defense, shattered himself and rebuilt himself to protect the ones he’d taken under his wing, and so when the time came, how could any of them have done anything less for him?

It had probably not even been something Ichigo had done consciously from the beginning, it was just how he was built, through a quirk of the genetic fun park Urahara had ensured, or perhaps from the numerous near-death experiences life had forced him into. Ichigo probably hadn’t been aware, at first.

But he definitely is now.

Senzou thinks Ichigo is only just starting with him. Senzou’s already been claimed, because - for whatever reason - Ichigo wants him.

It probably says a lot that even this early on, even having already figured it out, Senzou… can’t say he cares enough to protest.

A Shiba in his bones, but leagues more dangerous by far.

4. The Human world is bigger than he remembers. Size-wise, it’s the same. But there’s a lot more in it than he thought, and he isn’t sure if that’s due to the passage of time or because he’d never spent more time than strictly necessary here when he took missions on the material plane back in the day.

Either way, he’s free to explore it now, even if just a small part of it for the time being. The campus of Ichigo’s school is large and sprawling, and with Urahara’s gigai and fake IDs and some Human money (he trades them for a box of seal traps even Tsukabishi Tessai wouldn’t know of because they’re Senzou’s own creation, and Urahara smiles like he understands and doesn’t object), it’s easy enough to come and go once Ichigo drops him off.

“You bought an apartment?” Senzou asks the first time Ichigo shows him the place and lets him poke around inside. It’s recognizably a living space, but it’s foreign to him all the same, with a generous open floor plan and wide windows, marble countertops in the kitchen and dark wooden cabinets and a bathroom constructed of polished chrome and gleaming tile.

“Kisuke bought me an apartment,” Ichigo corrects, flopping down on the couch where he has papers and books spread all over the coffee table and floor. His hair’s shorter today, barely past his shoulders, tipped black and hanging loose. Senzou is vaguely curious about what the boy’s classmates think of it.

“I wanted my own place,” Ichigo explains. “But Kisuke took one look at the rent I could afford and practically frog-marched me here instead. Then he had Yoruichi-san steal all my stuff and move it here, and then he said I might as well just take it because staying would be less work than moving all my stuff back.” He snorts, but it’s a fond sound. “The asshole. It’s not like I’d want to turn this place down. But it’s a bit much, so I try to help him with his research projects whenever I can in exchange.”

Senzou digests this with briefly raised eyebrows but says nothing. Urahara probably considers this another desperate form of making amends, and Ichigo probably knows it too. He probably wouldn’t have accepted otherwise.

“There’s a guest bedroom,” Ichigo calls after him as Senzou wanders down the hall to investigate exactly that. “Rukia’s stayed overnight, Renji too, and a few of my human friends have as well, but I always clean the place after they leave, so if you wanna stay tonight, feel free.”

That’s all the conversation between them for the rest of the day. Ichigo already showed him the campus the day before, and after tossing him a key to the apartment, Senzou is free to wander off and explore on his own.

Two weeks of regular visits to the Human world, and he still feels a little awkward in one of the shirts and jeans and sweater that that Quincy friend of Ichigo’s had shoved on him before whirlwinding back out again, apparently neck-deep in the middle of his own finals project.

“It’s Ishida, he makes clothes for everyone,” was Ichigo’s unhelpful clarification. “You help by walking around and looking good in them.”

So Senzou does, and part of him feels like he should stand out more, but nobody gives him more than a passing glance at most. Well, some do, but he recognizes shallow attraction well enough to ignore it.

In the end, he finds himself spending the most time in the libraries and lecture halls, slipping into the back of a classroom and listening to lessons he actually has to pay attention to to even understand some of what the professor is talking about. The science lectures mostly go over his head, and he’s never been interested in that field anyway so he doesn’t bother putting much effort into following them. It’s the literature courses he likes the most. There aren’t any at the Academy, not like this, and there are so many more books in so many more languages and genres than Senzou ever thought there existed in the world.

Soul Society suddenly seems so small in comparison.

It’s always an exercise in patience every time he has to return to Seireitei to teach now. After the first two weeks of almost daily trips to the Human world, he orders - on a whim - the students from his upper-year classes to split into groups before assigning each of them a project due at the end of the term on the theoretical creation of three new Kidou spells.

Group projects are not a thing at the Academy. Senzou wonders why.

He tells them that at least two of the research sources have to be from outside the Academy, and he smirks when he follows Fujiwara Asuka to the First Division compound to speak with her cousin, and then the Eighth to speak with her cousin’s former lieutenant, and then even braving the Fourth, straight-backed and stiff with anxiety but marching in anyway with her nervous group members in tow until she manages to wrangle fifteen minutes of time from a few of the healers willing to answer her questions about Kaidou.

Even here, Ichigo’s influence flourishes.

Outside the classroom, Senzou begins collecting copies of Human books. He half-bribes, half-blackmails the librarian into setting aside a section for him, and then he begins his own project of filling it.

“You’ve been busy,” Ichigo remarks when he staggers in from his last exam and collapses into a chair just as Senzou finishes setting the table for dinner.

Senzou arches an eyebrow, smirking when Ichigo just rolls his eyes.

“People tell me things,” Ichigo informs him, barely waiting for Senzou to sit down before falling onto the meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“You would make a poor king if people didn’t,” Senzou murmurs, smiling serenely when Ichigo’s eyes flick up to meet his. It’s not as intimidating when his cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Actually, Ichigo in the Human world just seems less… overwhelming in general. It isn’t as if he’s any less powerful. This particular gigai doesn’t restrict him in any way. But there’s a relaxed quality in him here that Senzou’s observed in the past three weeks that’s always absent when he’s the rawest form of himself up in Seireitei.

“Soul Society needs to change,” Ichigo says at last, instead of denying anything. “If that means kicking it in the ass until it stops fucking up the lives it’s supposed to be looking after, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Yes, and Senzou has no doubt he’ll succeed. The majority of those in power have no desire to stop Ichigo. Those who do aren’t strong enough. And Ichigo wants it. He wants it with a conviction Senzou has never seen in anyone, almost obsessive in its unfaltering desire… like the abyssal hunger of a Hollow and the eternal grudge of a Quincy and the timeless pride of a Shinigami all rolled into one.

Ichigo wants it, and he’ll get what he wants.

The Soul King knows the universe owes him that much, and even if it didn’t, Senzou doubts it would make a single bit of difference to their God-Slayer.

He lifts his mug in a toast. “Then I look forward to your endeavours. You’ll need to watch out for Central 46′s spies though. I’m sure they won’t take this lying down.”

Ichigo cocks an eyebrow. “Is that an offer to keep your ear to the ground for me?”

Senzou attempts an innocent face, which works about as well as he expects when Ichigo snorts. “A mere Academy teacher like me probably can’t help much, but…” He thinks of the seals he’d planted throughout the entire Central 46 compound every time he’d had to report in, slowly but surely sneaking invisible ears into the heart of Soul Society’s government. “I might hear things now and then. I’ll pass it on if it happens to be interesting.”

Ichigo grins and tips his own mug at Senzou like they aren’t talking treason.

5. “So.”

Senzou almost rolls his eyes. The Shibas’ commitment to their theatrics clearly hasn’t changed.

“Kuukaku-chan,” He says instead as he strides into his office and smothers the urge to draw his blade on the woman sitting on his desk like she’s posing for Most Dramatic. He smiles instead, hiding the teeth of it behind his lips. “What a pleasure.”

Kuukaku grins back without any of the same courtesy. Of course. “None at all, I’m sure, so I’ll get straight to the point. What are you doing with Ichigo?”

Senzou does roll his eyes this time. “You’ll have to be more specific. As of yesterday, he’s teaching me how to drive a car.” His lip curls. “It’s a mode of transportation Humans have developed.”

“I know what a car is,” Kuukaku snaps, finally hopping down from the desk to prowl across the room. “Why is he teaching you? What do you want with him?”

Senzou pauses halfway through setting down a stack of essays to be marked. “…If I said vengeance on the Shiba Clan once I’ve convinced him to side with me, would that be about what you were expecting?”

Kuukaku glares and crosses her arms. “Ichigo would never.”

Senzou smirks. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? You’ve wasted a trip.”

He brushes past her to flip through the paperwork on his desk. End-of-term reports are coming up, and that’s always a waste of his time, so the sooner he gets them done the better.

“I know you resent us for what happened to Miyako,” Kuukaku says from behind him, and Senzou wonders if he can just walk out. Probably, but there’s no way this woman won’t cause a scene. “But Ichigo wasn’t part of any of that.”

Senzou heaves a sigh and turns back around. “Kuukaku-chan, I thought we just established that we both know that using Ichigo against your family won’t work.”

“No,” Kuukaku nods. “But you could hurt him to get back at us.”

They eye each other for a long moment, not quite hostile but far from amicable.

“…My vengeance for Miyako was not lifting a finger when your clan was all but massacred,” Senzou finally says, ignoring the way Kuukaku’s expression pinches. “And so long as contact with you and yours is kept at an absolute minimum in the future, I don’t care anymore. Besides, there is no point in targeting Ichigo to get to you.” He sneers. “He’s a Shiba, but it would be an insult to consider him one of you.”

Kuukaku bristles but doesn’t explode in anger the way some of her even more hot-tempered relatives would. She stares at him instead, and when she doesn’t speak right away, Senzou goes back to organizing the contents of his desk.

“Say I believe that,” Kuukaku finally says, ignoring Senzou’s scoff. “Maybe you are hanging out with Ichigo with no ulterior motives. The gods know he makes that easy. But if that’s what you’re doing, there’s no way you won’t be seeing more of the rest of us eventually. He wasn’t raised the way a Shiba should’ve been, with none of our traditions and only a fraction of the family he should’ve had. That’s on us. But he’s still family, and so long as he doesn’t say no, we’re going to be a part of his life. You’re going to have to accept that if you plan on marrying in.”

The shelf closes with a resounding thud under his hand, and judging by the give, he’s probably cracked the back of it too. He barely notices as his gaze snaps back up to stare incredulously at his uninvited visitor. “I beg your pardon?”

Kuukaku smiles thinly, and this time she looks more amused than anything else. “Something to consider. But you’re more like Miyako than most people would think.” Her arms drop to her sides as she turns abruptly towards the window. “That’s all I had to say. You’re a smart man, Senzou. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fuck up.”

And before Senzou can demand an explanation or - more likely - set her on fire for cracking such an abysmal joke, she’s gone, disappearing through the window in a rush of Shunpo.

Senzou stares after her, then at the books he’d carried in earlier, then at the paperwork he’s putting off for the weekend because he has dinner with Ichigo tonight… just as he does almost every night nowadays.

He runs a hand over his face.

Shibas.

6. He says nothing. He’s self-aware enough to know (now, damn Kuukaku) that there’s something there, a spark, a connection, a pull Senzou has never felt towards anyone. He isn’t going to call it love or whatever Kuukaku thinks is happening because it isn’t. He finds Ichigo fascinating and endlessly entertaining, and anyone willing to face down Central 46 is worthy of some admiration in Senzou’s opinion. That Ichigo plans on turning the whole system upside-down and actually has the power to achieve it only raises Senzou’s esteem for him.

But he says nothing because Ichigo knows all this already. The day Senzou’s first instinct, when an assassin sent by Central 46 attempts to take Ichigo’s head, is to slit the hapless woman’s throat - even though he knows full well that she wouldn’t have come anywhere near to succeeding - is the moment Ichigo gets irrefutable proof that Koyonagi Senzou is willing to kill for him.

Ichigo doesn’t gloat of course, he isn’t the type. Senzou half-expects it anyway, breath caught in his lungs for a moment with something disgracefully close to fear twisting in his gut as he turns to check Ichigo’s reaction.

But Ichigo only wrinkles his nose and toes the fresh corpse at his feet, and then he glances at the blood splatter dotting Senzou’s shirt and offers to get him a new one.

He also reaches out to touch the hilt of Senzou’s Zanpakutou before nodding once, deliberately, solemnly, the weight of it as much a thanks as it is an acknowledgement.

And that was that. Senzou relaxes, doesn’t bat an eye when shadows surge up and swallow the body whole, and goes to change into another shirt. The incident passes, and it will be longer still before Ichigo’s enemies realize they probably should’ve tried harder to get rid of Senzou years ago. They’d thought themselves safe enough though: they would never earn Senzou’s allegiance, but at the same time, nobody - including Senzou - ever thought anybody else would earn it either.

But the point is, Ichigo knows. Senzou has no need to speak of it, and both of them are content with that. If something more comes of it down the road, Senzou doesn’t think he’d fight it. He lost this battle a good while ago, and he never even cared.

In the meantime though, he spies on Central 46 and enjoys what time he can spare in the Human world and continues reconstructing Seireitei’s education system brick by stubborn brick. There’s a kingdom to conquer and a god Senzou has pledged himself to, and for now, that is enough.

[rurifangirl]

oc askssss💅

avril🌸

What is the DND alignment?

quinn🌸

What are their opinions on children? Do they view children as sweet angels or evil crotch goblins?

victor🌸

Your character has been invited to a masquerade ball. What mask do they wear?

bone🌸

Do they have any nicknames or pet names or other aliases?

moor🌸

Does your character have a comfort item?

NSIDYSIEID NOT THE OWO😭

*cutely saves It*

👁️‍🗨️-

What is their DND alignment?

I just took a test as if I was him, and It got me Lawful/True Neutral, so take that as you will😩

💕-

What are their opinions on children? Do they view children as sweet angels or evil crotch goblins?

HOHOHOHO SHE HATES THEM. The litteral only one she actually really likes Is Bone,, and they're dead. And also pretty active but not in the annoying way for them.

I'm gonna go further in their own post, but she had quite the opportinity to stay with much younger kids, and in the conditions they were, It didn't end up well. And from that, she has a stigma towards most if not all children.

They're little devils but not the good kind. Also she may or may not have actually kicked some children in their day out with Avril.

🦉-

Your character has been invited to a masquerade ball. What mask do they wear?

I'm pretty indecise on these two. Or even both at the same time, swapping them time from time.

He even would bring in two completely different outfits so It would fit each mask. And would get extremely upset if he'd get them dirty.

🔪-

Do they have any nicknames or pet names or other aliases?

They do!! Quinn mainly gives them, some are more general like "Lil' devil" and others are just like "Bon-Bon", there's no in between. Avril sometimes calls them "Knifey", because idk If I've sent you somethin of them but,, let's say a knife Is pretty much in their design. She does eventually end up using Quinn's nicknames too and they don't mind it.

I dunno If I'll ever make them meet for now,, but If Moor would see them, they'd call Bone "Glassy", cus since Bones a Ghost n a lil transparent n full,It reminds him of glass. He gets big himbo pass again.

🌊-

Does your character have a comfort item?

Ahhh yesyes, he does!! He has a few actually. One of them Is a little pearl. Well, at least for him, normally it's pretty huge. It was one of the first things he had a connection to, other than his fish pals and Tina. (Tina's the shark I talked ya bout shjdksk N NO IT'S NOT CUS OF SORBET COOKIE SHARK AGAIN🤬/j)

Another one Is a near sea plant tree. Whenever he swings its leaves, especially with hands, he gets a pretty reassuring feeling. He doesn't know much bout why too, but he visits that whenever he's not too busy with his job.

He also has a collection of lost, outside the world items, but since they're pretty small, he doesn't have a connection like he had w the other ones. But, that not only fueled his wanting to know more about what's the outside like, but only an odd connection with kinds of people who would've lost them.

For example, let's say he finds an old, ripped plushie. He may think it's owner didn't take much care or was forced to give It away. And with that, he gets a very rough idea on how things would be. Either rough or pleasing. It's a pity he can't use many of them, but Moor Is passionate about It.

Tags undercut:

@a-chaotic-dumbass @spoopy-fish-writes @dopesaladlady @audre-falrose @nadi-117 @infra-jaded

[zeravmeta]

fuck it. soma cruz fgo servant profile bc i make my own content

Servant: / Servant Class: Soma Cruz / Alter Ego

Origin: / Region: Castlevania Series / Japan, 2035

Alignment: Lawful Neutral(?) “Yeah, not sure how I classify as Lawful given my past life, but whatever.”

Aliases: The Dark Lord, Dracula, Soma Cruz

Parameters: STR (B) / END (A+) / AGL (B+) / MP (EX) / LUK (A) / NP (???) 

Class Skills: Authority of Beasts (Fake), Core of Chaos (A), One Who Severs Fate (A)

Character Info: “In order for God to be perfectly Good, there must always exist an embodiment of Chaos, a Dark Lord to emerge from the evil of humanity’s hearts.”

For one thousand years, the Belmont bloodline had opposed the terrible night that Count Dracula would bring with his powers. After generations of suffering, the Belmont’s latest mantle bearer, Julius Belmont, along with their generational allies, the Belnades clan and a nameless soldier, had managed to permanently defeat Dracula with the help of the Hakuba Clan’s shrine magics. Severing his connection to his power and sealing Castlevania, the embodiment of his power, within a solar eclipse, Dracula had finally faced his demise in 1999, prophesied by Nostradamus one millennium ago. Thus, the strongest Dark Lord had fallen, his throne empty and awaiting a new master.

In 2035, Soma Cruz had visited the Hakuba Shrine to meet with his childhood friend Mina, unaware of the birthright he would claim.

Skills:

Chaos Ring A: An extremely powerful construct that channels the very essence of Chaos. It can only be found by the one who can traverse and control the Chaos Realm, the Dark Lords personal right. Wearing it grants the unlimited magical power of the Chaos Realm, but actual output depends on the user. If the Demon King’s Ring is the symbol of Dracula and his reign, then the Chaos Ring could be considered the symbol of Soma and his new beginning.

Thematic narratives aside, it’s a very convenient tool for Soma.

“It’s weird, but it feels like…it was made for me. Almost like a welcome gift.”

[5->3 Turns] [Charge NP (20%->30%), Increase NP Gain (10%->25%) (3 Turns), Gain a Delayed buff 1 turn after skill use (Unremovable): [Charge NP (20->30%)]

Armament Master D: Soma is extremely proficient at using any and all forms of weaponry. Due to Dracula’s vast reach, Soma has a vast number of different modern and mythical weapons and gear at his disposal, notable weapons including Excalibur (sealed in the stone), Hrunting, Caladbolg, Mjolnir, and even a Positron Rifle, to name a few. However, one weapon unique to Soma is the Claimh Solais, an Irish sword of light mentioned in many legends and defining the archetype of “Sword of Light.” It provides a great boost to parameters and is surprisingly light weight despite its size. Another unique weapon he wields is the Valmanway, the “Blessed Wind” that is always ‘cutting’ even when still.

(The rank is D because despite his proficiency, Soma has never had any formal training.)

“I mean, it’s just a sword, right? How complex is it? You can just swing it and things die. Though…considering I have ol’ Drac’s memories…sorta, maybe I’m just remembering it?”

[8->6 Turns] [Increase Atk (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Gain Critical Stars (5->15), Increase Critical Star Absorption (3000%) (3 Turns), Increase Critical Damage (10%->20%) (3 Turns), Apply Special Attack against Sky, Star and Beast attribute enemies (20%->40%) (3 Turns)]

Power of Dominance (EX): Soma’s inheritance from Dracula, or more fittingly, the Chaos Entity opposite to God. The Power of Dominance is a unique ability that grants a complete mastery over the abilities of any and all souls Soma can acquire from the enemies he defeats. All the monsters that Dracula unleashed in his crusade against humanity are the countless souls under his domain, even that of Death itself, and their powers rightly belong to him.

Soma can differentiate between the types of Soul Arts he uses, and this reflects accordingly in his Noble Phantasm.

“I never wanted this power, but I guess I’m stuck with it. I’ll always carry the target on my back, but at least I can look awesome as hell while doing it, I suppose.”

[5->3 Turns] [Decrease Enemy Charge by 1 (20%->50%), Select own NP Command Card’s type between Quick, Arts or Buster for 3 Turns. Effect of NP changes depending on which Command Card Type is selected. This skill is immune to debuff effects (such as Skill Seal)]

Noble Phantasm:

Advent of Sorrow – He Who Severed His Fate Against Chaos and God / Anti-Divine, Anti-Self / Rank (???)

A manifestation of Soma’s power truly made his own, separate from the title of Dark Lord and Dracula. Having defeated the Chaos Entity, he managed to sever its connection to his soul, and be saved from his Fate. Even so, he carries the Power of Dominance with him always, and the countless souls and followers of Chaos always wait and offer themselves unto Soma to lead and command them. In his own imperfect way, neither holy nor demonic.

After all, he’s only human.

(Note: If used by the true Count Dracula, this would be considered an Anti-Humanity NP)

[Type: Buster] – [Deals massive damage to a single enemy (1200%->2400%), Chance to Decrease Charge by 1 (80%->100%). Overcharge: Increases own Buster Card Effectiveness (20%) (1 Turn) and NP Damage (1 Turn) (20%) (Activates First)]

[Type: Arts] – [Deals heavy damage to all enemies (400%->800%), Chance to decrease Atk (15%->25%) and Critical Chance (20%->30%). Overcharge: Inflict Curse (5 Turns).]

[Type: Quick] – [Apply Debuff Immune (1 Time), and Restore HP each turn for self (3 Turns) (1000->1500), and Increase NP Gauge each turn for self (3 Turns) (5%). Overcharge: Apply Def Up for all allies (3 Turns) (25%->50%).]

Bond Lines: 

Bond 1: “Heh, thanks for having me! I’m still not too sure about how all this stuff works here, but if you need a monster taken down, I’m your guy.”

Bond 2: “So the rest of those dudes call you ‘Master’? Kind of awkward, but I guess they’re magical familiars at the end of the day. What? So am I? Sorry but, vampiric powers aside, I’m just a normal guy. I was even in University before I got dragged here. I’ll just call you [name] for now.”

Bond 3: “Do you like curry? Arikado said I shouldn’t be using these monster souls for dumb stuff, but they don’t mind. They always talk to me and really want to help me out wherever I am. Except Death, that guy sucks. He’s always breaking into my home and trying to convince me to become the next Dark Lord and to ‘accept my throne’ and stuff.”

Bond 4: “…It scares me, sometimes. Knowing not only what I am, but what I’m very capable of.”

Bond 5: “Y’know…you could always come back with me to my world, if you want to escape. I’ll take you to meet Mina, and Hammer and Yoko and Julius and Arikado and…Hm. Sorry. I know you can’t abandon this world, it’s where you grew up. There’s…a lot of people here who love you. You should always remember that and hold it close. It saved my life when I thought I couldn’t go on, and I know it will also save yours.”

Voice Lines:

(1): “I’m glad this place is a lot simpler than the castle. That place had so many hidden rooms and puzzles that I felt like I was going insane…No, as a matter of fact, DON’T tell me about all the secret workshops here.”

(2): “Hm? What’s up? I’m just relaxing here. Sorry if I’m taking up space. It’s nice to just take a moment.”

(3): “No, no, don’t worry. Even if I could, I’m not the type of guy to just go around stealing souls. I only do that to monsters, and even then, they become complacent once they return to me. I could show you some of the fun ones, like the Skeleton Gardener, if you’d like.”

Likes: “What I like? Curry! Oh, and Mina. She’s been with me for my whole life. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Dislikes: “This is gonna sound cliché, but garlic. It just tastes bad.”

Event: “Whoa, a party! Let’s go, I’m super bored cooped up in here.”

About The Holy Grail: “Wish granting? No thanks, I’ve read a ton of comics and things always go wrong. What? Of course, it’s a valuable source!”

Summon Quote: “Yo! My name is Soma Cruz. I’m just a regular high school student. Um…Where am I, exactly?”

Happy Birthday: “Happy Birthday, [name]! I’m so gonna throw you the coolest party ever! I’ll even invite Mina…If, uh, if that’s cool with you?”

(King Hassan): “D-Death!? Why are you…Oh. Uh, sorry about that. You reminded me of...someone. I’m sure you’re a cool guy underneath all that armor.”

(Vlad/Vlad III (EXTRA)): “Huh. So, in this world, the legend of Dracula is just that? A legend? Well, that’s a huge relief. I’m not exactly the kingly type.”

(Gilgamesh/Gilgamesh (Caster)): “Hey [name], could you give me a hand? This gold idiot keeps saying I stole his weapons, but they’re mine! …Hey! Stay back with those portal things! Someone, help!!!”

(Scathach): “Jeez, I bet Arikado will get along with that slave driver. Seriously, Arikado’s method of teaching me my powers amounted to locking me in a room with monsters and a pocketknife. Huh? She’s stomping over here!? [name], help me!”

(Marie Antionette): “I don’t know why, but…Looking at you makes me sad. I’m sorry.”

(Sessyoin Kiara): “Master, this lady is coming onto me WAY too hard. She keeps telling me to ‘embrace what I am’ and junk. I already get enough of that crap from cultists back home.”

(Sakata Kintoki/Astolfo/Romulus/Romulus-Quirinus/Ashwatthama): “Hey, you’re a pretty cool dude, huh? Finally, someone with some style!”

(Amakusa Shirou): “Ugh, you remind me of Fortner. And stop using rosaries around me, I’m not Satan, you jerk!”

(Mephistopheles): “Please, leave me alone. I’m not evil, nor will I ever be the Dark Lord. Just because I have those powers doesn’t mean I’m defined by them. Also, the alarm clock you gave me exploded, so I don’t think you’re all that trustworthy anyways.”

(Beni Enma): “Aww, you’re so cute...Wait, from the Underworld? A yokai? Guess you’re one of mine, then. If you want, I can loan you some Skeleton Waiters for your chain.”

(Any Avenger-Class Servant): “Hey, you guys are kinda like me! Everyone says you’re evil, but you’re actually really nice!”

(Arcueid Brunestud): “Master, that girl is shooting me some pretty weird looks....Huh? Reincarnating vampire? Oh, I guess I’d look pretty weird in that case. That’s not her fault, though. Maybe I’ll go say hi.”

QQABB Deck:

Buster Card: 2 Hit / -Soma raises Excalibur (still in the stone) and smashes it into the enemy-

Quick Card: 5 Hit / -Soma holds Valmanway in front of him, turns around, and multiple slashes envelop the enemy-

Art Card: 3 Hit / -Soma does two horizontal strikes, then a third overhead strike with Claimh Solais-

Extra Card: 6 Hit / -Soma punches twice, does a spin-attack with Claimh Solais, then jumps back and fires his Positron Rifle-

Level Up: “Whew…I feel so powerful.”

Ascension 1: “Whoo! Good job, [name].” 

Ascension 2: “This…This is just like then…[name], maybe don’t do this anymore.”

Ascension 3: “Please…stop. I don’t know if I can pull myself back this time…”

Ascension 4: “I see. Well…as long as you’re by my side, I’ll never succumb. So please…don’t die.”

Battle Start ½: “Just how many monsters out there!? In any case, let’s do this thing!” / “I’ll carry the mantle and defeat this terrible night!”

Skill ½: “Bullet, set…Enchanted, set…Guardian, set…” / “How about some of this!”

Attack Selection ½/3: “Hmm.” / “Seriously!?” / “Nice.”

Attack ½/3: “Hraagh!” / “Take this!” / “You’re going down!”

Extra Attack: “Let’s see you handle THIS!”

Noble Phantasm Selection ½: “Are…Are you sure?” / “I’ll trust you on this.”

Noble Phantasm: “I will never be the Dark Lord…You, God, and The World will just have to deal with it!”

Noble Phantasm Damage: “I won’t…Submit...!”

Regular Damage: “Gah!”

Defeated ½: “Mina….” / “Julius…our promise…”

Battle Finish ½: “That was a close one…” / “Anyone need some healing? I have some spare spoiled milk…Oh wait, none of you have a Ghoul soul, huh?”

[human-enthusiast]

One Piece “isms” - #1

--Episode 2/ Chapters 3 + 4

Theme: Abusive Authority

Details: When Luffy and Coby dock in a town named Shells Town, they quickly learn about their troubles with authority. The mention of Roronoa Zoro and Marine Captain Morgan’s name expels fear in the citizens for some similar reasons. Later, after meeting the Pirate Hunter tied to a post, they learn about Morgan’s tyrant ruling over people. Specifically, those that openly defy his rules and authority, treating them like inhumane scum.

Characteristics:

1. Authoritarian Leadership - (Dictatorship quality)

2. Inferiority (Superiority) Complex

3. Obsession with “treacheries”, insubordination, or lack of power over even small matters.

4. Alignment: Lawful Evil

5. Unfair imprisonment - Zoro and the existence of a Crucifixion Yard.

Very early on in the series, we have, what I would describe as a mild introduction to certain conflicts the protagonists face. Now whether or not you ever watch movies or read books centered around pirates, it’s common sense to know they are enemies to the world’s government(s).

It’s not to say pirates don’t have their own form of government or authority -- any society or civilization has one that was structured around those who first joined-- but they separated themselves from the one governed by kings/queens/emperors/ or anyone who governs with written or traditional laws.

So, if being introduced to a character, who begins his journey as a pirate, we would expect his enemy to be the Marines right off the bat.

Not so unusual. Luffy has shown to have a gray morality or chaotic neutral personality, but this isn’t well defined until way later on. He does what he wants, with a mindset that says ‘consequences be damned’. That is pretty much his motto at this point. That being said, the opposite to what Luffy’s side of the story represents would be lawful and justice.

Captain Morgan is actually the first official Marine we see in the series. By that, I mean he’s the first one actually named and given a personality to judge on. Though technically, Helmeppo would be the first to be seen, but it’s his father whose been alluded to since they arrived. Right off the bat, they both show case the worst possible outcome of authorities: power trips, abusing the system, respect is demanded, and rules are absolute.

Both the anime and manga illustrate Morgan’s delusions of control and megalomaniac personality quite well, and how Helmeppo thrives in it by hand-me-down powers.

Something to note, I just started reading the manga, but I have watched the anime for a few years now (English dub), and I’m now just starting the Dressrosa arc. While the anime is good (not perfect) at adapting from the manga, there are more intriguing details to me that do better in narrating the story (at least with the first few chapters).

Here the manga shows tax exploitations:

Some are fairly easy to miss, but the walls and metal gate show signs of poor treatment, or degradation. The anime does something similar with the gate, having more advantage with coloring:

The door used to have what I believe was a darker green color. But now it’s rusted fairly much, even a little on the hinges, and the paint for the symbols looks a little faded. Now, this may just be a way to give texture to surfaces, which is initially true and what I thought when I first watched/read the series. However, the kicker we learn is a little ways after.

It’s explained that the people are under heavy taxation to the point that it depletes a living wage for everyone. Morgan refers to the people as peasants, so he’s clearly aware of their indigent state. It would explain a little about the state of everything and how he could’ve paid for the erected statue of himself.

The red-circled speech bubbles are especially important, and I think highlight Morgan’s character. It’s my favorite detail with him. I’m not saying I like the character all around; if I ever meet someone like this, I’d probably pull a Luffy and straight take a swing at their throat/junk (although I tend to think of the consequences, so I’d more likely take a legal/other direct action if need be).

No, it’s just...characters with this kind of mindset are fun to observe and explain.

There’s another character that is like a mirror image from this Marine: Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Both are high ranking members of their society, wealthy, completely power hungry, apathetic, and fear inducing to their subjects. There are plenty of complications with Azula, but it definitely shows in her first introduction and later on in Season 3 when she has a psychological break down.

Direct conversation from Season 2 Episode 1:

[Ship Captain]: “Princess, I’m afraid the tides will not allow us to bring the ship into port before nightfall.”

[Azula]: “I’m sorry, captain, but I do not know much about the tides. Can you explain something to me?”

[Captain]: “Of course, your highness.”

[Azula]: “Do the tides command this ship?”

[Captain]: “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

[Azula]: “You said the tides would not allow us to bring the ship in. Do the tides command this ship?”

[Captain]: “No, princess.”

[Azula]: “And if I were to have you thrown overboard, would the tides think twice about smashing you against the rocky shore?”

[Captain]: “No, princess.”

[Azula]: “Well, then maybe you should worry less about the tides, who have already made up their mind about killing you, and worry more about me, who’s still mulling it over.”

I included the exchange between her, the bat-shit crazy royal, and the captain, who has better acknowledgement of the forces of nature, because it’s fairly similar to the exchange between Morgan and the marine he’s talking to about the people’s wealth. The marine and captain regard their authority’s title, and probably have similar worries over their inability to reason maturely.

Any good villain can be vindictive, selfish, and have no regard for others (a lack of empathy), but the one underlining similarity is their negligence with reality. And in order to get like that, there is a deep obsession with control.

Azula wants to disregard nature, specifically ocean tides, rather than change her course and plan. This is a frightening aspect because of her complete ignorance on the mod of reality. She wants to maintain control of her ship, and she is very much willing to sacrifice the safety of others just to feel superior.

While Morgan also wants to keep an iron fist over the citizens. He has this more monetary greed, spending it more in lavish purposes for him and his son. He’s a little more aware of the fact that the people don’t have much money, but to him, it’s no excuse to pay the taxes in full. There’s absolutely no regard for other matters in reality, that including personal finance.

The obstacles or personal matters of those “below” him fly over his head. Because what he believes to be a level of respect is absolute obedience. I almost have no doubt that if Luffy and Coby never made it to Shells Town, it may undergone an actual dictatorship like life. When the people have seemingly ran out of money, an alternative subjection-- or showcase of loyalty--probably would have been enslavement and unpaid labor. Assuming that the money Morgan and Helmeppo spend remains on the island at a high fixation.

Maybe that’s too extreme and would also have economic downfall on the Marines as well, but I wouldn’t put it pass Morgan to come up with anymore extreme ideas.

One other similarity with Azula and Morgan is the insane notion of loyalty. This mental state is compromised more with Azula during the final episodes. At that point, she is given the responsibility of being Fire Lord, and with it, comes absolute hysterics and paranoia about maintaining control over everyone. The slightest missteps from her servants enacts a banishment for them, leaving less people to remain under her control. This may have also been a product of Mei and Ty Lee’s betrayal in the Boiling Rock Part 2 episode, completely warping her sense of trust.

There isn’t much known about Morgan before he was head of the Marine Base that is explanatory of his own behavior, but he has the same obsession over the concept of loyalty and traitors. Whether the actions are from citizens or his own subordinates, there is no excuse for anyone to disobey him. Hell, he found it perfectly acceptable to kill a marine who accidently bumped a part of his statue, that probably didn’t do anything minor to it.

That being said, he has no room to let anyone ignore his orders. When the Lieutenant was ordered to kill Rika because she helped Zoro while tied up, he refused. In response, Morgan went for the kill (he’s very much alive in the anime).

He and Helmeppo also show case this behavior in ways that are actually more foreshadowing for later arcs.

In the manga:

The citizens are bowing as the brat saunters by all high and mighty. This is the earliest render of how Celestial Dragons are introduced. While maybe this isn’t necessarily required for the Marine official, it’s more of a by-product on fear-induced situations. A psychological reaction if anything.

The other foreshadowing is the distinction of what the Marines and the World Government consider justice. What is right to them means following the laws-- obedience and purity are absolute. That’s a whole other topic in of itself. But it sets up the fight that Luffy finds himself in with the Marine. Morgan thinks he’s wrong and worthless, fighting on the grounds while yelling “I am Marine Captain “Ax-Hand” Morgan!”

Names carry power. Titles govern rank and superiority. Morgan believes this should be enough to make Luffy crumble over. It’s not. This is a revelation that goes beyond what someone holds in status. And thus, making Morgan a rather incompetent leader.

It’s also rather ironic how, with their battle, it’s very black and white in terms of morality, and the side that views what’s right is on the ‘wrong’ side (pirates). Pirates aren’t lawfully good, or very empathetic. That’s usually not their objective during the Pirate Era. However, if a group of pirates fight against a base leader, and as a result, creates a more balanced, sustainable life for the citizens in the end, there is something drastically wrong with the authority system.

Morgan really sets up as one of the first Marine antagonists, and it’s done using underlining characteristics of higher powers in more tame situations. What one fight could fix within an hour or two, would take more or less years to handle further along in the Grand Line. What One Piece offers is a focus with a type of matter that resurfaces again with different opponents.

~*~*~*~*~*

[captainaveryshortstory-blog]

September 1, 2020

There hadn’t been a time in our marriage when I didn’t think about my mother. The marriage sometimes felt like it was because of my mother, an equal and opposite reaction to her lifestyle. She had cheated on my father, and this felt immeasurably terrible to me. Unethical. Also, she didn’t face true repercussions for doing so; all she would deal with was judgement from God, and I did not think that was enough. So, I stopped talking to her. Then, I did something terrible: I married a man and did not tell her. I did not invite her. The wedding was a direct rebuke of our relationship. My marriage had always been about my mother. 

For that reason, I felt sorry for Bradley. Sure, I loved him, but our marriage may not have entirely been about love. It was a structure built in opposition of love, an argument against my mother. 

We were never supposed to meet her. That was the decision: We would marry, and me, by taking that exit off of life’s highway, would never be back in her parts again. I thought the marriage would camouflage me. 

It did not, and when she came calling (which was frequent), she always seemed to know my plan. 

“I know, honey, you’re married now. No time for me. But even if I visit? What if I came to you? Well, I know you’re very busy. Of course you are, you’re married. You’re not my girl anymore. You’re his. You’ve escaped my clutches!” 

She would giggle, all that. I would be tight-lipped, say that Brad and I had the law firm to look after, and that she probably wouldn’t have a good time in Baltimore anyway. This worked until she got married. 

She got married and she moved to suburban Maryland just an hour away from Baltimore. Just an hour away! Surely, we could come visit. 

I would not have gone if it weren’t for Brad, who, to his credit, loved me very much.

“You would have wanted her there if you just got married,” he pointed out over dinner. Brad was smart, if not detail-oriented. 

“She wasn’t at our wedding,” I pointed out. 

“No one was at our wedding. It was at City Hall,” he pointed out. 

“You haven’t even met her,” I pointed out. 

He stopped pointing things out, then, wandering back to his bowl of chili. Brad knew when to exercise his right to remain silent. We ate our chili slowly and quietly, me fuming because I didn’t want Brad to be right, Brad just really into the chili. I wondered sometimes where he went when he slumped back into his mind. My brain always went to my mother: where she was, what she would think of the marble on this countertop, what she would do if her husband just stopped talking and started eating chili. Brad maybe went nowhere; maybe his brain just went back to stasis, to base operating energy. I envied that. 

Brad met her a week after our chili, and only because the thoughts of my mother became constant. Every time I took Brad’s hand, or started the ignition on our car, or sorted the laundry that we shared, I remembered my mother. How she had loved weddings, how she had mucked up her own marriage, how much she loved me. 

“Fine!” I told Brad sharply one evening. He did not look up from his brief. 

“Fine what?”

“We will meet my mother.”

He flipped a page and pursed his lips. “If you like.”

I did not like, but we did go. I worried that we looked too nice, like we were trying too hard. But then I worried that I wasn’t showing enough respect for my mother. (“She never respected my dad, is the thing,” I told Brad). We ended up wearing what we wore to work: neutral tones, well-tailored clothes that looked more expensive than they were. This was a trick from mom; I wondered if she would notice. 

The waitress led us to a long, thin table with four seats. My mom and her new husband were on the opposite side of the table waiting for us. We approached the other side of the table. My mother was never a hugger. Neither was I. So we did not hug; just stood on opposite sides of the table looking anxiously at our partners. 

  Her husband was Gill, she explained moments later. He was a manager of a sporting goods store and a real jock. He looked like he loved her.

I introduced Brad: He was a lawyer, like me. We were ten years into our marriage. (I know, my mom said.) He and I lived in Baltimore, where we ran a business. (She also knew that, incidentally.) 

With this information shared, we did not know what to do. Eventually, encouraged by the waitress, we sat. I let the table bring me comfort: So long as it was between us, I was still holding my grudge against my mother. Maybe this was how we would one day be close again: By inching closer and closer and closer to another, a parabola forever swinging at the axis. The table would become a bench, would become grass. Maybe one day it would become a hug. Maybe then Brad and I would be married.