#stingslikeabee

[dojimakaichou]

@stingslikeabee.

Daigo strolled into the master bedroom leisurely. He removed the tie from his hair and shook out his messy locks. The assassin took off his rings and earrings almost mechanically — he was searching the room, though it became quickly apparent that the individual he sought was not here. Daigo frowned thoughtfully and stepped toward the attached bathroom. Near the door, he heard the sound of flowing water.

Ah ! The assassin smiled and entered shoulder - first. There she was : the darkness that haunted his life ; the enchantress who had stolen his soul ; and the ( beloved ) mother of many fearsome palm - sized monstrosities.

Daigo stood for a moment, admiring the witch. She was reclining in the bath, likely to alleviate some of the discomfort in her back. The water stopped directly beneath her breasts. Occasionally, the top of her belly broke through. Her husband sighed adoringly at the sight of her. There was no creature in this horrible world that could possibly compare to her beauty, especially when Melissa carried their children. Pregnancy seemed to transform her in Daigo's eyes, and he grew ravenous at even glimpses of her changing body. This time, it was worse ; the gifted twin witches of this generation brewing in Melissa's womb had given his wife an almost otherworldly aura. Late at night, he swore she glowed, like soft moonlight spilling over their sheets.

Once he had drank his fill of this view, the assassin approached her, footsteps surprisingly light for a man of his size. He stopped at the edge of the tub and reached for her closest hand. Daigo peppered it with kisses. His black eyes reflected the glimmer of the candlelight over the bathwater as he stared down at her.

"You drive me mad, Melissa," he murmured into her smooth skin. Daigo grinned, coarse fingers stroking her captured limb. Unashamedly, he raked his gaze over her body, paying special attention to her chest and stomach. "How are you feeling ??"

As he waited for her reply, he pressed his lips to each of her knuckles. It was clear that Daigo could spend the rest of his days lavishing her with attention and be perfectly content.

[bitterarcs]

RENO'S AND RUDE'S INTRODUCTION.

I've thought about so many different scenarios revolving around the events of Reno training to become a Turk and then his actual acceptance into the elite program. Even though I've played around with scenario a, b, c, etc, how I envision Reno and Rude interacting for the first time remains fairly consistent. For the record, I do envision Rude being several years ( 5+ ) older than Reno and having been a Turk for at least a couple of years.

Nothing about this is derived from canon; this is just what my gut instinct tells me, however I would be open to exploring this with any Rude writers who would like to indulge me. Another important, very important thing is that Reno was very different when he was hired. Although his attitude was a lot worst essentially just coming out of the streets being a gang member and all around delinquent, he recognized how rare and important it was be among the greatest Turks, thus was on his best behaviour.

He was curt with his speech, wore the uniform was it was supposed to be worn, always referred to his superiors by sir, and so forth. At the time, Reno was the youngest to join the Turks, so I imagine Rude's train of thought bounced between great, now we have a kid on board to that of a more professional and perhaps even impressed mentality. Regardless of age, origin, gender, someone really has to be top of the line to join the Turks. Because of that, I lean more towards the latter; Rude would trust that the decision was not made lightly, and Reno really had it in him to impress Verdot and anyone else who made the decision.

ANYWAY, that's Rude's side of things. Reno was, frankly, in awe of everything and everyone. All Reno had known was thugs and mobsters who thought they were kings, so he was humbled to be in the presence of men and women who were actually professional and intelligent. However, Reno also felt suffocated being in the presence of so many serious people which is totally not his vibe. Verdot was Verdot; old guy with a lot of history, so that came off as no surprise.

Reno was slightly . . puzzled by Rude. Their age different wasn't that tremendous and even when their supervisors' eyes were on them, the dude seemed so god damn stiff. It really was a strange back-and-forth of respecting the man and being really fucking annoyed. Opposites attract though, right?

Reno's rapid fire train of thought: at least there's one good looking one in the bunch — shit, he's a bore — what if I can get something out of him. How reserved and quiet Rude actually was interested Reno, and he wanted to unravel him for the sake of curiosity. Rude went from being a good looking stick in the mud which he felt forced to respect to a person he really admired was genuinely drawn towards after watching him fight and operate.

I do have some headcanons regarding the turning point in their relationship from stiff co-workers to partners. That is a whole other thing. In lieu of that, I do think Reno's interest in his co-worker appeared first, but after that it was a quick trajectory of bonding after both of them got a good read on the other.

I honestly do think Reno was immediately struck by how good looking Rude was and quickly became appalled by how his personality was everything Reno hated. Reno really does loathe the quiet, i'm too serious for this bullshit types. It's a reason why authority has always left a bad taste in his mouth. Buuut he was ultimately drawn to that bald, shiny head a'his. In turn, I think as Reno became more social and talkative, Rude disliked how noisy he was. Rude could read how much of a boisterous hooligan Reno was deep down, yet opposites attract~

How do you envisage that meeting Rude was for Reno? You have any headcanons about their first meeting, initial perceptions, how Reno's thoughts about his (future) partner changed over time (or not)? :) @stingslikeabee        

[sierra6x]

------@stingslikeabee queried: ❝  i do trust you.  you’ve earned that.  ❞

------SAFE HOUSES LITTERED the world. they weren't easy to spot if you didn't have the eye to see them, but they existed in common spaces, almost as sure a thing as breathing or the sun rising. he'd occupied this one for just a few days ... evident in how informal everything was. there were no pictures of loving family, friends, or pets littering the walls. it was clean in the sterile kind of way ... one that suggested leaving behind evidence could mean your life. operators were like park rangers here, insisting to leave it better than you found it with a foreboding or else tacked onto the end.

they very fact that he had given melissa this address, even if it was a safe house, was evidence in its own volumes that he'd trusted her, too.

a towel slung over his shoulder, dampening the clean white of his tee-shirt beneath. the faint scent of irish springs body soap and herbal essences shampoo suggested the shower he'd toweled off from maybe five minutes before her arrival, the towel itself pointed to the freshly maintained facial hair. he found such little time to care for himself these days. even something like a shower stocked with the bare bones was enough pampering to last another few months.

somewhere in the world he had his own home, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view to die for.

he hadn't been there in over two years.

" you come all this way just to tell me that? " it was a lot easier to shut people out than to let them in. in his many years in service of the sierra program, of the CIA through them, he'd kept more than enough people far, far away. he'd claim it was a lonely existence if he let himself feel those sorts of things. but in this day and age, especially now, he assumed everyone was out to kill him.

he didn't think melissa would turn on him like that.

he hoped she wouldn't.

but people were harder to read than he gave them credit for, and everyone had a price.

six tugged the towel from his arm and tossed it haphazardly onto the back of the couch as he passed. these sorts of places never had good windows - the trade-off of privacy for safety, so he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing them. just whoever might've seen her on the way here. and why was she here, anyway? he had a feeling. in the very pit of his stomach he had a feeling, especially if she came with those sorts of proclamations. he just hoped he was wrong.

there was an awful lot of hoping going on in this moment.

(he didn't know if he had the strength to rebuff her.)

he didn't know if he wanted to.

" or did you want to tell me something else? " all of his weight pressed into the hand on the faux-marble counter top of the island. it was a small place, the kitchen and living room were basically the same thing, but it had enough pride in itself to attempt to be fancy with things like fake marble countertops. with eyes like crystal-glass he studied her, careful not to let any emotion eke in (he was good at that), to give anything away in his body language (he was good at that, too). " 'm all ears, kid. "

[saishuu-heiki]

Lost in a rebirth. With open eyes , his mind was shut. Festering memories capable of destroying the most hardened of men , and it had , were a volcano kept at bay by single latch. Dormant , dormant , still there. Every creature wished to have a firm grip on sense , the laws of nature , and belonging , yet he was not eager to find the key of the lock about the latch. Perhaps not all was sealed and dormant , perhaps the small spark of recollection kept curiosity dead in order to salvage sanity. The man knew not to eat , how to breathe , how to survive . . was there anything else? He knew not happiness and if things even sought happiness , thus a life in decrepit tunnels and sewers was just that — life.

The monsters were either eradicated or learned to keep away , and from prodigal SOLDIER to amnesiatic mess , he still performed a duty to Midgar. He had no one . . just as it had been in his previous life , only now things changed. There was someone who did not flee in terror or curl their lip in disgust. He had no mirrors nor a clean body of water to look at his reflection. Face resembled cracked porcelain. The flesh itself pale and beautiful , but it was marred with scars and cracks. Things which did not appear normal and were not normal. The Lifestream's way of having temporary revenge. A few of the injuries were superficial and leaked of crimson blood while the majority were mako-green in hue or black.

It was no wonder people always made hasty retreats at the sight of him. Most people did , and the goons who were fool enough to take arms against the vagabond were swiftly felled. He felt what it was like to feel pain and not solely the pain of hunger. And he now felt what it was like to have the kindness of touch. The first person who did not run away was the the first person who touched him. He was stiff and curious as her thumb dragged against his flesh. She @stingslikeabee marred herself with his blood. Why? He knew not the purpose of her actions nor that of her intentions , but he allowed her to touch him. Sephiroth welcomed a kindness he never experienced. He craved it and thus . . his eyes shut with no complaints uttered.

[phoenix-flamed]

I could swear you had posted something re. your portrayal and feedback and even if I cannot find it, I will give my unsolicited opinion here - I love what you have done with Elwin. I can say that you have taken a character that unfortunately did not have much screen time and fleshed him out beautifully, in relation to his past, the country he ruled over, his family and personal beliefs.

I love that you try to make Elwin (and Miles) very real and tridimensional in the sense he's not perfect - there are flaws there but they're understandable and balanced with the man we see in the game. I often feel FFXVI tried to paint Elwin as the 'good' ruler we had in opposition to Sylvestre and Barnabas but even if he was comparatively better/a more decent man, you still take the time to detail the many ways in which he failed (or that he believes to have failed).

I am constantly intrigued and compelled to read your musings and thoughts on him, and you definitely made me care for Elwin in a way I did not previously do (at least, not while playing FFXVI for the 1st time). I sometimes forget that his survival AU is 'just' your creation (I say this with the utmost respect) and I think it speaks to the care you have put into giving him a believable 'second chance' - befitting for one representing the bloodline of the phoenix. :)

Thank you for your hard work and for keeping the Elwin agenda alive!

Friend! <3 I've been contemplating how to reply to this, so let me start by saying: thank you for your kindness, patience, and support. You've been a great help and inspiration with your own writing and ideas, and that's to say nothing of all of your help coming up with crossover verse ideas! And of course, thank you for being so accepting and encouraging of "Miles", and being so willing to interact with him!

I'm probably going to repeat myself like fifty million times in this post, because I'm bad at words, but still. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

I hope it's okay if I go on a small tangent about some thoughts I have! What you said about the game painting Elwin as the "good" ruler made me remember something -- which I do agree with you! I feel that with Elwin and Anabella, too, as oddly as that may sound. In the case of Anabella, I understand why the people of Rosaria have this more black and white perception of her and Elwin after The Night of Flames, especially with everything Anabella has been doing to them versus how Elwin ruled and was. But I wish the game itself had done better at showing that it really isn't that black and white, that there's nuance to the situation by way of everything that led up to The Night of Flames. I don't know if that makes sense. Hanna, Byron, even Clive himself all mention that Anabella had changed and, in the case of Clive, says that her decisions regarding the culling of the Bearers is uncharacteristic of her. None of the Shields in the little area of Rosalith that we were able to access during the flashback had anything necessarily bad to say about her, at least not in English. (It may be different in the other versions of the game) There was pity for Clive over how she treats him, and mentions that she'd have their heads if their shipments weren't loaded or unloaded on time, but overall the "worst" anyone said was Rodney mentioning her perfectionism or something like that in his Inner Voice thought towards her. There's also the fact that, in my opinion, Elwin seemed to trust her enough to not only not mention her as a potential enemy in his will, or view her as a threat to him, and to trust her back in Rosalith while they rode to Phoenix Gate. Both Jill and Clive's Inner Voices regarding her during Phoenix Gate involve being worried about her. I know Anabella lays out for us what happened when she yells at Clive and Jill in her final scenes, but I still wish we'd gotten to see more, and gotten to see more of Anabella beyond the villain that she became, when there are details that allude to her having not always been that way. Or if she always has been that way, then I wish we'd gotten to see more of her and the Rosfield family before Phoenix Gate, so that it could really drive home, despite the odd behavior and things she says regarding Olivier and Valisthea's future, that she always had been that way, but she kept it carefully hidden in order to deceive everyone until she had the perfect opportunity set up to strike against Elwin.

When it comes to Sylvestre in particular, I wish so much that the game had better highlighted the fact that neither Sylvestre nor Elwin were wrong in their methods of ruling. Placing aside how they were as people, and speaking strictly of them as heads of their respective nations -- Elwin prioritized the people, while Sylvestre prioritized the territory, the latter being what Anabella believed as well according to her. Elwin isn't wrong, in the sense that without its people, a nation is just empty land, and without the support and loyalty and morale of the people, a ruler is pretty ineffective unless they want to go the route of forcing compliance and obedience. On the other hand, Sylvestre isn't wrong, in that from a logical standpoint, yes, the people can be replaced with others if they die. Whether it be through the raising of more generations, or the assimilated people of nations overtaken by the Holy Empire's rule, there will theoretically be more. But if a nation loses its land, then what's left for it? Nothing except displaced citizens who will then have to become refugees in another nation, while their ruler submits to the authority of that nation's ruler -- and in doing so loses their own authority. I don't know if any of this actually makes sense, but this is my opinion, and something I really, sincerely wish they'd done more to convey!

Okay but all of that aside, no, like I said... thank you. By this point, you'd think I'd be less worried of what people think of my portrayal, or how people perceive the whole survival AU thing, but alas, I am a limp noodle who worries constantly about everything under the sun. So to hear your encouragement and reassurances makes me so happy, as well as comes as a great comfort.

Thank you. <3 It's cliche, but I wouldn't be here -- and my muse wouldn't be as developed as he is -- without wonderful people like yourself who not only continue to encourage me and take interest, but more importantly, who inspire me with their own muses and their own writing and their own work! Thank you, endlessly, thank you. And I am so sorry for the rambling. aklfdjlkgd

@stingslikeabee

[strongfuck]

@stingslikeabee:

The first time when Rhayeon injured himself and Melissa couldn't heal him, it almost broke her; the high priestess thought herself a failure, useless to assist and help the one divine being that gave her meaning and purpose. But with time, her mind came to understand it differently - if her power was derived from the Sun-God, it would stand to reason that it would be reduced or less efficient when he too was feeling weakened. Rhayeon had taught her other means - different tools and ways to mend what was broken and that his human flesh appreciated. Melissa had taken to studying it, learning more, grasping the fundamentals to at least not stand by idly when his blood run red and glossy like hers. It broke the priestess' heart to see her Sun-God suffering when she would do anything to bear that pain in his place. And yet - old habits were hard to let go. It was impossible to wrap his limbs with gauze (or whatever she assumed to be the equivalent) and not press her palm against his chest, the touch reverential and almost like a silent prayer. To connect with the sun markings on his body was powerful; this was how many had acted with statues built in his honor during her time, asking for blessings and expressing gratitude for gifts received. "Thank you," the priestess said after a while, a small and gentle smile blossoming on her face despite the strangeness of the one acting as a nurse murmuring such words, "For allowing me to connect to your infinite light, My Lord. The markings..." Melissa's voice drifted off, gaze falling to her hand as a thumb brushed over the sun depiction on his flesh again, "It is so very soothing. Perhaps it is selfish of me to feel appreciative of these occasions if only because this feels so divine." Or maybe it was more like a sin - to covet the closeness and intimacy reserved for lovers instead of the respect owed by mortals to their gods.

What's really selfish, Rhys fails to say, is how much of Melissa he's taken advantage of by now. He's enjoyed having someone to live with as he created his prototypes. He's enjoyed Melissa's genuine interest in his life and what he calls the "Atlas project". He's enjoyed teaching her methods of medicine both for their benefit and for the innocent they occasionally find by the wayside.

Even around all the work he does, though, Rhys finds himself more and more invested in the moments he gets to show her the world of Pandora. There is beauty, after all, amidst all the chaos. There's the sight of the world in the colours of sunrise, there're the animals when they aren't hostile, there're the stories in art drawn by Pandorans over walls and buildings or in old posters of propaganda and resistance. Rhys told Melissa of some of Ravina's (Hyperion's) great evils: wiping out towns and tricking (brainwashing) mortals into working for her 'till death, and how she was obsessed with seeking glowing stones in the dirt (Eridium) that're as powerful as they are poisonous.

But Rhys knows that when they leave their home and the abandoned town that surrounds it, he's leading them into danger. He knows there's always a chance his truck will never return. Still, he could never leave her alone, not even when he has to scout for lost technology or supplies. And he knows that each time they return safely, it's more a matter of luck than his own skill.

And luck always runs out.

Though he'd taken out the bandits that ambushed them in the middle of their scouting efforts today, he hadn't come out unscathed. Melissa, of course, was concerned-- far more concerned than Rhys would ever be about himself, really-- but with steady hands she'd patched him up just as he'd taught her. A bullet to his flesh arm isn't as bad as the scar in his right side, and in retrospect it's almost nothing compared to the knife scar in his back. But the way she touches him before, during, after--

Well. Amidst his own happiness at the fact that she cares (God, he's a terrible person), it's hard not to feel sheepish at how elated she is to touch his chest.

He doesn't tell her what it really means-- that it reminds him of all the people he killed back on Helios. That he'd drawn its first design in one of those fits of loneliness that also birthed the lore of her people. Instead, Rhys smiles crookedly at her; he wants to tell her she isn't selfish at all, but he's already said so many times before.

"I like when you touch me, too," he says, and initially it's only because he wants to tell a truth he hasn't already spoken before.

But only after he's said it does he realise the implications, and it makes him swallow thickly.

"It... I mean, your hands, Melissa... they're one of my favourite things about you. I always knew they were meant to be kind. And that kindness, you know, it... it heals more than my body. Even without your powers."

Rhys looks down for a moment just to admire the sight of her fingers on his chest. The reverence there is irreplaceable. Real. There's no part of her that's playing pretend, and it floors him every time.

His flesh hand rises, touching his middle finger to the back of her palm. And it isn't much, nothing beyond the shape of a circle and a few lines coming out of it, but Rhys draws a pattern on her all the same.

"I wonder if it'd make you happy, having a sun of your own here. Or anywhere, really."

It occurs to him quite suddenly that he'd do almost anything to make her happy.

[holyguardian]

💋 (have a smooch!)

💋 to abruptly kiss Aerith.

The impromptu 'girl's getaway' had been a balm for Aerith's soul. It couldn't really be called a getaway considering they were still in Midgar, but they were far enough away from their homes and their jobs and their responsibilities for it to feel like a real vacation.

Mel insisted on paying for the hotel room — Aerith complained that she could help too, and a compromise was reached. Mel took care of the room, and Aerith was in charge of the wine and dining they were set to do. The accommodation was in Sector 8, inside a brand new high rise that boasted a 5-star rating right in the middle of the entertainment district. Which didn't mean much at all to her, considering it was her first hotel room. Like, ever.

Their day had been a pleasant whirlwind of shops, a visit to a nail salon where Aerith discovered she was incredibly ticklish where her toes were concerned and a lot of new discoveries as they walked around the ever-changing district.

Come afternoon, they were sipping their cocktails of choice poolside at the hotel. It had been an excellent call on Mel's behalf to insist they find bikinis on their shopping adventure.

It had been around that time when Aerith started to really notice Mel. For the longest time she had viewed her through a platonic lens, and the sudden attraction all but slapped her between the eyes. Though she only had one drink she dismissed her mood as being tipsy. After all, she was naturally a caretaker, and likely viewed Aerith as one of her girls she nestled under her wing. It was wrong of her to challenge a dynamic that was so wholesome.

It was an internal rollercoaster.

There were many reasons stacked up as to why she shouldn't. It would be a disservice to someone who was a pillar in her life, it was a reckless impulse, it would be utterly blindsiding — and yet, Aerith found herself looking at Mel. She was a little more flirty. A little more familiar.

And this wasn't the Queen's first time on the receiving end of a wayward flirtationship.

Melissa had likely kept a keen eye the moment Aerith's behaviour shifted. When they arrived back at their room to decompress before their dinner plans, Aerith found herself pulled into the bathroom where she and Melissa both looked at each other in the reflection of the mirror.

"I can see you, my flower." Melissa spoke with a knowing smile. Aerith had the grace to look a little guilty, but the expression slowly faded when her lower lip was brushed by Melissa's thumb. Sweet Gaia, if she wasn't tipsy before, she was already drunk from that simple touch alone.

Then Melissa guided Aerith to turn her head fully, her hand cradling her face, a gentle control. She looked her in the eye, looked right into her soul, and guided her into such a confident kiss that Aerith dumbly experienced but failed to participate.

They parted and Melissa gently brushed her thumb across her cheek. She had completely and utterly captivated the flower girl in the span of an afternoon. "Come. You have a date to prepare for." And just like that Melissa walked out of the bathroom and gently closed the door.

It left Aerith doubting reality for a few long moments. Stupid girl. Stupid flustered girl, she just stood there — it was like being visited upon by a goddess, and instead of leaving an offering of worship she had tripped and fell over the altar making a grand mess.

[homewanker]

@stingslikeabee sent: ❛ how will i ever be able to repay you? ❜ ► from this meme.

Chuckling as he carries the woman through the air, Homelander's gaze meets hers as his head cocks slightly to the side. "You don't have to. I didn't become a hero for people to owe me debts."

He will say, though, that the looks of gratitude never get old. The way that people look at him after he's saved them, the way they talk about him... God, it's the headiest thing in the world.

Though he knows the cameras are on their way, and he probably should put her down, that the woman's first words to him had been an attempt at equivalent exchange instead of some high-pitched, annoying "oh my God, Homelander!" feels significant. Seeing the way people become flustered in his presence, well, that's normal. Hearing someone ask what they can do for him instead of the other way around? That's noteworthy.

Maybe he's taking longer to land on his feet than he ought to. Nevertheless, the building behind them continues to burn, painting the woman's beautiful face in firelight. She'd been the last person trapped in there, at least-- between his and Maeve's work, it hadn't been too rushed a job at all-- so there isn't any real hurry. At most, Homelander imagines Maeve being pissed he took so long to join her in fending off the news hounds, and that's hardly major.

He likes the way this woman looks at him, though. Likes the light in her eyes.

So he continues, "But if you'd like to give me your name... well. I'd hardly be opposed."

[desiccation]

Smash or pass for Slade (roast her ego if you wish haha)

From what he's seen, she has all the things that ticked off a list of a person he'd be interested in; pretty, intelligent, willing to stand up for herself even if it made things complicated.

"Smash, respectfully," he replies after a few seconds.

What a gentleman.

[bitterarcs]

A causal thing turned a genuine hobby — the pass time for the pass time of being entirely lazy and liberal with gil. Reno's heart was not entirely made out of coal. Sure, kids were still starving and villages being industrialized for the sake of ShinRa, but at least the Turk was spreading his wealth with some of the hardest working women on the planet. There was doing something vile for the sake of survival as he had done for many years as a child and teenager, and then there was doing it with a smile on face and sweet giggle spilling past glossy lips.

There wasn't enough gil in the world that would have Reno hoping on wrinkled and entitled cock with a smile on his face; he was a beast best suited for ripping and killing with a genuine smile on his face. It was why the honeybees impressed him so much, and why he was so generous. Sure, it made him look like a loser — only after pussy with a price tag, yet he was another kind of loser . . a man who did not know what to do with his time when he was not badgering his partner and best friend. Reno, being the perfect example of an optimist, saw the best of any most scenarios; it was better to spend his time making such women laugh as opposed to being a bastard betting on chocobo races and purchasing expensive paintings.

The slum kid did not fall far from the . . industrial garbage, even in wealth. He was half a bottle of cognac in, but more juiced up on the company of an adoring crowd and finishing another day of hard work at ShinRa. He vaguely recognized two typically suited ShinRa employees, of which kept to themselves while trying to attract a girl or two for their own entertainment. Reno only saw it fit to be more audacious with his speech and action.The queen bee making her grand entrance pulled off all the excess company, not that the Turk would complain. She was the best part of coming to the Honeybee Inn. What began as a rather normal smile ( a rarity for Reno ) quickly transformed into the typical mischievous tug of the lips.

(  ❛  People sure loooove rumours, mm? The only way a Turk gets fired is with a bullet in their skull. ❜  )

Dramatic, the bare pointer finger of his right hand jerked upwards to tap his forehead between his scarlet eyebrows.

(  ❛  Not like that would ever happen. I was just messing around. Part of my charm. They honestly shoulda' known this hiring some disgusting slum kid; I'm just too skilled to pass up. ❜  )

Not that it would ever happen what with Rufus taking the throne. . though there had been a time Reno was under the muzzle of a ShinRa firing squad and, the little prodigal son had willingly worked to bring the Turks down. Times changed. Relationships changed. Reno could never imagine not being a Turk, however the impossible scenario was made queerly into life; it did not seem so horrible all of the sudden. It was similar to the dream he had as a child prior to joining the Turks only better, more prestigious. More surprising, his ego wouldn't mind sharing what she rightfully built up; he would be honoured in fact.

(  ❛  It would be kinda' cool, huh? We'd make a helluva duo honestly. Thirteen year old me would have salivated at the chance. Maybe if Rufus gets actually sick of me, I'll come here and drag Rude with me. ❜  )

It spoke volumes that his 100 percent certainty regarding his dream career was brought down to 99 percent, perhaps lower. Melissa held such power and provoked such thought.

Melissa found Reno surrounded by some of her own employees - the girls were always easily seduced by his charm (and fat tips), and having a guy like him around who was easy on the eyes and made them laugh turned the Turk into an undisputed favorite. As soon as the queen herself made it there, she dismissed the other ladies - and leaned forward over the booth where the redhead was sprawled over, a sly smile on painted lips.

"A few bees have been hinting at your bosses being this close to firing you today," the madame remarked with a conspiratorial voice, the type reserved for juicy gossip only, "If the worst come to pass - would you be willing to become my partner instead? Maybe with you as my co-ruler, we could make some changes and bring some boys into our main cast, too."

It was a joke, clearly - Melissa did not expect Reno to get fired. But it didn't change the fact that they had similar backgrounds, their fates entwining in ways which solidified her trust and made sure that he would always have a friend looking out for him. At any rate - the imaginary scenario of Reno screening future male workers was just too damn entertaining. @stingslikeabee

(   is this a love confession, melissa ?  )

[drippingheart]

The glass half full, half empty mentality — people either believed that no matter how difficult a situation, there was always a choice in the matter, while there were others who sternly thought certain actions were etched in stone. Fushiguro Megumi had no choice when it came to having a step sister. No forked path could the child have taken when his mother died during his infancy nor when his father re-married nor when family was found with his step-sister Tsumiki. Neither children had a choice when their parents eventually left and the two had to fend for themselves.

Fend for themselves or die — the choice was obvious, if it was even a genuine ' choice '. Megumi did not abide by the strictness of right and wrong, simply he carried out what felt genuine to himself and faced whatever consequences potentially followed. Tsumiki was the only family he had at the end of the day, and even though she was his senior, even at four years of age it did sit well to part ways from a girl sweeter than he but just as lost in the world. So, when the question was pressed about the nature of being a sibling, the solemn ten year old settled gaze rivaling the stiffness of a boulder on the woman.

He did not hiss when the antiseptic was applied to his wounds; the tolerance for pain was exceptionally high. Part of it, too, was keeping up the tough exterior befitting a protector. Urchin head tipped to the left. People either sought to crack his through exterior ( though a tough interior lied beneath ) or did were completely exasperated by a child who resembled a senior. Megumi constantly found himself thinking, what was Melissa @stingslikeabee thinking? What was her intention? Megumi dropped his gaze to poke and agitate the ruby-red scrape on the bare knee of his right leg.

── ❛ Do people have favourite things about being a sibling? She's my sister. ❜

As if that wasn't the most obvious thing . . as if Tsumiki and he were actually related by blood. When the adult continued speaking however, a splinter of guilt found its way in the flesh of his pysche. Solemn expression transformed into something more stiff; lips pulled tight to reflect the inner turmoil he felt; even with his sister, he did not confide in sentimental things. Megumi did not pry into her history. If she wanted to talk about it, she could have.

── ❛ She's always been nice . . She's always kept me company. She's kind enough to like a venomous scorpion and nurse it back to health. ❜

[saishuu-heiki]

Mass of stringy and burnt hair lied in a unsightly, predominantly onyx coloured pile inside the bathroom pail. Hair it was, yet it mostly closely held the semblance of toxic ooze; startling was the fact the worst of the mess had been severed two weeks prior. It was remarkable, a feat of life on Gaia, the dramatic effect nourishment and adequate caloric intake had on the body. The Lifestream had carved away not only the memory of the Silver General, but the body as well. Whether the force of nature purposefully ate away at the muscles which gave him strength or whether it took great expenditure of energy to survive the Lifestream, no one but it could say with certainty.

What was a concrete fact was that he survived the Lifestream in worse wear than in the entirety of his life, even dwarfing his experiences as a child attempting to hone his powers while being tortured. In few words and mostly with hand gestures, Sephiroth Hikaru suggested chopping all of the dull and polluted hair, but his caretaker seemed loathe to depart with all of it. Deep down, perhaps he, too, would have felt even more alien without any hair atop his head. Memory may have been severed, yet the sight of sparing silver crowded near his scalp filled him with an essence of nostalgia.

The sickly onyx corruption had rendered his features even more pale and gaunt, and with the mass removed, he looked both younger and healthier. He silently admired the pink hue dominating his skin brought on by improving health and the pleasant temperature of the bath water, sure to prune skin in a way which fascinated him. Having not properly bathed in months, Hikaru would have bathed every day if Melissa so wished it. Beside the pleasantness of feeling clean and the warmth enveloping him, it proved a beneficial time for both parties.

With his stunted memories, he could not fathom why she derived any pleasure from it; he would not complain despite being taken with a swell of curiosity. A man once ( and still ) highly infamous, greater than two metres in height, and certainly older than a child sat like an obedient child, nude and under the caring touch of a stranger who took on the role of benefactor and mother. Everyone in ShinRa and likely all of those of AVALANCHE would have found the sight completely unfathomable as it was hilarious, but he rather liked being spoiled and even craned his neck to follow the movements of the brush.

He did feel strange, and it was not because he held greater qualms speaking than stripping naked before the women — rather because he knew, deep down, that he had never been treated in such a way. How could someone with no memories still feel so undeserving of everything? It annoyed him like the crawling of ants on his flesh, but he gave no voice to his concerns nor did he turn away form thoughtful hand. A man who had killed thousands drew his knees to his chest and wrapped arms around himself, growing sleepier as the minutes passed.

❛ I know. ❜

Hikaru spoke softly as a mouse not wishing to disturb a sermon. He did not know; he knew absolutely nothing. What he did know, however, was that Melissa @stingslikeabee meant every word she spoke even if it was impossible to promise such things He wanted to believe in it, too. The man with no memories surrendered to his ignorance and naivety . . allowing himself to enjoy this singular moment as digits traced the warm suds at the surface of the bath water.

[phoenix-flamed]

Hi! :D Not sure if you're happy to take on unscripted asks re. lore and headcanons, but since I absolutely adore the type of political backdrop to FFXVI and you mentioned the Rosarian government - would you mind expanding on how you envisage the High Houses to work in terms of representation / the council and what else you have established for Rosaria while an independent nation?

Unfortunately it does not appear to be explored in the same level of detail as the main bodies of other nations (probably because it all went to hell very early on) but I'd love to hear your thoughts and whether it mirrors any irl source of inspiration (such as, idek, Luxembourg which is also a grand-duchy)?

HELLO FRIEND!!! I AM ABSOLUTELY HAPPY TO TAKE THESE SORTS OF ASKS! aaaaaaaaaaaa I can try to answer this without droning on nonsensically for like five hours, and I apologize so, so, so profusely if I fail spectacularly at that! (And also apologize profusely if my thoughts don't actually make much sense.)

Yeah, I was hoping we'd get more information about Rosaria and how it works politically before things went to shit, but alas... we are not that lucky. I'll admit wholeheartedly that I can't speak on it mirroring any RL places, past or present -- I'd have to read up on them in more detail first, which would be fun to do, but as you and I have found out in the past, the game seems to take creative liberties with what terms, statuses, etc. pertaining to a duchy mean, rather than having it be a 1:1 comparison with a real-world duchy. I want to believe it's creative liberties... rather than them doing a half-assed job of researching, themselves.

Okay. Okay. I'm going to curb my overwhelming puppydog excitement over this Ask and actually write now, I swear.

I am also so sorry for reiterating information that's already known, but. Before Rosaria became a duchy, it was a series of smaller, independent nations, all of which were of course ruled by different noble families. These nations united together to form the Grand Duchy of Rosaria as we know it. The rulers of the independent nations became what are known as the Seven High Houses, with House Rosfield as the central one.

A Rosfield is always the one who sits on the throne, and the Phoenix is always born into the Rosfield line. But while House Rosfield always holds the seat of power, the other High Houses do hold heavy political influence within the duchy.

The way I headcanon it is that the High Houses are each represented in the royal council by the head of the main branch of each house's ruling family, much the same way that the head of the main branch of the Rosfield line serves as the ruling family of House Rosfield. What determines who is the head of these main families? Birth order, for the most part. Gender isn't necessarily important; this is, I admit, largely inspired both by the fact that it was Elwin's mother who was on the throne before Elwin, as well as my unending dislike for the idea that women have no power. So taking what the Ultimania book revealed about Elwin and Anabella's familial ties, I go with the idea that the former Archduchess was the head of the main branch family of the Rosfield line, while her husband, the former Archduke, was married into the main branch from a lesser branch because he was the current Dominant of Phoenix. I like to believe that the other High Houses operate similarly, with the firstborn child of the main branch family serving as the head of that particular High House.

Oh God I hope this is making sense so far. alkgjds

I also like to take a lot of inspiration from the fact that Rosaria's title is, "The Bastion of Tradition," as well as the information we're given in the Ultimania. (For as many parts of the Ultimania, mostly pertaining to ages, that make me want to chuck the book out a window.) Rosaria is driven largely by tradition, and its government and politics aren't any different. No matter how much time passes, I headcanon that the duchy honors its roots by maintaining this balance of power between the Seven High Houses. House Rosfield may be the ruling family, but as said previously, every High House has a seat on the council, and every High House has a say in political matters. The couple on the throne can't act or make decisions without a majority agreement from the council, and the council likewise can't make a decision or act without approval of those currently on the throne.

This, for the Rosfields, is a double-edged sword. There are members of the other High Houses who are less than fond of House Rosfield due to their position, and as a result use their own power to undermine their authority. This is something that Elwin's mother in particular had warned him about, but given Elwin's ambitions of breaking apart the status quo and stepping away from heavy reliance upon tradition and societal standards/norms, it's exponentially more apparent during his time as Archduke -- because as anyone can guess, he isn't a very popular ruler when it comes to the nobility. Whereas the other Rosfields up 'til that point had been content with preserving Rosaria's ways of life because it's "just how things are and have always been," Elwin goes against the grain, and in doing so breaks out of the mold and disregards the precedent set before him by the rulers who reigned before him.

Through the Ultimania, we find out that the Dominant of Phoenix isn't actually supposed to take the throne -- they aren't even supposed to have a say in political matters whatsoever. But exceptions are pretty commonly made, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to take this information and run with it headcanon/speculation-wise regarding Clive and Joshua's dynamic of how their relationship was in relation to Rosaria's governing body, how it was intended to have been by their parents, as well as how that relationship changed once certain key events were revealed(like Joshua awakening as the next Dominant instead of Clive). For example, my headcanon is that it was indeed Clive who had been intended to take the throne -- not because he was the firstborn child, but because Anabella and Elwin had decided on it because it was assumed he was the next Dominant, and the favor that the nobility expressed towards little Clive became support for this decision. But when Joshua awakened as the next Dominant instead, that favor and support was not only revoked from Clive, but was replaced with scorn and nasty rumors, ones that were not only about Clive and why he was rejected, but also about his parents as well. I'll get into the significance of that in a moment, though. Clive was replaced as the High Houses's golden child by Joshua. They threw all of their support and favor behind Joshua, and it was ultimately their influence that caused Anabella and Elwin to make Joshua heir to the throne instead, and Elwin to remove Clive from the line of succession entirely to try and spare him from the nobility's bullshittery.

Now, the big takeaway from that is the fact that Elwin, Anabella, Clive, Joshua, and even Jill are all caught up in this political game, whether they like it or not. It's a game that the parents to some extent try to protect the kids from, as seen in Elwin's decision regarding Clive -- but it's just not possible given the circumstances and positions of their births.

My headcanons have always been that a huge dividing factor between Elwin and Anabella was the subject of Clive, yes, but it was by design of the other High Houses, rather than brought upon initially by their emotions. The other High Houses knew exactly what they were doing by starting up with the rumors and jeers about Clive's supposed bastard lineage; they had always been looking for opportunities and ways, no matter how tiny, to split Elwin and Anabella apart -- just as they did with my Elwin's parents, although it didn't work with his parents. But Anabella and Elwin were much younger, much less experienced/prepared for the personal aspect of the political schemes, had little to no support or guidance from older parties, and were faced straight out of the gate with a slew of political matters pertaining to war and conflict while also having to navigate their new marriage and begin working towards bearing the next Dominant of the Phoenix as quickly as possible because in short, Rosaria was not in a good position in Storm. The duchy was vulnerable, without a Dominant to protect them; and because they didn't have a Dominant, House Rosfield couldn't seek guidance in matters of war from their ancestors.

Anabella and Elwin were, again, pretty much on their own.

The other councilmembers of the High Houses saw all of this and used it to their advantage. They chipped away little by little at the stability of the Archduke and Duchess's relationship, weaponized their differences in opinions against them, and when Joshua was revealed to be the next Dominant instead of Clive, they struck the big nail into the coffin by slandering the royal couple, disgracing Clive and Anabella, and creating that massive rift between the parents over Clive's future and their differing feelings towards the child. The shame inflicted by them upon Anabella was manipulated into anger and resentment, while Elwin's love for Clive was forced into being in direct opposition to his love for his wife, and both of these matters were only worsened by the fact that Joshua was beloved by the nobility and poised by them to take the throne -- despite how sickly and frail the child was. All of these things were aimed at pitting the couple against each-other, and it worked.

These things were also geared towards eventually pitting Joshua and Clive against each-other by means of sowing seeds of resentment and mistrust, but this one failed thanks to the strong bond shared between the two boys.

... I don't remember where I was going with any of this. I don't even think any of this answers your Ask, but I figure it's fun background information that might give some equally as fun context towards my Elwin! I guess the big takeaway from the latter half of this post is that I headcanon that there's A Lot of political unrest and power struggles between the High Houses, it's just kept carefully hidden from the public. If there's anything specific you'd like elaborated on, please feel free to let me know!

[prebeat]

Smooches him on the cheek - as a distraction; it was all a plan to steal his food.

He should have been used to this by now.

He should have been, but Charles is stunned all the same, flustered as he always is whenever Melissa is so easy with her affection. That she manages to usurp one of his run bing from under his nose doesn't even bother him any more.

"You know," he says once she's seated across from him, only barely resisting the urge to rub his cheek (she'd teased him for it before, and he's not looking for a repeat experience), "all you have to do is ask and I'll give you one."

But he suspects Melissa enjoys this, woe is he. Then again, Charles can't claim to be any better-- touching base with her is easily one of the better parts of his job. It's a bit refreshing compared to all the pomp and ceremony of dealing with the Jade Dragons' more formal connections.

"You want me to order a plate for you before we start?"

[holyguardian]

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

I'm over the sheer amount of on trend graphics and the fact it will probably continue to find ways to increase.

To start a roleplay blog the trend is to have a custom dashboard icon, custom mobile header, unique bordered icons usually of very small sizes, banners for asks / headcanons / etc., flourishing dividers, a custom theme, custom caard, etc etc etc.

It's a lot. People aren't bad for wanting all of that, nor are people bad for opening graphics commissions when there's clearly the market for it. I don't want anyone to see this and feel bad like oh man I have these things or I want them. That's not the point at all here. I'm just saying —

It's a lot.

I get overwhelmed easily, so merely thinking about that kind of stuff when I consider a new blog gives me the nopes.