#verse 01

Admittedly Maggie was a bit nervous about all this. She was very happy to be able to work for President Valentine, but, she wondered if she was going to end up messing up and ruining everything! She was a bit worried she had already messed up somehow when she was told he wanted to see her in his office. This was it... He was going to get rid of her wasn’t she? Maggie was already trembling more than usual as she started walking towards his office. She was trying to find a way to calm down  - as much as she kept trying to consider the positive outcomes her mind kept focusing on the negative ones.

You’ve definitely made a mistake, Maggie. He’s surely going to get rid of you. 

Regardless, there was an attempt to smile as she awkwardly entered his office. She couldn’t walk in looking like she assumed the worst ( even if that was all she could think about!)

“You know-” 

He was sitting backwards in a chair up in the small alcove that looked over at the Rising Stone, arms crossed against the back as his chest rested against the warn wicker, and he tried to be the very picture of calm and ease and Devil May Care. There was a flick in his tail and a twitch in an ear that belied the fact that this wasn’t just an impromptu thought that had come to mind, but G’raha only allowed himself a brief moment of hesitation before barreling forward.

“-- without Luq-Beeq and Ryne, there really aren’t many people here to check over you and make sure there are no... side effects from everything that happened.”

With ‘what happened’ being Maru’s soul practically explode from such an intense influx of light.

Now, though, his tendency to lose himself in his work had reached an all-time high, resulting in long days and sleepless nights going over the complex bills that kept on being drafted to try to bring just a little more change to Ishgard. Each small step forward felt like it came with concessions to the point he oft wondered if any progress was happening. The divide between those of the Brume and those who hailed from a noble House still existed as a wide, yawning chasm. It was one he himself benefited from, and even though that knowledge left a foul taste in his mouth there was no changing facts. 

But if he kept on trying, then maybe one day there would be real change.

He should not have been alive.

This fact was not lost on Rex. He had stepped into the Emerald weapon with the full expectations that he would not be returning. That he would be dying at the hands of the oversoul. He would join his siblings and he would be content with the knowledge that he had helped to lay the groundwork that would allow Alfonse and Allie to survive. Or, at least... one of them would.

When the oversoul had been activated, he had felt his own consciousness being erased in favor of his father’s. And then...

And then blissfully nothing.

And then pain.

He had been told he had been found in the cockpit, body bloodied and battered as he was slumped over the broken control console, but he was still alive and breathing. He had been rushed to a makeshift infirmary at Terncliff where he had been both treated and placed under-- well. It could hardly be considered arrest, but the cuff that chained him to the bed when he awoke made it clear he wasn’t meant to just walk away.

❤ ▬▬ EMOTIONAL STARTERS TO KICK YOU IN THE FEELINGS. / @perfectpunctuation

          was he? perhaps not deliberately. perhaps in ways which, in spite of remaining subtle, had failed to achieve the not so unconscious aim of being inconspicuous. strike wasn’t the kind of man telling himself lies - even where robin was concerned. especially where robin was concerned. he wasn’t the kind of man who would feed her lies, either. not the necessary ones, at any rate. he’d once pretended to sack her; and the phony situation hadn’t been one to her, the hurt inflicted as vivid and genuine as if he’d genuinely got rid of her. was he to give her a fake answer now? to offer some reason that would ring true whilst being completely fabricated for her benefit?

admitting emotions, confessing an attraction, had never proven to be a problem for strike. his mind was too pragmatically analytical to make room for a coy embarrassment most people were bound to feel when standing in front of the very one they… they what? fancied? too weak and too shallow. liked? liked would make him sound like a teenager. loved? far too deep and raw. 

       “You want us to... what?” Go out? Like as amusement park thing or just go to the mall kind of thing? Why him?  I mean aside from the fact he is visiting Katsudon family and he just finished hanging out with the only other girl aside Mila who he likes. Yuuko has a way of getting inside his tiny cold heart... swear it's the mom vibe she gives off.

One of the things that had most struck Peter Vincent about Gotham City, more than the liberal amount of smog and the abundance of neon lights that made Vegas look like someone’s Christmas porch lights in some districts, was the sheer amount of homeless.  Even just walking out of the GCBC studios after a night of shooting his show, he’d been approached by three different beggars, one with a tin cup of all things like an extra from “Oliver!” and two with shopping carts full of all their worldly goods.  He didn’t have any change to give them, but this poor young lady…well, he did still have a bagel from the water cooler, which he promptly handed over.